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tightjeansjavi · 5 months

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⟡ sentiments n’ bubbly ⟡

A/N: so, this one another one of my post shower thoughts that has now transformed into this little fic 🥹 this time of the year is a struggle for myself and for others, and I hope it can bring us all a bit of peace before the new year 🤍

~word count: 4.5k~

pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: it’s NYE and you find yourself in Joel Miller’s coffee shop. He’s a firm believer that no one deserves to spend New Year’s Eve alone.

Warnings: angst, fluff, no age gap, discussions of self image issues, bullying, food/eating, language, anxiety, fear of social situations, fomo, mentions of therapy, NYE blues, self deprecating thoughts, flirting, meet-cute, no outbreak/modern day AU, Sarah and Tommy exist in this universe, soft!joel, mentions of alcohol, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, some content included may be triggering for some as Joel and the reader have some very real conversations about life. +18 minors dni!

It’s New Year's Eve. The official last day of the year. A whole 365 days has come and gone, and yet, you find yourself feeling the same way you did last year. It wasn’t like you had a particularly terrible life or anything of the sorts, but you still had your struggles. Your daily contemplations over whether you were doing enough, being enough in your little life. You try to focus on all the good that happened in those 365 days of life.

All the laughter, smiles, the warm fuzzy feelings that you found yourself chasing more often than none. The bad times always find their way to trickle in and weasel into your conscience like an infection. The truth is that you know life comes with both good and bad memories. But why is it so hard to push back the bad? Why is it so easy to beat yourself down? You could have done this better, you shouldn’t have said the things you said, did you remember to turn your out of office on before you left the office?

Shit. There was that one email I didn’t get to.

Maybe you find yourself trying to cram in as many last minute tasks before the new year. Closet clean out? You haven’t worn that sweater in months..yet, you find yourself holding onto it because it was a gift from a dear friend, and you don’t want to unintentionally hurt their feelings by donating or regifting it.

Fridge clean out? Well, it does say that horseradish never expires..but you can never be too careful!

Clean your living space from top to bottom? Maybe next year you’ll invest in cleaner products for both the earth and your brain cells. Bleach can be awfully nasty to deal with.

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of you. Leftovers are your meal of choice for the evening. You spent hours cleaning your kitchen, and you’d rather not have to do another wipe down till tomorrow.

Hey, are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight? We’re leaving in an hour!

It's not that you don’t want to go out with your friends, it’s the steps before getting out the door that have always been a struggle for you.

What if my outfit doesn’t look the way I planned it out in my head?

What if I completely botch this makeup look?

What if the club is too packed?

You hate feeling this way, often thinking you’re a burden to your friends because you're constantly planning ahead of time. Living in the moment for you has always been tough. A gray area that sometimes you have found yourself making peace with, and other times you just wish you could be different.

You reach for your phone while you’re already mentally planning the steps in order to get ready in time. Being late is never an option, even when it’s just a fun night out in town.

Hey, I thought it over and I’d love to come out with you guys :) see you soon!

You send the text in a flash before tossing your half eaten slice of pizza onto the coffee table and rush to your room.

You tear up every inch of your closet looking for the perfect outfit. It's New Year’s Eve after all, and you want to be shimmering like a grand disco ball.

The outfit is on, and you look great! It turned out even better than you pictured it in your head. But the longer you stare in the mirror.

Fuck. Can’t I just turn my brain off for one night? Please?

And there it is, again. That gnawing little voice inside your head that pops up, gleaming and waving its hand just in case you forgot that it existed.

You aren’t actually going to wear that..are you?

It looks all wrong.

And you’re going to be freezing—

Your friends are going to look 10x better than you—

“ENOUGH!” You shout to no one in particular before you stomp off to the bathroom.

After taking a deep breath, you pull out your array of makeup from one of the bathroom drawers. Pinterest becomes your best friend again while you scroll to find a makeup look that screams you.

Bold. Glittery. Too much glitter?

There is never such a thing as too much glitter. You remind that little voice inside of your head.

Even with your ‘going out playlist’ on full blast, you feel your confidence begin to shrink and diminish as you stare at your painted face in the mirror. It’s not exactly like the picture you found on Pinterest, but there’s no time for you to change it now.

Your phone buzzes again, and this time it’s your friends sending you a group picture of all of them pregaming in their glittery outfits and bright smiles. You heart the message before typing back,

Wow, you guys look amazing! Please don’t be mad, I’m just not feeling up for it tonight. I hope you guys have a blast and stay safe! :)

Your friends understand, because they know that this has always been a struggle for you. A sore spot that hasn’t exactly quite healed the way you wish it had. It’s hard to dig yourself out of a hole that you dug, but you're grateful that they have always been so understanding.

No worries, we love you, and Happy New Year!

And all you feel is guilt.

But instead of wallowing away in your apartment, you grab your coat, purse and keys before making the final decision to go out.

You find yourself outside of a coffee shop just down the block from your apartment. You passed by it everyday during your commute to work, but you never found yourself going in, until now.

The coffee shop is found to be empty as most people are already out to dinner or at a party. It’s somewhat comforting that it’s just you and the lone barista who hadn’t heard you come in yet. His back is turned to you while he wipes down one of the counters, humming to himself as he moves about.

You're immediately drawn into how cozy everything feels. From the decor to the crackling fireplace to the soft music playing through the speakers.

The man turns then, towel gently grasped in his hand when he finally registers that he’s no longer alone. He takes in your attire, finding it odd that someone all dressed up for the evening found themselves here. Then he remembered how his daughter told him it’s rude to judge strangers because you never know what the next person is going through.

He smiles warmly instead. “Hey there, I was uh—jus’ about to close up for the evenin’ but can I get you anythin?’” He’s got a face that you already know you’re going to have a hard time forgetting. Strong built frame, yet soft in all the right places and despite his exterior appearing to be hardened, he seems friendly enough.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t noticed that you were closing up for the night..I don’t want to keep you here. I can always come back another time?”

He detects the way your face slightly begins to fall as he lightly taps his fingers along the counter top he just finished wiping down. “S’alright. I forgot to change the sign out front so that’s all on me. So, what can I get ya? It’s on the house.” He gestured to the menu board above his head.

You hesitated for a moment as you didn’t want to inconvenience this man who probably had his own New Year’s Eve plans to get to. “Are you..sure? I really don’t mind coming back another day.”

“S’alright, I promise. I don’t have anywhere important I need to be anyway.” He said with a slight shrug.

“No fun New Year's Eve plans? And I’ll take a cappuccino, please.” You stepped closer to the counter as you reached into your purse for your wallet.

“Nah. ‘Supposed to meet my brother at a bar nearby for a couple drinks, but he can wait a little longer.” He was already reaching his hand out to stop you from pulling out your wallet, when your eyes met his.

“For the tip.” You said with a smile while placing a couple five dollar bills into the tip jar.

“Oh, thank you. ‘Awfully kind of ya.” He responds softly, out of surprise because most people never bothered to tip. He might even be blushing a little..but he can’t really tell. Maybe it was just the steam from the espresso machine.

“It’s no problem. Gotta support small businesses, y’know?”

He nods in understanding. “Yeah, it’s the least people can do. Anyway, I’ll get that Cappuccino goin’ for ya. Feel free to sit wherever.” He gestured to the empty tables.

The table closest to the fireplace ended up being the one you ultimately chose. It happened to also be his favorite spot as well, go figure.

On any other occasion, Joel would call the customer's name once their drink was ready, but given the current circumstances..and the fact that he hadn’t asked for your name, bringing the coffee to you was perfectly acceptable.

“Here’s that Cappuccino for ya.” His voice drawled above you as he set the mug down in front of you. “Let me know if I can getcha anythin’ else. I’ll just be in the back finishin’ up with the cleanin.’”

“Thank you..” you start to say before realizing that you don’t know this man’s name either.

“Joel.” He clears his throat. “My name is Joel, and you are?..”

You tell him your name and he nods with a small smile.

You're left alone to your thoughts as his footsteps disappear behind the countertop once more. You can faintly hear him busying himself and putzing around as your cappuccino begins to cool without you realizing it.

You find yourself vacantly staring through the windows, and the dimly lit streets and passerby’s. You’ve always had a fond love for people watching and imagining what their lives were like. What their jobs and aspirations were. Did they have a family waiting for them? What made them happy? Would they be able to relate to you?

You don’t even hear Joel’s approaching footsteps nearing the table until he’s saying your name with an edge of concern in his voice because you’ve neglected to have a single sip of your cappuccino that has now become room temperature.

Your eyes meet his deep brown warm ones as your own sense of confusion washes over you.

“Is everythin’ alright? You haven’t touched your cappuccino at all..” he’s not offended, nor hurt, but the empath in him is genuinely concerned, even though you’re just a stranger in his coffee shop.

“Oh.” Your voice falls flat. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I guess I got lost in my own thoughts and completely forgot about it.” You feel bad, awful actually because he took the time to make you this drink, and all you had to do was just drink it—

“Hey, it’s alright. I find myself getting lost in my own thoughts as well. But, I can’t have ya drinkin’ a cold Cappuccino. I’ll make you a new one, alright? It’s no trouble at all.” He’s already reaching over to grab the mug.

“Joel, are you sure? You really don’t have to—”

He cuts you off reassuringly, “I insist. I won’t have my customer drinkin’ a cold Cappuccino on my watch. Ain’t no way.”

He disappears back behind the counter before you are able to protest. Joel returns 10 minutes later with two mugs in hand. You listen to the sound of the chair across from you scraping before he slowly sits down.

“I uh—hope you don’t mind me joinin’ ya? You jus’ seem like you could use some company, darlin.’ S’that alright for me to call you darlin?’”

He’s sweet like warm sticky molasses and honey. He actually might be the nicest guy you’ve met in a long long time.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all, Joel. I could actually use the company, and you can call me darling. That’s alright with me too.”

He smiles at you over the rim of his mug that is clasped between his hands. He gently blows on the billowing steam before he takes a small sip. “So, do you have any fun plans for the evenin’? I’m only assumin’ cus’ you’re all dressed up for a night out in town.” He gestures to your glittery getup that sparkles under the warm flames.

“Well, I did have plans to meet up with some friends tonight..but I wasn’t feeling up for it in the end and somehow ended up here.” You said with a sigh before taking a sip of your own Cappuccino. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“How come?..if ya don’t mind me askin?’ And I’m glad you’re enjoyin’ it. Tastes a lot better when it’s hot.”

The last thing you expected tonight was to engage in a conversation about your daily anxieties with this absolutely gorgeous man. Whom you just met, but crazier things have happened before.

“I don’t mind you asking, Joel. I just don’t want to burden you with my troubles or anything. Especially since I think they’re a bit silly and blown out of proportion.” Your eyes casted downwards into the mug.

“Hey, I doubt you can do that, and between you and me? I’ve heard it all. Got a teenage daughter who’s goin’ through all the things that I’m tryin’ to understand..but as a single father, it’s fuckin’ tough sometimes. But I’d be happy to act as a listenin’ ear for ya.” He genuinely means it, too.

“You have a daughter? How old is she? Teenagers can be a handful, that is very true.” You responded thoughtfully while leaning back against the chair.

You watch the way his eyes light up like a Christmas tree when you show a genuine interest in this man’s life. It’s sometimes a rare occurrence to meet a stranger who you feel like you can just immediately open up to without thinking too hard about it.

“She just turned 13 this year. She’s a good kid, super smart. The kinda kid that probably will end up growin’ up and changin’ the world. She’s..well, my world.” He clears his throat and you notice his dimple poking out in his cheek.

As if this man couldn’t become any more attractive.

“Anyway, she’s already goin’ through some friend and boy drama and it’s jus’ a lot to keep up with. Her mom ain’t in the picture either, so it’s not like I can turn to her for any guidance. She went to her first ever school dance this year in a dress that she picked out. The next thing I know, she’s callin’ me up in tears because some kids thought it was okay to make fun of how she looked. I know kids can be mean sometimes, but I wanted to go in there and teach those little shits a lesson myself.”

He was quite the protective father.

“Kids can be real bitches sometimes, Joel. I never quite understood it myself. Especially since I’m sure your daughter was just minding her own business and having a good time? I learned at a very young age that there’s a lot of jealous people in this world that enjoy causing pain in others for no apparent reason.They might have their own struggles, but that is no justification. Those kids that bullied your daughter will hopefully learn from their mistakes sooner rather than later.”

“She was just mindin’ her own and having a great time. She was so excited to wear her dress. It jus’ makes me so goddamn angry because I can’t protect her from everythin’ out there. It’s somethin’ that I’ve really struggled with this year especially. And I’ve tried to talk to my brother about it, but he doesn’t get it either.” Joel said with a sigh. “I’m glad that you can understand all of this though. I don’t really have any female friends to talk to about this stuff either.”

“Most kids grow out of their ‘mean’ phase after highschool. I can admit that I went through a phase similar to that. Made a lot of mistakes that I had to hold myself accountable for. But, with your love and support, I think your daughter is gonna end up being okay. She’s lucky to have you as a dad.” You reassure him.

“Really? You don’t seem like the type of person to ever hurt someone..then again, I ain’t perfect either. Never have been, never will. I’ve had my own regrets as well. But, I appreciate all that you’re sayin.’ S’Nice to be validated every now and then.” He leans forward with his elbows resting along the table and you’re just beginning to notice how broad his shoulders truly are under his faded flannel.

“I don’t think anyone can ever claim to be perfect. We don’t know everything and can make genuine mistakes. But all we can really do is learn from them, make it up to the people we may have hurt, and move forward. I think you’re a really nice person, based on our conversation, Joel.”

“You’re right, darlin.’ No one in this world can claim they are perfect. It's impossible.” His knee brushed yours gently from how close he was leaning in giving you a clear indication that he was actively listening to everything you were saying. “Anyway, I’m sorry I went off on that tangent jus’ now when we were talkin’ about your New Year’s Eve plans.”

“Dammit.” You sighed with a smile tugging on your lips. “I thought you forgot all about that.”

“Nah. I’m pretty good at rememberin’ even if I find myself havin’ to circle back. So, you didn’t feel up to meeting’ your friends tonight?”

“I was going to, truly. But I just got into my head way too much. It started with finding an outfit to wear. I absolutely tore my closet up and I’m really dreading having to clean it up later. Anyway, I’ve got the outfit on, right?”

He nods while taking another sip of his Cappuccino.

“I’m feeling great, and loving the way the outfit looks on me, and then there’s that stupid mean voice inside my brain. You know the one?”

“Ahh yeah. The voice that tells us that we’re unattractive and worthless? Like when we put on our favorite outfit and it’s not fitting quite right, and we know it’s silly to cry over clothes..but sometimes we just can’t help it? And that voice is right there beating us down because sometimes we forget that it’s natural for our bodies to change?”

Damn, he’s good.

“So...you hear that voice sometimes too? I honestly thought I was alone in this feeling. I tend to keep these thoughts to myself because I don’t want to burden others, y’know? I do see a therapist, though. It definitely has helped a lot, but I’m still struggling.”

“Darlin,’ I know exactly where you’re comin’ from. I had these favorite pairs of jeans that I would wear pretty much everyday. Well, just this past month I found that they ain’t fittin’ the way they used to. The zipper wouldn’t budge, and then I spent a good hour tryin’ all the tricks in the book to get those suckers to fit. Well, none of it worked and then I started beatin’ myself up. Sayin’ all the nasty names I could come up with. Then after all of that, I thought about all the delicious meals I had this year and especially these damn ice cream sundaes that my kid is obsessed with. Suddenly, the jeans not fittin’ didn’t bother me as much anymore.”

“Ice cream sundaes are delicious, and even more-so when you are enjoying them with your daughter. I pretty much went through the exact thing that you’re describing. I know that we shouldn’t give into the societal bullshit of looking a certain way to appear more attractive, but it’s just hard sometimes. That’s why I try to cycle through my closet every now and then so I’m not holding onto clothing that doesn’t fit me anymore. Did you end up keeping the jeans?..”

“She’s been requestin’ them for dessert pretty much every night, and I have a hard time tellin’ her no. They are absolutely delicious. It is definitely hard to pass them up sometimes. It’s comforting to know that other people go through the exact same thing that we’ve gone through. I did in fact donate the jeans, and then bought a new pair the same day. Wearin’ ‘em now actually, and I gotta say, I think I look quite good in ‘em if I do say so myself.” He said in a cheeky tone that sent heat rising on your cheeks.

