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#as in… not being deserving of something so nice
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If It All Fell (7)
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Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst, PINING, Azriel's POV and he is incredibly sad
a/n: Yay here's more <3 I promise it gets happy and there's a little teaser of what that'll look like in this part. Let me know what you think pleaseee :)
Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)
~~
Azriel 
Azriel’s heart came to a thudding halt.
“What was that?” he asked softly, trying to play it off. Trying to pretend as if you hadn’t just asked him the one question he had hoped would never come. Because you were supposed to get better before it came to this. 
He had begged the Mother for any kind of reprieve.
She hadn’t listened, as Azriel had expected. 
“Mates,” you slurred, your head bobbing on his shoulder. The High Lords had exhausted you. “Helion said you… he said something about a mate. I can’t remember exactly… but no one’s told me what that is.” 
Pure adoration tore at Azriel’s chest. Your words blurred together as you sunk deeper into his arms, and Gods, did he love you. He let himself imagine that you were drunk—just for a moment. You were drunk and still his and he was carrying you home after a night at Rita’s. 
“Azriel?” 
The moment ended and panic replaced the temporary comfort that had consumed him. 
“Yes, my love?” It had slipped, a mistake fueled by his clouded mind. Azriel counted his footsteps and held his breath, but you only hummed in response, too drained to notice the endearment that had fallen with such desperation from his lips. 
“You were telling m’about mates,” you reminded him. Your arm slipped from his neck and landed in your lap. Azriel held you closer, feeling your body begin to lose its grip. 
“Of course,” he dutifully replied. “A mate is… it is a gift from the cauldron. An equal to share a bond with.”
“Like a lover?”
Azriel could hardly piece your words together with the way they tumbled out. 
That, and his stomach was twisting, reminding him of the very bond that was crying out within him. This was wrong. It was all so terribly wrong. He didn’t have to have this conversation with you last time; it had hurt you too much to even hint at the topic. 
Back then, Azriel had been so deep in anguish he couldn't keep food down, so desperate to just speak to you that his body rejected all else. 
This was somehow worse.
“Much stronger,” he whispered, pressing his nose to your temple in an act of weakness. You didn’t notice. “Our souls are linked—mates I mean. A mating bond doesn’t always lead to the pair being lovers, but if they choose to do so, it’s enhanced. It’s unexplainable, truly, having someone connected to you that you love so deeply.” 
“That sounds nice,” you mused, a melodic flow of syllables starkly contrasting the effort with which Azriel was trying to string his sentences together. 
“It is.” He gave in to his urges and looked down at you in his arms, your hair flushed against his leathers, your face soft and drowsy. “It is wonderful.” 
You cracked an eye open. Azriel had stopped walking. “Do you have one?” 
“What?” he choked out. 
“You speak as if you know the feeling well. Do you have a mate, Azriel?” 
“I—” There were no thoughts in his head, nothing but the sound of your voice and your question repeating itself like a bell tolling in a vicious pattern. “Yes,” he sputtered out. “I do, yes.” 
You smiled softly, but it was paired with a furrowed brow and a light sigh. “Good,” you nodded to yourself. “You deserve a mate.” 
Too much talking, too much thinking; your head lulled into his arm, face against his chest, and you were asleep. 
Yes, this was much worse than the last time. 
Azriel adjusted his grip and carried you back to the room you didn’t know belonged to the both of you. 
~~
The pounding in your head was your first indication that you were awake. You moved your hand to your hairline before opening your eyes, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there. 
Useless. 
A small groan made its way up your throat. The night before, or whenever it was—you had no idea how long you’d been sleeping—was a jumbled mess in your mind. You remembered meeting Helion, being told you were in love with him, being told that you actually weren’t in love with him, and then he and Rhysand had entered your mind and left you as nothing more than a vegetable. 
There were other pieces too, like Azriel carrying you back to your room and talking about… mates? Yes, that sounded right—the larger-than-life, effervescent partners bestowed upon fae by the cauldron. 
And he had told you that he had one. 
That was good. Great, even. Something stirred within you, an uncomfortable feeling, but you ignored it in favor of the pain radiating across your head. Gods, why did it hurt so much? 
Helion and Rhysand had been in your mind. They were going to discuss things with you. 
You shot up far too quickly, the motion sending shooting pains up your neck. 
“What?” you heard a voice panic. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 
Another jarring look to the side and you just about passed out from the pain. You caught a glimpse of Azriel before you squeezed your eyes shut to try and manage it, his large form folded into a chair by the door that was certainly not made to accommodate wings. You lowered your head into your hands and heard the chair screech against the floor. 
“What is it, y/n?” Azriel asked, voice closer now. 
You let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry, just—it’s my head, give me a moment.” 
He didn’t speak, but the room became dark. That seemed like an impossible feat, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walls and letting in the rays of the day court sun. But the pounding in your head receded a fraction, and you could tell it was dimmer even from behind your eyelids. 
“Does that help?” he asked, so low you could barely hear him. 
You felt his breath at your arm. 
“Yes,” you whispered back, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was there. His wings had circled you, encasing you in a darkness that blocked out the world, his knees at the side of your bed. 
“You got up too quickly,” Azriel offered.
“I know, but I wanted to hear what the High Lords had to say about the witch and my memories and what I need to do to fix everything. Have you heard anything?”
“Very little. I’ve been here.” 
“For how long?” 
“You slept for a day and a half.” 
“And you stayed the entire time?” 
“You requested I stay by your side. You’ve been here.” 
You bit into your lip, the heavy weight of guilt loading onto your chest. Azriel flinched as if he felt it himself. “I wanted to stay,” he comforted. “It puts me at ease to… see you while we’re in this court. To know exactly where you are and who’s around you.” 
“Because of last time,” you stated, but it was a question that hung in the air. 
Azriel’s eyes tracked along the planes of your face. His hand twitched. “Yes, because of last time.” 
He looked so serious, bordering on forlorn. Despite the pain in your head and the conflicting emotions rising within you, you attempted to lessen some of the load that seemed to bogg the shadowsinger down. 
“You could have taken shifts with Cassian, you know. Or even, I don’t know, laid on the bed that’s the size of a small apartment. I was out cold the entire time—didn’t wake up once. I wouldn’t have noticed if you did,” you offered with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. 
Azriel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his own expression lightening. “Cassian would fall asleep immediately. And, just to let you know, you did wake up. Several times.” 
You gave him a doubtful look. “I think I would remember that.” 
The shadowsinger bit back a smile and something within you shone at the playful look in his eye. “Right, so you don’t remember waking up and practically ripping that from my body?” 
His eyes shot down to your chest, an action which you followed to find a large, unfamiliar sweater swathing your body in warmth. You looked further down at your hands, only to find the sleeves of the garment covering your palms and fingers as well. 
An incredulous laugh bubbled in your chest. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t actually rip this off of you, did I?” 
Azriel shifted his knees into a kneeling position beside you, his wings shuffling and creating a sound you had begun to find comfort in. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask politely.” 
You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands. “Gods, that’s embarrassing. It’s because I was delirious, I swear. Those damn High Lords scrambled my brain.” 
“Y/n, you have a penchant for demanding things in your sleep. Food, water, clothing, more blankets. Once you woke up to ask me for an entire roast duck and in the morning you had no recollection. You were quite aggravated that night.” 
“No, stop, I can’t take this. I am melting into a puddle of mortification and you are making it worse.” 
Azriel chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ve grown used to it over the years. It’s almost charming, really.” 
You peeked through your sweater-clad fingers. “You can’t mean that.” 
“I mean it very sincerely. When you are sick or unwell, you sleep through the entire night. When you wake up and grab the neck of my sweater like you’re robbing me, I know things are okay.” 
You groaned again, this time tilting your head back and immediately regretting the action when a pulse of pain permeated along your temples. But it wasn’t so bad anymore; Azriel and his wings made it better. 
You took a moment to gaze upon his face in the proximity. He was smiling slightly, some humor still shining in his hazel eyes. The occasional shadow made a pass along his cheeks and by his ear, whispering secrets you weren’t privy to and then coming to wind around your body as well. His hair was mused and untamed, landing in soft patterns across his forehead. 
Azriel was so beautiful it hurt. 
“Does your mate ever get upset that we are so close?” you asked, the question not even fully formed in your head before it entered the space.
The smile slipped from Azriel’s lips and you regretted your impulsivity almost instantly. 
“No,” he answered, a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” 
“Has something happened? Between the two of you?” 
“Y/n, please don’t worry yourself over—” 
“It’s just—Azriel, I know how hard all of this has been on you. When you spoke of your mate it was the first time I saw you look at peace. That’s why I’m asking.” 
“You remember what I said?” 
“All of it,” you smiled, but Azriel only looked grave. “Az—"
The shadowsinger jutted back as the familiarity left your lips. He sent his shadows out, their configuring forms covering the windows and the cracks in the doors until it was dark enough for him to remove his wings from around you. With him went the comfort of night-kissed air and warmth and all of the things that made sense in this life you had been dropped into. 
“Rhys has requested that we meet in the study to discuss findings,” Azriel relayed, clearing his throat and standing from his place on the bed. “I laid out some of your things and a servant ran a bath when you started to stir. Do you need help—” 
“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, eyes downcast, feeling as though you’d ruined something that was already painfully delicate. 
“I’ll be here if you need me. Just outside the door.” 
You believed him—you did—but something was missing. Something you couldn’t keep up with. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was in love with someone. Mor, maybe? Or one of the sisters Cassian talked about on occasion? 
The thought of him with his mate made you nauseous. 
You shouldn’t have asked. 
~~
“A replication?” you asked, running a hand along the side of your head in an attempt to look casual about the throbbing taking place there. “So… it is like last time?” 
“Partially, but because the witch’s powers aren’t pure, she was unable to mimic what a full daemati can do. So, same outcome, fewer side effects,” Rhys offered, a calming presence across the table. “Witches often find sources to draw from because they don’t have access to their natural abilities any longer. Your source was—” 
“An opening in her mind,” Azriel concluded, expression guarded as he sat stiffly beside you. “There were remaining injuries in her mind. The witch found her weak points and used them against her.” 
Helion nodded, rounding one of the more ornate chairs and basking in the light streaming through the window. “Very astute. We thought there were no remnants of—” 
“Don’t say his name,” Azriel warned. 
“—of the attack,” Helion quickly corrected, obviously not in the mind to start an argument with the keyed-up spymaster. “But they must have been miniscule. We think she must have been an old witch, very practiced.” 
“So what do we do now?” Cassian gruffly asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill. You turned to look at him, but the sunlight casting his shadow sent your head ablaze. You quickly righted your gaze and squeezed your eyes shut to compensate. 
You felt shadows stalk beneath your feet and across the floor until they consumed the light of the window. If anyone had any comments on the shadowsinger’s act, they didn’t voice them. 
“Now,” Helion breathed out, dropping into a chair and interlacing his fingers atop the oak table. “We wait. Just like the last time, this kind of power is not something we can simply undo. We need a witch, and witches are incredibly elusive.” 
Trepidation gripped your heart, sending your lungs into a fiery descent. You were just supposed to wait? Wait and hope that maybe, possibly, they would find a witch and fix this before your life moved on without you in it?
Your breath came out in quick, uneven puffs, exacerbating the ache in your head. 
Azriel sat up in his seat, high alert and on the defensive. 
But Rhysand was quicker than his spymaster’s anger. “There is the possibility that this wears off on its own.” 
Your eyes snapped up. “Was that a possibility last time?” 
“No,” Cassian remarked, brows shot up to his hairline. “That’s why you were missing for so long and in so much pain after. You both made it clear that there was no moving whatever the daemati put in her head.” 
Helion and Rhysand shared a look, but your High Lord was the one to speak. “It was weaker this time, more permeable. We think, with time, the wall the witch attempted to replicate will break down and you’ll have everything back. She did only do this to you to flee from attack. It wasn't personal.” 
“How much time?” Azriel strained. 
Helion replied this time. “There is no way to know, shadowsinger.” 
“What about the pain? You said fewer side effects but I couldn’t even have light in my room this morning.” 
Rhysand looked sheepish, eyes darting over to the window still opaque with shadows. “Yes, well—we may have pushed you a bit too far during our assessment.” 
Cassian let out a disbelieving huff from the corner of the room. Azriel gripped the arms of his chair until they groaned. 
“So it’ll go away?” you asked, desperation trickling into your tone. 
The wood beneath Azriel’s hands splintered. 
“Yes, very soon. We can give you some tonics before you leave as well. They will help speed up the process,” Helion promised, eyeing his chair being slowly destroyed. 
In a motion that felt almost second nature, you covered the spymaster’s hand with your own, shadows wrapping around the press of your skin. It was then that you noticed the ring. Silver and unassuming, it took up residence on the ring finger of his left hand and looked like it belonged no place else. 
Our souls are linked, he had said, talking about his mate with such passion. 
You removed your hand from his. 
Azriel flexed his fingers upon your departure. 
“We were thinking,” Rhysand began after a pregnant pause that seemed to blanket the room. “With your pain, we might want to stay a few more days. Winnowing can add extra pressure to the body and flying would—” 
“No,” you were quick to dispute. “No, I want to go home. It’s lovely here, Helion, and I thank you for all you’ve done and are doing, but I want to go back to the Night Court. I want to try and live the life I’ve made for myself, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.” Another pause. “If that’s okay.” 
“Of course that’s okay,” Azriel spoke from beside you. His words sounded dull, his fingers remaining outstretched on the chair. 
“We will continue looking for the witch on our side,” Helion nodded, pushing out of his chair. He came before you then, meeting your gaze. “I cannot apologize enough for what your time in my court has cost you. I only hope that all will return to you. I have missed you, y/n.” 
And then the High Lord of Day was gone, and you had no recollection as to why he would miss you in the first place. Everyone was saying they missed you, even as you stood before them unharmed and intact. 
A harsh reality slammed into you with the departure of the High Lord. 
If you didn’t get your memories back—if there were no witches or deteriorating walls in your mind—they would continue to miss you. You would forever be a husk of your former self, never understanding the full picture of who you were. 
But that wasn’t okay with you—not at all. 
