#Grant: even have the same handwriting

[morganbritton132]

To make a few bucks, the Corroded Coffin boys pin up a flier on the bulletin board that they’ll preform a sing-a-gram for your crush the week leading up to Valentine’s Day. $5 per song. $3 if it’s metal.

A lot of people actually take them up on this so the guys are touting around their instruments, playing acoustic covers of songs they don’t like to a bunch of cheerleaders and jocks, and Steve Harrington. A lot to Steve Harrington, actually.

Steve gets a kick out of it every time, even though he never knows the names of the songs they sing to him. He gets red faced and bright eyed with a smile ten miles wide.

Every time he asks, “Who sent you?”

And every time they shrug, “Secret admirer.”

“Oh,” Steve deflates a little and asks pretty damn sincere, “if she does another one, can you tell her that I’d love to be her valentine if I knew who she was.”

“Sure, Harrington,” Eddie snarks, nearly hitting the jock with his guitar as he stomped down the hall to find Molly Patterson. “I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks, man,” Steve calls after him, oblivious or just ignoring Eddie’s pissy attitude. He stops Jeff when they start to follow Eddie, “Oh, George. Wait.”

Steve fished a five out of his pocket, “Can you… can you play, uh. Waiting For A Girl Like You? To her.”

“Umm…we don’t actually know who is sending the requests. They give them to Eddie.”

Steve deflates more and looks like such a kicked puppy that Jeff takes the five and says, “We can try to-“

“Thanks, man! Gotta run.”

“But no promises!” Jeff calls after him, and turns to his friends. “…let’s go find a girl?”

“Yeah,” Gareth says. “One that loves all of Eddie’s favorite songs.”

[calypsocolada]

MISO SOUP AND SWEET POTATOES | g. tomioka

(click here for part two!)

synopsis: you're tasked with convinicing Giyu to join the Hashira Training author's note: hello. this was a days worth of writing. from 11 am to 3 am. i even wrote parts in my notepad at work. i really like how this turned out. i finished the hashira training arc last night and think that final episode might've been the best episode of anime i have actually ever seen. this is a whole ass story cw: slightly suggestive, major spoilers for rengoku and the hashira training arc, character death, gore, ANGST, fluff, happy ending, not proofread, fem reader, use of y/n a lil, lover!giyu, hardheaded!reader wc: 6.3k

click here for my masterlist

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“Would you mind talking to Giyu for me? So that Giyu, who tends to put himself into a negative frame of mind can start looking ahead again. Will you be persistent in your efforts to speak with him?” 

You stared at the letter. You reread it again and again and again. Your body still aches from the previous fight in the swordsmith village and you sort of hoped this was a hallucination. That you were still unconscious. But as your crow beside you squawked and you jumped you knew it was real. The paper crinkled beneath your hands. Kagaya’s handwriting is flawless and script. You followed the trail of his pen again. 

Would you mind speaking to Giyu for me?

You wondered if maybe this letter was accidentally sent to you. Even as your eyes wandered back up to the top of the paper that clearly said ‘Dear Y/n’. Even if it didn’t say your name there were no accidents with Kagaya. 

But… but there had to be. Out of everyone, all the Hashira that were certainly closer to Giyu. But you, the newest Hashira, had been chosen to speak with him? In what world did that make any sense? You barely knew the guy. Granted he had been the reason you joined the corp originally but he’d dodged your very presence the best he could ever since. 

Your village had been attacked about four years ago. Same old story for a lot of people victimized by demons. There was never a happy ending with those monsters involved. Always blood. Always loss. It was no different for you. Half of your family was slaughtered before you could even rouse yourself from sleep. But when you did all you saw was the inkblots of blood on your white walls, the color shining from being hit by the moonlight. You remembered sitting up and feeling numb as you heard someone screaming. The scream that never left you. Something you’d never be able to ingest for as long as you lived. 

When you got to your feet your mother had busted into your room. She looked pale, blood gushing from beneath her white nightgown. She scooped you up and kissed your head as she stuffed you into the closet. She shushed your cry’s and told you not to come out until the sun shone beneath the crack in the door. She gave you one last kiss. You didn’t know then it was the last. You reached for her but she pushed your hands back, silently shook her head then pressed the door closed. 

You’d always been a good kid. You stayed put exactly as you’d been told. Even as you heard more screams. Even as it went quiet. 

Only until that sun shone beneath your door did you move. You busted out of that closet. Your mother’s name is the first thing on your lips but she wasn’t the first person you saw. The scene in your house was horrific to say the least. The sights of the people you loved in multiple torn pieces is something that comes back to you in flashes when you fight demons. 

It spurs you on to do exactly what they did to your family back to them. To tear them to shreds. 

In the middle of it all was a boy. He was sitting so still that you didn’t even notice him amongst the slaughter. Your living room was still dark, dark enough that it kept this monster safe as it rose to its full height. No longer a boy but a creature from your deepest darkest nightmares. It had your family’s blood on its mouth as it smiled a wickedly devilish smile. 

“Hmm. Missed one.” It spoke in a gravelly tone as it swallowed whatever it was chewing on. You could guess what. You stepped back into your mother’s blood… or maybe your father’s? The blood, thick beneath your foot slid out from underneath you and you crashed into their bodies, something sharp sticking into your side as you gasped in sudden pain. Your mother’s hand still gripped a knife that had now lodged itself in your thigh. The demon only laughed. “Clumsy one aren’t you. Mother wasted her time hiding something so useless.” He growled, approaching with a predatory gleam in his dark eyes. 

When he pounced towards you something momentary took hold over you. You, a measly twelve years old, ripped that knife from your own leg and thrusted it into the demon's eye. The creature roared like nothing you’d heard before as it stumbled back away from you. You just blinked as you watched it, numbness contending with your fear. The creature yanked the knife out and tossed it angrily to the side. It growled, fuming as it charged back at you. You raised your hands to defend yourself, screwing your eyes shut. You heard the whoosh of something cutting through the air itself and when you opened your eyes the creature had halted its assault. It locked eyes with you moments before its head toppled right off its shoulder. You stared in abject horror as the creature's body started to burn a blood red color and you saw a figure behind it. You were as still as a statue as the figure behind  it took shape. 