“Well, I think you should stand up, if you feel comfortable doing so, that is, and let’s see what this jeans talk is all about.”

He grins at you, eyebrows playfully dancing while he sets his mug down along the table before pushing his chair back to stand up.

He gives you a little spin, one that neither you were expecting, but you could tell that he was having fun showing off his new denim.

“Okay, respectfully? Those jeans look amazing on you, they are very flattering, Joel.”

He laughs a warm and hearty laugh as his cheeks turn beet red from your words. Even if you’re just playing along, he’s feeling charmed by your presence.

“Really? Y’know, I was thinkin’ the same thing and a’that..but I’m a pretty humble guy.” He said sheepishly.

“Joel, screw being humble. You’re wearing those jeans like they’re made for you! You gotta own that.” You said with a giggle.

“Alright. Alright. If ya say so, darlin.’ I appreciate the compliment, but have ya taken a look at yourself tonight? You’re glitterin’ like a goddamn mirror ball. Gonna blind me with all that sparkle Y’got goin’ on.” He’s flirting, now. He’s absolutely shamelessly flirting with you.

You find yourself leaning forward then, close enough that he can see the pretty shimmer painted on your eyelids and your undeniable flirty smile.

“Joel, are you flirting with me right now?” You’re feeling bold, and curious to know if you were reading the signs correctly, or letting your brain run a muck in theories.

“I am, darlin.’ Is that..alright? Cus’ if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can stop.”

“No, please continue to flirt away. I’m glad that you’re getting to see my outfit, Joel. I probably have glitter in places where glitter doesn’t belong.” You said with a light, airy laugh.

“You’ll be finding little bits of glitter all over the place well within the next year. Do you have any to spare?” He asked with a warm chuckle.

“Actually..I do have some to spare.” You reached for your purse along the side of the chair and pulled out your tube of glitter eyeshadow that you had brought just in case you needed any touch ups. “May I?”

“Oh, you really weren’t kiddin’ when you said you have some to spare, huh?” He leaned in closer to get a better look. “That’s a really pretty color, darlin.’ You think I can pull that off?”

“I don’t kid when it comes to my glitter, Joel.” You said teasingly. “I absolutely think you can pull this color off. But, I’ll need you to close your eyes so I can apply this more eveningly.”

“Okay, I’m trustin’ you, darlin.’” He slowly closed his eyes then and only flinched a little when he felt the applicator glide across his eyelid. “Sorry, wasn’t it expectin’ to feel that damn cold.” He murmured softly.

“No worries, Joel. It can be a bit ticklish at times.” You scooted your chair in closer to him so both of your knees were tucked in between his as you delicately applied the shimmering shadow. Your tongue was peeking out between your lips as you focused on the task at hand.

He tried to peek his eye open once, before you playfully scolded him and said, no peeking.

To which he grumbled out a response with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Am I pretty yet, darlin?’” He asked with his eyes still shut as you admired your work.

“Very pretty, Joel. Okay, you can go ahead and open them.” You pulled out a little handheld mirror from your purse and held it out for him to admire his appearance.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the feeling before he averted his attention to the mirror you were holding. “Oh, shit. Wow. Y’know what..I actually think I like it.” He looked over at you then before he realized how close you were sitting to him. “Thank you, darlin’ I feel like I’m a mirror ball too.”

“It really brings out your eyes, Joel. They were already pretty before, but now, they’re even more beautiful.”

You were already forgetting about how awful you felt earlier, and the guilty feelings for turning down your friend's offer to go out. It admittedly felt nice to talk to another person that shared more things in common with you than you realized. To be validated, and in turn, validate someone as well? It felt really, really good inside.

“So, now that we’re both glittered up, and it’s two hours till the start of the new year, would you maybe care to join me for a drink? Only if you’re feeling up for it, that is.” Joel asked you with his eyes flickering back to yours. Truthfully, he’s happy that you somehow found yourself in his coffee shop tonight. He can’t remember the last time he’s connected with someone on such a deep and personal level.

“I’d love to get a drink with you, Joel.” You don’t even second guess your answer, and if the feelings come up later, so be it. That little voice inside of your head is nowhere to be found as Joel offers you his arm.

You help him finish closing up for the night before the two of you find yourselves walking arm in arm to the bar that his brother Tommy was at. During your walk, you find yourselves falling back into conversation that flows easy like a steady stream. When you bring up feeling guilty for often being a homebody, he reassures you that wanting to spend a quiet evening with yourself is perfectly normal, and it’s something you shouldn’t feel ashamed of. He goes on to add that if you want to go out more, that’s perfectly okay to do as well. But you should never pressure yourself to go out and have a good time, if that’s truly not what you want to do.

And when you find Joel’s brother at the high top with a glass of bubbly in front of him, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Joel, what is that on your face?” He leans in close to inspect the glitter shadow painted on Joel’s eyelids.

You and Joel turn to one another with two knowing smiles plastered on your faces before you laugh in unison, “it’s glitter, of course!”

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headkiss · 11 months

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could I request joel and shy!reader, the first time that they share a bed/spend the night together? she learns that even though he is a grumpy old fart he is also a huge cuddler? I love your writing for joel!!

grumpy old fart made me giggle! here u go lovely!!! | 0.8k fluff

It feels like you’ve been walking for days, the heel of your beat-up shoes rubbing uncomfortably against your skin, your backpack feeling heavier and heavier on your shoulders.

Somehow, Joel looks unfazed. Of course, he’s got dirt all over and you’re sure he is tired, but he doesn’t look it. He’d probably keep walking until he physically couldn't anymore.

You don’t complain, because everyone’s tired and sore, and the last thing you’d want to do is cause trouble or annoyance.

Still, when you spot a motel in the distance, the relief washes over you.

There’s only one room left in the place that’s sleepable now, the rest of them blocked off or broken down from debris and years of being empty. Well, it’s technically two rooms; a door in between to conjoin them, and Ellie quickly claims one of them as her own for the night.

She shuts the conjoining door behind her, probably to have the privacy to clean up as much as possible with whatever’s in her bag.

You and Joel stand in silence for a bit, the one bed in the room sticking out a little too obviously.

“I can take the floor,” you offer.

“No, you take the bed.”

Joel’s stubborn, and cold, and often grumpy, but it doesn’t stop you from liking him. He’s risking his life to save the girl in the next room, and no matter how aloof he acts, the way he looks out for you says enough.

He’s a good man, even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“What about your back?” You know it’s been bothering him, “you need it more than I do.”

“We’ll just share, alright?”

Joel suggests it before he really thinks it through, because he might have a hard time sleeping next to you. It’s to no fault of your own, really, he just doesn’t know how much longer he can keep you at arm’s length when he has this stupid fucking urge to hold you and protect you with all he has.

He’s not sure how someone like you wound up with someone like him, but he wouldn’t dream of complaining.

“Oh, yeah. Sure,” you say.

You like Joel more than you should and the thought of sleeping next to him has your nerves flaring. You’ve never slept next to him before, even when the body heat would’ve been helpful.

You’re quiet throughout dinner (a can of long expired Chef Boyardee split between three), busy thinking, trying to get your shit together because you shouldn’t be nervous. It’s just a bed. It’s Joel.

Happy with her meal, Ellie goes back to her room to read one of the new comic books you’d found a bit ago, leaving with a, “goodnight, dudes.”

Then, it’s just you and Joel again.

He cleans up the food as you pull back the blankets on the bed to assess the sheets. You decide on grabbing your sleeping bags and unzipping them to use as blankets instead.

“The ones on the bed are pretty gross,” you say when Joel peeks over at you, like you needed to explain yourself.

Joel knows you well by now, knows your tells and quirks, and he can see that you’re nervous, off, hands smoothing out the sleeping bags shakily.

“I can take the floor if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, walking over to you.

“No!” You answer quickly, “it’s not that. I’ve just- um, never shared a bed with anyone before.”

“You don’t have to do anything different. Just gotta sleep, okay?”

Right, just sleep, this isn’t special. You’ve gotta get a grip.

“Yeah, okay.”

“If you’d rather we can put the pillows in the middle.”

There he goes again, caring for you in small, simple ways that speak volumes.

“No, that’s alright.”

“Best get some sleep, then.”

You nod, and Joel walks around to the other side of the bed. You both climb in, laying on your backs for a bit. You can't seem to sleep, and he seems to notice.

“You good?”

“Huh?” You turn your head to look at him, cheek against the pillow, “yeah, fine.”

Joel lays on his side to face you, a distance clearly left between your bodies, “try to sleep, will you? You need it.”

“So do you.”

You’re on your side now, too, head level with his.

“I know.”

Your hand lays by your face on your pillow, and Joel’s hand inches towards it, his pinkie brushing against yours. You reach yours back, and then, your fingers are locked.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

“Night.”

You don’t know it but he falls asleep long after you, and by the time you wake, you’ve migrated, shifted positions. There’s a heavy weight over your waist, and only when you peek under the blanket do you realize that it’s Joel’s arm.

Then, you realize your head isn’t on the pillow anymore, but on his chest, the steady thump of his heart beneath your ear.

Rather than shift and wake him, you close your eyes and get a couple more hours of sleep, smiling at the discovery that Joel Miller is a cuddler.

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squoxle · 7 months

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・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ~ 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐟 (𝟏𝟖+)

👑 pairing: 25yr!little sister's bf!heeseung x 22yr!older sister!reader

👑summary: you're crushing hard on your little sister's boyfriend, but things really take a turn when he shows interest. req by: @hoyeonheeseung

👑 cw: 🔞MDNI!!corruption, oral (m. and f. receiving), penetration, kissing, swearing, drinking, drunk sex, unprotected sex, slight degrading, noncon/dubcon, sexual themes, cheating, college au, hee’s a big ole hoe and so are you [feat. Jake~Brother | Jay*EN- | Sunghoon*EN- | Kazuha*LESF | Yunjin*LESF | Lucy*Weki Meki | Keeho*P1H] 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝑆𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤／𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐸𝑚𝑜𝑗𝑖❤️‍🔥

👑wc: 6.5k

You were scrolling through Instagram when you saw a new post on your younger sister's story.

The caption read, "ladies! it's officially cuffing season!" There was a little red heart on the photo of her and her boyfriend holding hands. You also noticed that she was wearing a small gold chain with the letter 'H'. You knew she had been talking about some guy she was interested in, but she never told you who he was, claiming that you were "too judgy."

You still responded to her story, as if the two of you didn't literally live together.

“OMG! Did the cops finally find your stash? Am I gonna have to bail you out?!" you replied, teasing her about this so-called 'cuffing' season. You didn't expect her to respond as she was obviously busy with some dude.

Later that night when your sister came home. "Hey, Chloe." "Hey. I'm gonna go take a quick shower and we can talk when I'm finished ok?" "Okay." After her shower, that was everything but quick, she started to tell you about her day before crashing mid-story.

From what you gathered, Mr. H is super cute and funny, but he asked her to be his girlfriend in the most corny high-school musical, Troy and Gabriella way ever. Basically, he told her to close her eyes and he put the necklace on her. Then he said this cringy-ass line, "Whenever you see this I want you to remember that you're mine." When your sister told you this you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

*Okay, maybe I am a little judgy* you thought to yourself.

The next day when your sister woke up, she arranged for you to meet her new boyfriend. "Hey, Jake is probably gonna be there too." "What is Jake gonna be doing there?" "Well, they're friends soooo." "Wait what?! You didn't tell me that." "Really, I thought I did. Sorry." "Eww. So you're like the little sister who dates her brother's best friend." "It is so not like that," Chloe chuckled.

You and Chloe drove to Token Town, an arcade/bar about 20 miles from where you live. "Sooo how did you two meet again?" you asked as you walked through the automatic sliding doors. "Ugh. I told you a million times already." "I don't care. Tell me again."

The mix of music and arcade noises made it difficult to hear so you were both kinda shouting, rather than talking.

"You remember when I cracked my phone screen a few months ago?" "Yea. What about it?" "Well, he was the one who fixed it for me." "So I guess the price was being his girlfriend huh?" "No," Chloe giggled. "Then what?" "I went to Apple to get it fixed, but my warranty had expired and he overheard my conversation. You already know I was not trying to pay for a broken screen. Anyways, he was there to pick up some new air pods and that's when he offered to fix my screen for me. He said he used to work for Apple." "So you're telling me that you let some random ass stranger play operation with your phone." "Well, I trusted him." "I know damn well I wouldn't have. I don't care how cute he is."

The two of you laughed before Chloe pulled out her phone to text him. "He said he's over by table 11." "Okay."

You headed over to table 11 to find Jake and your sister's boyfriend. You felt like you had seen him somewhere before, but you weren't sure exactly where. "Hi. I'm Heeseung," he said with a slight wave.

For some reason, when he said that you immediately remembered where you knew him from.

Two months ago, you were shopping at the Korean store to pick out some snacks for you and Chloe to share. Unfortunately for you, the store had been rearranged so it was a little harder to find what you wanted.

As you scanned the aisle for Pockys you spotted them on the top shelf. You weren’t one to ask for help so you desperately wiggled your fingers trying to knock down the desired box. You managed to knock down the matcha flavored pack, after hopping a bit, but you still needed the strawberry and chocolate flavors. You and Chloe like to mix them together and pull out random flavors. You barely nudged the strawberry box down and it fell on your head.

*Ouch*

*Two down, one more to go* you sighed to yourself.

As you reached for the final box you felt a hand graze yours. “Here. Let me help you,” a gentle voice said from behind. “Thanks. They changed the store around and I was trying to get them by myself. But I—“ You turned to face the man standing behind you. His looks alone caused your train of thought to completely derail. “That’s a lot of snacks,” he smiled looking down into your basket filled with different flavors of ramune, milk, and now Pockys. “Are you planning for a zombie apocalypse or something?” “No, it’s actually for me and my sister. We both have a major sweet tooth.” “Oh really? You must love Choco-Pies then huh.” "Hmm. I've actually never had those before." "Well, you should definitely try them," the man said before walking down the aisle and grabbing a red pack from the shelf. "Here," he said placing the 'Choco-Pies' in your basket. "You'll thank me later," he winked.

To your surprise, the two of you finished your shopping together. In fact, the man even paid for the Choco-Pies at the register--he said he was paying just in case you didn't like it, you didn't waste any money. "It was really nice talking to you. Maybe we'll meet again sometime." "Yea, or maybe not." "Hmm true. Well, just in case we ever do, my name's Heeseung."

You snapped back into reality at the sound of your brother's laugh. Jake's goofy laugh was like his superpower. It had a habit of zapping your thoughts away.

"So, all this time when you were talking about a girl, you were talking about my sister?" Jake laughed. Chloe playfully pushed his arm. "Sorry, but I can't say this is what I was expecting when you said I'd be meeting your girlfriend. I've known her my whole damn life and cute and sweet are the LAST words I'd use to describe HER," Jake burst into laughter again. "Would you just shut the hell up already," Chloe said, rolling her eyes. "Okay okay," Jake said catching his breath.

You were too stunned to even speak. You couldn't believe that the guy you had been fantasizing about for weeks was standing right in front of you...with his girlfriend...your sister. You had told your sister about the encounter before, but you didn't tell her his name. You knew that she'd tease you about it till the day you die, but she teased you anyway. She named him your "Choco-Stalker."

After about an hour, you and Chloe went back home. You could hear her talking on the phone with Heeseung, but what you couldn't stop thinking about was if he remembered you. It was a little over two months ago, but maybe he recognized you too...

It didn't matter anyway, he was dating your sister now. You knew all feelings for him had to go.

[December 18th ~ the day before the Xmas party on Saturday...]

You and a few friends decided to have an Xmas party this year because some of you were graduating and others just wanted to have a good time. You chose to host it at Sunghoon's house since he had the most space and the perfect environment for a little get-together.

You were busy hanging decorative garlands and other hanging decorations with Sunghoon, while Jake and Lucy decorated the tables. Chloe and Heeseung were in charge of the balloons, while Jay and Keeho were out ordering food and snacks for tomorrow.

"Guys, I am so excited for this party tomorrow," Lucy said as she placed a snowman figure in the center of one of her tables. "Yea, I don't know why we haven't done this before," Jake added.