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atyourmerci · 3 days
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I don’t care that you’re a stoner
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Ceo!abby
Dr. A.A
CW: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, mean!abby, sub!reader, light bondage (belt), tribbing brrr, talks of strap usage, tribbing breeding kink brrr, degradation, fingering, cum play
A/N: this is technically a drabble but I gave it a title bc that’s what Chappell deserves
Why Dr. Anderson decided to come to you, your pathetic excuse of an ‘office’ instead of your usual frequent visits to hers, was beyond you. Following her around like a dog to her every beck and call. Having to call her doctor since she insisted on getting her doctorate in finance…fucking prick.
Even your credentials, your place in the hierarchy of the company didn’t exclude you from being her little bitch. She seldom gave you the decency of just looking at you when you did her dirty work. Filing her papers, calling her clients, getting her coffee, black of course, like she would drink anything with an ounce of happiness.
She never thanked you. She made it clear where you stood to her, below her. A bleeding, breathing, able-minded body. It could be you, or the next, as long as it was done correctly.
So nice of her as she glares at you from the door of your office that was always open. “What are your plans for tonight?” She says driving her veiny wrists into her slack pockets, her normal intimidating eyes driving into your soul.
“I should be done that paperwork by six, is there something else I need to get to you?”
“After that,” she remarks sternly, as if you should’ve know that, as if that was something she’d ever asked before.
“Uhh go home?” You answer dumbly, utterly confused by her insistence on your personal endeavors.
“Come out with us tonight. We go to max’s down the road,” it was a question with no opportunity for refusal. You didn’t say no to Dr.Anderson.
“Oh I don’t-“ you shake your head before she cuts you off.
“I know I can smell you. Seven. Tonight.”
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Sprawled out, aggressively stripped of your outing dress, on her luxurious thousand thread cotton sheets. Dr. Anderson’s Louis Vuitton belt tied around your wrist, her attempt to regain dominance.
Even as she’s panting, muffled curses coming out as pleas as she grinds her soaking cunt against your own. Her clit is so swollen now, after completely abusing your hole. Her pent up arousal seeping into the sticky mess she created with her relentless thrusts earlier.
“Couldn’t fucking stop thinking ‘bout this,” she pants out, rutting into you like a dog in heat, her sticky white cum ruining her precious expensive sheets.
You can’t seem to find words to remark her pathetic admission, so completely fucked out from your previous orgasm.
Kneading your breast in her hand she brings her teeth to your neck, biting down on the thin flesh, sure to leave marks for everyone to see. But that wasn’t enough for her.
“Gonna cum in this needy pussy, let everyone know how much of a whore you are.”
A guttural moan leaves your throat, the thought of her marking you, claiming you as hers.
“Hmm the little slut likes that? Getting used as my fucking cumdump?”
The only thing you can seem to mutter out is a sad ‘mhmm’ as your eyes roll to the back of your head.
A ‘fucking slut’ is heard in the background as you feel her reposition herself, turning herself sideways inbetween your legs, throwing your leg over her shoulder. She reconnects your swollen clits, with the addition of sliding two of her thick fingers back into you. Slipping in with ease, coating her fingers with the mix of pearl slick.
“FUCK,” you come back to your senses at the new sensation, needing to hold onto anything but your hands are still bound by her belt.
“Still so fucking tight, need to stretch her out so it’ll only feel good when I do it.” Her pace beginning to quicken, her hips bucking into your thigh. Her teeth biting into the flesh of your thigh, holding back whimpers of your name.
“B-better take all my cum. Every last drop slut,” she begins losing herself, her thrusts only getting sloppier. Gripping into the flesh of your thighs to stabilize herself, trying to get you off again before herself.
“I-I promise doctor.”
Was what set her off, dropping her head back as her mouth gapes. “fuckfuckholyfuck,” her legs begin to shake, hot white cream dripping out of her pulsing hole, dripping down your clit and finding its home in your own twitching abandoned hole.
Huffing out as she regains her stability, realizing she’s losing time, her cum dripping down to her sheets and spreading. Not where she needed it.
She takes her fingers back to your cunt, scooping up what’s left, pushing it deep inside of you and keeping them as far as she can get.
“This is what you wanted huh? Nasty fucking mess stuffed with my cum,” she says with a grin of the devil herself. So pleased seeing you so dumb for her, another level of submission she could coax you into.
You give a pathetic nod, feeling her cum painting your walls as she’s deep in your cervix. She begins giving tantalizing licks to your clit as she watches your chest rise and fall.
“Abby please-“
Before you could finish you feel a rough grab on your belt adorned wrists, pulling you up to face her.
“Get the rest you missed.” She says pulling you down into the sheets, your mouth opening instinctively. Licking the cum soaked cotton sheets as she watches you from below her.
Once she’s satisfied she grips your jaw in her hand, guiding your gaze to her soaking cunt, still dripping with the mix of both of your orgasms-
“Every. Last. Drop.”
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emjayewrites · 2 days
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Fuck A Title (Lewis Hamilton x Black!Fem Reader) (1/5)
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SYNOPSIS: Lewis and his former FWB try to navigate the murky waters of being official.
PAIRINGS: Lewis Hamilton x black!fem reader
WARNINGS: cursing, sexual content, angst, racing vroom vroom stuff. RATED R (minors DNI/18+)
SONG REFERENCE: "Title" by Kiana Lede
TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @omgsuperstarg @certifiedlesbianbaddie @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @motheroffae @hrlzy @sinflowersugar @hopefulromantic1 @vile-harlot @xoscar03 @blveeeeee @everywherea11thetime @blckgrl-sunflower @whoreforjjk @blowmymbackout
A/N: Not back fr, but had this in my drafts for a minute, so..... [Please comment & reblog]
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You sucked in a sharp breath as Lewis pulled you flush against his rock-hard body, his intoxicating male musk enveloping her. "Damn, Lew..." you husked out as his full lips trailed searing kisses along your neck.
Lewis rumbled a low chuckle against you skin, the gravelly timbre shooting tingles along her spine. "You know you want to stay." His mouth found yours, kissing you with a slow, hungry intensity.
"I can’t," you mutter as you arched shamelessly against the solid wall of muscle, whimpering into the heated kiss. These intimate nights used to be your steamy little secret - just two badass workaholics blowing off steam as commitment-free FWBs whenever you craved each other's bodies.
"I'll have your breakfast waiting in the morning, baby girl," Lewis purred in that panty-melting accent, charming and rugged all at once. "Let me take care of you like you deserve."
Your thoughts went to last season; it was stress-free, almost reminiscent of an endless vacation with you being flown out to see Lewis at some of his races — Monaco, Japan, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi, to name a few. There was also that two-week getaway to Turkey during summer break with his close guy friends.
But nothing could ever prepare you for how quickly things changed between you and Lewis. Just a few weeks ago, he wanted to make things official.
You blame that Brazilian girl. Jackie, Josie, Julia-something-or-the-other. Lewis's other sidepiece. The one who didn't know how to be discreet.
She's been kicking it with Lewis and his inner circle since 2019, and their off-and-on cycle can put anyone's head in a tailspin.
But, it wasn't your problem to deal with.
As messed up and unusual as it may sound, you knew what you had with Lewis. The conversations were always on par, the sex was bomb, and his friends were nice.
It wasn't until JuJu leaked his whereabouts to a tabloid journalist during his winter getaway to Brazil that Lewis finally put the nail in the coffin for whatever situation they had, and in return, it was you whom he had invited to join him in Paris, testing in Bahrain, and even a race in Saudi Arabia. It was you who he eventually grew close with, closer than what you envisioned, causing him to have an epiphany or midlife crisis moment, but he wanted you for some reason.
You and only you.
Against your shot-caller instincts, you had agreed to try monogamy with your long-time friends-with-benefits partner, yet could you really live up to the ride-or-die girlfriend role?
In the racing world, Lewis was F1 royalty - the kind of megastar talent that sparked a panty parade from groupies with each arrival. At thirty-nine years old, the British race monster had already stacked up multiple championship wins, the insane looks of a cologne model, and a net worth balling enough to buy a private island.
Cradled against his frame, you almost forgot your doubts about your newly-minted relationship status.
Almost.
Lewis was a whole meal with his tattooed body: wide shoulders, chiseled chest and biceps, and a tempting vee that disappeared beneath his form-fitting Tommy Hilfiger briefs. It almost felt criminal for one man to be so incredibly attractive.
"You're doing it again," that baritone washed over you as Lewis smirked knowingly. "Getting thirsty for me. This is why you need to stay." He flexed his pecs in a ludicrous muscle-man pose, making you throw back your head and laugh.
"Bye, Lewis," you shot back, eyes sparkling with mirth as you ran an admiring hand along his sculpted torso. "My mind was on work."
The lie was smooth, but he knew better.
"You think about work more than I do," Lewis chuckled richly, catching your roaming hand to tug you close once more. His skin glowed temptingly in the dim light, and you felt your resistance swiftly melting as his lips crashed into yours again. He tasted like your ultimate indulgence. But soon, much too soon, Lewis drew back with obvious reluctance. "Best not keep tempting me, baby girl. Let me walk you to your car like a good boyfriend."
And there it was - that word reminding you of your new reality. Boyfriend.
Swallowing hard, you began gathering your scattered clothes. "I should really go," she said, aiming for a breezy tone that fell flat even to your own ears. "But raincheck on the morning cuddles and all that, yeah? I've got an early call time."
Lewis watched you with that panty-dropping stare, shaking his head in fond exasperation. "Will you call me when you get to work at least?"
"Of course," you replied, sliding into your dress and avoiding his intense gaze. "I'll see you later," you said with a forced smile before turning and making your way out of the bedroom.
Like a dog to a bone, Lewis followed closely behind in nothing but his briefs and that all-too-obvious aroused bulge that he proudly sported. Bending over to put on your heels, you flinched slightly at the unexpected touch from behind.
His hands flattened against your spine, trailing downwards until it reached your hips before settling on your ass.
With a sharp intake of breath, you turned around to face him, eyes wide with shock and arousal as his fingers squeezed the plump flesh of your backside. "You can’t just grab me like that," you protested weakly, even as your body leaned into his touch.
A devilish grin crossed Lewis’ face. "But you like it," he murmured huskily, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. "You sure I can't convince you to stay?"
"Nope."
Lewis pouted playfully, his hands still lingering on your hips as he leaned in for one last kiss. "Fine," he sighed dramatically, before pressing his lips to your forehead and releasing you with a parting slap on your ass. "I'll see you later, then."
You grinned up at him as you straightened your dress and made your way towards the front door. "Bye, Lewis," you called over your shoulder.
As soon as you stepped outside into the cool London air, reality hit hard. Your mind was a cyclone of emotions.
Why were you still craving the easy detachment of your previous arrangement? Surely you were just going through an adjustment period of cold feet. A big part of you felt skittish about going from independent and free to somebody's boo'd up ball-and-chain, especially with someone who equally enjoyed working as you did. Though you weren’t on Lewis' level of fame, you still had clout as a fashion stylist and worked with prominent magazines, such as Vogue and Vanity Fair. You faced plenty of trials and trepidations in your life, yet navigating this new realm of commitment would be your ultimate challenge.
The drive to your hotel was quiet, with your mind filled with thoughts of Lewis and the budding relationship between the two of you. Shaking off those thoughts for now, you focused on reaching the hotel safely and getting some rest before another long day on set tomorrow.
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The next morning came far too soon for your liking. Despite having only slept for a few hours due to work calls and texts from Lewis throughout the night (something he did often but never seemed to tire), you dragged yourself out of bed when your alarm blared loudly.
After a quick shower and a strong cup of coffee, you were dressed and ready to head to the set for another long day of styling. As you arrived at the location, you were greeted by familiar faces - the models, photographers, and other crew members whom you had worked with countless times before in the last couple of months. You were currently on a six-month contract for Schön! and even though there was some shoots that required long work days, you appreciated the flexibility of the work.
Everyone was scurrying around, setting up equipment and making last minute adjustments before the shoot began. You made your way over to the fashion rack where designer clothing was carefully organized and ready to be styled on the models.
"Morning, Y/N!" A voice called out from across the room.
You turned to see one of your bosses, Tara, walking towards you with a smile on her face.
"Hey, Tara," you replied. "How's it going?"
"It's going good," she said, glancing around at the busy set. "Looks like another long day ahead of us."
You both chuckled, knowing that long days were just part of the job.
"So, what are we working with today?" Tara asked curiously as she looked over at the fashion rack.
"A mix of high-end brands and some vintage pieces," you replied, pulling out a beautiful Dior dress from its garment bag. "I'm excited to see how this looks on one of our models."
Tara nodded in agreement before getting pulled away by one of the photographers who needed her assistance. You went back to organizing and styling the clothes for each look on your mood board.
As the day went on, you couldn't help but feel a little distracted by the constant buzzing of your phone. Every few minutes, another text from Lewis would come through, each one more persistent than the last.
"Come with me to Australia," one read. "I'll book your flights."
"Wasn't it your fantasy to be bent over the railing of a hotel overlooking Hobsons Bay?" another said.
You sighed as you set your phone down on the table next to you, trying to focus on the task at hand. The shoot was going smoothly but with every text from Lewis, it became harder and harder to concentrate.
One thing was for sure: this nigga was extremely persistent.
You couldn't deny that a trip to Australia sounded tempting - it had been on your bucket list for years now. But at the same time, it wasn't practical for you to just drop everything and go away for an undetermined amount of time.
Or could you? an intrusive thought bubbled in your head. The hoe side of yourself was speaking, coming out from the depths of her hoeness cave. It often appeared whenever Lewis was involved, and let's be honest, it was probably the reason why you found yourself in this weird ass situation in the first place.
Think about that tongue of his, girl! ‘Member how he had you walking funny for three days straight after finishing in eighth place?!
You couldn't forget it, as it would always be ingrained in the fiber of your very being. You enjoyed seeing Lewis angry, especially when there was a mistake during race weekend. Not that you blamed him for losing, as the car wasn't up to par, but he had a unique way of channeling his anger through sexual pleasure.
A familiar shiver ran down your spine as you hit send on a three-letter response to him.
Well, there goes the idea of keeping my distance and any modicum of self-respect.