The shape of a boy, he couldn’t have been much older than you. Eyes an indigo blue, dark and almost unfeeling as they met yours. You watched as he gave a quick swipe of his sword to rid it of the demons burning blood as he sheathed it back at his side. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice young like yours. You weren’t hurt. Somehow. And you couldn’t open your mouth to answer him, not with your body still on top of your parents. You just stared at him, even as your eyesight got cloudy and stinging tears slid down your cheeks. 

The boy walked towards you and remained still, unable to move as he bent down in front of you. He reached and clumsily brushed the tears from your face. It was as if he knew you wouldn’t part your lips to speak because wordlessly he, with immaculate ease, picked you up off the corpses and carried you out of the house. You moved for the first time in minutes as your head tilted to look back towards your family. 

“Eyes on me.” He said and sure enough your eyes snapped to him. To take in his face. Eyes endlessly dark blue as they stared forwards. He had to have been your age, maybe a year older. He had the shape of a young face, with full cheeks and raven black hair to the nape of his neck. You couldn’t look away, it had nothing to do with his looks but everything to do with his command. 

You were a good kid. When someone told you to do something you did it. Years later you would come to thank Giyu for that, for commanding you to look at him instead of glancing back at what remained of your family.

Everything after that was just sort of a blur. You stayed some place warm, a faint fire flickering and that boy with the sword stayed with you until some men in black uniforms found you. You remember not being able to walk, the shock and grief of the night not letting you. You’d held onto your saviors shirt, your fist balled. He let you, in fact he even came along with you and the men in black and when they asked you to let go you blinked at them. You hadn’t even noticed you were still holding on. You let go in an instant. Your hand is sore from how tightly you’d been clenching. The men in black’s hands were on your shoulders guiding you away and when you looked back your voice came to you. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, everything paused for you so you could hear his answer. 

“Giyu.” He answered. You put a name to his face. You parted your lips to thank him but nothing came out again. You couldn’t say thanks. Not when you were the only breathing because you cowardly hid in the closet. You felt you didn’t deserve to be thankful. You met his eyes again and something, somehow, told you he understood. He gave you the softest nod of his head and when he turned to leave you felt your heart drop. Like something had bonded you to this boy. But you turned and let yourself be whisked away. 

A year later you worked for the very same people as Giyu had. You were given a sword and trained thoroughly by a man with red and orange hair. You weren’t ever good with names but the fire in him fueled the fire in you. Which is why you eagerly learned that breathing style and trudged up that mountain to crush the selection test. 

A few years after that you ran into Giyu. You were sent on a mission to help the Water Hashira. You’d never met any other Hashira besides Rengoku so you were sort of apprehensive. You never liked meeting new people. All those years spent with Rengoku and his fiery personality you wished at least some of it had rubbed off on you but… you were still demure and quiet, quick to anger and prone to disappearing. You liked your alone time. You had all but begged Rengoku to let you go with him in his mission, apparently some demon had infested a train, that sounded far more exhilarating than helping some water Hashira you didn’t know. Rengoku did what he always did when you were disappointed. He gave you a sort of unwanted hug, though secretly you wanted and needed it, and ruffled your hair. 

“We’ll see each other in two weeks. Next mission is yours and mine.” He said and then he was gone and you were boarding a train going the opposite way. 

When you arrived, stepping off the train your eyes met the same indigo blue eyes from so many years ago. When you were both kids. Now both adults. You stopped where you stood, unable to walk any closer as everything fled back. Stuff you had managed to keep down deep for so many years. Memories you wanted to erase. All that time wasted and drudged back up in mere seconds. Giyu may have had those same eyes but he was grown now. His hair longer and tied back, his face had lost that boyish roundness. He looked tall and lean. Well at least taller than you. For a moment he looked just as surprised as you but he smoothed over that emotion into something practiced. 

“It’s you.” He said, his voice deep and soft. You swallowed, your hand resting on your sword. 

“You’re the water Hashira?” You asked and he nodded his head as the train behind you dinged and slowly pulled out of the stop, the wind brushing your hair over your shoulders. 

“You’re Rengoku’s tsuguko?” At that you nodded your head back at him. His eyes trailed to your sword, to your haori, and old one Rengoku had lent you. His eyes lingered on that fiery pattern.  

“I never learned your name.” He said and then his eyes flicked to yours. You swallowed dryly, you weren’t sure why he made you so nervous, why your heart was beating so fast. You wondered if he was a part of a life you wanted to die off. The scared girl in the closet was far from who you were now. Rengoku never got to meet that scared girl. No one had. Except Giyu. You told him your name and he repeated it, as if feeling how it felt on his own lips. Your heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way he spoke your name. It felt different coming from him. You grabbed ahold of yourself.

“Shall we?”

But your mission with Giyu was cut off with the sudden death of Rengoku. You and Giyu hadn’t made it back to the village before both of your crows had delivered the news. You still remembered everything about that moment. Giyu walking beside you, your haori catching a gust of wind, cold wind, as if winter was coming. You could replay your footsteps on the dirt road. The distant flapping of wings growing closer and closer and then stopping as they landed. Your initial glance over at the water Hashira before the delivering of the news. The ripple before the crack in your soul. Giyu had been present for the worst two days of your life. Something about losing someone again that felt like family irrevocably broke something in you all over again. This pain you felt before today you wondered for years if it would last. Rengoku had healed some of it. And begrudgingly and foolishly you let him in. But now you have your answer. This pain would last forever. You couldn’t even cry, you just stared blankly ahead, just as you had in your dark house wrecked with the stench of blood. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t want to look at him.

“Go, I’ll finish the mission.” He said, his voice different, there was a coldness before but now only warmth. You still didn’t look at him as you turned to leave.

“Be careful.” You choked out before taking off in a run back towards the train station. 

You’d seen Giyu a few times after that but only in passing, never long enough to start up a proper conversation though both of you hated talking. You never let anyone else in after that. You took up the position of Fire Hashira and the only thing fiery about you was your utter hatred for demons. The other Hashira were sort of weary of you and that kept them at a distance. You only talked when absolutely needed and was the first to leave after Hashira meetings. You liked that distance. You’d do anything to keep it. There was only so much heartbreak and loss you could take. You were at your limit. You didn’t have room for anyone in your scabbard dying heart. 