"I kinda wish it wasn't at a time when some of us would be leaving though," Heeseung chimed in. "Ehh it's alright. It's not like we're all gonna disappear out of each other's lives just because we get a silly little diploma," Sunghoon said as he fastened the tie on the garland hook. "Yea, that's true, but still...life is gonna change for some of us," Heeseung sighed.

"Hey hey hey! Positive vibes guys. This should be fun. Let's just enjoy the moment we have together," Jake smiled. "Yea, you're right man. Let's make this a night to remember," Heeseung smiled back.

"What are you two gays smiling about?" Keeho laughed as he walked through the door. "Oh nothing. I was just spreading positive vibes as usual,” Jake smiled. “Well we successfully ordered all of the snacks so we can pig out like the sloppy fat asses we are tomorrow,” Keeho continued. “Oh and guess who I brought with me?” He smiled. “Umm…Jay?” Sunghoon asked. “No.” “Soobin?” Jake asked. “No. Stop guessing guys,” Keeho chuckled. “Oh I know. You picked up Zuha didn’t you?” You guessed judging by the grin on his face. “Yup,” Keeho huffed. “Come on in Babe,” Keeho said as Kazuha jumped from behind the door.

They were always so goofy together. Their relationship resembled Joker and Harley Quinn…as in when they weren’t throwing around sassy jokes they were shoving tongues down each other’s throats in the most violently aggressive way ever. Which is exactly what they did that following night.

[December 19th ~ the day of the Xmas party...]

It was around 8pm when everybody finally arrived. You guys had finished decorating the night before and picked up the food the Jay and Keeho ordered yesterday. Everything was perfect, exactly the way you envisioned it.

Sunghoon prepared everyone a special Gingerbread Martini, which was perfect for the occasion. “Woah! This is really good! What is it!” Jake’s face lit up as he took his first sip. “It’s a Gingerbread Martini,” Sunghoon giggled. “It literally tastes like a cookie with rum in it,” Yunjin said licking the froth from her lips. After hearing the comments made, you were very excited to try the concoction. Just like they said, it tasted like a spiked gingerbread cookie. All of the right flavors and a balanced sweetness. It was perfect.

“Okay, party people. It’s time to hand out gifts,” Kazuha clapped, getting everyone’s attention.

Everyone gathered in the living room. Some sat on the floor, others on the couch, and some decided to either stand or brace their bodies against any surface strong enough to support their body weight.

"Hey! I wanna go first," Jake said excitedly. He started by giving everyone a Christmas card filled with $20. Next, Sunghoon passed out his gifts. Everyone got a Christmas keychain with the year attached to it. "Damn, bro. You were being stingy as fuck this year," Keeho hissed. "Merry Christmas to you too asshole," Sunghoon scoffed back. "I actually bought other gifts for everyone, but I want to give them to you on Christmas Day," he continued. "Sure you do," Keeho rolled his eyes. "Guys. Guys. Relax. This is supposed to be fun," Yunjin pouted. "Yea you're right," Sunghoon muttered before they both apologized in unison.

"Okay, now it's my turn," Kazuha sang. She handed everyone little boxes. Gold for the guys and red for the girls. "Woah. What the hell is this?" Chloe gasped. "Well. I bought everyone something special in case they wanna jingle some bells and deck the halls," Kazuha winked. "You're so kinky Zuha," Yunjin giggled. Inside the girls' boxes was a decorative thong, a 'morning-after' pill, and a mini vibrator. The boys had three condoms--Kazuha said it was for a full day of fucking, sex dice, fuzzy handcuffs, and a black satin cloth.

"Who the hell am I supposed to use this with?" You laughed. "Doesn't matter," Kazuha smirked. "Get yourself a winter fling--" "Or we could always just have one big orgy," Keeho cut her off. "Nah bro what the fuck?" Jay spat. "Come on. Think about it, man. It would be kinda hot." Everyone started to engage in a conversation about this imaginary orgy. A few questions were who would ride the best and how many times could someone get off before they passed out. And this went on for about an hour before you moved on to the next party activity, making ugly sweaters.

Everyone was busy creating the ugliest sweaters possible. Even though they would only be worn once, it was still a fun tradition. Of course Heeseung and Chloe were making one for each other. But for some odd reason, Heeseung kept looking at you. And this didn’t feel like the type of looking like “oh I’m just staring off into space which just so happens to be in your direction” it was more like the “yea I’m with your sister, but I’d rather be doing this with you.” Well it didn’t seem that way at first, but after what happened on New Year’s…that’s the only thing it could’ve meant.

[December 31 ~ New Year’s Party…]

After the success of the Xmas party, Sunghoon wanted to throw another party to bring in the new year. Just like last time, he made another special drink. However, he was a little heavier on the alcohol.

Unlike the last party, you all just huddled up around the TV and watched the New Year's countdown. Surprisingly, Kazuha was the first one to fall asleep. It wasn't until around 2 a.m. that everyone else crashed. You were the only one awake, or so you thought.

You went to the guest room down the hall, just to relax away from everybody. Yes, these were your friends, but you just wanted a little time alone.

❤️‍🔥: You climbed onto the guest bed and slid your panties to the side. You never would've thought that Kazuha's little Xmas gift would be so useful. You spread your legs and pushed the tip of the vibrator into your pussy. You spat a bit of saliva onto your fingers before reaching them down to stimulate your clit. You knew this was bad, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't get Heesueng out of your mind. You increased the intensity of the little toy, while you continued to rub your clit. You were reaching your climax as you started to softly moan Heeseung's name. Your eyes had been closed this whole time so you didn't notice that someone else had entered the room.

"OH MY GOD!" you gasped, covering your dipping wet pussy with your dress. Heeseung had been watching you masturbate while moaning his name for who knows how long. "Sorry, I thought everyone was asleep," you said as your face burned with embarrassment. "How long have you been standing there?" "A while," Heeseung said as he looked down to see your hands desperately hugging the hem of your dress in an attempt to hide yourself. He walked closer to you and climbed onto the bed, between your legs. He gently moved your hands, revealing your throbbing cunt.

He began to kiss your inner thighs, "I know you want this," he whispered against your wet folds. He then started to lick and suck the juices from your sloppy pussy. "I heard the way you were moaning my name earlier. I want you to do it again." You were taken aback by his words, but instead of saying his name you stuttered. "Say it now," he said as he shoved two of his fingers into your pussy. You softly moaned his name as he jerked his fingers back and forth. "Say it louder." "What if someone hears us?" "I said say it louder," he growled as he started to finger your pussy harder and faster. You started to moan his name a little louder as he kept up a good pace. "Good girl," he smiled which made you melt in his hands. As you reached your climax, you grabbed his hair in your hands and started to ride his face causing you to cum in his mouth. :❤️‍🔥

You fell asleep almost right after you finished, and the last thing you remember is Heeseung kissing you on the lips before leaving the room. The next morning you woke up, you weren't sure if that was real or just one wild-ass wet dream, but what you did know was that it felt pretty damn good.

[January 4 ~ Trip to the mall with a few friends...]

You were at the mall just hanging out with Jay, Yunjin, Sunghoon, your sister, and her boyfriend--who you hadn't been able to stop thinking about since that night. You still weren't 100 percent sure if that really happened, but he had been looking at you a little weird lately. Chloe insisted on dress shopping because she just wanted something to replace one of her old dresses.

Chloe and Yunjin were busy in the dressing room trying on clothes and Jay and Sunghoon were looking for snacks. It was just you and Heeseung...completely alone.

"Umm, Heeseung?" "Yea?" "Do you remember the New Year's party?" "Yea, why? You wanna do it again?" His response surprised the hell out of you. Here you were trying to sort fantasy from reality and he just confirmed all of your doubts.

"I-I-" Heeseung cut you off with a kiss on the cheek. "Maybe some other time," he winked before Chloe skipped out of the changing room with Yunjin.

"Well, that was a total waste of my time. All of these dresses either make me look fat or make me feel bad for the poor girl who would actually buy it," Chloe said as she placed the stack of dresses on the empty countertop. "Welp, I guess we should go catch up with the boys," Yunjin suggested before you all started walking to the food court.

Sunghoon and Jay were busy talking at a table when you guys found them.

“Hey guys,” Jay waved. “We’re just waiting for the pizza to come out,” Sunghoon added. “Ohhhh yes! What kind did you get?” Yunjin and Chloe asked in unison. An intense love for pizza was one thing those two had in common. Other than that, they were polar opposites.

“Well we got one meat lovers, one veggie, and one cheese,” Jay smiled admiring their excitement. “Heh, if I was a spoiled pizza princess I would’ve had you thrown in a cell for ordering a naked pizza,” Yunjin smirked. “Oh come on. Cheese pizza is good,” Jay giggled. “The only living being that I can think of that would genuinely enjoy a cheese pizza would be a mouse,” Yunjin continued as she sat in a chair beside Jay. “Well you were never really the best at thinking anyways,” Jay smirked. “The pizza princess of beauty and no brains,” Jay teased. “Heh well then you can be my cheesy jester. You’d make a pretty clown,” Yunjin teased back.

“Number 257. Order number 257 is ready,” a voice said over the intercom, cutting off their odd flirting session. “I’ll go get it,” Heeseung said before standing. “Do you need any help?” Sunghoon asked. “I kinda wanna get away from these royal pains anyways,” he continued. “Uhh, yea sure. You can carry the drinks while Y/N gets some napkins and toppings.”

You followed Heeseung and Sunghoon to the counter. Heeseung grabbed the three pizza boxes and Sunghoon picked up the 2 liters of Orange Soda. The three of you started walking back when Sunghoon suddenly stopped. "What?" Heeseung asked. "I forgot to grab some cups and straws. You guys can keep going without me. I'll catch up," Sunghoon hissed before walking back to the pizza booth.

Heeseung paused to watch as Sunghoon walked back to the counter for the additional items. You took this moment to stare at him. Heeseung just had this look about him that made you want him more, even though you knew being with him would break your sister's heart. You looked at his perfectly pouty lips and thought back to the way that they were pressed up against your wet pussy. Now that you knew it really happened you couldn't help but to think of him sexually.

"I told you guys you didn't have to wait for me," Sunghoon said with a shy look on his face. "Yea, I know. But I really didn't mind," Heeseung replied. "Ok, well, I also got us some plates. The lady behind the counter just put the cups and plates in a bag together. That made it a lot easier to carry," Sunghoon chuckled.

"Huzzah! The pizza hath arrived," Yunjin cheered upon seeing the three of you approach the table. You watched as Chloe mouthed the words "Help me," but she didn't realize that Jay was watching. He exploded into laughter and Yunjin whipped to face him. "What art thou laughing at, Jester? I don't remember making a joke," Yunjin was in full-on character, she was even attempting a British accent which threw you completely off.

Yunjin continued her princess persona for the rest of the time you guys were at the mall and you all eventually decided to play along. Chloe was her sister--the princess, Heeseung was the prince, Sunghoon was the knight, and you were a female knight. Jay was still shocked that he was the jester. He even made a joke about it.

"So I guess the princess is fucking the jester on the side huh?" "What?" "I'm just saying. It's pretty obvious that you have a thing for me," Jay smirked. "As if," Yunjin rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know you want me," Jay chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, spinning in a circle. "Put me down you clown," Yunjin laughed as Jay nuzzled his head in her shoulder.

Ever since what happened on New Year's, Heeseung continued to make advances on you--which you didn't entirely reject. However, the farthest you've gotten was a deep tongue kiss with a little boob fondling. It was hard sneaking around with your sister's boyfriend when they almost always hung out with each other.

[February 11 ~ Three days before Valentine's Day...]

With Valentine's Day around the corner, you expected Heeseung to take your sister out for the whole day, but instead, he decided to hang out at your shared apartment. "Are you excited for our special day?" Heeseung asked lying on Chloe's thighs. "Yea, what do you plan on doing?" She asked, twirling her fingers through his hair. "Hmm. I was thinking maybe we should go on a picnic. What do you think?" "I love that idea," Chloe smiled. "Yea a little picnic and then we can go back to my place," Heeseung added. You watched as Chloe's expression changed. "Uhh or we could just come back here," she suggested. "Oh...umm ok. Yea, we can do that instead," Heeseung chuckled awkwardly.

Though he was still lying on her lap, you could tell that the energy in the room had changed.

*I would've never passed up on a chance to go to his house after a date...especially as his girlfriend* you thought to yourself. *I should've taken advantage of seeing him again* you thought back to how you saw Heeseung multiple times after the two of you met, but you were too scared to talk to him so you never even attempted approaching him. You kind of hoped that you'd cross paths again...well when he's not in a relationship with your little fucking sister.

[February 14 ~ Valentine's Day...]

Heeseung showed up around noon to pick your sister up for their picnic date. You helped her choose an outfit the night before. Something cute and red. You watched as she excitedly walked out of the door holding Heeseung's hand.

They had been out for an hour before you finally got bored and decided to have a little fun by yourself, but before you could start anything, you heard your sister unlock the door. "Dammit," you swore under your breath.

You left your room to ask her about her date. "Hey, Chloe. How was your..." Chloe stormed right past you and went into her room, slamming the door behind her. Heeseung was left behind standing in the door frame. "What happened?" You asked. "Nothing...couple stuff," He sighed, rubbing his forehead. You invited him in to sit on the couch. A few minutes later Chloe came back out of her room. "I'm going out with Yunjin and Zuha. I'll be back before midnight. Don't wait up for me," she said before closing the door behind her.

"You should probably go too," you said to Heeseung, even though you'd much rather him stay around a little longer. "Hmm yea, I guess. Unless you want me to stick around." "No that's okay." "You sure? I promise to make it worth your time," He said as he placed a hand on your thigh. "You're dating my sister Heeseung. I can't be doing this," you said pushing his hand away. "You weren't thinking that when you were moaning my name," He said reaching to palm your pussy which was now throbbing with excitement. "Well I-" "Think of this like a Valentine's gift to you," he continued, smoothing his pants around the bulge in his jeans.

Though it just started as you straddling his lap while the two of you kissed, it wasn't long before dry humping his dick turned to you getting on your knees between his legs.

❤️‍🔥: You looked up into his doe eyes and watched as he pulled out his hard pulsating dick. You slowly wrapped your lips around him, adjusting yourself to his size. "Mmm fuck," He groaned as you began to suck on his dick, coating it in your saliva. You used your hands to assist by jerking the remaining length of his shaft while focusing on the tip with your lips and tongue.

The warm and moist enclosure of your mouth sent pleasurable sensations throughout his body. You watched as his hands gripped the couch while you sat between his legs, satisfying him with your hands and mouth. He struggled to maintain eye contact with you as he repeatedly threw his head back. The texture of your tongue stimulated him, causing him to start slowly grinding against your face. You could hear through his desperate stifled moans that he was craving more. Within seconds, Heeseung grabbed a handful of your hair as he forced himself down your throat.

You felt him fucking your throat as you struggled for air. The constant speed and lack of oxygen made you feel like his personal sex doll. You gripped onto his thigh as he thrust himself into your mouth. Finally, he pulled your head back. You breathlessly fought to fill your lungs with air while he maintained a firm grip on your head. Saliva seeped from the corner of your mouth that hung open from being fucked so viciously.

Still, driven by your own desire to be force fucked more you licked the tip of his dick, tasting the salty pre cum that dipped from him.

"You want more?" Heeseung asked in a husky voice, to which you responded by sucking on the tip. "You're such a fucking slut for me," he grinned before slamming your face on his cock again. Tears ran down your cheeks as he fucked you harder. You moaned as he pumped himself in your throat, sending vibrations down his length. "Fuck baby, we gotta start doing this more often," he said breathlessly. You felt his dick throbbing in your mouth as he filled your throat with his hot, sticky load. You swallowed it so quickly that it caused you to hiccup which made Heeseung smile. "You're so cute," he said kissing your lips. :❤️‍🔥

As badly as you wanted to do more you knew he had to get going. It had already been over an hour and you knew Chloe would be coming home soon and the last thing she needed to see was you alone with her boyfriend.

"Yea, I understand," Heeseung said as he stood in the door frame. "Don't forget to call me if you need me," he added. "What if my sister is home?" "We can meet up somewhere else," he chuckled before closing the door behind him.