Bitch, you know you can't resist that dick, quipped your inner hoe.
And as usual, she was correct.
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The hotel didn't have a direct view of Hobsons Bay, but the Yarra River and Botanical Gardens could still be seen from the balcony. It was nighttime, and as Lewis moved in a steady rhythm, your vision may not have been top-notch, but the sparkling city lights served as a focal point amidst the familiar feeling building up in your pelvic region, signaling an imminent orgasm.
You couldn't help but moan loudly as Lewis hit that spot inside of you that always made you lose control. He had you bent over the railing, one hand gripping your hip while the other played with your aching nodule. Each thrust sent bolts of pleasure shooting through your body.
"Fuck," he grunted in your ear. "You feel so good."
You couldn't respond, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. As his pace quickened, your moans grew louder and more desperate. The height from the penthouse's balcony was both terrifying and exhilarating, deafening in its intensity. It was a common choice for him whenever he visited Australia, as if being that high up meant less chance of encountering any spiders.
Just as you were about to reach your climax, Lewis stopped to bend down to bury his face in your core, working that sinful mouth of his. Your legs began to tremble as two of his fingers pushed inside you, matching the movements of his tongue.
He had always been a master at eating pussy, and it didn't take long for you to reach your climax. You cried out his name as waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you breathless and satisfied. Lewis stood up, a smug grin on his face as he saw the effect he had on you. He turned you around to kiss you deeply, tasting your own essence on his lips.
"You're still the best I've ever had," he whispered against your lips.
After catching your breath, you put a smirk on your face. "That's because I am the best," you teased.
"You’re right 'bout that," he concurred, leading you to the patio couch.
He sat next to you, his hands running up your sides and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his hands on your body.
"You always know how to make me feel good," you murmured.
"I aim to please," he replied with a wicked grin, before leaning in to kiss you again.
Without breaking the kiss, Lewis maneuvered you so you were now straddling his lap. His lips moved down your neck, causing shivers to run down your spine. Your hands roamed his muscular back, feeling every ridge and dip of his body.
His hands traveled to your hips, guiding them as you began to grind against him. The friction between your bodies was building a delicious heat, making it hard for you both to control yourselves.
"God, I need you," he growled against your skin.
You moaned in response, eagerly meeting his lips again. Lewis thrust upwards, filling you to the hilt and causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you leaned back slightly and rocked your hips faster against his. The pressure was building between the two of you and it was becoming harder to keep quiet. Your nails raked across his skin and he hissed in pain.
"Mmm...easy there, baby girl," he rumbled out a low warning, giving your earlobe a gentle nip of reproach. "Can't have you mauling me before the big race this weekend. Need to look pretty for my adoring fans."
You scoffed and ground harder against him in sweet retaliation, making him curse roughly. "Please, I'll mark you up anyway I want," you husked.
Lewis chuckled and tightened his grip on your waist, holding you still as he thrust up into you with more force. Your head fell back in pleasure, a loud moan escaping your lips.
"Jesus Christ," he groaned, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chased his own release. He reached between your bodies to stimulate your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, along with your moans and Lewis' low curses.
"That’s my girl takin' this dick so well," he croons softly. "You’re so fuckin' wet, baby. You like this dick, huh? This yours?"
Lewis' words only spurred you on, as you continued to ride him with reckless abandon. The pleasure was building inside of you, threatening to consume you completely.
"You know it's mine," you gasped out, your nails digging into his shoulders. "No one else's."
"Damn right," Lewis growled, his own release approaching fast. He gripped your hips tighter and slammed into you one last time, pushing you both over the edge.
Your walls clenched around him like a vice as you came undone, screaming his name as he followed suit shortly after.
Panting and sweating, the two of you collapsed onto the couch in a tangled heap. Lewis held you close, kissing your forehead gently.
"You're amazing," Lewis murmured, voice rough with satiated desire. His arms tightened around you, pulling your flushed body flush against his sweat-sheened skin.
You hummed out a breathless laugh, nuzzling your face against the solid warmth of his chest. "So are you."
For a long while, the two of you simply held each other close, basking in the post-coital glow. Lewis traced idle patterns across the exposed skin of your back, his touch reverent and tender.
Finally, with obvious reluctance, Lewis stirred beneath you.
"As much as I hate to move right now, we should probably get cleaned up."
The two of you stood up, still tangled in each other's embrace, and made your way to the bathroom. Lewis turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature before pulling you under the warm spray with him.
You leaned back against his chest, feeling content and blissful as he washed your body with slow, gentle movements. His hands lingered on your curves and crevices, eliciting soft moans from you.
"I could get used to this," Lewis murmured against your neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear.
You chuckled and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. "Me too."
And even though you are apprehensive, there is no denying that Lewis was still the best thing in your world, but it all can't be butterflies and rainbows...
TO BE CONTINUED.....
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The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k
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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
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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?
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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.
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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.
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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..”
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charcubed · 1 day
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I saw Challengers earlier today and I decided to start a running doc of some of my feral thoughts in an effort to not forget what's currently marinating in my brain after my first watch
I want this movie to get a long theatrical release/run because it deserves it, but that's unfortunate because I also NEED to have it accessible to me in my home ASAP so I can pull on all its threads and take screencaps. Alas.
EXTENSIVE SPOILERS BELOW
might add to this later as I remember things, idk
-The parallel of Art spitting his gum in Tashi’s hand and in Patrick’s hand… My jaw dropped soooo early on. Anyway they obviously both act as Art’s “coach” at different times in his life in different ways. (The jerking off teaching?? Scream???) Art craves their guidance and approval as a form of love (which is also directly responsible for his confidence issues) and initially likes to follow their leads in every situation
-The parallel of Tashi making out with both Art and Patrick up against cars… delicious
-Patrick’s car is his “bed” and it’s where he and Tashi fuck. Nice
-Wait now I’m sad because… lowkey Patrick is homeless because Art and Tashi are his home…………….
-The storm = Patrick and Tashi having sex = the reason why Art’s half of the giant poster/ad on the side of the building falls down so only Tashi’s side is left up. Iconic, loooove a good visual metaphor, especially shown nonlinearly
-The parallel of the forehead kisses??? Art and Patrick on the court at the start when they won the doubles, and Art and Tashi in the sad almost-sex scene towards the end??? I will throw up
-Disclaimer and reminder I’ve only seen this movie once and might reform any of these thoughts later BUT…
One of Art’s main things is, as he tells Patrick towards the start, not wanting to be “left out.” He loves and he wants both Patrick and Tashi (but he doesn’t fully want to acknowledge the extent of his want for Patrick for years, and that repression is part of his problems…). He gets “lit up” about the thought of them together not because he’s jealous of one of them but because he’s jealous of BOTH of them; he wants to know it all, he wants to be in the room, he wants to be with them both, he despairs at the thought of losing either of them (but, at the start, especially at the thought of losing or being of lesser importance to Patrick. Obviously he’s a fucking idiot as evidenced by how Patrick goes to see him FIRST at Stanford. Ugh). We see all of this at the start when Art wants to know if Tashi and Patrick fucked. We see this in Atlanta when he witnesses Tashi cheating on him with Patrick but doesn’t directly confront either of them about it; he only skates the edge of confronting it with Patrick in the sauna while also lashing out at him. Patrick tells Art at Stanford “it’s nice to see you so lit up about something, even if it’s my girlfriend” during the homoerotic churros scene because Patrick’s clocked all of this about Art, too. He clocks it further in Atlanta when he shows up to Art’s practice with Tashi and his mere presence makes Art hit the ball harder. It obviously all comes full circle; the cocktail of emotions that Patrick and Tashi being together gives Art coalesces again for him on the court in the Challengers match: Tashi’s threatened to leave him if he loses… and she’s maybe got one foot out the door with Patrick of all people, who Art already “lost” in the past as the love he’s been mourning for 13 years. But what’s important is that THIS time, unlike Atlanta, Art learns about Tashi cheating on him with Patrick not by accident but rather because Patrick actually tells him. Patrick understands the significance of how this will get Art lit up again and make him play the way he needs to for all of their sakes, and it’s fucked up, but… what this means is Patrick doesn’t leave Art out. He TELLS Art – and he tells him in a way only they understand while they’re on the court together again. Of course Art goes through several stages of emotions in response to that fucked up information… but ultimately that moment of honesty and realization between the boys is what Art needed and puts where all 3 of them stand into sharp relief, shedding a light on who they’ve all always been and what their individual needs are.
Art’s always wanted to play tennis, but that desire is framed around his relationships. Tennis is only something he truly enjoys or that fully makes him happy when he’s experiencing it through his connections to other people: he wants to impress, earn the approval of, or celebrate with those he loves who are watching (like his grandmother or Tashi) – which is partially why he wants Tashi to be his coach in the first place. And of course, tennis all began as something Art found joy in because he was always doing it with Patrick. It’s clear Patrick feels the same. At the start, neither of them cared much about winning for the sake of winning unless it was doubles because they competed as a team and that was “really fun” for them. With the singles competition, they kind of cared less about the wins at the start; Art assumed Patrick would win and didn’t care back then, and then Patrick was willing to let Art win so he could impress his family, and they were both fine with all of those sentiments. Tennis was first and foremost something they did with and for each other. As Patrick later tells Art in the sauna, “I miss playing with you” – and, of course, at that point he’s definitely not only talking about tennis. But in that final match, after so many years, Patrick and Art finally understand each other completely again. It’s like they’re in love (because they are and always have been), they go somewhere really beautiful together… etc. They finally reconnect on the court and feel that thrill as they become synchronized again, which is what tennis was always about for them.
And Tashi, who’s irrevocably connected to them both and whose primary love is and always has been the sport itself, gets what SHE’S always wanted: to “watch some good fucking tennis.” It’s why she pitted the boys against each other vying for her number at the start. Though she needs/wants both boys in different ways on an individual level, she doesn’t particularly need or want anyone to ~be in love with her~; she wants the men who are in love with her to entertain her and challenge her and give her a show. So that’s what she tries to accomplish again in the end by telling Art she’d leave him if he lost the Challengers match… but the missing piece in her making that threat – the element that would get Art truly fired up – was that she’d potentially leave Art for Patrick. That final piece of info, when Art finds out about the cheating, is what reconnects them in all of the above ways. Because it’s about all 3 of them and their triangular codependency. They’ve all been broken for 13 years because they all need each other and tennis to be fully functional. Split any of it apart and they just don’t work.
-Literally this is a film where from the moment of the injury they’re all constantly mourning. They all lose their greatest loves that day… Tashi essentially loses tennis, Art loses Patrick, and Patrick loses the two of them. Everything after that is just them being affected by how they’re all mired in various grief and feeling incomplete… until that synchronization at the match when they finally become whole again. Going from that bed scene that was breaking my heart to the final match was HEALING. Things are still fucked up and in progress, but they’re fucked up in a way they all understand, which gives them a path forward. This movie has a fiercely happy ending in that regard… and what I’m saying is that… after the match, once they communicate further, and much later down the line… Art and Patrick should go back to playing doubles and Tashi should coach them as as doubles team. God they’d eventually all be so happy I wanna CRY just thinking about them doing that. It would take them awhile to get there — because yeah, Tashi is living vicariously through Art’s career as an individual player and maybe if Art retired she’d then want to live through PATRICK’S career for awhile — but I think if they worked out their relationship then their tennis could come to reflect the needs of that relationship too, and doubles can still be “good fucking tennis” in its own satisfying right, y’know? I think they could get there and it would be a beautiful collective restart.
-I gotta say, I can't imagine Tashi pregnant. Wild to me. Sorry to their daughter. Oooo also... I think Patrick would be great with kids... when he gets to meet Lily and become "Uncle Patrick" they're gonna hit it off so fast. Help me
-*holds up Tashi watching them kiss after she orchestrated it* *holds up the Challengers match* It’s the same picture. Except the kisses were kisses whereas the match was actual sex. The moaning and grunting… I’m insane. Also Tashi’s “COME ON!!!!” is arguably the sole orgasm/climax we witness in the whole movie perhaps? Though you could argue the hug is too. In this essay I will, etc.
-Art begging for Tashi’s love/validation saying “Tell me it doesn’t matter if I win tomorrow” vs Art telling Patrick in the sauna “this is a game about winning the points that matter” / Patrick saying “I don’t matter?” AAAA oh my fucking Goddddddd I’m gonna die
-Thank you Luca Guadignino for your dedication to having Art and Patrick hold phallic drinks and food in each others’ presence. Specific shout out to Patrick at the beach party holding the beer bottle on his crotch
-Patrick = comfortable with who he is and secure in his bisexuality; honest and open Art = repressing his queerness and his overall desires Tashi = hiding who she is aka her dissatisfactions with life and the lengths she’ll go to because tennis is her true greatest love and always has been
COMPRESS, REPRESS... REPRESS, COMPRESS... AND THEN JUST SURRENDER, ONE TWO THREEEEE
-I need to rewatch to catch the dialogue because it was difficult for me to hear it over the music, but I think in the 3am Atlanta scene Tashi tells Patrick that Art’s grandmother had a stroke. IF that’s what she said (and if there’s no reason to believe it’s a lie Art told; like I said, I need to rewatch)… my immediate impression was that it’s a nod to Patrick being the voice of accuracy and prediction in this movie. Towards the beginning he tells Art (jokingly) that he hopes Art’s grandmother dies of a stroke, and that’s seemingly what literally comes to pass. He repeatedly clocks both Tashi and Art’s behaviors, describing them brashly to their faces (and to us as the audience), and he was right about his predictions. He’s the one who’s not repressed or unaware of who he is out of the 3 of them: when Tashi first asks if there’s something between him and Art, he looks away because he knows the answer is yes; he’s openly bi on dating apps; he tells Tashi he won’t be her lapdog unlike Art which we see later ends up becoming literal; he clocks how Tashi is hiding some of her true motivations when she seeks him out in the storm; and even from afar he predicts Art’s mindset about wanting to retire. For the most part, what Patrick does / says either seems to be or becomes truth. Hmmm, wait, as I’m typing this… something to look out for: the “I TOLD YA” shirt. Working theory: Tashi briefly wears it, she’s the voice of accuracy; then it blatantly switches over to Patrick and he wears it throughout the film and [waves to all of the above]
-Head in my hands thinking of how the word “love” is used in these tennis matches. Also something I need to make detailed note of when I rewatch
-Patrick grabbing Art’s thigh when they first watched Tashi play… oh my GOD
-Patrick pulling Art’s stool close and Art just smoothly sitting on it with no reaction… the way they kept looking at each others' lips... oh my G O D
-I just remembered Tashi referred to the boys being known as as “fire and ice.” What the fuck even.