That’s why receiving that letter from Kagaya had caught you so off guard. He of all people knew who you were and still he asked you for a favor. Probably a dying wish. He had shown you kindness and since it was the only thing he’d ever asked you for, reluctantly, you found yourself at the front of Giyu’s home. It was cold out as your knuckles rapped against the wooden door. You waited, stepped back and looked off to the side, expecting to see Kagaya’s crow lingering around somewhere to report back to him. A minute had passed as you gave one more series of knocks. Nothing. Maybe he wasn’t home. You sighed and turned to leave just as the wooden door clicked and was pulled open. When you turned back those striking blue eyes met yours. There was skepticism on his face as you swallowed. That feeling that met you every time you saw Giyu never seemed to fade. That persistent speeding of your heart. That faltering of words. All highly inconvenient.

“Y/n?” Giyu spoke first, pulling the door open just a tad more. He was in casual clothing, he looked as though he may have just woken up.

“Giyu. I never knew you lived in this part of town.” You lied. You knew. 

“It’s quiet.”

“I can see.” The lack of noise was slightly unsettling, only the rustling of leaves in the wind could be heard. You swallowed. “May I come in?” Your voice was slightly strained and didn’t at all sound like you wanted to do that but to your detriment Giyu moved to the side. Giyu’s home was a reflection of himself. It was clean, almost sterile, with dark walnut furnishings and dark curtains. He really must’ve been sleeping because he reaches over and flicks on a few lanterns, casting an orange glow to his living room. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” He says over his shoulder and you almost agree.

“Unwanted?” You ask and when he shakes his head ‘no’ you relax sort of. 

“I’ll make us some food. Did you travel long?” He asks as he leads you towards the kitchen. You take a seat at the kitchen island and watch him get to work. 

“Yeah. Long train ride.” You answer as Giyu nods his head. You know he’s probably dying to know why you’re here but you're sure if you told him things would turn sour. You watched Giyu gather ingredients and supplies, he was very orderly about things, kept things nice and clean as he prepared dinner for you both. You had a lot of experience cooking growing up with Rengoku, that man could eat and eat. Just at the thought you felt a pang and forced your face not to show it.

“Do you need help?” 

“That’s alright, you rest.” Giyu intones, setting a cup in front of you as he fills it with hot black tea. You thank him, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. You stare down into the tea for a moment and realize you had no idea how to go about this little favor Kagaya had asked of you. You barely spoke with anyone, you were well out of practice. How genuine would this ask even be coming from you? 

“How’re you?” You asked, not letting yourself be embarrassed by your lack of social skills. Giyu flicks on the stove.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked over his shoulder and stupidly, because he wasn’t even looking at you, you nodded your head before clearing your throat and speaking.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You hoped that didn’t come out as sharp as it sounded.

“I’m… well. Thank you for asking.” Giyu answered, his monotone answer at war with the words he spoke. He sounded anything but well. You remembered the last Hashira meeting. You remembered Giyu’s back turned as he said, “I’m not like the rest of you.” Unlike Sanemi you didn’t feel angry at that. In fact you knew how that felt. To feel unwelcomed and wanting it to stay that way. 

“If you’re well then I’m well.” You said and when Giyu turned, his eyes meeting yours, you felt a flash of how you saw him that first time. You blinked it away as he turned back.

“I didn’t think… you of all the Hashira’s would be the first to visit.” Giyu said, turning back to the stove. You stared at the back of his head. 

“Me neither.” You said with a soft sigh. “But here I am.”

“Here you are.” He says, his voice soft again. It did funny things to you. Funny things that only he could elicit. It was frustrating.

“Giyu…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject. “Did something happen? To make you not want to help out with the Hashira training?” Giyu was quiet for a long moment. You watched him stir some stuff into the pan and for a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you. 

“Can we not… talk about that?” He asks almost kindly. But that’s all you needed to talk about. If you didn’t stay on topic you’d be doing Kagaya a disservice, though could you count that as a hardy first try?

“Of course.” You answered, fiddling with your hands. You’d left your sword back at the inn you were staying at and wished you’d had it just so you could fiddle with something else. “Though, I apologize but, I almost wish I could sit it out too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Training a bunch of snot nosed kids sounds like hell to me.” You spoke truthfully and watched Giyu;s shoulders rise and fall quickly, almost like he was maybe laughing, but he still wasn't facing you so you wouldn’t know.

“Not a fan?”

“I had my fill with the three from the swordsmith village.” Tanjiro, his little demon sister, Nezuko and Sanemi’s little brother Genya. All a handful. But very capable in a fight. 

“How’re your wounds? I… never got to ask.” Giyu says as he reaches for some seasoning, finally turning to the side to face you.

“Scarring up.” You said and Giyu nodded his head, his eyes drifting to the scar on your cheek.

“Two upper ranks. If anyone could handle them I knew it’d be you.” He says with a sort of gleam in his eye. 

“Can’t take the credit. That red head kid killed one of ‘em while MItsuri and I held off its body. Muichiro took one by himself.” You recounted, the fight honestly felt like it would never end.

“You and Kanroji worked together?”

“Surprising, right?”

“Not at all.” Giyu answers. “You two are very alike.”

“In what way?” You almost laughed at that statement. 

“Strong, fierce, never quit.”

“I think we all have that in common.” You say and Giyu gets this look in his eyes as he turns back away. You feel as though you lost some ground. You chew the inside of your lip. Clearly Giyu doesn’t feel as though he had that in common with you. Something ignited in you. A need to say something on your mind. “Giyu… I-- I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me?”

“I’ve… wrestled with it for a long time. How to… go about it. Kyojuro used to tell me to practice with all the people we met. To thank them for stupid things, like holding the door open or bringing me food. Just so the words didn’t feel so foreign. But I never really felt thankful for you saving me. I lived because my whole family died. Because I hid.” You take in a shaky breath. You’d never talked about this stuff out loud, not even with Rengoku. You felt embarrassed suddenly, shaking your head, you forced out a choked laugh. “Nevermind. I don’t know what I’m saying.” You felt his eyes on you but you forced yourself to keep looking down at your warm tea. As long as you stayed like this maybe he’d move the conversation along to something else. You cursed yourself for ruining the mood, if there even was one to begin with.

“You don’t have to stop. I… I would like to know more about you. I… always have.” Your eyes shot to his like a gun hitting its mark. Those dark eyes, you could swim in them. Get lost in them. Those eyes… could make you feel something. That made you shoot to your feet, your tea spilling over. Giyu didn’t startle, he just turned to grab a rag but when he turned back you were halfway to the front door. He dropped the towel on the table. “W-wait, Y/N,” He called to you but when he rounded into the living room the front door slammed closed. 