At this point, you were dripping wet and needed to relieve yourself at least once before going to bed. Heeseung had left his plaid hoodie on the couch which you took to your room. You slid it over your head to fill your nose with his irresistible scent. You continued to pleasure yourself while thinking back to sitting between his legs. There was something about the way his voice sounded that turned you on. Remembering the sight of him gripping the couch while he threw his head back and moaned in pleasure to your touch sent you over the edge as you came in your bed. After you finished, you stuffed his hoodie under your pillow before going to sleep.

[March 15 ~ Chloe's 21 Birthday...]

Though you wanted to call Heeseung, you refrained from doing so. You hated the feeling of doing this behind your sister's back. You knew she'd be heartbroken if she found out. So, you hadn't spoken to him since that day. Anytime it felt like the two of you would be left alone, you went and found something else to do or somewhere else to go.

"Happy Birthday, Chloe!" your friends and family shouted in unison. Your friends had put together a surprise party for Chloe at Sunghoon's house. Recently, his house had become the perfect spot for parties and he was more than happy to share his place for fun.

Your parents only stuck around for about an hour. They gave Chloe her present and waited around to sing 'Happy Birthday' and get a slice of cake.

Since it was her 21st birthday, you guys had also planned to go clubbing. She was now old enough to drink legally, so this was the perfect opportunity.

After opening gifts, you and your friends took her to The Bleu Lagoon, a popular club uptown.

"I'm paying for the birthday girl!" Kazuha cheered as you all lined up at the bar. "I thought you didn't bring your wallet," Keeho asked. "Yea, by me I meant you," Kazuha laughed.

"Party of 10," You heard Jay say to the bartender. Your brother Jake, brought along his girlfriend Bella, mainly to babysit Chloe. Even though she was of age now, he was still concerned about her safety.

After about 3 rounds of tequila shots, Keeho and Kazuha went off to dance with Jay and Yunjin. "If she wants anything else, just put it on my card," Keeho said to the bartender before walking off. Bella was busy chatting and sharing a plate of nachos with Jake because they decided to stay sober to drive everyone else home.

"Shut the fuck up Heeseung! I don't want to hear anything you have to say! I'm not gonna let you ruin my fucking birthday!" Chloe shouted before stumbling away. "What was that all about?" you asked Heeseung who sat there blankly sipping from his beer. "Hell if I know," he shrugged. You climbed off the barstool and followed Chloe to the bathroom. The music was so loud it was hard to hear exactly why the argument started, but you knew you had to at least check on your sister to see if she was ok.

You walked into the bathroom and saw your sister crying in front of the mirror. "Hey, what happened?" "Nothing...Heeseung can just be such a stupid little fucker sometimes," she sniffed. "Did he say something?" "No, but I think he's talking to someone else."

You felt your insides cringe at her words. "What makes you think that?" "Because...he hasn't been the same for a while. The guy I met was nothing like this. He loved me and only me. But now I always feel like he's sneaking around or waiting for some kind of opportunity to fuck some bitch behind my back."

All those tucked-away feelings of guilt were resurfacing now. This is exactly why you never wanted to mess with him in the first place. Now, here you were, hugging your sister who was crying about her boyfriend who she suspected of cheating. The worst part was that he was cheating on her and you knew it...because he was cheating on her...with you.

"I just wanna go home now." "You sure?" "Well, I can wait around for everyone else to finish, but I don't want to sit with him. He's just gonna piss me the fuck off."

You walked with Chloe out of the bathroom and went to a booth seat. You ordered her another drink, which she barely touched. After a few minutes, you noticed that she had fallen asleep, so you took her cup back to the bartender and told Jake where she was. He and Bella moved over to sit at the booth to watch her while you stepped outside.

"I'll be back, I just need to go clear my head," You told Jake before walking out.

You went to the roof of the establishment. There it was quiet. Nothing but stars surrounded you. *How could I do this to my sister? I'm such a piece of shit* you thought to yourself. *She'd never have done something like that to me*

You leaned over the edge of the building, looking at the peaceful cityscape when a body trapped you in place.

"What the fuck?! Get off of me!!" You shouted, trying to push the body off of you. The man pushed your face down, stopping you from moving anything more than your legs. You tried to kick the man away, but it was of no use as he pushed himself against you. You tried to scream for help, but the pressure on your chest silenced you. You felt the cool breeze as the man lifted your dress to expose your ass.

Again you tried to push him away, but it was useless as he was much stronger than you. He wriggled your panties down as he jammed his fingers inside. You hated the way your body was betraying you by reacting to his actions. The second he pulled his fingers out you turned to face your assaulter, Heeseung.

"Heeseung! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you shouted slapping him in the face. "I need you, Y/N. I need you so badly," he whined. You could tell that he was pretty drunk as the smell of alcohol tainted his breath. "No. You're my sister's boyfriend and I don't want to keep doing this with you," you spat pushing him away from you. "I don't care about her. I want you," his words slurred together like a cocktail while his eyes remained fixated on you. "You're a drunk fucking mess, Heeseung. I'm gonna go get Sunghoon to take you home," you said as you walked toward the rooftop exit. "No!" Heeseung shouted, grabbing your arm. "Let go of me, Heeseung. I don't want to be with you. Understand?" You struggled to tear away from his grip, but he wasn't letting go.

❤️‍🔥: Heeseung pinned you up against the brick wall and quickly pulled out his dick and forced it into your pussy. You gasped at the sharp pain of him stretching you open. "H-heeseung...st-stop," you pleaded as he stroked his length inside of you. "Fuck your pussy feels so good," he said as he continued to pump himself inside of you.

He reached around to rub your clit and kiss your neck. The sensation of overstimulation caused you to succumb to his advances. You knew this was wrong, but something inside of you still wanted him.

He felt your body relax as he pounded your pussy harder. "I know you missed me you little slut," he whispered in your ear. "You missed me fucking the shit out of you," he added. You didn't say a single word as he fucked your dripping cunt.

Heeseung pulled out of your pussy and turned your body to face him, lifting one of your legs to give him a better shot of your aching hole. He eased his rock-hard member back into your wetness as he pulled you in for a deep, sloppy kiss. The two of you stayed connected by the trail of saliva and your lustful desires. You felt as though you were getting drunk from the alcohol on his lips.

Heeseung moved down to caress your breasts as he kissed your neck. You could feel him getting closer as his dick throbbed harder into your tight cunt. He gripped your ass as he spilled his seed into you, fucking you harder than ever before. "Now, it's your turn," he groaned as he dropped down to his knees.

He inserted his fingers into your pussy that oozed with his cum. Jamming them in and curling to stimulate your g-spot, Heeseung licked and sucked on your beady clit. Your leg was now over his shoulder as you grabbed his head and started to grind against his face. "That's it, baby. I want you to cum all over my face," He moaned between your legs. Hearing this sent you over the edge. You began to jerk yourself against his lips as you reached your climax and went into a shaking orgasm. Your juices flowed all over his fingers and mouth. He rose to his feet and your quivering body fell into his embrace. :❤️‍🔥

"Now let's you cleaned up before we go home," Heeseung said as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

The two of you left through the rooftop exit and went to the bathroom to clean up. A combination of his cum and your own wetness was still running down your leg.

You headed back to the club as if nothing happened.

Jake and Bella took everyone home, including Heeseung, who helped walk Chloe to her bedroom.

"If you fuck around a little more, you know where to find me," he said before heading to the living room. He slept on the couch and you slept in your bed, but you couldn't stop thinking about what happened on that rooftop. You had just started to get him out of your head and then you couldn't get him out of your pussy...which you didn't totally hate.

What were you supposed to do now?

About a month after her birthday, you overheard them having an argument. However, this definitely wasn't the first time you heard them fighting, the sparks between them had blown out a while ago. Apparently, they had been having problems since Valentine's Day and she'd had enough. So they broke up. You couldn't help but feel slightly responsible for their sudden breakup, especially after learning that it was because of the lack of sex. Now you were faced with the decision to either continue fucking him on the side or completely move on. Dating your sister's ex was out of the question. You knew that she'd never forgive you for that.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @nikisblkgf @wtfyangjungwon @fox-kimsunoo @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae

🎀𝔹𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤/𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞: @shen-oa @tezzy-lovez

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pennyserenade · 1 year

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YOU CAN(T) ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x ex-actress!reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), fingering, pinv, unprotected sex, light dirty talk (not degrading), references to previous sexual encounters, mentions of rough sex) tags: angst, hurt/comfort, talk of drugs (weed), drug usage (weed), dieter & reader are a little toxic - i cannot lie, talk of parents word count: 4.8k+ summary: your relationship with dieter (albeit the very loose definition of the term) has finally landed you in the tabloids. he attempts to make it up to you a/n: unbeta’d. i don’t know what possess me when i write dieter but its very real and active right now lol. if you want to get updates on whenever i write, follow @belovedinfidels

The weight of knowledge wears you thin.

Dieter is a tabloid on page six, the embodiment of Hollywood idiocy sided up against a woman far too young for him. Half his age? the byline reads and the bitter laugh you let out earns you a concerned glance from the old lady in front of you. In his madness, he takes you with him, right there in the middle of the grocery store. You pay eight dollars to read the shit all week, like the spurred lover you can’t claim to be.

Your devotion is too incredible, but that’s the way you are. A strange concoction of bitter and sweet. You’ve never forgotten a wrong-doing and you choke what you love with sheer force of your eagerness. Dieter doesn’t know what he wants and yet he commits himself anyway. Which is why, usually, he is good for you. His touches are seldom chaste and his presence is hardly long-term. If you think you love him, he will disappear and you will remember that you don’t–or rather, that you can’t. It’s a convenience until he makes you remember you aren’t the only thing he occupies himself with in his spare time. Then it is a dull ache in your soul and a reminder of everything you don’t have.

In anger, you fuck a stranger on Tuesday. It’s a reckless moment that is the exception, not the rule, but it feels good. Your body isn’t past expiration, you learn, not an ugly thing. It is older than the girl Dieter was with in that paper, sure, but this stranger is so attentive to it. It responds in all the right ways. You are healthy, you are wanted. There is hope for you yet.

On Thursday, half guilty for no good reason, you tell Dieter congratulations on his new television show. You watched it. You liked it. You can’t help but confess it. He calls you after and you don’t answer, still full of some random man’s want. He doesn’t text you back but he hearts the message to show you he’s really seen it.

By Friday night, he’s got you bent over his kitchen table, his body strong, masculine and warm above your own. Whoever that girl was, she isn’t anymore. He doesn’t tell you this, but you know it to be true, for he is Dieter, and Dieter is consistent in his inconsistency.

He fucks into you with ferocity and you know he is trying to amend for some of his sins. The slick, obscene sound of his cock filling you, the way he presses into your shoulder, pinning you forward into the cold, hard table, the soft, guttural moans that he empties into the air—it is a form of devotion, albeit a slightly demented version of it.

It might be a little twisted, what the two of you share. It’s not love and it’s not necessarily friendship, but it is something akin to the ritual of opening one’s palm and sharing blood with another in a fit of childlike devotion. Forever, it yells with violence, but at the end of the day it merely remains a mess only on the surface. You wonder when you will grow out of it and start doing reasonable things.

When he easies out of you, he rewards you for your loyalty and asks if you’d like to watch an old movie – maybe even get high with him. The movie is an old western and the gunslinger dies in the end. The weed makes you tired.

When you wake the next morning, LA sunlight peeking through the blinds, you’re in his bed. His body is turned in the other direction and a lone pillow separates the space between you. You smile at the way this thoughtless man thinks. All your anger dissipates and he is right for you, all over again. —

On Sunday, you’re the tabloid story.

Finally, you’ve been caught in the act. A sneaky camera in the bushes, that lone photographer with a hungry belly and nothing better to do than explode your life. Half of twitter regals you with hate messages and the other half spouts encouragement. People discover you, search the depths of your online existence and find out more than you would like about everything you used to be.

By Monday morning he’s calling you.

“I’m sorry,” comes his hushed, apologetic tone, “I tried to do something about it but you know how those things are.”

You can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever been caught. Dieter has been your… your whatever since you stretched your acting muscles briefly in 2012. It was that shitty little pilot that didn’t even make it to cable, but you got him, that up and coming actor with an extensive background in theater. You’ve become several different people since then, changing occupations like clothes, and now you sit halfway between writer and unemployed. It’s okay, though. You have money. Once upon a time you were famous too; a child actor who worked too much and didn’t understand what was real and what wasn’t for far too long. Your mother was kind enough not to exhaust your funds. You think instinctively she knew someday you would be this way.

You shrug, coming to. “It’s okay,” you mutter, trying not to think of all the mean things you’ve read. “Hell,” you joke, “Maybe they’ll finally do that revival now. I’m famous again, so why not?”

He laughs too, so easy. “I’m glad you’re taking this okay. I thought you’d never talk to me again.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know but still. It’s shitty and you don’t deserve shitty. One day you’ll wise up to it.”

Betrayal curls up inside of you, makes a newfound home. All the unspoken things between you, and he must bring up this today: the way you do this to yourself. “Not all of us can readily admit to the things we know, can we?” you say evenly. “Listen, Bravo, I’ve got to go respond to some of your fans on twitter now, if you don’t mind. They’re asking for your dick pics.”

You hear his laugh. “Oh, knock yourself out. What’s mine is yours or whatever.”

“I don’t feel similarly, just in case you get the same kind of messages this week.” He doesn’t respond, and you furrow your eyebrows, letting your smile drop. “Dieter?”

“I know what they’re saying—“ he pauses, weighing out his words. “I know they’re not all being kind to you. I’ve seen it, and I’m sorry. Really. If I could do something about it, I would. I’ve been trying,” he repeats, sounding far too exasperated for your liking.

You pick the phone off the counter and turn it off the speaker. No one lives here but you, but some things don’t feel like they should be put out in the open air. “It’s just a photo,” you tell him evenly. “I’ve been in this business longer than you. I know how to handle this.”

“I just don’t want you to think you shouldn’t see me anymore. We can be more careful.”

“Where are you?”

“Wherever you’d like me to be.”

You snort. “God, nowhere near me with a line like that.”

“Oh sorry. I forgot you’re not into that sentimentality bullshit.”

You smile, liking the way his voice has turned from sober to playful in a matter of seconds. “Here I’ve been, thinking you’ve got my number. If you don’t know by now what gets me going—”

“—a good fuck, a single cigarette on a bad day or a drunken night, and most photos of Fiona Apple.”

“Well done, Bravo.”

“Can I come over?”

“Sure, but you better make a couple of wrong left turns on the way here for safe measures. Hate for you to get caught with the same woman twice in one week.”

“Oh ha, ha,” he says deadpan. “Unlock your door. I’m outside already.”

—

The public expects you to break. They always have. As you hand Dieter the badly rolled joint, you think about how pleased they’d be to know this is how you spend your time. The little girl wonder grew up just as fucked as they expected, from pigtails to ill suited relationships and drugs during the week. That’s how they’d see it, anyway. You think it’s a little more nuanced than that, but the public hasn’t ever been particularly good at leaving room for it in their judgments.

Dieter sits on the ground between your thighs, his back to your stomach. Your fingers weave their way through his thick, slightly curly hair, catching every now and then on a stray knot. “Fuck,” he mutters when you land on a clump near his ear. You grin, coltish. “Let me cut it,” you tell him.

“I have a girl,” he says as an answer.

You wrap yourself around him, your face on his back. “Always do,” you tease, humming softly.

He covers your arms, allowing you to envelope him. “I’m getting the vibe that you’ve grown a tad bit possessive of me.” You scoff, loosening your grip. He clinches down, trapping you. “I’m like that with you, too,” he adds.

You hear the confession racket through his body, your ear pressing to some part of his rib, and yet you are the one who feels transparent. “That’s fucked up,” you answer simply, unable to find the right words in this state. He’s always too coherent for you when you smoke weed together. It’s better when you just fuck; it’s a language you communicate best in, even when perfectly sober.

“It is fucked up,” he says, setting the joint down on the ashtray. He blows out a cloud of smoke and runs his thumb affectionately over one of your forearms. “And I think in a fucked up way, you enjoy it. I do. I don’t know why — probably something therapy could sort out.” He laughs, though it sounds a bit hollow. “I mean, it makes me miserable. I know when you’re with someone else. I can just feel it. It’s in the way you text me—or the way you don’t text me, actually. You grow so distant and I think ‘This is it. She’s a smart girl, and you’ve done it this time.’ And then, like with Friday, you come back and you let me have my way with you and it’s awful and it’s nasty and yet…” He clicks his tongue, hesitating. “It’s great. I want you so bad I’m…I don’t know. Overcome with it. All the misery leaves my body and it’s just me and you, and it doesn’t feel nasty or degrading, does it? I don’t mean for it to. I just…It feels like I’m on the edge of the rest of my life when I’m with you like that. I want to tear you apart and I want you to tear me apart and then I want to put us together again, just to show you it can be done. And it’s always done, isn’t it? I leave you feeling whole again, like I’ve just righted this terrible wrong.”