-Tashi going to Patrick asking him to lose the match for Art… she’s literally like, "do this because I love tennis and if I lose Art then I lose the way I live tennis through him. Do this because if he loses this match he'll lose himself." And she's really like, "Do this because I know you’re in love with both of us." And Patrick is like, "A) fuck you because you know I’ll say yes precisely because I'm in love with both of you so how dare you ask this of me, and B) you’re kidding yourself if you think you don’t miss the challenge I give YOU simply by being myself because I don’t take your shit." Something something they're peers, you know
-Tbh for 13 years when Patrick gets his rare opportunities he’s @ both Art and Tashi like “you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” And the thing is that he’s RIGHT. He’s right! Art in particular doesn't want to admit it because he's trying to convince himself he outgrew being bisexual / outgrew Patrick but it's obviously bullshit
-Realizing some of the sounds in the soundtrack intentionally emulate the sounds of tennis balls and rackets???? MADNESS
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peachesofteal · 5 hours
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Cool girl
ghoap x female reader / 18+ warning: the boys are foul - could be considered dub con / part one / part two
Two (three) can play at that game.
"When you're done being a brat, call us."
You decide within a week, that you're very much not done being a brat.
And you're very much done with them.
Fuck them, you coach yourself in the mirror as you fix your makeup. Fuck them both. And her, whoever she is, though you know she doesn't deserve your wrath. She probably has no idea the tangled web she's walked into, she's the one stuck in the trap, now.
The doorbell rings, and you check your reflection one more time, satisfied with your dress, the way it gathers across your breasts, how it flatters your shape. It's a tad short, there's a bit of cleavage, little pieces that make it more than perfect. Something about this style, the way it fits, always drove the boys nuts, so it should be more than good enough for your date.
Fuck them.
You bring him to the dive. It's a safe choice, the bartender knows you, pays attention. You feel safe here, familiar. It's a great option for a first date.
And because you're a cool girl, you don't know how to play pool.
Of course, he's happy to teach you.
You start with a tequila. It scalds on the way down and settles like fire, but it takes the edge off. One turns to two, and it's enough to get you closer, allowing him to rest his hand on your knee at the bar, allowing him to keep a hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the finally empty pool table.
He's handsy, and normally, you'd be a little put off.
But not tonight.
"Okay, it's simple. You use the white ball to break." He lines up your shot for you, folding you into place, bending forward, hand brushing against your thigh as he leans beside you.
You intentionally short the shot, barely breaking the triangle of balls free. He chuckles. "Not bad for a first go."
"What do I get if I win?" Your smile is shy, and it's only half forced. You do like this guy, he's very nice, very attractive. Tall with a strong jawline, kind eyes. His fingers find yours, and his touch is gentle, patient.
"A kiss?" He ventures, testing the waters. You nod.
"Sure thing."
You're halfway through the game when the energy in the bar shifts. It's like everyone freezes, a collective whoosh of air washing through the bodies hunched over at the bar, loitering on the walls, perched on the wrought iron chairs out back.
The regulars look at one another and then return to studying the TV, or each other, their half empty drinks.
You don't need to look, to know.
You can feel them.
Apparently, so can your date.
"Don't look, but there are two guys staring at you, across the bar." You bat your eyelashes.
"Who?" It's innocent, this kind of play. Playing dumb. It's pure, until your chin turns over your shoulder and find them, white knuckled and focused, Johnny alight with anger, Simon stoic as ever. Sadness, and rage, roar inside your head, and you force yourself to look them in their eyes. Force yourself to be brave.
After a second, you turn away and into your date. He pulls you closer, palm resting on your lower back, mouth dangerously close above your ear. "Are they bothering you?" What a nice guy.
"No." You assuage immediately. You know what would happen, if he tried to be your knight in shining armor. You know how it would end.
With blood. Broken bones. And tears.
"Let's keep playing." You suggest. "Will you show me how to hold the stick?" Your teeth hold onto the last syllable, hand wrapping around the polished length of the wood, slowly moving it up and down. Your heart pounds, but a thrill rushes through you at the same time. Fuck them. Your date raises an eyebrow, mouth cocking into a sly smile, and nods.
After your third drink, you can't delay using the bathroom anymore. Skin tingling from all the places his hands have traversed, you're dizzy with the pulse of power, the high of your performance. It's wrong, and twisted but...
they deserve it. They deserve worse.
"I'll be right back." You promise, tracing a fingernail down his arm. "Get another round?" He trots off, eager to please.
The chairs scrape as soon as you turn into the dingy hallway, and their shadows fill the air, sucking it dry. You resist the urge to turn, palm flat against the swinging door of the toilets.
"What are ye doin'?" Johnny rages, and you turn to mouth off, only to jerk backwards at the realization of how close he is. You can count the flecks of gold around his irises, see the shimmer of cerulean blue. Simon stands at his back, a wall blocking out the rest of the hall, hiding you from view.
"I'm on a date." Simon laughs.
"You call this little show a date, sweetheart? Is that what you think that is?"
"Not sure you'd know what I'm like on a date since you never took me on one." You spit, and Johnny goes rigid, muscles hardening.
"Not sure that little boy would know the first thing about handlin' ye."
"Handling me?" The squeak your voice makes is embarrassing and incredulous at the same time. "Handle me? You think I need handling? I'm a full grown woman. I don't need-" He presses closer, close enough you can smell him, and your mouth drops open when he pushes you against the wall, cock hard under his jeans. "J-johnny."
"Aye, we think ye need handlin'. Ye're only supposed to be handled by us. Not by some sad wank who cannae stop droolin' like a dog."
"Stop." The resolve in your voice wavers, your resistance cracking and crumbling as Simon appears beside him, mouth pressing to your ear.
"You think that boy has a fat cock to feed you, sweet girl? Think he knows how-" One of them cups you between your legs over the fabric of your dress, palm grinding against your clit, and you grit your teeth against the friction, the moan it tries to pull from your throat. "to take care of this pussy?"
"She's high maintenance, ye know." Johnny snickers, lips dotting your cheek, down to your neck. He cups a fistful of your breast, thumb stroking where your nipple strains beneath your bra. "Ye think he'll be able to make ye gush for him? Make ye cum on his cock?" You're boiling, anger and desire feeding twin flames, trying to sputter out a response.
"What's going on here?" Your date practically shouts from the edge of the hallway, and Simon's grin turns feral. Predatory.
Fear strikes, and turns you cold.
"D-don't." You try to implore.
"Are you okay?" Your poor date catches your gaze, and you try to will him away with your eyes.
"Leave him alone." You plead.
"Fuck off mate. This is between us and our girl. Ye're done here."
"Excuse me?" He steps closer, and Simon pushes off the wall. Desperate, you latch onto his forearm.
"Simon, please. He's not-"
"He said you're done here." Simon snarls. "Run along like a good boy."
"Fuck you." He postures, and you shake your head frantically, trying to step out between them. Johnny doesn't budge, keeping you half pinned against the wall.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Maybe you'd like to watch us fuck her, after we make you beg for it. After we stretched out your neglected little hole." Johnny laughs, a cackle full of crow, smart and mischievous, and you nearly faint. Your date looks sick.
He takes one look at you, another look at the boys... and then flees. Johnny whistles. "Coward."
When they both turn back...
you burst into tears.
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avtrxxx · 2 days
Note
Neteyam keep his little human in a cage and feeds her his cock through the bars 🙏
My little pet
Neteyam x female human reader (aged up)
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A/n: Sooo... I wanted to write smut for a while now and I finally got the chance! Love you anonie <3
Warnings: blowjob, mentions of kidnapping, dom/sub
🔞Minors do not interact!🔞
Cold bars against the thin skin on your back, making you feel all cold. Your bottom lip trembled and your hands shook, eye lids barely staying open anymore. The lack of food was making its appearance since this morning, your stomach growling every now and then.
Neteyam loved you more than you knew, more than you expected. He was obsessed with you. You were the prettiest little thing he had ever laid his eyes on. The first time your intoxicating scent invaded his nose, he knew you were meant to be his.
So, over time he tried getting closer to you. He always brought you cooked meat after every hunt and when he came back from a long trip, he brought you satchels full of beautiful colored stones. He even started courting you but you didn't know.
You were the lab kid who never put a foot outside. So when he started bringing you those things and handmade jewelry, you thought he was just acting nice and was a good friend. But in reality, he was trying to get to your heart, whether you wanted it or not.
That's how you found yourself naked, sitting in a cage for two weeks. He fed you regularly but when you talked back to him, he punished you by giving you too much or he simply didn't feed you for that day.
What you told him the last day angered him very much. You had the guts to shout at him, and told him how much you hate being trapped with him. He didn't allow you to eat or drink anything since then, and your fight took place yesterday morning. You haven't had something go down your throat for more than 24 hours.
Suddenly, the door cracked open and Neteyam entered, his long legs carrying him to you. Neteyam crouched down next to your cage, looking down at you. He slid his large hand through the bars from above you and caressed your head, his fingers lost in your hair. You hated him with all your heart but something about his touch was so... soothing.
"Poor little thing... Your master didn't let you eat, did he? He's such a bad guy." Neteyam mocked you, his fingers rubbing your scalp.
Your eyes burned holes into his skull but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. You just wanted it all to end but he wouldn't let you go, not before you accept being his mate. And even if you did, he'd still be careful. He wouldn't want his little pet to run away.
"You're my little pet. You know that, right? No one else deserves you but me, my love. Your heart beats for me, you live for me." his gentle voice entered your mind, his sweet words making you fall deeper and deeper into his trap.
But he enjoyed seeing you so helpless and in need of help. After all, he was the only one who could help you right now. He was the only one who could make you feel vulnerable and proud of yourself, your mood depending on his.
A growl was heard from your stomach and Neteyam didn't let that go unnoticed. He chuckled and changed his position, standing on his knees.
"Looks like my pet is hungry." Neteyam moved his loincloth to the side, and his erect cock sprung free, slapping against his lower abdomen.
You still couldn't get over his length. The size of his cock was something that always amazed you, but it also frightened you. Since he kidnapped you, he gave it to you non-stop but every time felt like the first time over and over again.
Neteyam wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few strokes before he came closer. Neteyam wrapped the chain that was holding you tied to the floor of the cage by your neck around his forearm, dragging you closer. He pointed his cock your way, aligning it with your mouth. The tip leaked with precum, wetting your lips.
You wanted to pull away but his grip was too strong, and the bagging on the chains brought pain in your neck and wrists.
"Come on, pet. Take a taste. I know you're hungry." Neteyam smirked down at you, sliding his cock past your lips. He moaned at the feeling of your warm mouth enveloping his cock.
He thrusted in deeper, and deeper, till his tip was hitting the back of your throat. He knew he couldn't fit all of himself inside your small mouth, but it was worth the try.
He started moving slowly, and his eyes rolled back as he pulled the chain harder. You struggled with his size, trying to keep your head in place as he fucked your mouth though he bars.
"Shit! You feel so good, little pet." He moaned, thrusting harder into your mouth. Your gag reflexes activated and you choked around him, trying to spit him out. But he simply wouldn't let you.
"Stop trying to run away. You're staying here with me, whether you like it or not." he rolled his hips into your mouth, feeling himself getting closer.
"Mm~...look how well you're taking me. Like this mouth of yours was made for my cock." he pulled the chain harder, making you hit your face right into the bars as he ravaged your throat.
"Fuuck... I'm so close." he finally shot his load down your throat, still not letting you go. You felt your mouth get filled with his cum. You didn't need to think twice and swallowed his seed, hoping to get all of it. He kept thrusting his hips into your face, riding his own high. Your nose met his pubic bone with every stroke and you couldn't help but inhale deeply. His scent was so musky and manly that you wanted it to be your oxygen.
He pulled out of your mouth and let go of the chain, watching you fall on your back. You were gasping for air, your lungs aching. Fortunately, you managed to swallow even the last drop of his seed. You weren't afraid of what was to happen if you didn't but you WANTED to swallow it all.
"Such a good girl I got for myself." Neteyam chuckled, a smirk planted on his lips. He eyed your tired form and without a second thought, he took the key from the pocket of his cock. He approached the locker and put the key inside before he rolled it to the side.
You watched as the locker fell from the gate of your cage and Neteyam's large hands opened it, inviting you outside. You laid in there for a moment before he took hold of the chain and pulled you out forcefully.
He grabbed you by your neck and kissed you, his large hand almost cutting off your circulation. His tongue swirled around yours, sucking on it before he let go. You moaned into the kiss and gripped at his broad shoulders, drawing him closer.
He pulled back from the kiss, a line of saliva connecting your lips to his. His yellow eyes looked into yours, now swallowed by the darkness of his pupils. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, collecting your mixed spit.
"You look so pretty like this. All mine." he whispered in a deep voice, lust written all over his face. You felt yourself getting wetter at his voice.
"But you have to stay mine. You have to stay in your cage until you get my trust again." your eyes widened as you froze on the spot. You thought you made him happy and proud enough to finally set you free. But you were wrong...so wrong.
Slowly, Neteyam got hold of your chain and dragged you back into your cage. He closed the gate behind you and locked it with the key, dropping it in his loincloth after. You were looking up at him with your sad eyes and pout, begging him for some mercy.
"Aww, don't cry. I'll be back later." he said, caressing your head one more time before he left the abandoned building, leaving you alone too.
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pinkandlilacroses · 2 days
Text
⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆
Angel - Paige bueckers
part 3
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• summary {when an unsuspecting girl falls for the basketball star}
• warnings {drug use, angst}
• comment if you would like to be added to the taglist
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bella’s pov
“ok you can go now” she says, emotionless
“oh”
“i mean, no offence but i have a girl coming soon, so you cant be here” she says laying on her back, breaking our eye contact
i don’t respond and put my clothes back on. this is fucked
“have a nice night”
i haven’t cried this much in months, walking through the halls, ugly crying.