You fumbled outside, steps clumsy as you started to run and run. You didn’t want to think about it. You had to get away, as far as those legs of yours could take you. You could run to the next town over, retrieve your sword in the morning and never speak to the water hashira again. Never again. Favor be damned. What you felt was dangerous. That kind of thing left you the hollow husk you were today. You preferred this safe loneliness. You couldn’t ever be hurt again. You stopped for a moment, the cold air tough to run in as you huffed and puffed out condensation clouds.

“You’re fast.” You hadn’t even heard his approach. You didn’t turn, just swallowed.

“I- realized I have something to do in the morning. Can’t stay out late.”

“Come back, Y/n. Please.” His voice was doing that soft thing you body liked so much. You clenched your jaw, if you could stab your heart you would.

“Can’t.”

“Why? And… tell me the truth.” You heard him walk a bit closer. Please, you thought, just go back home.

“Maybe you’re right. What you said at the last meeting, that you’re not like us other Hashira. Maybe I just realized it.” You wanted to hurt him, it was a common defense you used quite often. 

“And?”

“And I’m wasting my time speaking with someone who’d rather sit on the sidelines.” You spat over your shoulder. That’ll do it, you thought, that’ll get him to leave. It was quiet, heartbreakingly quiet and you were too much of a coward to see the hurt you caused so you started to walk away towards your inn.

“I… don’t care if you hate me.” You stopped walking instantly and turned, Giyu looked stricken, as if you slapped him. You regretted turning around. “You can hate me all you want. Yell at me, hit me, whatever you want to do. But I need you to know… you might regret me saving you but I have never regretted saving you…”

“Giyu,”

“Please… let me.” He straightened slightly. “I… am amazed by you.” His words hit you like the sharpest sting. Like a knife in the gut that slowly twists. “You’re incredible, nothing ever could rival you. You… lost so many yet you fight with purpose. I could never be like you.” You tense your jaw, eyes sharp. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You take a step towards him. “I am hateful. I don’t have a purpose to fight anymore I just do it because it needs to be done. You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe I don’t. But… I want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m not succinct.” Giyu sighs, as if tired. “I just do.” Want to know you. You stared at him and that traitorous heart of yours, that naive heart did another flip. You shook your head. 

“You don’t. No one does.”

“Rengoku did.” Your eyes lit like fire, some heat filling your soul. You wanted to yell at him for saying his name. For bringing him into this. But you’d done it first. 

“He’s dead. They all are. My whole family. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want you to know me. I want you to go back home and let me be.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Maybe for the same reason your eyes find mine every time we're in the same room.” Giyu took a step closer, you watched him move as though he was going to strike you down. LIke he was going for a killing blow.

“I… I don’t do that.” The lie was so obvious to your ears it almost made you cringe outwardly. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you because… I look for you in every room. I… I lied to you the second time we saw each other so many years ago I… I knew you were Rengoku’s tsuguko because he’d written to me. He… sensed something and told me he was sending you to me for that mission. I was so… so damn nervous to see you again after so many years. So curious about how you were faring and I couldn’t even get more than fifteen words out. And when Rengoku passed I would write Kagaya, ask him how you were because I was too much of a coward to ask you myself.” That’s why Kagaya wrote to you. Your heart still beat, skipped a beat then beat again. Everything was falling into place. Why Rengoku had sent you away when you had always gone on his missions with him. The scheming man was playing matchmaker. And even Kagaya was playing the same damn game. 

“Don’t say anything else, Giyu. Please.”

“I won’t speak the rest of the night if you come back. You can even leave at first light. Just please… let me feed you and give you a place to sleep.”

“My inn isn’t too far.”

“Please.” The emotion in his voice was staggering. It was a plea. It had sounded like something he needed even more than breathing. You stared at him. If you went with him now that would be the very first crack in your walls. You never gave an inch away since Rengoku died and if you started now everything would crumble.

“No. I’m going back to my inn.”

“I’ll join the hashira training.” He said and your lips parted in silent surprise. “That’s why you came tonight wasn’t it? You’d never do it alone so Kagaya must’ve written to you? Am I right?” Your face must’ve given away the answer because Giyu continued and you realized right here and now this is the most you two have ever talked. An hour together had more dialogue than almost eight years. And this was why you kept your distance all these years. Because if anyone knew you it was Giyu, he’d seen you at your lowest yet here he was… begging you to stay for just a few hours. “Come back and I’ll join. You can consider your favor a success.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’d do it for you.”

“Be serious.” You growled and Giyu took another step forward. You hadn’t noticed him getting so close but suddenly he was close enough to touch. You stepped back. 

“Come back. Please.”

“You’re annoyingly persistent.”

“I just want you safe. That’s all.”

“You already saved me once. That’s enough.” You condemned with a shake of your head. Giyu looked doubtful for a moment, unsure of how to convince you to come back. But if you made good on Kaguya's favor this could be the end of it. “I’ll come back.” His eyes shot up to yours. “But I’m gone first light.” He nodded his head at that. 

Giyu finished up dinner as you set the table. It was quiet between you two after everything. Giyu had all but confessed the real depth of his feelings but you had an idea and it wasn’t something you’d let yourself dwell on. That idea was something close to hope. Something close to the degree of happiness. That’s not something you wanted. Not something you’d let yourself have. If there was one thing you were truly good at, it was self destruction. 

You took your seat as Giyu placed down the food. Miso soup with sweet potatoes. You stared at it, stricken. Rengoku’s favorite meal. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?” 

“Seriously? That was at least your sixth bowl.” You huffed as Rengoku smirked as he pulled the bowl to his lips, slurping down the rest of its contents. He placed it down and reached for the ladle again. You watched him in amused surprise as he dulled out a seventh bowl. “You’re overgorging yourself.”

“It’s too good. Who taught you to cook, kid?” 

“You did.” You sighed with an eyeroll as Rengoku laughed heartily.

“Ah! That’s right I did.”