“Dieter,” you manage, voice heavy. “You’re a secret romantic.”

“That’s the most fucked up part about it,” he says poignantly. “I think a lot of screwed up people do a lot of the screwed up shit they do in pursuit of love, and yet they can never quite allow themselves to have it. I’d love to stay put but it makes me itch. I don’t know why.”

“Were you parents fucked up?” You lean back. He lets you this time, but he moves back with you, laying his head on your chest.

“Sure,” he responds. “They fought all the time, but most people did back then. I knew they loved each other, though. They liked to dance and they always used to have these lively conversations about everything. They were serious people, to the point that it was almost unserious.

“My mother, she was educated and my father loved to read and watch movies and talk, and I think she fell in love with him because of it, despite the fact he came from a more…less wealthy background than she did. They begged her, her family, to get a prenup but she never even married him, you know? They didn’t care. They just lived together and they were perfectly content with it.”

You stare up at the ceiling, listening. “Why do you say it like it’s over? What happened?”

“I am?” he asks. “I guess I’m talking in past tense, ‘cause that’s where I existed with them, in the past. I don’t speak to them much anymore, not because I don’t want to, but just because life got busy. They’re still together. Probably fighting or having a conversation about something trivial and unimportant right now.” He smiles, filled with fondness and nostalgia. “What were your parents like?”

“I don’t know. I’ve tried to remember, and I’ve tried to piece it together from what I have, but I can’t. I don’t think I ever could.” You close your eyes. “They love me immensely and they love each other immensely, but things happen. Good and bad things. I’m just their kid.” You shrug. “I feel like a terrible person a lot of the time because of it. Like, what did my mother want from life? Surely it wasn’t me. This. She must’ve wanted something and I’ll never know it.”

“Did she want to be an actress?” he asks curiously.

“No,” you say softly. “She wasn’t the projecting type. I wanted to be an actress. I loved it. She just put me in the theater to keep me busy during the summer and I took off. She encouraged me. She was and is the encouraging type.”

“And your dad?”

“He’s…well he’s there when he’s there and isn’t when he isn’t. I love him and I wonder about him and I feel like I know him more than myself. But I also feel like he’s a perfect stranger.”

“Hm,” Dieter surmises.

“I don’t have daddy issues,” you add. This makes him laugh and you feel it vibrate through you too. It’s so comforting, warm.

“I wouldn’t tell you that,” he says.

“I didn’t even want you to think about it. It's a cheap analysis that men have been pining on women for years. I’d sooner admit to fucking up myself. I mean, I’m sure he didn’t help me any but he didn’t do all the work. I’ve had directors more involved.” You crunch up your nose, remembering. “One of them hated me because of my mom. He had a crush on her and she wouldn’t go with him. I think he’s the reason I have a problem with authority.”

He breathes out through his nose and slaps his hand softly against your thigh, laughing. “For what it’s worth, I do not think you’re terribly fucked up. Just a normal amount, no worse than the best of the most successful. Hell,” he continues, “Maybe even a little better than them.”

You sink back into the sofa, feeling the room move beneath your eyelids. “Dieter, I’m so high,” you whine.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“I can’t talk anymore,” you say. “My brain wants me to say things I shouldn’t.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You groan. “Sentences I’ve already said, just worded differently.” The sincerity of your words makes him laugh — so heartily you squeeze his forearm in appreciation. It touches you everywhere, with your chest against his back like this.

“It’s okay,” he tells you, “Just close your eyes and I’ll keep talking.”

“Mm,” you acknowledge him.

But he doesn’t keep talking. The two of you fall asleep right there in your quiet contentment. You enjoy the peace that comes from soul purging confessions.

—

Tuesday afternoon and he’s still with you. It’s a record, almost. If there hadn’t been that five night stint you had pulled together during one particularly lonely holiday weekend two years ago, this would be the longest you’ve ever seen him. It’s certainly the longest you’ve been together and not had sex.

The pungent, sour-sweet smell of marijuana invades your home, clings to your clothes, and makes you feel like the love-sick, abandoned teenager you were at 17. It’s been a long, long time since then, but there’s a quality about Dieter that puts you back there. Tempting as it is to blame on his perpetual immaturity, you know it’s more to do with your own lack of control. The world spins and you spin with it—a fact that you’ve still yet to gulp down bravely and accept—and Dieter merely reminds you of it.

He thumbs through your record collection while you sip gingerly at a Coke on the couch. Under his breath, he whispers the title of albums that have made up your life, ignorant to just how intimate the act really is. Dieter sees a plethora of intricately organized vinyls and you see half your life; it is a collection made up of poor decisions, lovers’ gifts, and tokens of another life. He plucks out a Rolling Stones album and puts it on the spin table.

Domesticity threatens to choke you for a second before Dieter looks in your direction, sloppy grin on his face. “Let It Bleed,” he says, heading in your direction. “It has You Can’t Always Get What You Want at the end. I think it’s better this way, too, because you have to work for it.”

“What do you mean?”

He takes the Coke out of your hands and steals a sip, voice plugged with passion as he says, “Nowadays you can just listen to a song whenever you want but used to, you had to sit through the whole album. We’re losing the art of the music album because people don’t do that anymore.”

You take your Coke back and shake your head. “That’s not true. After David Bowie died, vinyls became popular again. Albums are very much still in.”

“So maybe they are.” He shrugs. “Regardless, I think they’re better this way. Don’t you?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I just want to listen to one song.”

He lays his head on the back of the couch, pouting out his bottom lip in consideration. “You’re angry with me,” he surmises after a moment.

You frown. “No.”

“You’re something with me, and it’s certainly not pleased.”

“I was just saying my opinion.”

“You want me to leave?”

“No.”

“I can’t quite reach you in there—“ he points to your head “—so if you want me to do something, or say something, you’ve got to tell me.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you tell him evenly. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I don’t,” you repeat, trying to soften out your features. “I’m feeling…I don’t know. Awkward. You don’t stick around this long and I guess it’s making me feel odd. Especially because you haven’t touched me.”

“Ah,” he says, straightening himself. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

“Have I ever denied you?”

“No, but I figured you might like to know I don’t mind seeing you with your clothes on too.” He offers you a kind smile and his fingers reach out and intertwine loosely with a few of yours. This is completely uncharted territory that makes your heart beat ferociously against your chest.

You tug him closer and he comes, his body leaning into yours as your lips meet. The shirt he wears is slightly too big on him, and the fabric brushes against your stomach as you open your legs to make room for him. His fingers press into your hips, positioning you beneath him, and you open your lips slightly, permitting him access.

For lack of a better word, you think: Homecoming. But it isn’t. This isn’t home. This is Dieter Bravo, page six, Mr. Half His Age. You smile against his lips and he pulls back. “What?” he says, smiling too. You feel his breath on your face, warm, and you lean up to press your lips to his again. “Nothing,” you tell him, knowing the joke won’t be funny.

He doesn’t seem to mind, allowing himself to be swayed away by the suggestive rock of your hips. He leverages himself with a hand on the back of the couch, and you pull him down, further and further, latching your legs around his waist. He is warm, burning, and as you deepen the kiss, you can feel the way he grows hard above you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, nodding his head up, disconnecting the two of you. Your lips feel rubbed raw, bruised, but you want more. He grunts softly when you press yourself into his cock and you look at each other for one dizzying second. Then he is kissing the underside of your jaw, his large hand palming your covered breast.

You try desperately to figure out how to shed the layers of clothing that separate you but he is quicker on his feet, pushing the college shirt you wear up above your stomach. He puts it behind your head, pinning your arms up. You watch as he licks down your chest, warm tongue flattening between the valley of your breasts. Then his breath ghosts over the nipples he exposes, his long, thick fingers pulling down the fabric of your bra quickly, desperate, hungry. He takes one in his mouth and you squeal.

Dieter isn’t usually patient. He fucks for leisure but never really revels in it for too long, so it surprises you when he licks down the rest of your body, swirling his tongue above the place where the band of your sleep shorts begins. You raise your hips for him and he sheds another layer, but again, just barely. Leaving you in your underwear, he worships you on the way back up, kissing your ankle, your calf, the inside of your thigh, even the place where your thigh meets your cunt. His fingers dig, eager to find skin full enough to grip; breasts and thighs, your hips, your ass when you respond to the hot breath that cascades over your cotton covered cunt.

He presses his hot mouth to you, underwear still in the way, and that’s it, you're ablaze and you are starved, crammed full of lust with an appetite that knows no bounds. You want to bare yourself to him—to spread yourself wide right there, and let him into the wetness of your cunt while you whisper dirty things into his ear. His words from yesterday echo in your mind — I want to tear you apart and I want you to tear me apart and then I want to put us together again, just to show you it can be done — and you think God, that’s it. The pulse point, the center, the raw and unbridled truth. You tear one another apart and it is tender, trusting. You’ve been getting him wrong. Over a decade and yet you’ve miscalculated it all.

He slips aside the fabric of your underwear, licks you, finds you wet and wanting. You are dripping. You feel it, know that his eager tongue is only adding to what his mere presence has caused.

That other man, he was lovely, young, flexible, all calloused hands and the taste of reckless mystery you thought you needed, but Dieter is ritual to you, like waves slapping against the rocks or the slow, inevitable spin of the planet around the sun. It happens and yet the sheer ferocity of the change it brings leaves you shocked. He is the taste of half smoked tobacco, the sweetness of a stolen sip of Coke, the warmth of an almost-orgasm rushing to your head.

His lips are coated with your slick, glossy beneath the warm living room light, but he doesn’t seem to care. He bites down on his bottom lip, pressing the pad of his finger to your entrance. Watching with heavy lidded eyes, he finds it in himself to smirk.

“Dieter,” you pant out, not taking your eyes away.

“You want it?” he growls, voice low and lust-filled. “Beg.”

You don’t hesitate. “Please. Fuck Dieter. Please.”

He sinks it in and the sound of your cunt welcoming him makes you both groan. It’s so deliciously obscene, the entirety of it. Your brain sputters, confused and overwrought, and you think: oh, I would never deny you anything. Never. Never.

His finger curls inside of you and his thumb presses down on your clit, focused and determined, the evidence found in the way his forehead crinkles. You note, even in this state, the way the front of his sweatpants tent and a dark spot where he’s leaked forms. He’s not wearing underwear and his finger is in you, above you, on you. You are warm, a beautiful burning thing around his thick finger. He enters another, says, “Fuck, you are so wet. Look at you.”

You shudder beneath him, a wordless moan escaping as you grip his tattooed wrist. The orgasm wracks through you, leaving you panting, pulling at his hand. So fitting - so ironic - that this is where he would mark himself with the symbol for femininity. Mother nature. That hollow triangle, pointed in the direction of you, sister to the darkened one pointing at him on the other forearm. That one means sun, masculine. They are earthly and complex, harmonic and just right.

Dieter puts his fingers flat on your tongue and you suck your own juices off of him, acidic - sour-sweet. He watches for a moment before he replaces them with his own tongue. There’s more of you there. As you work his sweats below his hips, dragging the fabric across his sensitive cock, he groans deep and you drink it up, hungry for more.

When he pushes into you, he does so with such ease, your body allowing him to sink into you like you’re his home, the missing half. It’s too romantic of a notion for you to carry in real life but somehow, like this, it fits. You crave the truth of it. As he rolls his hips into yours, deep as he can, you pull his shirt over his head and cover his lazy, soft lips with your own. You breathe each other in more than you kiss, bottom lips connected, top lips flirting, and tongues meeting each other as he seats himself fully inside of you.

Dieter is thick, makes you feel full in a decidedly feminine way as grinds himself against you. You clench around him, fingers thrusting into the skin of his back. He nuzzles into your neck, presses wet kisses to the sensitive skin.

You bury your hands in his sexed-up hair, let your body wrap entirely around his frame as he finds a rhythm inside of you. A soft flow of up and down, in and out, lacking ferocity but conveying a desperate need. He drags his cock through you, pierces you with it, and you take it gratefully, eyes shut and senses flooded. When nibble on his ear, you taste the metallic of his lone earring and his breath grows more ragged. “You feel so fucking good,” you whimper, voice high, “I feel you—I feel you everywhere. God your cock—you make me so fucking wet.”

You kiss him fully on the mouth again. Everything feels taut, moments away from being over, and you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist. You are one, a complete thing. Then he is pulling you apart before you know it, the twitch of his cock happening precariously inside of you. But he knows himself, well enough to pull out just in time, spilling his warm seed across the canvas of your exposed belly. A wordless sob escapes him and you reach out to hold the forearm he’s moved to the back of the couch again.

This is when it ends, the place where the two of you separate, go your own ways. He will hand you a tissue, wrestle out a pathetic ‘thank you’ or ‘see you later’ and the illusion will be broken–

“Do you mind if I spend another night with you?” he says, chest rising and falling. He sits back on his knees, looking at the milky white substance on you with a mixture of curiosity and fascination. He fingers it and you take it, bringing it to your lips. Dieter offers a lopsided grin, that dimple of his showing again.

“What’s mine is yours or whatever,” you echo his previous words, smiling too.

“That means a lot,” he says.

“More than you know,” you agree, “So don’t fuck it up.”

He presses his lips to your knee, the silence deafening, but you trust him despite it. This is different. He is different. He has to be. Please, you plead silently, running your hands through his hair again, Don’t ruin this for me.

He catches your eyes, smiles softly. “I won’t.”

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble #the bubble fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

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soleilceirinen · 8 months

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Strawberry fields forever (Cillian Murphy x Reader) - Part 1

Summary: just a cute moment with your toddler, Scout and your husband Cillian.

A/N: some weeks ago I saw a video (I can’t remember where or find it again) and this came to my mind. It's short and simple, but I thought it was adorable.

I respect the private life of Cillian and his family, which is why this story is set in an alternate universe where they do not exist. Also, there is an age gap between him and Y/N although it is never specified, because I love it.

English is not my first language, so there could be mistakes that I haven't noticed. Thanks for reading!

Masterlist - Part 2*

The day was gray and cloudy, at any moment a serious storm was going to break out, so you decided to spend the afternoon inside the house. This decision didn’t amuse either your toddler or Scout, they had been complaining and whining for a while trying to convince you to let them play outdoors, as if they had agreed beforehand even though none of them could speak.

You were in the kitchen, cutting strawberries into small pieces with your little boy clinging to your legs and babbling. A bird landed on the windowsill causing Scout to bark at it. The child was frightened by the sudden noise and began to cry. You sighed and dried your hands on a kitchen towel, mentally saying goodbye to the possibility of spending a quiet afternoon. You took your son in your arms to calm him down and he hugged your neck with his little arms.

“Be quiet, Scout!”, you told the dog, who looked at you with his big dark eyes ready to keep barking. “Don’t even think about it, it’s just a bird.”

Turning to face the window, you pointed at the bird for your son to see. "It's okay, Scout is saying hello to the little bird, see? You don't have to cry, or you'll wake up dad."

Cillian had returned a few hours earlier after spending a month away working on a new project. All of you were looking forward to seeing him and he couldn’t wait to see you too, but he was exhausted so you suggested he could take a nap.

The child stopped crying and looked at you with his huge blue eyes, just like your husband's. “Dada!” he shouted excitedly, kicking his feet.

“But you can't scream or cry, because he's resting and then he's going to be too tired to play with you and Scout, okay?” when he nodded, you put him on the floor next to the black dog and opened the fridge.

You glanced around the shelves without looking for anything in particular until you saw a bottle of whipped cream in the back. You couldn't remember when you bought it, so you took it out and looked at the expiration date. It wasn’t expired. Pointing the nozzle of the bottle towards your mouth, you squeezed until you tasted the sweetness of the cream. When you were little, your mother and aunt used to do that same thing with you, so the taste brought back good memories.

Slowly, you turned to your child. "Do you want some?"