‘paige’ has been blocked by ‘bella’
“bella whats wrong” avery says, empathetically
“i hate her, i hate her so much” i cry, barley being able to choke the words out
i look at avery after my response and i have never seen her that angry, there could fully be steam coming from her ears.
“please dont talk to her, please dont hurt her, please avery, please” i cry out, begging the infuriated girl
“why not bella, she deserves it” she yells
my tears dont stop and i feel like they will never stop pouring.
“tell me what she did”
i begin the tell her the events of tonight and her anger only grows.
“that fucking bitch” is all she can say in response
“but i blocked her, and im literally never gonna speak to her again” i say, trying to make a positive point, to counteract this negative situation
“you are never gonna speak to her again”
“im gonna go off to bed”
i feel broken, i got used. i wanted my first time with a girl to be meaningful, i know i like girls and i wanted to prove to myself that having sex with girls wasn’t wrong, but i feel wrong, i feel gross. i cant believe i would let myself be that vulnerable with someone i barley know. ive never been the one to have one night stands and ive only ever had sex with someone ive been in a relationship with.
i take my valium, something i swore to never use again after getting addicted, but its the only thing that works.
“hey, how are you feeling” avery ask’s, genuinely. i’ve never seen her be this gentle before
“wheres my weed”
“bella no”
“shut up avery”
i walk to the kitchen and unlock one of the drawers, and i see the stash. thank god
i know i shouldn’t smoke as a coping mechanism, but its the only thing that works, every time something bad happens to me, i turn to smoking
after going through 3 joints, im barley able to talk or stand up. perfect
knock
ugh
knock
fuck off
knock
“who is it” i say, it barley even sounded like words
“its azzi, is avery here”
who the fuck is azzi
“avery theres a bitch here for you” i say taking another drag
“oh my god! hey azzi” avery says, excitedly, why the fuck is she acting like that
“why are you so fucking happy” i ask, knowing full well how rude i sound
“this is azzi, shes in my psychology class and we have gotten pretty close” avery says, grabbing azzi and sitting next to me on the couch
“yo dont sit on my shit” i say, mad
“your bella right?” azzi says, happily. i hate happy people
“yeah”
“yeah avery’s told me alot about you” she says
“cool” i reply, dryly
“azzis on the basketball team” avery says, my eyes widen
“of course she is” i say, sarcastically. i hate basketball
“yeah, have you been to any games” she questioned, attempting to continue this boring conversation
“nah, i dont watch basketball”
“oh well you should sometime, avery keeps saying how she wants to go to a game” azzi says, looking at avery who begins giggling. sus
“bella your probably friends with some people on the team” avery says
“you wanna hit” i offer to azzi
“nah, i dont smoke”
“boring” i say, bluntly
“do you guys mind if some of my friends come over” azzi says
“no, no, thats perfectly fine” avery says, looking at azzi. basically eye fucking her
“who” i ask
“ice, kk, aubrey, nika and ashlee” she lists
fuck my life. im to high to care
“yeah whatever” i say, lazily
“ok perfect, ill tell them to come” azzi says, excitedly
“are you sure” avery whispers to me, being nice. for once
“i dont give a fuck, its fine” i say taking a drag
im so high. god damn
10 minutes later all of azzis friends turn up, why are they all so tall. what the fuck
avery introduces herself to them and points them to our couch
“hey im kk, your bella right” kk asks
“yeah im bella”
“hey im ice”
“hey im nika”
“hey im ashlee”
“hey im aubrey”
to many people to remember
until
“oh paige came to, i hope you dont mind” azzi says to us, mostly avery
avery says nothing, myself included
“hi paige” avery says, extremely cold
“come sit guys” azzi says, breaking the silence. i wish i wasn’t so high cause i wanna go to my room
everyone sits on the couch, paige sitting the furthest away from me. funny. not funny. not laughing
conversation begins and everyone is involved. everyone but me, ugh i’m so uncomfortable
paige keeps looking at me, and yes i’m noticing because i’m looking at her to.
paige’s pov
fuck. why do i keep looking at her.
she blocked me last night so obviously shes mad about my actions last night, its just a hookup, nothing more.
its not that deep
“i’m going to bed” bella says, slurring and barely able to stand up. i didn’t know she smoked that much, i guess i don’t know anything about her. but i don’t care.
“paige are you ready to go” kk and ice say to me
“yeah, aubrey, nika, azzi, u ready to go”
“yeah lets go”
“actually im gonna stay” azzi says. sus
“buy guys” is said in unison
azzis pov
“ugh finally” avery says, while smashing her lips onto mine
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A/N: im being active rn lolll. how do we like avery and azzi
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rougecreator1 · 2 days
Note
Hiiiiiiiiiii can I please request an imagine where yn is taking Gretchen out on a first date to the fair. It’s right after her and Jason broke up and Gretchen is assuming(worried) yn may be similar to how he treated her but after a bit she realizes Yn is the total opposite (winning her a prize and buying her treats) and they end up talking and having a sweet time at the fair.
Thank you!! Have a great day!
Miss Smooth Talker//
|| Gretchen Wieners x fem!reader
|| Warnings: underage drinking mention, hookup mention, swearing, Regina being Regina, Gretchen struggling with insecurities
|| Summary: first date, where Gretchen's worried that reader will be like Jason. But reader surprises her and they have a great time at a fair. Mostly fluff.
Requests open!
Started: April 23rd
Finished: April 26th
~~~
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When Jason and Gretchen broke up you'd been there to comfort the girl. She told you all about it one night at one of Shane's house parties. You hated seeing her like that, she deserved better. So much better than a guy who only thinks of her when he's looking at her. She was your best friend and long time crush, so obviously you couldn't stand seeing her that upset.
One drink led to another and soon enough the two of you were wasted. Gretchen, in her very drunken state, had babbled on about how much she loved you and was grateful for a friend like you. You, without thinking twice (mainly because you couldn't think at all), kissed her. To your surprise she kissed back.
That's how you and Gretchen ended up having a one night stand.
It's been three weeks since then and Gretchen hasn't said a word to you, you could tell she was avoiding you you just didn't know why.
It was killing you not having your best friend.
Today you decided you would break the silence. Today would be the day you asked her out, because surely she wouldn't have kissed you if she didn't feel something too. Right?
Why else would she be avoiding you?
That lunch, you tracked her down and found her outside with her usual group. Karen, Regina and Cady. When Regina saw you she gave you an intense glare that sent shivers down your spine. You forced yourself to keep walking to Gretchen; having two cups of coffee in your hand. One was your favourite and the other was the order you knew was Gretchen's go to.
"Uh, no. Fuck off." Regina narrows her eyes at you once you stood next to Gretchen, you could see Gretchen tense up and you sighed. Crouching down to sit with her, catching Regina off guard because she wasn't used to people ignoring her. She tried saying more but you cut her off.
"Gretchen. Can we talk?" You looked at the girl, you looked away from Karen to look at you.
"We don't have anything to talk about, Y/N." You notice the slight tremble in her tone.
"Yes, we do. I know you've been avoiding me which if fine if you need the space but... a warning would have been nice at least." You ramble, wanting to get all your thoughts out before Gretchen could avoid you again. You quickly handed her her coffee," I.. um, got you this when I went out today. Maybe you could- I dunno, join me next time?"
Her eyes widened a little but she took the coffee, raising an eyebrow at you." Um... next time?"
"Like- a date- or not- we could just hang out-" Damn it. You had been so prepared for this. Here you were stuttering like an idiot.
Gretchen blushed when you said date and glanced at Regina, who scoffed and rolled her eyes. She looked back at you and smiled," a date?"
"I really like you, Gretchen. Sure we were both drunk but to me it was more than a hook up. Consider it at least?" You hoped she would hear you out at the very least, she nodded. You felt you could breathe a little easier now, you weren't as anxious as you had been.
"Oh! If you're going on a date there's a fall fair this weekend!" Karen piped up, you looked at Karen and smiled. A fair sounded perfect.
You looked back at Gretchen," Well. Wanna go to the fair with me?"
"Yes! I'd love to!" Gretchen grinned, feeling much more relaxed than she had been. She wanted her best friend back as much as you did, she was just scared of having a Jason repeat. In the back of her mind she knew you weren't like that. She knew you well enough to know that. But she couldn't help thinking it.
"Really?" You were almost surprised she'd agreed, especially with how much she had been avoiding you. You sighed quietly to yourself in relief and made a mental note to thank Karen later for the date suggestion." Alright! I'll pick you up at five on Saturday and we can head down?"
"Sounds perfect!"
And that's how you got a date with Gretchen Wieners.
The days leading up to Saturday were some of the happiest you've had in a while. You had your best friend back, if you could even call her that now. You were definitely more than friends, you just didn't know if you were girlfriend level or not.
You talked any chance you had, hanging out throughout the day (which unintentionally made you a plastic, Gretchen informed you of all their rules), at night you'd go over to each other's houses and on the nights where you couldn't you face timed. Just as you always had. Only, there was more. Holding hands as you walked through the halls, cuddling as you laid in bed together, doing each other's makeup in a more... well, it felt much more intimate now. Having her that close and seated in your lap...
Finally, it was Saturday. The two of you had been face timing each other all morning. Helping each other get ready from your own respective homes. You'd picked out a nice comfortable fall outfit, you can decide what it is. Gretchen wore an orange long sleeve with black jeans, she'd done her hair up in a ponytail and all that was left was the makeup.
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(fall outfit I was thinking for Gretchen)
"Hey, Y/N?" She said suddenly, getting your attention as you were fixing up your own hair.
"Yeah, Gren?" You looked at your phone, which you had propped up next to you.
"I know you'd said you were going to pick me up at five but um could I come over now? And we do each other's makeup?" Gretchen rambled out, you could tell she was a little nervous asking.
"Absolutely!" You smiled at the thought, Gretchen doing your makeup was definitely one of your favourite little things in your guy's relationship.
You could see her smile and her shoulders relax as she grabbed her phone and started getting whatever she needed to come to yours.
"Alright, I'll be there soon!" She tells you.
Soon enough, Gretchen was now in your room. You sat at your makeup station with Gretchen sitting in your lap, working on your makeup. You could see the concentration on her face and you couldn't help but grin, your hands wrapped around her lower waist to keep her steady in your lap.
"Close your eyes for me." Gretchen said, her voice nearly a whisper. You did as told.
She worked on your makeup for a solid ten minutes, making sure everything was perfect and to the way you liked it. She'd come up with the idea of matching fall makeup, which you thought sounded adorable so you agreed to it.
Once she was satisfied with her work, she looked at you and smiled before giving your cheek a soft kiss.
"You're gorgeous." She whispered, earning a faint blush from you.
"If I'm gorgeous, then that must make you angelic." You replied, a bit of a flirty tone in your voice. Gretchen blushed deeper than you did and giggled, you were pretty damn proud of getting that reaction out of her.
"Yeah well if I'm angelic that makes you a Goddess." Gretchen one upped you, making your blush deepen. Your hand rested to the back of her neck as you pulled her closer to you, lips just inches apart.
Your eyes locked on hers.
"Okay Miss Smooth Talker." You teased her, she laughed a little and kissed you deeply. You kisses her back, getting lost in the moment with each other.
This had been the first time since the party you had properly kissed each other. Was that even a proper kiss? You both were drunk, so you weren't sure if it counted. Sober kisses were so much better than drunk kisses.
As the kiss broke, your eyes remained on each other. Both grinning like love sick idiots.
When you finally snapped out of it a minute later, the two of you finished getting ready. You helping Gretchen with her makeup.
Once all that was settled, you took a photo for instagram. Arm draped around Gretchen's shoulders as you kissed her cheek.
The caption reading:
First date ready! 🍁🍂🫶
You weren't insta famous by any means, so your post only got a few likes from your friends and mutuals. Though you noticed a like and comment from Karen.
@ karenshetty EEEE U GUYS R CUTETS! 💕
You laughed a little and showed the comment to Gretchen, who smiled and looked up at you.
"She meant cuties." Gretchen translated for you, noticing you were a little confused by the spelling. You nodded in understanding and looked at the time on your phone.
4:42pm.
"Well, shall we head down?" You looked at Gretchen, who smiled and took your hand in hers.
"Let's go!"
~~~
At the fair, you and Gretchen are having an absolute blast. Or at least, you were. Gretchen was overthinking and worried that you might be like Jason; but every time she thought that way you would instantly prove her wrong without her even having to ask. You were perfect to her.
"Gren! Let's go over here!" You grabbed her hand, pulling her through a crowd.
"Woah, Y/N/N slow down!" Gretchen laughed as you pulled her along, the amount of energy you had always surprised her. She wondered how you could be that energetic all the time.
"I'm gonna win you the best fucking prize!" You exclaimed, throwing your free hand into the air with excitement. You were ready to kill it at these games.
Gretchen laughed and smiled as she watched you, finding it absolutely adorable. She took a small video of you being all bouncy.
Your eyes landed on the balloon dart game and smirked, seeing all the different prizes around it. You were going to win the biggest one for Gretchen. Pulling her along with you, you stepped up to the stand and the stand host explained the game to you.
You were only partly paying attention. You knew how to play; three darts for three chances to hit the balloons. The top corner balloons were worth the most points. So you aimed for those as Gretchen cheered you on.
Your first shot; you missed the corner one you had been aiming for but you hit the one two balloons below it. Earning you 30 points.
There's five rows of balloons, the bottom being worth 10 points, second row 20, middle 30, fourth 40, and top 50. The top corners were 60.
"30 points!" The stand host announced as you hit the balloon, you rolled your eyes and huffed.
You were determined to get that 60.
You tilted your wrist a little more and tossed the next dart, eyes narrowed at the 60 balloon.
The dart landed right above it.
"Come on!" You groaned, having missed the balloons entirely. This game was so much easier than it looked.
Gretchen rested her hand to your shoulder and smiled at you, giving your cheek a kiss which made you blush as you looked at her.
"A good luck kiss." She explained, her blush matching yours. God, she was adorable.