You blinked a few times and suddenly your face felt wet. You pressed a hand to your cheek. You hadn’t cried since losing your parents. You thought you were incapable, that you had exhausted your tear ducts at night. You hadn’t cried when you lost Rengoku and you always felt inhuman because of it. You looked across the table and met Giyu’s wide eyed stare, he looked startled at your tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and you couldn’t stop the tears now. They fell so fluidly, so overwhelmingly. You tried to apologize but your words just came out in stuttered croaks in your throat. Giyu stood so fast he knocked his chair over as he crossed to the other side of the table. He dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you to him. Rengoku hugged you a lot. You’d say it was unwanted but it was something you needed. Giyu’s arms around you felt different. He hugged you close to his chest, his hand tangled in your hair as you fell prey to your emotions. But startlingly so… it felt nice. Bottling things up for so long had very nearly ended you and you might’ve been able to really shut off your humanity if it hadn't been for that damned letter. If it hadn't been for Rengoku’s unending kindness. If it hadn't been for Giyu’s persistence. You could’ve nearly ended up as black hearted as the demon that flipped your life upside down. That was the most startling revelation of them all.

Giyu hugged you tight as you fell to pieces. He didn’t let go, never even loosened his arms a little bit around you. He just held you and let you cry and cry. It should’ve been embarrassing but as he pulled your hair back out of your face and wiped your wet cheeks there wasn’t an ounce of that annoying sympathy in his eyes. Just utter understanding. And this was the most inopportune time, seeing as your eyes were probably bloodshot, nose probably running like crazy, but without thinking you sucked in a ragged breath and then pressed your mouth to his.

Giyu made a sound low in his throat, you felt his arms around you tighten, drawing you in, deepening the kiss. This wasn’t something you knew of. Your parent’s pecked each other’s lips and cheeks but this… no this was something for behind closed doors. For just you two. That fire that pooled in your stomach upon seeing Giyu had heightened at least tenfold when he pulled you into his lap. Your bodies pressed against one anothers, no room, not even a milimeter’s length of space. He kissed you softly, but you kissed him back hard. That chasm of loneliness in you had reached its peak and you wanted it gone. He gently ran his hand through your hair and you balled your fist in his shirt. He gently lowered you back and kissed you against the hardwood flooring of his kitchen. 

You shoved your chair away from you both and hooked your legs around his hips. He made another sound and you found that you liked it so you tightened your hold and slid your hand in his hair. That awarded you another sound, like a whimper. When he pulled back for air you yanked him by the hair back to your lips. Fuck air. You didn’t need that. You’d rather breathe him in. He whimpered again, his hips mindlessly moving, sending a wave of heat through you and this time it was your turn to groan. He hooked an arm around your back and with strength and swiftness, he hoisted you up off the floor without even breaking the kiss. You gasped in surprise and he walked you through the hallway. Kissing you against the wall and the door and the dresser before he finally made it to his bed. 

You two fell into the softness of his covers, his body trapping you beneath him. He trailed his lips away from yours and whimpered at the loss of contact. But he kissed both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and to your jaw. He paid extra attention to your neck before kissing your collar bones. He kissed his way back down your body. Kissing your scars that had once been an eyesore to you. Ever so gently tracing some absentmindedly with his other hand. Whatever growing between you two was something to be earned. Sure you loved Giyu but you needed more time with him. You spent eight years barely speaking. You could tell Giyu felt that too because when his lips met yours again and pulled back you both blinked tiredly at one another. 

Astonishingly you watched the softest of smiles spread across Giyu’s face. You wanted to catalog this moment forever. To remember it till the day you died. Giyu pressed one last kiss to your forehead and then dropped beside you on the bed. He pulled you to him, your back pressed to his front. Your legs tangled as his hand reached across you and intertwined with yours. You blushed but settled against him. The dregs of sleep calling for you. You two didn’t need to speak another word.  

You watched the first light roll in through Giyu’s curtains. It shone like blades across his room. Giyu softly snored beside you, arms still around your body. You’d never kissed a single soul before but you knew what a kiss meant. You knew whenever your dad kissed your mom or the other way around that it was an unspoken way to say I love you. But it was a different kind of love your parents shared. You loved your family. You loved Rengoku. 

But you loved Giyu. 

You loved him as you clamped your fist in his shirt the night he saved you. You loved him when you stepped off that train. You loved him at every hashira meeting and every stolen glance. You loved him as you read Kagaya’s letter and loved him when he opened the door. As he chased you down in the street and begged you to come back to his home. So many problems never go away, some pain felt as though it would last forever and you never thought you could break through. You never thought you could just grow around it, because nothing was more persistent than a plant in the presence of the sun. You never told Rengoku you loved him, never told him how much he meant to you and that his kindness never fell to deaf ears. You had spent eight years loving Giyu and not letting yourself know it.

And all it took was some miso soup and sweet potatoes.

[punkshort]

Evergreen | Chapter Four: Depression

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: With some comforting words from Sarah and Daniel, you and Joel work things out.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, grief, soft!joel, smut (18+ MDNI), oral f!receiving, lil size kink, unprotected piv sex, feelings, therapy

WC: 8.3K

Series Masterlist

Daniel's office was always the hardest room to spend any amount of time in since his death, but the hurt compounded even more when you were reminded of the first time you kissed Joel on the green couch in the corner.

You weren't even sure what you were doing. The idea of moving out of town wasn't concrete, per se, but you still found yourself packing up Daniel's office. What started simple enough with taping up open boxes of books turned into almost two hours of scrutinizing every single item in his desk. Business cards, scribbled notes, old bills, and a few pictures of the two of you filled his junk drawer. Half used pens, a calculator, an old pair of glasses and the medal his university granted him when he went back to give a commencement speech three years prior filled another. But what ultimately drew your attention was a yellow legal pad shoved underneath his laptop. Pages and pages and pages of notes filled a decent chunk of it. From what you could tell, it was an outline for the next book he was in the middle of writing, the very same manuscript you had given to Ellie. Most of it didn't make sense to you, but you read it anyway. Your fingertips traced over his familiar, elegant handwriting. It was one of the things you loved about Daniel when you first met. He didn't have terrible chicken scratch like most men you knew. He took his time when he wrote. He savored every letter. Each word was a beautiful mix of print and cursive that was so uniquely him.

Your eyes grew a little misty as you admired each page of notes, but you weren't sad. On the contrary, you felt happy. You felt connected to him again, if only just for a brief few minutes. But when you got to the last page, what you read stole your breath and destroyed the resolve you managed to build up.