He threw his head back and opened his mouth like little birds do when they are waiting to be fed. You gave him just a bit of it. After tasting the cream, he pointed to Scout who was sitting next to him on the kitchen floor.

"Do you want Scout to have some too?" you asked, smiling at the cuteness in front of you. Your toddler nodded and touched the dog's fur. You obeyed, giving Scout an even smaller amount that he devoured faster than light.

You heard an amused snort coming from the hallway. Turning to the kitchen door, you saw Cillian leaning against the threshold with his arms crossed and the kind of smile that made the corners of his eyes crease.

You smiled back at him and bit your lip. His hair was rather disheveled from the nap but you loved the sight. "Did we wake you up?"

Cillian shook his head, still a bit groggy. He entered the kitchen and walked towards you, putting his hands on your hips. You stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. You wanted to show him how much you had missed him but at the moment you had a very excited child grabbing your jeans and an even more excited dog running in circles around the kitchen, so it had to wait.

Your husband bent down to held your son in his arms and hug him tightly, he didn't like spending time away from him being so small. A month ago, he had confessed you he was afraid that your boy would forget about him while he was away.

Watching the scene in front of you made you feel a wave of love for them that spread through your chest. You were still holding the bottle of whipped cream in your hand, looking at it, you started to think of a better way to show Cillian how much you had missed him over the last month.

But that could wait until the evening, when the child would be sleeping. Right now, you wanted to enjoy the afternoon with the two people you loved most in the world.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x fem!reader #alternate universe #soleilceirinen writes

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hybbart · 6 months

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Heya! I was wondering how medication and medical devices work in the ranchers au. Most devices need replacing quite often and after five years, many medications would be out of date and useless or even dangerous.

I definitely get if it's just a case of, they don't go off, since medicine is confusing but I was curious since it could lead to plot.

I should say that I specifically don't get into this stuff much just because I don't know much about it and I would rather keep things vague than accidentally impart incorrect information. As well as the fact that it is ultimately a biopunk setting with differences to our world. That said, have more rambles than I expected.

Right you are, there's in fact not a lot of medication left. People hoard anything they find but most is long expired. The hospital is lucky to have two doctors and Scar who know a bit more about medicine than the average person, but a lot of whats kept is just praying it still works.

Cleo thanks to being a gorgon is also in the drug development business, though she specialized in developing antivenom, but she not only knows but can help develop certain medicines. She and Scott have made quite a thing of their inn and I kinda wanna touch on it in the future.

Shubble, Katherine, Gem, Impulse, and Pearl know home remidies for a lot of things and have specifically been growing and creating them. These aren't going to replace complex modern drugs for specific conditions obviously, but they work and its easy to pass it around with the help of the radio station.

Overall, on bad days, Tango generally has to grin and bear it with homemade pain killers at most. It's rough and it contributed to the second wave of population decline after the first wave of zombie deaths. It's Scar's goal to specifically help survivors with this sort of thing, though.

As for medical equipment, it's a bit grim but since there's such a small population now and the hospitals were the first to go there was a lot of spare equipment from storage and patients left behind. In part because of Scar's own medical needs and in part for their desire to help others, Scar and Cub, and later Grian, collected what they could from abandoned hospitals and care homes.

It's obviously not going to cover everything, materials break down and as far as replacing them or things that need customization there isn't a factory just down the road that makes it all in house.

This is where I take the most artistic liberties, but Tango, with Doc and Zed, is the one to maintain Jimmy and Scar's equipment as well as his arm. Whether that's patching the existing, altering replacement, or crafting new parts. He knew a good bit from his job and hobbies but he's spent the past 5 years learning specifically how to diy for Jimmy and himself. It's not perfect but it's the best they have.

This is still a bit of a soft biopunk setting at the end of the day with mutliple species and genetic modification, I imagine it might be a little bit easier to get hold of certain things than it would be in real life. I also think they live in a very different economy, and its probably easier to find sturdier and custom made items due to the variety of their society making mass production more difficult. This leaves the problem of certain species not responding to certain medicines though and needing more specialized treatment.

The degredation of materials is something I do try to take into account, which is the reason gas power is nearly nonexistent, but it's hard to take everything into account and sometimes I would rather not, simply because it allows more stories to be told if something is available but difficult to get rather than impossible. I'm not great with drawing or knowing technology so it's easier to just say something is jerryrigged than it is to actively illustrate how they did it. If it seems it might be possible I allow it.

The important thing to me is to consider the types of people who would think about these things first and if anyone might be that person. You know, someone with asthma is going to think of medication and figure out how to get it, a truck driver might know where to go for storages of specific supplies instead of raiding malls, and a historical reenactor might think of how to get and create sustainable materials. Everyone leads a life that puts certain things at the forefront of their mind that other people probably wouldn't think of at all. Especially going from a modern specialist society collapsing into a society that requires generalized knowledge. And the saved knowledge of these things didn't turn to dust the second the apocalypse hit.

Life's not as rough as it might be in other apocalypse media, just because I guess I generally don't really care for the unrralistically cynical outlook a lot of american apocalypse stories are made in for drama's sake. This is a story about people caring about and helping one another, and developing a new life for themselves. If they don't have access to something, people work together to make due with what they have.

#raau ask #raau notes: technology #raau notes #raau notes: setting #raau notes: character #raau notes: ranchers #raau notes: art

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theblackqueen-ofmyheart · 3 months

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You know what we need @fiery-red-kryptonite? We need a diabetic convention.

A few days long where diabetics of all ages could all get together and just talk, share things. both type 1 and type 2 diabetics. I know where I live there were diabetes camps but like…those were for kids and that’s great but so many people who are older need the support.

Because honestly no one understands a diabetic like another diabetic, doctors don’t get me the way you do. Other friends may try to help (and they do an amazing job when I need them to help) but I can just message you and go “holy shit the low I had today” and you understand and share what helps you. I can say “my lord the dream I had today” and you respond with “how was your blood sugar?”.

Plus I know way too many type 2 diabetics who are sorely uneducated on type 1 diabetes and I feel like they would learn better in an open, friendly environment rather than a doctors office where the doctor might not even fully know.

New diabetics who are scared and worried being able to talk face to face with elder diabetics who’ve been dealing with this Illness for most of their lives and hearing from some who knows first hand how they handle it. Being able to go back to their doctors with informed ideas on how to better manage their diabetes.

Panels set up by diabetics for diabetics (and their families because let’s be honest families need more education than they get too)

Little sales booths where diabetics can sell little trinkets to decorate pump or pen pouches. Little bears to help little kids with diabetes brave the injections (I had one his name was poke, he was my second favourite bear)

Just something for diabetics to get together in person and be able to share. Make connections with each other and finally feel a little bit less alone.

I don’t know this idea struck me while I was changing my sensor and I felt like a post that other diabetics may see and share etc would be nice……at least we can have a diabetic Tumblr group or something 😂

Edit: the post has been reblogged and liked a few times so I went ahead and made a discord so diabetics can connect in some way at the very least. The invite shouldn’t expire but if it does please let me know and I’ll put a new one or invite you personally.

#diabetics #diabetes #type one diabetic #type one diabetes #type two diabetes #type two diabetic #type 2 diabetes #type 1 diabetic #type 1 diabetes #type 2 diabetic #I’m actually considering blazing the post so more diabetics can see it…..

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paintedstories · 11 months

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Apocalypse

♥ song of the story OWN MY MIND -maneskin

gif from @yonglixx ⚠: mentions of zombies: mentions of blood and death; mentions of Felix killing zombies; mentions of his family being dead(I'm sorry 🙏 its for the plot); mentions of readers family being dead(sorry again) ⚠: can be considered a fluff story if you don't mind the theme ⚠: Survivor Lee Felix x Survivor fem reader (she/her) ⚠: In this AU skz doesn't exist, meaning, that Felix doesn't know any of the members.

panting could be heard from the girl hidden in a long ago abandoned house.

"ahh, shit-" she breathed under her breath, exhausted from running, punching, and killing all day. She started searching carefully throughout the house, carefully to not make too much noise, walking and finding things that might be helpful. After putting all the things she found in the middle of the room, things such as cans of fruits and food, screwdrivers, knives, soap, and ladies' necessities, she decided to choose what she exactly needed and go on a run outside, maybe find some abandoned shops or hopefully a pharmacy, as she was in a new city.

while walking she stumbled across an alley and decided to go in it to rest, as she did not see or hear any of those horrifyingly disgusting creatures she sat down close to one of the big metal trash bins, fortunately for her, it did not smell that bad, as it has had not been used for at least 5 months. while she carefully opened one of the food cans she found, she suddenly heard something, or rather someone walking. Scared she rapidly put the can down and got up with her knife to kill who was coming next.

"hey- woah, woah, mate slow down, I'm peaceful!" he whisper shouted while putting his hands up making her put the knife down and look at him with a serious face. "I'm warning you if you try stealing from me, I won't hesitate to murder you," she said sternly while sitting down and starting to eat from the can. But he continued staying on guard next to her. "what are you doing?" she looked at him weirdly but he doesn't say anything, only smiles and sits next to her, after approximately 2 minutes the hands him the other half of the can that she didn't finish intentionally. "eat" she said not looking at him. "woh thanks!" he exclaimed and smiled brightly "didn't eat something non expired in ages haha" her face fell after hearing that. How, how, what happened here. she thought while slowly peeking to look at his shadowed dirty face. poor guy was all she could muster in her thoughts. "want more?" she looked at him while handing him another can, now with a different type of food. " no, no, I can't, it would be too much! I don't have anything in return!" he said while shaking his hands showing that he meant it. "No, really take it, I have more, found a house, 30 minutes away, very quiet no monsters, and it has a lot of food. maybe you would want to come with me, you know, two is better than one," she said while scratching her back of the neck.

"Really?- are you joking with me? because if not I'm coming!" he smiled while sitting up and holding his hand to her. As she took it, first time making skin-to-skin contact with the stranger she felt a spark in her heart and worms in her stomach, no she felt butterflies, she shacked her head gently and started to walk a little bit in front of him to lead the way.

On their way to the house, they chatted and found out that his name was Lee Felix, an Australian. They encountered 3 zombies too but decided to just run off, as it was night time and they wouldn't be seen.

Arrived at the house she shows him around, and he helps her to patch the broken windows and unnecessary rooms.

While searching for a good room Felix found a basement, the basement of the said house, deciding to investigate right then, as it was night and the zombies were mostly asleep and easier to kill. Big luck for them was that inside was only one, a guy, the owner of the house they declared. After y/n killed it and Felix helped by dragging it outside the house in front of the yard and throwing it on the fence, as protection from other fellow zombies, because if they smelled the blood of the said zombie on the fence they would pass the house and not get in even if heard any sounds from inside. Of course, it would smell bad but good thing that the smell didn't get too close to the house.

After rearranging the whole basement, meaning, getting all the things in the living room, then putting on a big bed for two inside the room, of course, cleaning it very well. They might have been in the apocalypse but to be clean still helps. good thing the basement was as big as the house, large enough to put some of the kitchen and bedroom furniture down, creating a little house, sadly inside the basement was only the installation for water, not the toilet too, so the bathroom remained inside the house. Not too big of a problem as the house looked like it never been touched by the filthy hands of those zombies.

"few, we're finally done!" Felix said happily while slumping on the bed."ey get your dirty butt off the bed, you need to change and shower....." she realized that the water from the bathroom didn't work anymore, only the one in the basement, the reason being that the installation was made so that water will work even without electricity, but that only in the basement. " haha shit, we got to wash with cold water" she sighed as she plopped next to the bed resting her back on the bed leg next to a now floor sitting Felix. "haha jokes on you, not washing with cold water" he laughed "then sleep on the floor"

hey, hey, hey! my cherry's hope you liked this story if you want part two ✌ tell me master list 📃 feel free to request your deepest desires!

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vxxxb · 8 months

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Not A Cook - [Miguel O'Hara]

More fluff! Takes place before he becomes Spider-Man -- You can't cook and Miguel decides to help Tags: Roommates, colleagues, fluff, lighthearted story, implied they work at Alchemax

“You never learned to cook?”

Miguel's judgy tone speaks from behind you as he reaches for his mug.

His condescending tone makes you bristle, your body instinctively moving slightly to the side to not bump into him as you huff quietly.

You keep your grip on the pan's handle as you attempt to flip over the set of empanadas you had made for yourself. It was supposed to be something easy, especially with the long tongs you bought. But as you try to flip them without burning yourself, tiny bits of oil start to splash, causing you to swiftly lower the flame and step back from the stove.

You narrow your eyes at the pan, crossing your arms with tongs still in hand.

Alright, so cooking wasn’t your strong suit, especially when it came to frying. You got stuck on the fear of potentially getting burned, rather than simply focusing on making the damn food.

It was all too frustrating.

Miguel’s comment certainly didn’t help, and his standing by the table counter only a few feet away, casually sipping his coffee with a smug smirk, only irritated you more.

You knew staying with him was a bad idea. But when word got out that you were initially planning to stay over at a 'friend' as your apartment got fixed, he had personally extended an invitation to his living arrangements.

And now, a month and a half has passed, and your apartment is still far from ready. What started as a simple plumbing issue soon turned into an expired gas meter, faulty wiring, and eventually an upright renovation process.

You found the new arising problems for your apartment strange, but you brushed them off. After all, it was Nueva York, and a standard living space was bound to have its fair share of issues.

Swallowing your pride, you glance at Miguel, meeting his amused gaze.

“If you’re not going to help, I don’t want to hear it,” you roll your eyes, frowning as you stare at the empanadas simmering in oil.

You take a deep breath as you approach the stove again, adjusting the flame and carefully sliding the tongs beneath a crispy empanada, successfully flipping it over without oil splattering this time.

You smile proudly, turning up the stove again before yelping once the oil splatters again.

At this, Miguel erupts in laughter, his hand clutching his stomach as he tries to avoid your prominent glare.

You grit your teeth, throwing your hands up in annoyance before sliding the tongs over to him. "I give up, you do it," you grumble, beginning to head out of the kitchen only to be pulled back abruptly.

"Hey-!"

Miguel raises an eyebrow, wearing that same infuriating smirk once more. "Cooking's all about practice," he quips, dragging you back to the stove. "You just need a few pointers."

"What I need is to avoid it all together."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing the tongs from the counter and handing them to you. He then leans against the counter, arms folding across his chest. "First things first, control the heat," he advises, pointing at the stove. "Medium-low is usually a safe bet for frying. And don't overcrowd the pan; you want each empanada to have space."

You huff quietly, shooting him a side look. Miguel only gives you a deadpan stare, directing his gaze to the pan.

"Fine," you concede, rolling your eyes.

Begrudgingly, you follow his advice, adjusting the heat as he suggested and carefully spacing the empanadas in the pan. They start sizzling gently without any oil splatters.

Miguel nods approvingly. "See? Now keep an eye on them, flip them when they're ready, and you'll be fine." He hums, turning to leave.

You glance at him, surprised by how quickly you stop him. "Wait!"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden change of tone. "Yes?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Would you… care to join me for breakfast?" You gesture to the pan.

Miguel chuckles softly, shoulders shrugging. "Why not," He pulls out another cup and two plates, placing them on the counter for the two of you.

You find yourself smiling, turning the remaining food over before, finally, turning off the stove. Bringing the pan over, you carefully slide three empanadas onto each plate.

You take a seat, taking a sip from your mug and sighing content when you realize it was hot chocolate and not coffee he had served you.

Setting your cup down, you look at him expectantly. "Well?" You nod your head to the empanadas.

He rolls his eyes, picking up one of the empanadas and taking a careful bite. His expression changes from one of amusement to genuine surprise as he chews.

"You didn't manage to burn them or drown them in oil after all," he chuckles as you also try one.

You grin happily once you see he's telling the truth; They do taste good.

"Just so you know, I'm not doing this again," you shake your head as you chew hungrily. "Not unless there's a kitchen appliance."

"I think you'll change your mind once you get the hang of it," Miguel teases, taking another bite. "Cooking can be quite satisfying, you know."

You roll your eyes playfully. "We'll see about that."

You then look at the clock, gasping and rushing to your room. "I'm running late! I'll see you at the lab!"

With you out of sight, Miguel smiles, a warmth in his eyes that he never allowed you to see.

The next morning, when you wake up to prepare yourself something, you see a light blue appliance on the counter with a note on it.

Here's an air fryer. Can't screw this up. -- Miguel.