You shot your finale dart, hitting the 60. You immediately threw your hands into the air and smiled wide, looking at Gretchen. Good luck kisses for the win.
"60 points! That will bring your total up to 90, dear! Pick a prize!" The stand host said in that over exaggerated carnival voice. Y'all know the one.
You kept your eyes focused on Gretchen and bent slightly, gesturing to the prizes in a dramatic way." Well, m'lady. Pick a prize, any prize!" You mocked the carnival voice, earning a laugh from Gretchen an annoyed stare from the stand host.
Gretchen kissed your cheek in thanks and picked out a prize, going with a decently sized teddy.
"Adorable choice!" You kept up the voice, she looked at you and smiled. Her hand draped around your waist as you stared into each other's eyes.
"I'm really enjoying today." She told you as you both walked away from the stand.
"Yeah?" You smiled at her, a faint blush on your cheeks.
"Yeah. I was... worried this would end up like my last relationship- I know you and Jason are nothing at all alike, I know that- it's just-" She rambled out, trying to explain. You sighed, knowing exactly what she meant. You didn't fault her for it.
"What he did stuck with you, it's only natural to be scared. I'll never treat you the way he did." You assured her, seeing her relax as she kept her eyes locked with yours.
You had an idea.
Looking away from Gretchen, you laughed a little at what you were about to say," See! I'm still thinking about you even while I'm not looking at you."
This earned a laugh from Gretchen as she jokingly shoved you, she knew exactly what you were referencing. She had told you about when Jason said he only thought of her when he looked at her.
"You're such an idiot." She teased you, though she meant none of what she said.
You looked at her and brought her close to your side," Mm, maybe. But I'm your idiot, aren't I?"
She blushed and nodded," Yeah... yeah you are."
The rest of the day went really well, you and Gretchen decided to do the ferris wheel as your last activity for the night.
You sat in the booth as it went to the top at a slow motion, arms wrapped around each other as you laughed and talked about anything and everything.
You'd been mid complaining about an upcoming test, that Gretchen had totally forgotten about so she was complaining right along with you, when the ferris wheel stopped as the two of you were at the top. You glanced behind Gretchen and admired the finale parts of the sunset, looking at Gretchen you saw how it almost made her glow with how she was positioned in front of it.
God, she was gorgeous.
"Hey, I wanna get a picture of us up here. Scoot closer." You told her, she blushed and did as you asked. You held her close to her side and took a photo of the two of you, sunset in the background and set it as your new lock screen.
Gretchen smiled and looked at you.
"If I'm already your lock screen, does that mean I'm getting a second date with you?" She asked.
"A second and then some." You assure her, your eyes went to her lips and hers went to yours.
You kissed her, deeply and passionately. She kissed you back with a similar energy.
You couldn't wait to spend more time with Gretchen.
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snvffsoda · 2 days
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some random/silly headcanons for Fox!!
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highly experienced knife fighter, and knows basic hand-to-hand combat with or without a karambit, don’t let his height and age fool you, years of using his wits and his strengths to his benefit have gotten him not only far in life but many many, many, victims nowadays he doesn't even need to do all the hard work, he can just point at whoever he wants to brutalize on his next stream and they're there, but his skills are no laughing matter, many have tried to fight back taking his height and age as a means to overpower him and while in very rare cases strength has won over skill (which is why he uses guards now) it usually ends with the victim being clawed out or unconscious by the end of it
locked away, in an old safe somewhere, ren still keeps strades old button up he just can't..let it go, no matter how hard he tries he hates the man, what he's done to him, the lies he fooled Ren into the belief that his torture was to become deeper, to have a bond no other could have, Ren knows to know it was just strades own selfish desires and its those desires that got him killed, he knows better to admire the man, but..even now, when he’ll sit in his penthouse and wonder, what could've been, he thinks if Strade would be proud of him, if he could see him now.
the reason he hasn't been streaming much as of late anymore is well, he's getting older. Don't get him wrong, he loves the thrill of it all! excitedly asking his chat and bidders questions to the highest seller like a twisted game of family feud, the blood rush he gets when he saws off the leg of a victim, or slices their throat all for the eyes of his viewers to see, he loves the thrill, the hunt, but sometimes, as much as he plans his schedules, and outfits, and ideas of torture, most days, he wants to enjoy the quiet, the sound of his favorite anime playing slowly while sipping coffee, the fun of taking a vacation simply because he can and he feels like it, he knows it's stale and boring but he likes it, and hopes eventually he can take some well deserved time for himself
always on time and on schedule with anything, and everything meetings, streams, handling his guards around, food, and doesn't like changing his schedule (he's a busy man) he doesn't like when he's late to something at all, or when someone else is, and will get irritated if someone or something, gets in the way of that, whether it be as simple as a scheduled limo being late, or a meeting that was postponed
even at the ripe old age of 47 (which he still denies being old) he still has amazing hygiene and grooming routines, but now he has the luxury of a hell of a lot more money than he did when he was younger, so his tail and hair is on a whole other level of soft, even when he isn't trying to, he's been told by not only his associates but his closer allies that being his guards that he always smells nice, never a smelly day for the fox, unless he gets too excited with a stream or two that is, then maybe with all the blood, and bile that gets spilled on him, he may not smell the best,
if he likes you, and keeps you to himself, he’ll spoil you rotten, whatever it is you want or desire he will make sure it's handled and given with care and affection, of course, some nights he may ask you to dress up for him, or maybe he’d bring his knife to the equation in sex or foreplay (he loves the way you bleed) but he's always sweet and comforting about it, sure you may see him be stressed due to a scheduling error, or his chat not being as active as they were a day before, but he always has a soft spot for you, even if he's angry.
loves rambling about his favorite anime to you and his affection towards the style of art as a whole, he loves just being able to be silly, watch his eyes light up as he talks about the newest episode of his anime and how he can't believe that character betrayed who and how much he loves this character, he's a weeb at heart, even now, and he accepts it, and is very passionate about it
has contemplated starting a separate gaming stream before, but knows that his type of content wouldnt work since it would be hard for a viewer to sped 1,000 dolars to see him gouge someone's eye out and then 2 minutes later that same viewer seeing Fox play genshin Impact, though he wishes he could just do it once in and while alas, he usually plays his games when off streams usually, but will occasionally forget to close them and it'll be left it on in the background while he does his snuff streams, the sound of peaceful anime tunes playing just subtly in the background for any eagle-eyed viewer of his streams to notice
since his job constantly has him being extroverted and charismatic to keep viewers and bidders entertained, when he's not working he is actually pretty quiet most times, of course, he’ll laugh and smile, and be joyful, he just naturally is, but there's definitely a noticeable switch in his personality when the cameras are on and when they're off, he just seems quieter, more likely to hum in response pleasantly to someone rather than give them a barking laugh with a smile, not that he's sad, he's just ‘recharging his social battery’ as he likes to put it
has an extremely keen scent and can recognize almost everyone he knows from their scent alone so if he's ever blindfolded (he could be for any number of reasons) his senses heighten even more and he can smell things perfectly and stronger, and when eating something really good that being his favorite raw meats or culinary dishes, his eyes will pinpoint and glow in excitement from the flavors and texture he can't help it when he does, and he’ll tend to make more animalistic growling feral sounds when he's eating something he REALLY LIKES whether that be chicken hearts, or your actual heart <3
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"Fools! Don't you see? I have the power of god and anime on my side! You have no hope in defeating me!" ✨
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My reference sheet is here
Hello, people of the surface! I'm Donatello (he/him), a fifteen-year-old mutant turtle who likes anime and vocaloid. I'm the youngest of my brothers, wielder of... a wooden... stick... (at least it's fun to swing around), and the reason why New York is still intact! And dad said anime was useless! Hah!
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MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS
--
MUTANT MAYHEM
- MM Donnie (Me)
- MM Mikey ( @tottmntrealmikey )
- MM Leo ( @leonardoooooooooo )
- MM Raph ( @raphaelllllllll )
- MM Splinter ( @dojoratdad )
- MM April ( @aprilthejournalistt )
--
2K12
- 2k12 Donnie ( @dotbot2012 )
- 2k12 Raph ( @red-rage-machine )
- 2k12 Leo ( @hestheleaderinblue )
- 2k12 Mikey ( @mikeyeatsyou5000 )
- 2k12 Ice Cream Kitty ( @thechillestcat )
- 2k12 Casey ( @thatslikesupergnarly )
- 2k12 Karai ( @lesbiansnakeswithknives )
- 2k12 Mona ( @rokkawaii )
- 2k12 April ( @apriloneildoesart )
--
RISE of theeee-!
- Rise Raph ( @wrecking-it-raphie )
- Rise Mikey ( @magicmike5000 )
- Rise Donnie ( @thefunniestturtlepurple )
- Rise Leo ( @neon-leonardo )
- Rise April ( @april-o-nimbus )
- Rise Casey Jr. ( @thatfutureboy44 )
- Rise Draxum ( @maddaddraxum )
--
OTHERS
- Sensei! AKA Adult Rise!Donnie ( @bbgtech-9000 )
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INTERESTS Feel free to talk to me about these things!
Splatoon and the Splatoon Manga (aka coroika). It's my favorite video game EVER and I am more than ready to gush about it.
Pokemon. I'm not as well versed in the later games, but I do know quite a bit of it!
Legend of Zelda. Specifically BoTW, TotK, TP, and SS.
Kirby. I am I HUGE fan of the eldritch horrors in this game.
Haikyuu, SpyxFamily, Kuroko no Basket, Dungeon Meshi, and Kusuriya no Hitorigoto.
Vocaloid. It's all I listen to, actually.
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BOUNDARIES (taken from my main account)
Tcest, incest, and proshippers DNI
I make suggestive jokes (I'm a teen. What dost thou expect of me), but I won't be drawing NFSW, nor will I accept me or other minors being sexualized. We are not child molesters.
Please be nice! I'm not exactly the best at wording things (tone indicators save my life), but I will never, EVER be mean to someone on purpose (unless they deserve it. Then I'll go ham). While interacting on my blog, please refrain from being toxic. Some thoughts are better left to yourself
NO STEALING MY ART!! I don't know why you'd want to steal it in the first place (it sucks ass), but don't do it anyways. You can use it as long as you give credit.
I don't do commissions, but I take requests! If I see something in my ask box I like, I'll draw it. So, if you have any ideas, feel free to share them! I like having motivation boosters.
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That's all! Like I said, remember to be nice! We're all here to have fun, and I'm more than willing to make some friends.
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Nicknames/petnames op characters like to call you PART TWO
Also suggestive warning for Ace, Marco, Izou
I don't care if law's is ooc btw he deserves to be sickly cute sometimes and yk we kinda saw how he can be when he loves something with that whole sora thing in wano so yeah I'm saying he can be affectionate as a treat.
Anyways here's like all the faves who are not strawhats:
Ace
Baby, sweetheart, pretty thing. Always says them in either the most flirty tone imaginable or the softest. Also he's like flirting with you 24/7 it's so bad but he jist can't turn it off around you like he's so down bad. 100% says heinous filthy shit but tacks on a cute nickname at the end to try and make it sound less intense. It does not work.
OBSESSED with you calling him love or my man and finds it ridiculously attractive. The first time it happened he set his bed on fire by accident and you both got lectured by pops :(. But seriously he just loves any and all verbal affirmation so naturally he adores nicknames. Doesn't get shy at all though, if anything reciprocating his chaotic behaviour makes it 10x worse.
Marco
Love/my love. Sweet and simple and he likes how clear it is to other people. He uses it a ridiculous amount though to be honest like you hear it more than your own name, it's to the point where if he says your name people on the ship don't know who he's talking about😭. Oh and he uses baby when he wants to tease you, like he drops his voice real low, leans really close into your space and speaks right next to your ear. Bit of a bastard tbh.
He blushes easily but doesn't shy away, in fact being called a nickname in return really makes him feel confident and puts him in the mood for affection. Though sometimes the nicknames make him feel...too affectionate. One time you called him pretty bird as a joke and he just sorta sat there, face getting gradually redder until you leaned towards him out of concern, at which point he promptly yanked you onto his lap and started what was one of your most intense make outs to date. Yk, casual things.
Thatch
Cutie, sweet thing, pretty thing. So so gentle with you and it reflects in how he speaks to you as well, even if he's upset or angry he still calls you the sweetest things because you're so precious to him. Though he's also a menace, if he finds out you like a specific petname then he starts discretely whispering it in your ear whenever he passes you to wind you up. Literally he doesn't care if you're having a serious conversation, he'll just slide in behind you and drop his voice to sound like a nice gravelly tone and purposefully make sure to exhale on the back of your ear to make you shiver.
Oh but he can't handle if you do it back, no this man folds like a lawn chair the second you start calling him anything other than his name.
Izou
Darling, dear, lovely, blossom. So casually smooth its unbelievable, also he starts calling you them before you get together. Like after a certain point of friendship and flirting, he just starts doing and saying the most romantic shit(Definitely thinks you're together before you actually are) and the crew are very confused and you're very confused but as if you're gonna complain yk.
This man gets so flustered when you use nicknames with him because it's not behaviour he's used to. Obviously he's been a pirate for a long time but he's actually very reserved and rarely dates so having someone who genuinely cares about him calling something sweet makes him blush so hard and you use that to your fully advantage. He gets revenge later though don't worry.
Law
Love, lovely, pretty, honey, every flowery pet name you can think of. He's so soft with you. He can't help how sickly affectionate he feels around you and it results in him just calling you all sorts of sweet words. He won't do it in public if he thinks you'll be put in danger or if he doesn't feel comfortable but like in front of the crew and strawhats and stuff he doesn't give a fuck. He'll just come up behind you while you're in the middle of a conversation, hand sliding down your lower back, and say sumthin like "are you okay my love?"
Blushes to high heaven if you call him something cute back, he just melts like butter. If he's in a bad mood or like in an argument or something you only have to come up and say hi love and he's all :///))
Kidd
Babe to the public. My love, gorgeous, pretty baby when you're alone. It's not really that he doesn't want to call you those things in public, he just doesn't want enemies to understand how important you are to him but also he doesn't want to keep your relationship a secret because he's obsessed with you and wants to brag about being yours.