To the love of my life. My better half. My biggest fan and toughest critic.

I can't wait to marry you, my love. I look forward to lazy Sunday mornings with your homemade waffles and my terrible coffee for the rest of our lives. You deserve the world. Someone to worship at your feet and be there for you when you're feeling weak. I've got no idea why you've chosen me, but every day I wake up eternally grateful you did. Just know you will make me happy until my dying breath, and I hope I am able to do the same for you.

The only thing I ever want in this life is to see you happy.

Tears streamed down your face. You had to shove the pad of paper away before drops fell on the page and ruined Daniel's last message to you. Swiveling around, you opened a few drawers until you found a box of tissues, then you buried your face in your hands and wept. Wept for the life you could have had with Daniel and for the one you foolishly threw away with Joel. Shockingly, his words managed to ease the guilt that had settled heavy in your chest for the past week. While he had been talking about himself being the one to make you happy in his dedication, you knew Daniel. He wasn't a selfish man. He was caring and sweet and kind. And he wouldn't want you to be miserable and lonely for the rest of your life. He truly was always happy whenever you were happy.

Joel was like that, too. He was so different from Daniel in many ways, but at their core, they were the same. They were soft and trusting and loving. They cared so deeply for you and wanted to make you happy. Both were so gentle and careful with you, patient and funny. It was no wonder you found yourself drawn to Joel in the first place.

Your doorbell chimed unexpectedly downstairs, followed by an urgent rap on the door. You frowned and snatched up a new tissue so you could dab at your cheeks while you made your way down the steps. Glancing out the window on the bottom stair, you saw a small, unfamiliar sedan in your driveway. You hesitated for just a moment with your hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering who it could be. Not many people stopped by your house. The paranoid part of you wondered if it was a reporter, the trauma from being harassed after Daniel's passing still living somewhere deep inside. But then a young girl's voice drifted through from the other side, startling you.

"Hey, please open up. It's Sarah," she said, then paused before adding, "Joel's daughter."

You shakily unlocked the door and swung it open. She appeared slightly disheveled, like she was in a hurry. Or maybe you were just reading her energy because she certainly came off rushed.

"Is everything okay?" you asked her. Visions of Joel at a job site pinned under some heavy beams flashed through your mind, an unexpected knee jerk reaction that was no doubt trauma from the car accident with Daniel.

"Yeah, everything's fine - sorry," she said immediately when she realized how it must have looked to show up at your door out of the blue. "I was hoping we could talk. Do you have a minute?"

"Oh! Uh, yeah," you said, glancing over your shoulder before opening your door wider for her. "Come on in."

You watched her slide off her sneakers and you closed the door before pointing towards the kitchen.

"Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have-"

"No, thank you. I don't think I have a ton of time, actually," she said, worrying her lower lip as she glanced out the front window towards your driveway.

"Well, alright. Here, have a seat," you replied, ushering her into the sitting room. She sunk down onto your sofa and you paused for a moment before choosing to sit in the soft leather chair across from her. Sarah's hands fidgeted in her lap as her eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail of the old Victorian home before letting her gaze linger on a few framed photos of you and Daniel on the mantle.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, tearing her eyes away to look at you. "I'm so fucking sorry. I was rude and I had no right to treat you the way I did. I know it's not an excuse but I was just... surprised. I guess when I thought my dad was ready to move on, he would have dated someone closer to his age." Sarah took a steadying breath while you remained silent, stunned by her sudden outburst. "Then I realized it wasn't really about the age thing. I don't think it would have mattered who he dated. It was just... weird, I guess."

Sarah shamefully stared down at her fingers tangled in her lap, waiting for you to wrap your head around her apology.

"Uh, wow. Well... thank you. That means a lot to me," you told her with a soft sniffle. "Your dad always spoke so much about you, it felt like I knew you, in a way. After everything the two of you had been through, I don't blame you one bit."

She risked a glance up at you, eyes all wide and watery.

"Really? Just like that?"

You smiled and nodded.

"Of course. I'm not going to hold it against you," you shrugged. "We weren't really trying to keep it a secret from you, just so you know. It was more like we were taking it slow and seeing where things went." Your eyes drifted to a photo of you and Daniel on the wall and your chest tightened. "It wasn't - it was hard for us both."

Sarah followed your gaze and felt the guilt creep back up.

"I know. My dad told me about your fiancé. I'm so sorry," she said, turning to look at you. "I loved his books. He was so creative. Like, the worlds he built up were so incredible and beautiful. He was one of my favorite authors." Then she remembered the gift you had given Joel and she added, "Thank you for those books. The ones you gave my dad. They're absolutely stunning and I promise to take good care of them, I know those are rare editions."

Your face lit up. "You're welcome. He would have wanted someone like you to have them. He was so appreciative of his readers for giving him a platform to live his dream."

"He sounded like a really great guy," she said sympathetically.

"He was," you replied softly. "After the accident, I could hardly get out of bed for weeks. I thought my life was over. I know how dramatic that sounds but I never thought I'd be able to move on, until-"

You cut yourself off, but Sarah knew what you were going to say. She inched forward on the couch with her eyebrows knit together.

"Could you please give him another chance?" she pleaded. "I don't want to see him lonely. I don't want you to be lonely. And, shit... you were getting him to actually exercise and eat vegetables!"

You laughed and shook your head.

"I didn't ask him to do that."

"But he was doing it because of you," she protested. "I've been trying to get him to eat better for years and he knows you a few weeks and suddenly he's chopping up peppers for dinner. It's definitely you."

You felt your cheeks warm as you let your eyes wander aimlessly around the room, surrounded by the memories of your first true love while sitting across from the extension of your second.

"Okay. I'll give him a call," you relented. When your eyes found hers again, she was looking out your window.

"I don't think that's necessary," she said, standing up. The corner of her mouth twitched and when you heard a car door slam in your driveway, you jumped up from your chair. You had barely made it three steps before you heard Joel rapping loudly on your front door.

"Ugh, Dad, you're filthy," Sarah scolded when she swung open the door with a frown.

"What're you doin' here?" he asked, wild eyes glancing over her shoulder. "Where's-"

He stopped short when you stepped into view behind her, giving him a shy wave. Sarah shifted to the side with a sly smile, eyes darting back and forth between you and Joel. Neither of you spoke. There was so much to say but you had no idea how to start. Then your gaze drifted down his frame, taking in his dusty jeans, boots, and black work tshirt. Memories of the day you visited him at work for lunch flashed through your mind and you swallowed tightly.