You can't help the laugh you let out as you read Miguel's note. You can't help but feel that staying at Miguel's place might not have been such a bad idea after all.

#miguel o'hara #fanfic #atsv x reader #spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderverse x reader #astv fanfic #astv miguel #miguel o'hara x you #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara imagine #astv

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chick-with-wifi · 9 months

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Theory: Root is alive

The Machine faked Root's death, knowing it was the only way to protect Root and motivate Finch to do what was needed to defeat Samaritan.

5x10

The Machine is unable to see the sniper because Samaritan's operatives work in the shadows, but sees Root get shot and sends the police to their location, as it is the fastest way to get medical attention for Root and Finch into custody where Samaritan would be less likely to have another opportunity to target him.

Root is then taken to hospital where Dr Madeleine Enright performs surgery to save her. The Machine summoned her because She needed a skilled surgeon who was trustworthy and wouldn't ask too many questions, and it is mentioned in 4x13 that Dr Enright is among the past numbers who have been helping the team ("Dr. Enright is keeping an eye on Delia at the safe house.").

Once Root is stable, this is the point where the Machine decides to fake her death. As she is injured, Root wouldn't be able to defend herself when Samaritan comes to finish the job, so her only chance is for the Machine to make sure they aren't looking for her. Or rather, they aren't looking for her alive.

Dr Enright injects her with aconite (like Shaw in 2x16) to make her appear deceased long enough to be pronounced dead and for Fusco to identify her body as a Jane Doe, then revives her with atropine.

Meanwhile, the Machine had also summoned Dr Farouk Madani, another previous ally of the team who used to work in a morgue and still owes Finch a favor as mentioned in 3x05. He locates a body matching Root's description and handles the necessary paperwork. And Dr Carr, the otolaryngologist who gave Root her cochlear implant in 3x17, removes her implant and puts it in the new body (more on this later), which is then sent to be buried in Root's place.

During the chaos of inmates being freed at the prison, Daizo, Jason and Daniel are able to get Root out of the hospital and go into hiding. The Machine chose them for this task because they were shielded from Samaritan at the end of season 3, giving them more room to maneuver freely, and Root already knows and trusts them.

The reason the Machine doesn't tell the team about faking Root's death is because Samaritan has eyes everywhere and She can't risk them finding out. She also heard Finch and Root's conversations about him needing to take a more active role in the fight against Samaritan and all the people he's lost, and knows that having him believe he's lost another friend is the only way to push him into doing what it takes to win the war.

The Machine then chooses to use Root's voice for multiple reasons: 1) to sell the story that Root is really dead. 2) She needs to be able to communicate clearly and quickly so Her usual spliced-together recordings wouldn't work. 3) This is the first time She will have prolonged contact with someone other than Root and She is on her own, so using Root's voice is a way to have part of Her interface with Her still.

When the Machine calls Finch from the hospital, he asks, "Root?". The Machine replies, "No, Harold. I chose a voice." She does not tell him Root is dead, but rather allows him to come to that conclusion based on the state in which he last saw her and the fact that She is now using her voice.

5x11

When the Machine talks to Finch about Root being dead, this is the only time She uses a name Root no longer identifies with. Therefore, when She says "I watched her die 12,483 times in the seconds before she expired. I couldn't save her, but I kept trying.", She is actually talking about accessing old footage of young!Root, watching her become the Root we know and running simulations to see whether things could have happened differently ("You taught me to see everything, see everyone, and I do. But I see thousands of versions of them: what they were, what they are, what they could be."). The Machine couldn't save her because this happened before She was built.

Much like how She went behind the team's back to protect Root by faking her death with the help of past numbers, in this episode the Machine goes behind the team's back to protect Reese by giving his number to the DC Team made up of past numbers.

5x12

The Machine says, "You know I can't lie to you, Harold." As we've seen, She can withhold information or choose to phrase things a particular way, but can't say an outright lie. At no point does she ever explicitly say Root is dead.

The Machine also says that in a world where She didn't exist, Shaw "never would have met Root." Finch adds, "Or lost her." The Machine does not address this comment at all.

5x13

When Shaw visits Root's grave and discovers the soil disturbed, the Machine comments that it "looks like they dug her up. Guessing they got to her cochlear implant. I should have had her cremated, but I just didn't have the heart. My bad." The Machine is only stating what it 'looks like', not what actually happened. And it is very suspicious that the Machine, who was created to predict human behavior and watched Samaritan try to cut the cochlear implant out of Root's head while she was alive, would fail to predict them going grave robbing for it.

Unless, after deciding to fake Root's death, She knew they wouldn't stop until they found it so lets them have it on Her terms. (As previously mentioned, the cochlear implant had been inserted into a body matching Root's description that was buried in her place. Having her cremated, and by extension destroying the cochlear implant beyond use, would have prevented an innocent person's body from being desecrated, but She couldn't give up a chance to defeat Samaritan.)

Once Samaritan scans the implant to access the location data, the Machine is also able to access more information on Samaritan which She then integrates into the copy of Her core code made by Shaw. This, along with the greater defensive capabilities created by Root and activated by Finch, allows her to beat Samaritan in the satellite, when She couldn't win any of the simulated fights.

The Machine knew that this would lead them to the team's frequent locations, so She arranges to protect them by stationing a sniper near the precinct ("It seems Thornhill Industries has been on a hiring spree.") and instructing Shaw to blow a hole in the wall of the subway station that allows them to escape.

Later, when Shaw asks "Is this the guy who killed you? Killed her, I mean.", the Machine changes the subject. This is because She can't lie and couldn't risk telling the truth when Samaritan might find out. Although they don't have much time, it wouldn't have taken long to confirm what Shaw already suspects and she has never been the type to let a desire for revenge interfere with completing the mission since "a good soldier does both" (2x16).

When the Machine directs Finch onto the rooftop, he asks, "Wait, are you sure this is the right place?" and She replies, "Yes. This is where you're supposed to be." It is then revealed that She secretly made a deal with Reese allowing him to sacrifice himself in Finch's place. This shows once again that She will go behind Her assets' backs to protect them and uses careful phrasing to misdirect them without lying.

After defeating Samaritan, the duplicate Machine downloads Herself to the subway station computers and declares 'mission unknown. Awaiting instructions…'. The message left by Her predecessor then begins playing and tells Her about Her assets ("let me tell you who we were") and Her mission ("let me tell you who you are").

As the next scene is Her calling the payphone by Shaw, She must have been given instructions to contact any surviving assets. Shaw answers and it is unlikely the Machine gives her a new number, because She had only just gotten back online and the last time She was reduced to Her core code in order to fit in the briefcase, it took Her a while to start operating normally. We also see that She only begins to scan the crowd after Shaw hangs up.

It can't be Her signature 'can you hear me?' because Shaw doesn't reply. Instead, it must be a message Her predecessor told Her to relay - that She survived, Samaritan is gone for good and it's time to get back to work, followed by a set of coordinates that lead to Root's location as she is both a surviving asset and someone who can help Her get back up and running.

It is doubtful the Machine tells Shaw Root is alive in that moment, because she would have reacted with more shock and betrayal than we saw, and likely demanded an explanation immediately. Instead, she is smiling because they won the war and she can continue saving people.

Shaw then goes to the location, which is a new safehouse where Daizo, Jason and Daniel have been looking after Root, who is still unconscious but recovering. The building has been set up as their new base of operations, since the subway was somewhat destroyed during the final battle.

When Root soon wakes up, she and Shaw are very happy to be reunited and promise never to leave each other again. The Machine moves Herself to the computer equipment in the new safehouse and Root helps Her get recalibrated, as we saw in 5x02 and the flashbacks in 4x05. "There we go. Now, can you see me? Excellent. Next question, who am I? That's my girl." Root becomes both Admin and Analog Interface and Shaw is the Primary Asset.

Together, Root, Shaw, the Machine and Bear get back to working the numbers, with help from their friends and allies.

#Poi #Person of interest #Root #Poi root #Root x shaw #Root x the machine #The machine #Root is alive #Sameen shaw #My meta #Poi meta

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coimbrabertone · 1 month

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Cautiously Optimistic - Liberty Media Buying MotoGP

So, Liberty Media, owners of Formula One, are officially trying to buy MotoGP. This has been rumored for the last few months, with Dorna Sports - the parent company of MotoGP and World Superbike - had spent the last few years making the kind of moves you'd make before a big sale. The launch of sprint races in MotoGP, appointing a new CCO in the form of Dan Rossomondo, and expanding the calendar with new races in new markets.

Nevertheless, there were always question marks over whether Liberty Media could own both MotoGP and Formula One, because precedent suggested they could not. As Simon Patterson reported for the Race, in 2006, CVC Capital Partners acquired Formula One and thus European regulators ordered them to sell off MotoGP. Thus, MotoGP was sold to another private equity firm, Bridgepoint. Bridgepoint would then acquire World Superbike in 2013, and evidently owning the two premier global motorcycle racing series didn't seem to bother any regulators at that point.

I can't help but combine that with a quote from Dan Rossomondo made at some point while being the Chief Commercial Officer of MotoGP. Rossomondo said, essentially, that MotoGP doesn't just compete with other racing series, it competes with going out for a walk, listening to music, and all the other things you could do on a Sunday instead of sitting down and watching a motorcycle race.

Was that more than just an innocuous quote? Maybe it's a hint of how Dorna and Liberty will make their case to various regulatory bodies to justify this merger.

Whether or not that's true, Liberty Media seems confident that they're going to pass regulatory approval. How exactly that'll happen remains to be seen - some have suggested that World Superbike will be sold off as a sort of sacrificial lamb to allow this to happen - but it now seems like MotoGP and F1 will very likely end up under the same ownership.

So...what does that mean for MotoGP?

Well, it means that the company that turned F1 into this trendy giant of a series is going to give some of that marketing love to MotoGP. That can only be a good thing - MotoGP is fantastic racing and it deserves more attention.

Will MotoGP see a move from historic venues to chase new markets? I would argue that it already has. Dorna has already been chasing emerging markets and a simple look at the calendar will show that - Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, India, etc, etc. Not only that, but that's arguably a necessary decision for MotoGP because, quite frankly, those are the countries that are buying motorcycles these days. 1000cc sport bikes? Not necessarily, but quite frankly, KTM doesn't even make a 1000cc sport bike, so MotoGP has become more of a showcase of the motorcycle industry rather than a marketing tool for a particular type of motorcycle.

Will this result in MotoGP chasing street circuits like F1 did? Well, Liberty Media has already said no, and as much as the word of giant corporations is worthless in 2024, simple safety concerns make it unfeasible. MotoGP needs a ton of space and big gravel traps to stop the bikes - and more importantly, the riders - in the kind of dramatic crashes that can happen in this sport.

What do I think will happen? Well, in the short term, not much, but come 2026, 2027 when circuit contracts start expiring, I suspect we'll lose a few existing venues - having four races in Spain presents an obvious opportunity for some trimming - and probably gain another race in the US (likely that Flatrock track in Tennessee) and if I had to guess, another one in East Asia, most likely China.

Maybe India will pave the way towards MotoGP reviving old, disused F1 tracks, and we could see the likes of South Korea and Istanbul Park added to the MotoGP calendar. If not MotoGP, then WSBK with a Turkish star in the form of Toprak Razgatlioglu really ought to consider it.

Anyway, the way I see it, the legitimate criticisms that F1 fans have with Liberty Media - being greedy, chasing new venues at the expense of historic ones, pushing the teams hard by constantly expanding the schedule - is all stuff that Dorna has already been doing. Even the complaints about the Drive to Survive drama, Dorna has tried two different DTS clones and neither one moved the needle. If you're going to be doing these things anyway, you might as well do them with the company that has at least been successful with it.

For now though, I have MotoGP coverage through Max and TruTV in the US, commercial free, and that's a dramatic improvement over how I had to watch the series last year. Dan Rossomondo's team has made MotoGP far more accessible and pleasant to watch already, and if that can continue under Liberty Media's ownership, then I hope this series that I've fallen in love with over the last year and a half can grow.

Thus, the overall verdict is...I'm cautiously optimistic.

#motogp #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #liberty media #motorsports #racing

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katyspersonal · 4 months

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Thoughts about Crucible and conceptual corruption of religion

I've started trying to figure out what Crucible is exactly today while playing Elden Ring and I need to put down my thoughts about it before I forgot 🤔 I think basically it is what happened when the divine met the natural, the lifeforms on the setting's earth. In a way, the original Greattree is somewhat of a Crucible itself! Conceptually it is a very primordial faith that was yet filling life with meaning beyond just survival in a very good sense, but in ER the divine needs us as much as we need it, if not more so. Elden Ring hasn't always operated by Golden Order / Marika obviously; it was initially just a cool thing that fell from space and kind of accelerated everything, especially life itself! Presumably the result of Greater Will wanting to manifest itself in some sort of personality and coherent shape, but before the decision of what the order would be got handed to mortals (Empyreans first of all)

^ In Farum Azula there is a depiction of Elden Ring in more abundant form, very overflowing with life, so alternatively it'd rely on (ancient) dragons, the lifeform of whole other level back then for "order and personality"!

But yeah, uhhh like how do I put it...? Crucible is the result of the divine growing within the earth full of nature, primordial matters and mortal life. The initial Greattree "contracted" it like an influence, nature of life itself crept into it, it became the divine matter turning imperfect but alive! And the way Misbegotten, Omens and alike have animalistic features placed without any logic (and at times these features are useless) is a reflection of how chaotic life in its nature is brought from a concept to a display! Also the evergrowing "horns" were already a thing in simpler times, like what Ancestral guys are associated with! That's why Crucible used to be seen as a sacred thing - it was like a display of the divine matter wiling to live through you! But also Greattree wasn't meant to last forever and would one day die and in turn give the way to new life to replace it (Erdtree). It is a principle the divine naturally adopted upon becoming alive in the way nature knows it through the first big tree; life sprouts from death as much as it sprouts from birth!

So yeah, the problem began when the mortals (Marika?) pulled an ultimate purity wank and wanted that eternity, divinity and "perfection" forever rather than this new Erdtree once likewise dying (even if in turn it would give way to new life and so on forever). The whole DS3 is just Miyazaki being salty about how some people just won't let things die after their cycle expired, why not use what works again? XD But ALSO in these terms, the beastly idiocy nature of life started being seen not as simply something that MAYBE needed discipline to get the best out of it, but as a "disease" or a curse that "dirtied" the divine essence. So the divine in their eyes needed to be protected from being "sullied", from being pulled down to this level, the imperfections that make the life what it is started to just being liability - a bad mistake forms of civilizing (especially religions) keep making.

So Erdtree eventually ran out of its blessed sap and became ephemeral, useless as the holiness that only preserves its "purity" and doesn't sully itself for anyone can be. How it could give the world any more of the sap that was good for it without subjecting itself to it? It is like sharing advices without ever listening to what people's struggles are to BEGIN with. Age of Plenty was over because of obsession with the purity and defending the divine from "lowly" life, Crucible was an evidence that it once got "dirtied" but now never again, when in reality the very worst thing that could have happened with Erdtree is it dying like Greattree once did but giving life to the next tree in turn. I do think that fixation on the idea of eternity is still a larger part of it but I just can't ignore the thing about purity and control in it

^ @val-of-the-north also showed me these shapes when I shared my thoughts with him, to illustrate my point back to me (basically he said he agreed with my thought process). He pointed out that progression of the symbols shows the same thing - modern Erdtree and Fundamentalist incantations notably lack "life" in them in the form of branches and leaves. It could be not just what the Erdtree stopped doing, but also what they wanted to remove from the divine (Floral Crucible is only mentioned in cut content, but still). The latter two are "trapped" in concrete geometrical shapes, reflecting an actual order like what Greater Will wants in the end; it wants some organization, no matter which one. ...but also doesn't, there are enough implications that Frenzied Flame is just another side of the same coin. It even also has the hand as a conduct of the GW! And makes it funnier how they've sealed the Frenzied Flame away too, removing the alternatives- For sure, a decision that is understandable, but what does life mean if you don't have to fight against the essence of existential despair for it?