Makes him really cocky if you use petnames with him. Like he'll flush but get so overconfident the second you say love or baby or anything of the sort. He doesn't care where you are either, he's just hauling you into his space immediately so he kiss the fuck out of you.
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ch-4-eri · 19 hours
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Use Me — Jill Valentine.
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jill X fem! reader.
warnings: smut, p in v, strap use, strap referred to as ‘cock’. verbal abuse, very mean jill (oops), overstimulation, spitting, crying, swearing (lots of it) let me know if i miss anything i wrote this at 6am sorry if there’s any mistakes (it is proofread ish).
word count: 2.6k
you tossed and turned in bed as the clock read 12am, typical.
jill’s light snoring is all you could hear as your thoughts wandered and wandered for probably an hour now, steaming glances at jill every now and then.
she came back from her job, ate something, had a little conversation with you, then she quickly went to bed, which you couldn’t even blame her for, jill worked for so long and she does this for the both of you, she deserves her rest.
but your ovulation week had other ideas.
you were an aching horny mess.
tossing and turning made it worse because any movement you’ve made involving your legs would drive you crazier, staying still wasn’t helping either, you were a cat in heat.
as your mind kept you awake, your eyes went to your sleeping girlfriend, jill’s arms hugged the pillow as she was breathing slowly and steadily, she looked so peaceful and here you were, an inappropriate film was going off in your head.
your fingers went to her arm, nudging her slightly. “jill?”
jill groaned in response, her brows furrowed. “jill…” you repeated, wishing she’d register it sooner.
she groaned once more, her eyes fluttering.
“jill… i’m.. horny.” you dropped it, like she wasn’t even half asleep.
“what the fuck..” she mumbled tiredly, her tone groggy but all it did was send your pussy pulsating, you felt so pathetic.
you nudged her arm again. “just wake up..”
“touch yourself in the bathroom or something!” she says, blowing you off with a dismissive hand.
“of course not.. it doesn’t feel as good as when you do it.”
“i’m sleeping.”
“you’re awake now.”
as soon as you said that, jill rose up from the bedsheets with a groan, she was fuming.
one thing about jill is that you knew she hated being woken up for no reason, especially when she needed the sleep so badly, she worked her ass off early in the day and she can’t rest from your whiny little voice and your hormones.
you knew you were testing her but it wasn’t on purpose, the ache inside of you hurt the whole day and you can’t ignore it anymore, even when jill rubbed the sleep out of her angry eyes, sipped some water off the bedside table bottle she keeps on her when she’s dehydrated from her deep slumber.
“i’m getting so fucking tired of you.” jill spat, closing the bottle aside and runs her thick fingers through her short brown hair, you frowned slightly at her words but you deserved it, lowkey, yet all of this was making you even more horny, the ache between your legs was unbearable.
“so fucking sick of you, i can’t fucking sleep in this goddamn house.” jill says again, standing up from the bed, still trying to get herself more awake to deal with you, you were a little happy about the fact that you got her to wake up but she was so moody, not that you deserved to complain about her mood, maybe she’d fuck you but she wouldn’t be nice about it.
she turned to face you as she tucked her hair behind her ears, her blue eyes sit on yours.
“take off your clothes… off. now.” she demands, her tone pissy and controlling.
“w-what?” was all you managed which somehow made jill even more angry, you could swore she would hit you or something, she never did, but she was too patient with you before, you wondered when she’d snap like that? it was sick of you to imagine jill hitting you for asking her for sex like that, jill would never lay a hand on you, not for the purpose of seriously hurting you, she always watches out with the way she deals with you, she knows you can’t handle her full strength.
“you seriously fucking woke me up just to ‘what’ me? take off your fucking clothes! you know what—“ she says her eyes wide open in anger, her face red as her veins popped out of her neck.
jill climed up the bed and grabbed your shorts, pulling them down your legs forcefully as you let out a yelp. “shut the fuck up! i’m so sick of you!” she argued, her fingers found your thin shirt and took that off as well.
you weren’t fighting it, but as much as it was turning you on, you wondered if she was truly this mad at you and it made you anxious, your heart dropped to your stomach at the idea, her tone and the way she handled you clothes, yet you were getting so wet anyway, your mind and cunt had two different opinions about this.
her fingers dragged down your panties, throwing them off the floor. pushing you down onto the mattress, opening your legs with a strong palm separating your knees, you could seriously salivate from this moment alone.
but before she did anything else, she unclasped your bra, she didn’t look impressed in the slightest, yes jill was used to your body, knew you every inch, every freckle, but now that she wasn’t even complimenting you, made your heart drop even more, horny and anxious all at once.
jill threw your bra on the floor with a force, grabbing your face in her palm.
“which part of i’m sleeping did you not understand?!” she shouts, her fingers ghosting your sticky area, it was pulsating, calling her name.
“jill…” you breathed, hoping she’d go easy on you, you were terrified but oh so excited your pussy was tightening around nothing. “are you really that much of a needy whore?” she spats, her eyes narrowed like she was truly shaming you for it, like she was a total prude and would throw rocks at you for behaving this way.
“every other day.. every other week you need me to fuck you, or else you wouldn’t fucking let me sleep!” she slams her fists onto the mattress, making you jump, your eyes watering at her behavior, but so was your dripping wet hole.
“you know what? i will fuck you..” jill heaved, grabbing your face into her fist. “i’ll fuck you so hard, so hard you won’t be able to walk, or even talk. fuck you dumb enough you’ll stop talking altogether and let me have my own fucking peace for once, that’s what pretty sluts like you deserve, should be grateful i even give you the light of day, you’re a brat, and i’m so sick of you taking and sucking the life out of me.” jill spoke, letting go of your face with a force as you shed a tear, her words hurt so bad but you needed her just as badly.
she got out of bed then, the sound of her feet as she went to look for her strap were too loud, putting all her energy in the stomping, you sat up a bit; rubbing your thighs together, wiping the tear off your cheek.
the sound of the drawers opening and closing was all you could hear echoing in the bedroom, jill wouldn’t look at you either, as she finally took out her strap, she walked closer to you in bed, she usually always slid a condom over it as you requested so, saying the feeling of it inside you was a bit uncomfortable, but now that you’re too wet for that she decided to just smear her spit over it.
jill spat on her palm, rubbing it across the rubbery tip so she can slide it in easier, yes she was mad at you, but she hated to think she’d wanna hurt you on purpose.
she climbed on the bed, strap perfectly wrapped around her hips, wet enough to slide inside of you as she parted your legs once again with her hands, positioning herself between your legs, brows furrowed, gaze averted.
you bit down your lip as you watched her get on top of you, her necklace dangling over your head, her tits peeking out of her loose gray tank top, no bra underneath.
she rubs the tip against your hole, teasingly so. “shh.” jill demands as soon as you started making noise.
“fuck you’re so tight..” jill cussed, sliding her cock in as you let out a gasp. “all this fucking and stretching you out didn’t loosen you up? damn girl.” she grunts, surprised at her change of tone, she was fully bottomed out as she started thrusting inside of you, your hands were shaking as they placed themselves on her hips, fucking yourself into her, the tip kissing your cervix with every thrust.
“is that good, slut?” jill says, forcing your chin between her fingers. “i’m not a slut.” you argued, your voice strained as you were fucked out. sweat already breaking out from your forehead.
“sure you’re not… look at you swallowing that cock whole… always begging me to fuck you, always demanding and whining for it.” she fucks into you deeper, making you see stars as it shut you up completely.
“good girl, i like it when you keep that pretty mouth shut.” jill continues thrusting, the sound of your squelching was like music to her ears. “you belong to me don’t you?” she whispered to herself, going faster just to see how you’d react, seeing the way you pulsate against her cock, the way you rock your hips to match her pace with your moans strained and your legs aching.
“hhhhnnn… jill i’m so close.” you managed, your finger nails digging into her waist from underneath her shirt, then your hands grabbed at her breasts, which drove jill crazy to just get you to cum, her pace went faster and faster, her girlfriend’s mouth open, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you squeeze at her tits, your thumb circling her sensitive buds, making jill squirm inside of you as she forced your wrists away with her hands, pinning you down on the bed with one hand, the other taking each one of your ankles and throws it over her shoulders, making the strap go in so much deeper as you let out a choked gasp.
jill had to take a second and look at you like that, sweaty forehead, red cheeks, lips so red and pretty, the position was a little different from every other one you’ve both been in before by her.
but she took a mental note to do this again, legs on her shoulders, your eyes closed and your breathing uneven as she refuses to move inside of you. watching the way your breasts moved as you squirmed and whined underneath her, jill can’t resist you and she knows it, no matter how angry she became, how fucking stubborn she gets especially after a terrible day at work which is every other day, she has a beautiful girlfriend she can use however she pleases, you’re her pretty little thing, her whole world, she’d probably crumble if she came back home and didn’t find you there.
“look at me..” jill softly says, a drastic change from her tone earlier as your eyes fluttered open, staring into her blue ones.
“i love you.” jill whispers as she begins to move her hips forward and continues to thrust inside of you, the tip abusing your cervix as her words made this even more intense and overwhelming.
you eyes watered, recalling her words from just a few minutes ago, compared to this. you couldn’t focus as you got even more stretched out, crying out loud from how good it felt then from how much you feared like you were losing her and this was her last straw.
���shh..” jill whispered once more, her tongue flicking against her bottom lip as she let go of your hands, holding them in hers as she fucked into you so much faster than before, sending the bed rattling against the wall, creeking against the floor while your lips met in a hungry kiss, tongue and teeth clashed as you were chasing your high, sensation so overwhelming you whined into her mouth, jill’s hands grabbed yours as she led you through such an intense orgasm, you were terrified.
you screamed, moaned, writhed, unsure of the noise that came out of you when you gushed all that you have against jill’s cock.
jill noticed.. and she slowly pulled out, mumbling sweet words and kissing your forehead, cheeks, lips, she overstepped a line and she was willing to make it up to you.
“shh.. you did so good, such a good girl.” she mumbled, rubbing her thumb against your cheek as you were trying to get a hold of yourself.
“it’s alright sweetheart… you did good.” she whispers into your ear. “i’ll be back.. okay?” was all jill said as she climbed off the bed, taking off the strap that needed cleaning now, not that you’d notice from how much you were vibrating and overwhelmed.
jill came back a few moments later, a cloth to clean you up and some water to hydrate you.
she carefully sat next to you and helped you sit up with a kiss to your forehead. “i’ve got you.” she mumbled, grabbing the cloth in her rough hand, slowly holding it up your thighs as you were too sensitive, you closed your legs in on her.
“can’t..” you shook your head, keeping your knees together. “i have to clean you up baby..” jill murmured, taking a hold of your thigh once again, cleaning up the cum off it. wiping it all the way up to your sensitive core as you squirmed. “jill.. careful.”
“i’ve got you..” jill repeated, cleaning you gently, watching the way you were limb on the bed, you were breathtaking.
as soon as she finishes cleaning you up and putting you into new panties and clothes, giving you some water as you drank the whole bottle. “easy… it’s not going anywhere.” jill mumbled, climbing on the bed next to you, recalling how mean and disrespectful she was to you early on, making her heart twist into her chest.
she took you in her arms, your smaller frame fit so perfectly into her, you wrapped your arms around her as she kissed your forehead.
“i’m sorry… i didn’t mean what i said.” jill finally said, she can’t let you go on thinking this is how she thought of your relationship, she loves you so much.
“there’s no excuse for me to talk to you like that, not when you needed me. i’m sorry baby..” jill added while wrapping her arms around you tighter, securing you into her grip gently.
“it’s okay..” you sighed, she noticed how non verbal you get after such a loud and messy orgasm, she’s glad it’s not because you were mad at her or resentful of what she said. “it’s not.. i don’t want you to be mad at me though, i can’t take it.” jill whispered into your hair, brushing a hand over your belly.
“i’m not mad.” you finally said after a moment of silence. “no?” “no.”
jill sighed in relief and kissed the tip of your nose, making your eyes close as she pulled the blanket over both of you, hoping you’d get a good night's sleep. she still needed to do so much to make it up to you, you’re her angel.
you snuggled up to her, eyes closed and heavy with sleep. jill brushing your hair with her fingers, her face so close to yours as she watched every flutter of your lashes, every time you opened your mouth and closed it. she leaned in and kissed your lips, unable to get enough of you as you kissed her back, barely, you were probably half asleep.
“i’m not mad.” you reassured her softly, which was enough to make jill go through the night without some exaggerated grand gesture, both of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.
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wosoluver · 2 days
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Not good at saying goodbyes.
Part 2/? - previous - next
Lena Oberdorf × Reader
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And here you were about to turn 23, you were a late bloomer in football. Only having a big boom in the past two years, playing for Barcelona.
You were set to play the euros for your national team, as you already did play for the qualifiers. You had finally been called up to play, and represent your country. That was, Spain. Despite being born and raised in Germany, you were only a little girl. The most memories you had in football was unfortunately made in Spain. It had been almost 15 years. So it felt like the right thing.
If someone would have told you that then, you would never believe them. You would say there was no way, and you would take the first chance you had, to go 'home'.
But you followed your path, with the best opportunities you had, presented to you. And that's how you ended up where you were now. On a top team, being among awarded players. And you were happy. Really. But something was always missing, and you couldn't figure out what it was.
Asking for a transfer to Bayern Munich as a loan, was a slight desperate try, at trying to fix that feeling.
And the deal had been settled.
And you were feeling great and confident, despite knowing you would have to sooner or later face your old friend, but for only 90 minutes max.
Your plans had been frustrated when a week after the announcement over your contract, Bayern announced another transfer. From Wolfsburg. The very same girl you couldn't stop worrying about.
You deeply hoped you would be better at hello, better than you ever were at goodbyes.
Not knowing where to start was tough. After all besides the loss of contact, you had so many chances of reconnecting. But you both chose not to.
You, because you were extremely scared of the rejection. And her, simply because she was still not over how betrayed she felt, even after all this time.
You didn't know what you were expecting, but being humiliated by having your existence ignored, was not on your list of possibilities.
You came in, to get ready for your first day. Georgia came over to try and fit you in.