"O-okay," Sarah said, slowly drawing the word out when she bent over to slide her sneakers back on. "My work is done here. I'll leave you to it."

Joel blinked and tore his eyes away from you to look at his daughter, who was in the process of squeezing past him.

"What'dya mean?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to clear the air. Rest is up to you, old man," she teased, poking him in the shoulder. She gave you a friendly wave goodbye before skipping down the porch steps and back towards her car.

Joel's head swiveled back and forth between you and his daughter, still confused and trying to figure out what to do but when Sarah backed out of your driveway and disappeared down the street with a playful honk of her horn, his choice was made.

He turned back to look at you. Now that Sarah was gone and the initial bewilderment wore off, Joel's nerves began to make his heart thump faster and sweat collect under his collar.

"Do you, um," you glanced into your home over your shoulder before meeting his eye again. "Would you like to come inside?"

"Yes," he replied far too eagerly, making you smile when you held the door open for him. He toed off his boots and cringed. "Sorry for the mess. Was just gettin' home from work and found them two stirrin' shit up so I just raced on over."

"That's alright, I don't mi- wait, two?"

Joel nodded and followed you into your kitchen.

"Ellie came by lookin' for me 'n found Sarah," he explained, delicately sitting down at the kitchen table and praying he didn't leave a trail of dust behind him. The thought of sullying your beautiful home, the place where you found peace, irked him.

"Ellie?" you repeated, voice laced with surprise as you scooped coffee grounds into the filter. "Why did Ellie stop by?"

"To tell me you're skippin' town," he replied bluntly.

Your finger froze on the button of the coffee maker. Shit.

"That's not entirely true," you replied feebly. You turned around, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed protectively over your chest. Fuck, why did he have to look so good? Sitting there in your kitchen after a long day at work watching you mill around had your mind wandering, wondering what it would be like to have him come home to you just like that every single day.

"It was something I was considering," you continued. "My parents have been hounding me to move back home."

"Thought you wanted to stay in Texas," he said softly. You watched his finger anxiously dig into the side of your table.

"I did. I mean, I do. It's just..." you trailed off and looked around the room. Your throat grew tight when you said, "I can't live in this house anymore, Joel. I love it, but... I don't - I can't-"

Tears welled up in your eyes. You cast your gaze down to the floor, not noticing when Joel stood up and crossed the room until you smelled the familiar scent of sawdust and peppermint right in front of you.

You didn't even allow yourself to think. You just stepped forward, burying your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you let the tears silently fall while he held you close, murmuring into your hair that you were going to be alright.

"Don't go," he whispered when your tears had slowed and the coffee pot pinged, alerting you it was finished brewing. Your fingers tightly gripped at his shirt.

"Joel-"

"Please," he begged, pulling back just far enough so you could see the vulnerability etched across his face. "I'm sorry I didn't make you stay that night. I'm sorry I didn't run after you. When I met you, you took me by surprise, darlin', and I'm way outta my area of expertise here, but I-"

Your mouth crashed against his, silencing him with your answer. In an instant, his hands flew up to cup your face, cradling you gently, carefully, yet you still felt his strength wrapping itself around you like a blanket.

"Sweetheart," Joel gasped, pulling away from your kiss but still pressing his forehead against yours, unwilling to let you go. "I don't think I can survive losin' someone again," he told you selfishly, voice trembling as your fingers fanned across his cheek. Fresh tears stung your eyes as your lips found the underside of his jaw and he sighed, dropping his arms to wrap around you tightly.

You weren't sure exactly what it was, but something shifted. Maybe it had been enough to hear from Sarah directly that she was okay with you and her dad being together. Maybe it was the note you found in Daniel's desk. Maybe it was the beautiful reminder that so many people cared enough about you to drop what they were doing to fight for you to stay in their lives. Whatever it was, it had you feeling at finally peace after losing Daniel. The heaviness in your chest was replaced with warmth and hope. It made you believe it was okay to move on and let go.

Your hand that was pressed against his cheek fell to his chest and slowly trailed down his stomach until you felt the cool metal of his belt buckle against your fingertips. Beneath your lips, you felt his neck muscles tense and his pulse skyrocket.

"Wh-what're you doin'?" Joel murmured. His throat bobbed when your fingers hooked around the buckle, pinky slowly sliding the leather from the clasp.

"Do you want me to stop?" you whispered. You opened your eyes to gaze up at him, lips hovering over a red mark you had left just above his collarbone. His skin tasted salty from his dried sweat after working hard all day and it had your mind going a little fuzzy.

Joel shook his head and closed his eyes. You took it as your invitation to continue leaving kisses down the column of his throat while your hand resumed its work on his belt.

"I didn't get a chance to clean up," he rasped when his belt opened loose around his hips. He felt his hands begin to tremble from the nerves and anticipation, so he took a deep breath.

"That's okay. I like you like this," you mumbled. You began to tug on his shirt, pulling the hem from his pants. You were working with urgency, fearful that your guilt might pop up out of nowhere and ruin the moment.

Joel chuckled, pushing his own insecurities aside when he felt your palms slide across his too-soft stomach.

"Why the hell would you like me filthy from a job site all day?" he found himself asking, more so to just calm his nerves a bit as you continued to blindly explore his upper half underneath his shirt.

You nipped playfully at his skin before you said, "Because it's a reminder of how hard you work. And how much you deserve to be taken care of," you explained, pushing him so he began to walk backwards out of your kitchen.

Joel's breath caught in his throat. Unknowingly, you had said the very words he longed to hear and it sent a rush of blood between his legs. He hadn't been taken care of by anybody in so long that he almost forgot what it felt like to have someone else help carry the burden of his daily responsibilities. Someone else to lean on when he felt weak and someone else to turn to when he wanted to share in his happiness.

"You- you sure 'bout this?" he stammered when his heels knocked into the bottom step. You pulled away and grabbed his hand. With a firm nod, you began to lead him up the stairs, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.