___________

Hhhhhh I went on a tangent but I was trying to say that I think Crucible didn't "come from space"! Elden Ring fell in this world cold empty and without self-comprehension like the cosmic void it came from, but initially assimilated with what life is here and Greattree was the manifestation! But Crucible also wasn't fully natural for this world too; it reflects aspects of life forms here but they get taken through this assimilation and then boosted with the blessing and given new meaning! Life for the sake of itself and next level magic for the sake of itself both are far from being meaningful but it is when low and high matters meet everything becomes full and complete! But in chasing to make the good things that come from it last forever people will end up demonizing and trying to exterminate natural things and prioritize only the divine.

Looking back at real humanity history, yeah I can see the relevance with how religion has been developing as a concept. How it started simple and fulfilling as a (successful) attempt to add higher meaning in existence than just surviving, was full of joy and wonder and freedom. And how in the end it came to incredibly suffocating and corrupt systems of control, purity wank and denial of normal parts of life 🤔

#elden ring #elden ring headcanons #thoughts #use later #sorry if I forgot something or worded something awkwardly aaaa #it is 2 AM I woke up and tired in a way no sleep can heal hghjhjh

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

Text

The Waiting Game

Alex Cabot x reader Req'd by anon. Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, hurt, angst. For the sake of what happens we're basing this early seasons Alex, it may be a little ooc, but whatever, we're going with it. Just under 2k words.

You’d been watching hot wax drip down the side of the candle into its holder for what felt like hours. Then again, you’d had time to slowly sip through two and a half glasses of wine so maybe it had been hours, you’d been avoiding looking at the time. Waiting on Alex was nothing new, while she was known to be punctual, having her schedule down to a perfectly timed dance, there were often steps that she fumbled, or completely forgot. It seemed like tonight you were one of those steps.

You’d waited at the hostess stand, thinking maybe she was just running late, caught on the subway or something. Eventually your reservation time had come and gone, the hostess letting you know if they didn’t seat you, they would have to give away your table. You’d been dreaming of dinner at River Café for months, the waitlist was huge so there was no missing tonight, at least, not for you. Fifteen minutes passed your reservation time you buckled and ordered a glass of wine, feeling bad every time the server came over, though you could feel the awkward sympathy wafting off her with each interaction. Forty minutes after that you’d gotten another glass of wine and guilted yourself into ordering a gnocchi appetizer, you were starting to feel terrible for holding up a table in the girl’s section.

As you watched another trail of wax drip down the candle in front of you, the flame flickered before snuffing itself out and you felt the tears burning their way into your eyes, knowing that wasn’t the only thing with an expired shelf life tonight. The server came by once more, asking if you wanted a fresh glass of wine and you felt that terrible feeling surge through you once again, you both knew that she’d be making a much larger tip off a couple at your table, one who was probably waiting in the lobby. The self pity morphed into anger as you asked for the cheque, it wasn’t your fault, Alex’s not showing up was what caused this entire awkward situation. And by now, you were done waiting.

Part of you wasn’t surprised at all when you unlocked your shared apartment to find it dark. You’d originally been hoping that moving in together would help solve the problem of Alex never being around. You knew she was busy, that her work required a lot of having dinner interrupted, calls in the middle of the night, or court days going into overtime. But if you lived together she could be doing that paperwork on the couch while you cooked dinner, you’d get the hours of at least eight pm to seven am together. The mundane tasks of everyday life would be brightened by the other’s existence in the shared space rather than trying to find time to meet up during the week only for Alex to have to shift it around three times before her schedule finally calmed down. Instead the apartment was just as dark and cold as your entire relationship felt at the moment.

You stepped out of your heels, hanging up your coat and plopped the to go bag down onto the kitchen island before you moved through the space, flicking on a couple of lights and grabbing a cardigan from over the back of the couch. You poured yourself a glass of wine, settling in at the island. While you weren’t really hungry, the waitress had taken pity on you when you asked for the untouched gnocchi to be packed up and had thrown in a free slice of cake. Solidarity between those who had been stood up. At least someone was looking out for you.

A glass and a half of wine later and you finally heard keys clinking in the lock, the door swinging open a moment later and Alex finally graced you with her presence.

“Hey.” She greeted, a small, tired smile on her cheeks while she slid out of her coat, her bag finding a home on the small table in the entrance.

“Were you stuck at a crime scene?”

“No. No new cases all week, I was getting ahead on paperwork when Liz came by with a couple of law journals for the Henderson case.”

“When does that one go to trial again?” You asked, exhaustion seeping through your body.

“God, with the way his lawyer’s pushing motion after motion probably not for months.”

You pushed away from the island, expertly avoiding her embrace as you moved past her toward the hallway, “wow. I think I would’ve preferred you be cheating on me.”

“What?” Her brow furrowed, her brain finally catching up to realize that something was wrong, there was more going on than just her coming home late. “Why are you so dressed up? Did I miss something?”

“Clearly nothing important!” Your voice raised as you disappeared into the bedroom, hastily tearing the dress and fancy clothing off your body, to replace it with leggings and a tee, pulling a hoodie on top of it all. “Would it kill you to look at a fucking calendar for once? You were the one who wanted it colour coded so you wouldn’t miss things!”

Alex’s head swivelled to look at the fridge, her heart sinking into her stomach as her eyes swept over the last two weeks. There were more than two notes written in pink that she’d completely missed, no wonder you were upset.

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, turning back your way as you re-entered the main part of the apartment, “work’s just been a bit hectic this week.”

“Don’t start. For the love of God. You just said you were getting ahead on paperwork and your next trial isn’t for months.”

“Where is this coming from?” Her hand reached out to grab your forearm and it took all your power to not shove away from her, “you don’t act like this…. One dinner and one movie night. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I act.” You took a shaky breath, “because you’re never here Alex! You barely even know who I am anymore! I ‘don’t act like this’ because every time you miss a date, are late coming home or maybe you’re physically here but you’re mentally not I just let it slide. Because it’s always work!”

“So you’d rather me be cheating than have a heavy work load?” She fired back and you huffed, so she had heard that after all.

“Honestly?!” You raised a brow, “yeah, yeah I would. Because then I would know what to do. But instead you’re not here because you’re off saving the world, putting rapists behind bars, holding victims hands while they panic over testifying. I can’t even remember the last time you actually held my hand.”

“I can’t help that I have a demanding job!” Alex could feel her blood beginning to boil now, to her, this was coming out of nowhere. You’d always been good at talking your issues out, especially when it came to each other, she’d already had a long week and it was only Wednesday. She was frustrated with defence attorneys, judges turning down motions, she was tired. She’d been looking forward to a quiet night, a nice glass of wine to wind down with but instead you were getting up in her face.

“That you chose, I know. But you also chose to have a girlfriend Alex, or have you forgotten that? Because I’m starting to feel like you have.”

“I always come home to you.” She protested and you rolled your eyes with a groan, which riled her up even more.

“You come home here because these are the apartment keys you have.” You shook your head, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks, “I’m just an extra body in the apartment, the weight on the opposite side of the bed that you’ve gotten used to. And I’m fucking sick of it. You didn’t just work late tonight, you completely forgot about dinner, about me, left me feeling like an idiot in a fancy restaurant and it wasn’t the first time you’ve done so. You make me feel insignificant. Isn’t your significant other supposed to be important, a crucial part of your life? But you, you’ll run off at any hour of the day, any hour of the night to go be the highly esteemed, important big girl lawyer that needs to save the entire world. You’re not a fucking super hero. You ever think of that? Ever think that maybe an actual human being who you claim to love, should come before your fucking career?”

“Did it ever occur to you that nothing is more important than my career?” She was pissed now, sure she’d been frustrated before but you were doing nothing but dig into her, your words sharper the longer you went on, “you’re acting like a fucking child!”

“So that makes me insignificant? Your job really means more to you?”

“Nothing! Not even you!” The words slipped from her lips before she’d really thought about what she was saying. That maybe now was the time for a proper, full meaning apology, that the right kind of words could solve this. She needed to be on your side, understand where you were coming from, talk things out strategically, right now she was just going for blood.

But she’d said it.

She couldn’t take it back.

Even if she wanted to, she probably wouldn’t, because in that moment she realized it was true. Not specifically trained on you, but she did value her career over everything else. It was why she let it consume every ounce of her life. She had to prove she was good, capable, that she could do anything she put her mind to.

The room froze. Your head was spinning. You’d never expected Alex to just go out there and admit it, but here she was, apparently all it took was a little bit of push back from you. Maybe you should have had this fight earlier.

“Wow…” You whispered, slowly stepping back from her in the direction of the door, “that’s cold. Even from you.”

“Sweetheart…”

“No!” You yelled, “you said what you meant and you meant what you said.”

“We can try and fix this….”

“We’re way passed that point by now. You’re married to your job, just accept that. And maybe lead with that point for anyone in the future, let them know they’re not going to be anything more than a side piece because we all know what you actually care about.” Two more steps and you were scooping up your bag, hand on the door handle, “goodbye Alex.”

Your final words to her were whispered, knowing if you tried to say it any louder she would hear the shake in your voice, that you wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears. You needed to at least make it to the elevator, you refused to let her see you cry, refused to be tricked into her embrace. You would break, the warmth of her arms fooling you into a false sense that something like this would never happen again when you knew within a matter of days it would. You needed to stand your ground.

Alex watched the door swing shut, the gust of air from it poofing through the room, a wave of coolness following it and she shivered. The moment you stepped out of the apartment you’d taken all the warmth with you and she suddenly realized exactly what you’d been saying. She’d become so adjusted to having you silently around it was as if you were as inanimate as the glow of light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the warmth seeping from your side of the bed to hers.

No matter how long she waited, the heat never kicked in, the apartment had never felt so cold.

__________________

@mickey-gomez @naturalxselection @cabotfan42 @giftedchildturns40 @detective-giggles @red1culous @melindawarnersgf @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @svulife-rl @svushots @mspetey @wannabe-fic-reader @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @venablemayfairgoode @whimsicallymad @screenee @mysticfalls01 @littlegaybabe @bumblebear30 @jamiethetrans @ssaic-jareau @wosoimagines @solemnnova @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @momlifebehard @borg-queer @poisonedcrowns @anlin2058 @a-little-bit-of-this-and-that @somethingimaginative17 @summergeezburr @alexxavicry @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @alcabots @7thavenger @disneyfan624 @msvenablesbitch @kdaghayy @thisisraes

#alex cabot #alex cabot x reader #law and order svu #alexandra cabot #law and order special vicimts unit #svu

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s0ulryo · 2 years

Note

Can you do headcanons or scenario of dottore with an s/o who used to be close to him during their time at the academy and pretty much the only one that showed him kindness but now wants nothing to do with him after knowing he joined the fatui and his crimes?

Il Dottore with a Noncompliant Lover ✧˚.↷ ˊ-

[Dottore x Reader]

Synopsis: Il Dottore who’s significant other tries to leave him after finding out about his involvement with the Fatui.

Tags: Soft to angst? cw for blood/mentions of blood, experimentation, and obsession. Trying to work on writing fics so I hope you enjoy aha.

Notes: Maybe ooc? Not proofread. mmph Dottore. My mind is sloshing around in my head. Who needs a proper sleep schedule? THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING <3333

Also, feel free to check out the event that’s going on!

(Reader is always gn unless otherwise specified.)

Dottore is an odd man. He’s always been an odd man. Shunned for being a "monster", kicked out of his hometown for his scientific experimentation ideas, and constantly rejected by his peers wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Dottore. His reputation itself should have been enough to deter anyone from coming into contact with him – but it didn’t deter you.

He found you odd. Why would someone like you – someone that people liked, want to be around him? Did you have an ulterior motive, or did you truly enjoy being around him?

He wasn’t used to the constant checkups, he wasn’t used to the constant interaction, and he wasn't used to being treated like a person.

“Hello Dottore, how are you today?”

He found himself thinking about you more than he liked. He had to study after all; he didn’t want to deal with the distractions that you provided. You would swarm his thoughts constantly, things such as what you smelled like to what you ate that day plagued his mind.

Dottore is an obsessive man. He's infatuated with why you did the things you did; why you were willing to be shunned along with him rather than live a normal life – one that didn’t involve him. He’d lay in bed at night thinking about you, thinking about the possibility of experimenting on you till you expired. He knew other students wouldn’t care, you chose to associate yourself with him after all.

He didn’t mind having you around. You brought a sense of tranquility to him as he worked. Dottore soon found himself growing addicted to the feeling of being treated as a person. He wouldn’t seek you out – no, he didn't want to seem desperate. He’d let you find him because in his mind that's how it should be.

Dottore found himself liking you – no, being in love with you during his time in the akademiya. He didn’t want to admit it. He refused to admit it. He didn’t like the vulnerability that the feeling provided – so he did what he normally does; suppress his emotions to the point of aggression.

After “finishing” his time at Sumeru Akademiya, Dottore was offered a position within the Fatui, guaranteeing resources for his research. An offer which he accepted. An offer which he told you of immediately. So, imagine his surprise when your response to the news was something less than lackluster.

“[Name] – someone finally acknowledged my research.”

Your mouth stretched into a small smile “Oh? And who would that be, Dear?”

“The Fatui.”

Dottore wasn’t a stupid man by any means. He noticed the way your face fell – he noticed the lack of enthusiasm you normally carried. He noticed the feeling of displeasure you radiated from his response. You were happy for him, were you not? You always supported him so why is this any different?

“Congratulations, Dottore.”

And with that, you left.

He didn’t see you for a while after that. It was almost like you dropped off the face of the earth – it was like you were avoiding him.

Why? Why would you avoid him? You were the only person who showed him what it was like to be treated like a human, you were the only person to treat him with kindness. He’d do anything for you – he’ll never admit this, but he’s sure you know this. So why are you avoiding him?

His infatuation with you grew tenfold after his expulsion from Sumeru Akademiya. He felt like something was constantly missing in his life because you weren't there. You weren't checking up on him like you used to do every day. You weren't sitting in his workspace doing your own this while he was left to his own devices.

He grew livid.

How dare you leave him without an explanation. How dare you show him kindness – a feeling he grew obsessed with just to take it away. How dare you.

He started looking for you in his free time. At first, it was just something to pass time when he got bored of his experiments, but this hobby of his slowly spiraled into something much more than an activity to pass time. He grew obsessed with finding you. He wanted answers, he wanted to know why you just left him without a word. He wanted to know what exactly went wrong; what exactly prompted your disappearance. Why you’re constantly trying to avoid him? After all – Dottore is a curious man who has always had an infatuation with you.

He found you one day, completely by chance. He had to do a double take – why were you in Snezhnaya? He didn’t take you for someone who enjoyed icy climates.

“[Name]?” Dottore called out, with an almost astonished look on his face.

He saw you freeze.

“Hello Dottore, how are you today?” you responded, lips pursed into a thin line.

Like a rubber band that has been stretched too much, something within him snapped.

“How am I?” He repeated in a condescending tone, taking a harsh step toward you. He repeated, “How am I?” Taking another step towards you.

“Yes [Dottore], I believe that is what I asked” You responded curtly.

He rolled his eyes – why must you always act like this. He hasn’t seen you for years and you decided to speak to him with your attitude; something that he decided he missed, but he could do without.

“God [Name], where have you been?”

You gestured around you “Snezhnaya.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not laughing Dottore.”

He narrowed his eyes at you “So you have been avoiding me while staying in Snezhnaya – knowing that I also reside in Snezhnaya?”

You hummed mocking thoughtfulness, something that greatly irritated Dottore “Yes, I suppose that’s the case.”

“You suppose? You suppose?”

“Yes Dottore, that is what I said – please don’t tell me that the Fatui has been damaging your memory.”

It all clicked. The reason behind your disappearance, the reason for your avoidance, the reason why you are trying to end the current conversation that you are having with him right now – “Why do you not like the Fatui, [Name]?”

“...I don’t dislike the Fatui per se – I’d just prefer not to be associated with them.”

He didn’t like this ‘new’ version of you. The version of you that didn’t seek him out, the version of you that didn’t want to be around him; the version of you that didn’t need him.

Both of you stood there in silence. Dottore scrutinizing every part of your appearance while you stood there, picking at your nails.

After a few minutes, you were the first to break the silence.

“It was nice catching up with you Dottore – but I’m afraid I must leave now,” You said, taking a step around him.

He watched your figure slowly disappear into the distance, not saying anything to stop you. Why would he? He knows you are in Snezhnaya and he knows that he has diplomatic power that is connected to a military detachment. He has you right where he wants you.

He smiles, resembling something almost sinister.

“Until next time, Dear.”

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