"Hello! It's nice to have you here already! Your spanish right? Do you have a german family? You have a german last name."
"Well yeah, I was actually born here, but I grew up there."
"Really? But you play for the national team no?" she asked as you two moved outside.
"Yes, played for them first time this year."
"Hola!" - said Giulia coming close to you.
"She's speaks english and german probably." - said Georgia stoping her friend from embarrassing herself with bad spanish.
"Yes, english or german, or spanish, whatever you prefer."
"We're so excited to have you here, come I'll take you around, you can meet everyone."
And you did. But when you were about to approach Lena and Lea, she simply walked away.
"Hey, sorry about her." - said Lea, with a tight lip smile.
"It's fine."
But it hurt. And it was only going to get worse.
Every chance she had to pass you the ball, she didn't. Everyone noticed at this point. And in the locker room, she didn't make an effort to hide the fact that your presence bothered her.
From that day on, that's what it was like.
You knew you deserved a cold shoulder, but this was too much, and it started taking a tow on you.
You decided to move back to Germany, trying to fill a small void you had deep down, not to make it feel worse. Had you made the right decision?
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"Good morning Y/N!" as she caught up with you on the parking lot.
"Morning Georgia."
"I know it's none of my business and you probably don't even know, since you just met. But is there something wrong between you and Oberdorf?"
"Uhm-" in a way you were kinda glad to be cut off.
"I'm sorry it's just been so weird. We've never had something like this happen in the team."
"I'll try talking to her."
You hated the unwanted attention, especially on something you were so sensitive about.
But she was one of your captains, if she came up to say something like that, it was probably because she wanted to sort it out.
Lena's pov
"You need to try and be more subtle, the girls are worried about the team's harmony." - said Lea to her friend.
"I'm not going to play my feelings down!"
"I'm not asking you to. But at least inside the pitch, you need to put your feelings a side momentarily. You can't let this harm our team's performance."
"See that's exactly what your doing!"
"Lena! You just got here. You can't risk this over pride. You don't need to talk to her, just play football like I know you can."
This time she only nodded. This couldn't be bigger than her career. And that she agreed on.
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reader's pov
During training today, it felt like something was different. Besides the fact you had fallen in the same group as Lena. And you two did football like you used to. So much, you had beaten the opposite group on 5-1. Something that hadn't happened yet since your first day. Her passes from the middle field to your position as a left winger, made sure that most balls got into the penalty area so Lea and Pernille could manage goals.
The way she had been acting made you think something between you had changed. That gave you a little hope as you went to talk to her, later in the locker room.
"Hey... I just wanted to- I wanted to apologize." - You said barely above a whisper.
"I don't want your apologies. I'm not doing this for you."
"Still, I need to apologize. There's no excuse to what I've done and-"
"Your right there's no excuse." she said dryly as she walked away.
You felt like someone grabbed your heart that was already holding on to it's pieces, and smashed it against a wall.
You never thought you would see this side of her. In reality that part of her had only been created after the harsh reality had hit her all those years ago.
Like you had drove her to create the best side of her. The kind, funny and quick witted one, you had managed to do the same, but for the worse.
You moved as quick as you could into a stall, and cried your eyes out, as quietly as possible. Not quiet enough though, apparently.
"Y/N? It's Giulia." She said softly as she sat down next to you, outside the stall. "Do you need anything?"
You were quiet for a few minutes.
"A hug?" whispering back.
You sounded like a little girl, scared off by the monsters under her bed.
"Of course."
You got up and unlocked the door, as you walked into her arms.
"You don't owe me an explanation. But if you need to talk, I'm here."
"Did you hear any of it?"
"Yeah."
"We were childhood best friends. When I had to leave the country. I didn't say goodbye. I couldn't."
"How old were you?"
"About eight."
"You were just a kid!"
"It's still my fault."
"Honey no! You were so young, I can't imagine how it was for you. You were about to lose everything you knew. You can't spend the rest of your life carrying this weight!"
"Well even if it was a child's mistake, I have lost her forever. If I could go back in time I would."
"I believe you. Just give her a little time, and she'll see it too. What you two did today was amazing! You guys were synced like one. I saw a slight tiny smile on her face when you assisted those two goals."
"Really?"
"Yes, it was in her eyes. She is really good at keeping a straight face, but I'm better at reading people."
"Thank you. I haven't talked about this in years."
"I'm here. Now let's get you home, do you need a ride?"
"No, I'm good, I drove here."
"Okay. Anything, you call me, yeah?"
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We'll probably have four or five parts on this fic 🩷
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wildrosesayshigh3 · 3 days
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Anyone ever think about how some people probably miss Shen Jiu in Svvss.
How some Bai Zhan dissolves probably attacked because they were jealous of the Qing Jing disciples who had a teacher for all his sharp tongue and non existent tact was actually there. Where for all his harsh punishments and glares never beat you into the ground in the name of training.
How some of the older Qing Jing peak disciples liked the old one better than the new one without memories because he understood and while he was not nice he was kind in his own weird way.
How some Qiong Ding disciples liked him better when he had his memories because there was a peak lord with eyes like theirs. Someone so unequivocally looks like a wolf and a snake so unafriad to hide how hungry he is for more. But still so loyal.
How someone of the older Xian Shu girls mourned the man who treated them as the hidden blades they were. Who looked at them with a weary sort of respect and never once thought of them as belongings or things to be owned.
How some of the older hall masters and sect cultivators miss the sharp tongue and un forgiving wit of their former martial nephew and shidi. Who for all he never asked for help was never rude when it was offered for all the used to bristle at the implications of him needing help. He never lied to spare their feelings.
How a few peak lords miss their sharped tongued shixiong. He didn’t look down on them for being in the lower peaks. They miss the way their verbal spars would go and even if they rarely won the challenge was fun. As no one wants to challenge the beat of the best and that’s what the peak lords were.
How they all collectively feel like Shen Jiu losing his memory was a slap in the face to the man. Because all through the body of the same, the sharp mind is the same, they aren’t the same. No more sharp eyes or poisonous tongue instead there’s something soft. Something that if pushed slightly would die kneeling and not with a broken or straight back.
They all know that this wasn’t the ending that he would have wanted or even deserved.
As know instead of dying and being known as Shen Qingqiu the master tactician and the Xiu Ya sword he is known as Shen Qingqiu the Qing Jing peak lord, empress of the demon realm, husband of Luo Binghe.
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Aware of Abuse AU
Nino in this is a little fascinating to me, cause I can’t see him NOT becoming friends with Adrien. I can see them maybe not being super close, especially at first, but I can’t see them being enemies. But I can also see Nino becoming the first class kid (outside Sabrina, and I’m not sure how she counts) to really GET the rich kid trio, and start trying to make proper friends with them.
Like, Just How I See This In My Head
(sorry to put this under a readmore but it’s a little long)
So, we have the first day shenanigans, who knows what, but we still have a bit of seat drama. Adrien ends up sitting in the front on Chloé’s side, Sabrina and Chloé behind him (protecting him, but shhhhh, that wasn’t on PURPOSE). Which means that there’s an empty seat next to Adrien, and … no one really wants to sit IN FRONT of Chloé. It’s not that they think she’ll DO something, but it Makes most of them uncomfortable. Like, no one’s being explicit about it (except maybe Marinette) but everyone’s reluctant to take that seat. So, Nino decides, “welp, someone’s gotta sit there. New kid doesn’t seem too bad, questionable friends aside” and plops himself down, introduces himself to Adrien.
Like, keep in mind, he’s been in the same class as Chloé for most of his school life, but Nino isn’t someone who’d be much on Chloé radar. He isn’t her friend (Sabrina) or her “obstacle./rival/jealousy-crush (Marinette). He and Chloé probably butted heads a few times, but nothing serious. Plus, she doesn’t mutter (Max) or kick the chair in front of her (Kim). She’s a tolerable seat mate. If it gets bad, well. He has headphones. He can probably just ignore her.
So, like, Nino takes the seat, introduces himself. Adrien starts to light up, because yay! New friend! But Nino probably still asks why he’s friends with Chloé. His light dims a bit. He gets quiet. He’s seen today why he’d ask, but he’s also seen other shit. He’s BEEN through some shit. He’s also been through the WRINGER today, fighting a giant stone monster did a NUMBER on him. He’s TIRED. So Adrien responds in a way he might not normally. "If you knew her, you wouldn’t have to ask.”
Nino’s a bit taken aback - that is a … weirdly solemn, serious response?? vaguely concerning?? - but decides, ok, sure. Why not? That could be a valid point, Nino doesn’t actually know Chloé personally, despite them being in school together most of their lives. She could genuinely be nice to some people. Or she could be a manipulative fuck, again, Nino doesn’t actually know her that well personally. Maybe she’s a decent person to people she considers “worthwhile” or some shit. Maybe she’s brainwashed Adrien like most of the class think she did to Sabrina. Who knows? Not Nino. But he doesn’t have to be a dick about it. If Chloé’s an amazing friend to Adrien, awesome. Maybe he’ll help mellow her out. If she’s actually the Anti-Christ, Nino can hopefully provide an example of a good friend for Adrien to look at and realize he deserves better.
(For the record, Nino does NOT think Chloé is devil spawn, he’s just looking at the two most extreme possibilities in his head)
So, he nods, concedes the point - “Yeah, that’s fair. We don’t really hang.” Adrien lights up a bit more, pleased. They chat a bit, about school, hobbies. (Behind them, Chloé’s in a state of shock, because what??? Someone??? Admitted she might?? Be good?? Not bad?? In a roundabout way, BUT STILL????!?)
So Adrien and Nino are … maybe not FRIENDS right away, but FRIENDLY. They talk. They exchange numbers. Adrien misses a day for a photoshoot, and Nino helps Sabrina take his notes. Nino still mostly hangs out with Marinette, Alya, the rest of the class, but he makes time to hang with Adrien too. At first just them, wandering around Paris, or hanging in his bedroom, but slowly, Nino gets invited to hang with Adrien, Chloé and Sabrina, sometimes Kagami.
And like … It’s awkward. We won’t pretend it’s not. But while Chloé is blunt, sometimes rude, she isn’t going out of her way to be MEAN. Isolated from the environment Nino’s used to seeing her in, it becomes really clear that Chloé just doesn’t have many other ways to interact with the world, and either has difficulty learning, or in a few cases doesn’t see the point. Away from everyone else, she’s also much more friendly to Sabrina - tries to talk her up more, get her to take more agency (maybe … not always in the best way, but she’s TRYING). And like, hanging with her at the mall, and then seeing her in school is a bit of whiplash for behaviour, but like. Now Nino’s SEEN her be a decent person with stunted social skills. He doesn’t think it EXCUSES anything, but like. He no longer buys Marinette’s “Rich Brat, Perfect Life” rant.
I think the big turning point for all of them would be Nino finding out how much their jokes about their parents aren’t exaggerated jokes. They aren’t “this is funny cause it’s ‘out there’” the jokes are “this funny cause it’s true”.
Cause like. At first, Nino honestly believes thats what they are. “The gates of hell would open before my dad threw me a birthday party.” / “I think my mother would fire me, if it wouldn’t look bad for the press.” “Like, fire you from being her daughter, or set you on fire?” “Yes.” / “Do you think my dad would notice if I pierced my ears?” “Oh, absolutely! Can’t have the face of his brand altered without prior agreement!” “True, true. What about you?” “Oh, I could dye my hair a different colour every day for a month and he wouldn’t notice.”
Like, Nino thinks it might just be some weird, rich people thing? It doesn’t help that, like, Adrien and Chloé don’t tend to make that many of those sort of jokes around him. I mean, they might know their parents suck, but they don’t want anyone ELSE to. It’s personal. Other people won’t get it. They don’t want pity. Whatever the reason, they try to keep the jokes on the downlow when hanging out with Nino. So, Nino doesn’t get the full force. A few black humour style jokes like that are … concerning, but Nino doesn’t think they’re, like, full on awful. Maybe a bit “rich parent neglectful” but like. Not bad, right? His friends aren’t in that bad of a situation, right?
I like to think the tipping point is a slip up. Something dramatic, because. I mean. Look at these kids. Drama follows them.
Like, say Nino’s over at Adrien’s. Gabriel is out for the day, which means the two have run of the place. They’re relaxing, playing video games, whatever, when Chloé bursts into the room in tears. Nino’s so shocked he falls off the sofa.
Chloé, however, doesn’t even look at him. No, all her focus is on Adrien, cause GUESS WHAT MUMMY DEAREST DID NOW!? Maybe it was a dinner gone wrong. A gift turned sour. A random argument. But just because Chloé KNOWS her mom is a bitch, doesn’t mean it hurts any less when Audrey demeans her. When she knows which nerves to hit and buttons to press. She’s ranting, sobbing about how, oh, of course she did this, why am I even surprised, I should have expected this, honestly. I knew what she was going to do, why open my big mouth!? It’s ridiculous, utterly-!
Chloé stops. Because she just noticed Nino. Who is having a horrible paradigm shift, realizing oh. Those jokes were NOT exaggerated. His friends’ parents ARE that bad. They DO suck that much.
Chloé’s ready to start falling apart all over again, because god, could she GET any more pathetic, she just spilled her guts in front-! She didn’t even SEE him, why wasnt she more careful-! Adrien is trying to figure out damage control. Nino can see them both panicking, and just says, “We could sell her kneecaps on eBay.”
Chloé & Adrien: “… . what?”
Nino, straight faced: “eBay. I heard kneecaps go for a lot, these days.”
Adrien, after a pause: “Audrey’s though?”
Nino: *shrugs* “I mean, I don’t think we’d get much for them, especially once they’ve been shattered, but I still think we could get SOMETHING.”
More silence.
Nino: “Like … four dollars? I’m pretty sure we could get at LEAST four dollars. Maybe some old, chewed gum. Some dryer lint, if we feel like pushing it.”
Chloé, starting to smile a little: “… Mom has security.”
Nino: “I have a nine-iron, a taser, and six years of parkour. Also, I’m pretty sure Max has access to the dark web, and he owes me a no-questions-asked favour.”
-
Yes!! YES!!!!!
This is the vibes I am imagining!!
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