On the way to your bedroom, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. His face was flushed, hair dusty and unkempt. His shirt looked messier than usual after you had been tugging on it and he cringed when he noticed the hole at the collar he must have missed earlier that morning when he was getting ready. But even with all that, he still felt giddy. He had a smile stretched so wide it practically hurt his cheeks. And although he looked a mess, his pants half undone with his cock already straining against the denim, he didn't feel foolish or out of place. He felt like a teenager sneaking up to a girl's room while her parents slept. He felt excited and happy and hopeful not only for what was waiting for him in your bedroom, but for what the future held. And just like that, any remaining reservations about his age or physique disappeared when he crossed the threshold into your bedroom for the first time.

His eyes bounced eagerly around the room in the few moments he had before you tugged him down to your level, pressing your mouth feverishly against his while you worked to undo your own pants. The first thing he had noticed was your room was very you. Girly colors and light furniture decorated every square inch. The paintings on the walls were of flowers and some inspirational quote he didn't have time to read. Your bed had a canopy. Sheer white curtains were tied to your headboard and it made him smile when he thought of you waking up every morning in such a beautiful room.

He would find out later you had completely redecorated after Daniel passed away. Top to bottom, new paint and furniture. It made sense. You didn't want to be haunted by your past, turn to look at something he built or picked out. Didn't want to think about the intimate moments you had with him and never would again every time you went to sleep.

Joel didn't have much to even consider any of that in the moment because you had fallen back onto your bed, jeans abandoned on the floor while sweetly reaching out for him to join you.

"Christ," he muttered, unable to stop his eyes from flickering down your body and over your bare legs before pausing on the lacy panties hugging your hips.

Ten years. It had been ten fucking years since he had sex. And you were so goddamn beautiful and perfect, spread out for him with your chest heaving and lust filling your eyes as you waited for him to snap out of it and come join you.

His gaze met yours and something unspoken passed between you. You both had your respective baggage and you each knew it, yet you trusted one another with the most sensitive pieces of your souls. And that had to mean something. That had to mean what you had was special.

He bent forward, fists pressing into the mattress on either side of you, and began to pepper kisses up your legs. He could hear your breath grow heavy the closer he got to the apex of your thighs and it made him smile to hear someone so perfect as you become so affected by his touch. He had hardly done anything and already you were wiggling and offering him soft little moans when you felt his exhale fan over your clothed sex.

There was no way he was going to last. Ten years. He wasn't even sure he still remembered his old moves. Even if he did, he wanted you so badly he probably wouldn't have enough time before he came.

But there was one thing he did remember how to do, and if his memory served him well, he was pretty damn good at it.

"Can I take these off, honey?" he asked with his fingers looped around the sides of your panties. His voice came out deeper than he expected, making a shiver shoot down your spine.

"Mhmm," was all you could manage, then you squeezed your legs together and lifted your hips, giving him what he needed to gently pull your underwear down your legs then tossed them onto the floor.

He inhaled sharply when your legs fell open, revealing the wetness that had already collected, all slick and shiny and just for him.

"Goddamn, you're perfect," he said breathlessly. His hands spread wide over your soft thighs, moving slowly to curve around and hold you open. When his knees hit the carpeted floor and he settled his shoulders between your legs, he heard your breath quicken. His cock twitched, still stuck in the restricting confines of his jeans, when he saw a fresh drip of arousal roll through your slit, and he couldn't hold back. He lunged forward, tongue curling to catch it with a groan, not even registering the surprised noise you made. His eyes fluttered closed as he went back for more, lips suctioning around your folds and tongue diving inside for another taste.

"O-oh my god, Joel," you moaned, fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets. His chest swelled with pride, your broken voice only serving to encourage him further.

Your mind went blissfully blank as he expertly dragged his tongue up and down, collecting every drop of your arousal and swallowing it eagerly. His jaw worked steadily, widening his mouth with each messy kiss against your cunt. Every flick of his tongue was deliberate, every suck of his lips exquisite. He had you trembling under his grasp in a matter of minutes, completely forgetting that it had been a long time since you had last been touched, as well.

When your hands grabbed roughly at his hair, he grunted but never faltered. The slight pain prickling his scalp from the sharp tugs on his greying curls kept him focused and in the moment. It made him pay attention to every sound and thrust of your hips, memorizing what made you come undone. But when his tongue was flooded with another wave of arousal, all thick and sweet and musky, it had his head swimming and his own hips bucking pathetically against the side of your bed.

He forgot how much he fucking loved this. How enjoyable it was to have a gorgeous woman become a writhing mess from his mouth. To hear his name like a song inbetween heavy gasps of air. To run his tongue over the softest and warmest place imaginable. To hear the high pitched whines when he finally scraped his teeth over that swollen bud he always saved for last.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out when his lips wrapped around your clit. "Fuck! Joel- ohmygod - Joel... please d-don't stop, please..." you begged, his cock swelling painfully in his jeans at the sound. He groaned loudly in response, refusing to remove his mouth even for a second. You tasted too good and sounded even better, he just couldn't get enough.

You were chanting curses mixed with his name, hips rocking against his face in rhythm with every swirl of his tongue around your clit. Under his fingers, your thighs tensed and he smiled to himself before he scraped his teeth gently over your bundle of nerves once again.

His timing was perfect. You shouted his name, voice raspy and broken. Your legs clamped around his head when you came with one more wave of slick coating his tongue. He lapped at your center like an animal, groaning and licking and sucking until you couldn't handle it any more. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, pulled him off you with a gasp, too sensitive to allow him to continue.

"You got a dirty mouth, baby," he teased with a wet, crooked grin. You laughed, face and neck covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"That's rich, considering what you just did with your mouth."

Joel chuckled as he finished undoing his jeans. He let them rest on the floor next to yours, no longer caring how dirty his clothes were, but he found himself hesitating for just a moment when his fingers found the hem of his shirt. You might have noticed, he couldn't be sure, because you sat up on your knees, inching forward til you were at the edge of the bed. Your hands replaced his and you slowly raised his shirt over his head, eyes instantly falling to take him in.

Running and eating better had made his middle a little less soft, but he still had twenty years on you and his body simply wasn't what it used to be. He worried for weeks what you would think of him but as it turned out, you didn't even give him a chance to wonder when you finally laid eyes on him.

"So handsome," you murmured, running your palms over his broad shoulders and down his pecs. That insecure part of himself normally wouldn't have believed you, but when he saw the heady look in your eye, all doubt was erased from his mind.

"Your turn," he said, fingers plucking at your tshirt. He wanted to get the attention off him but he also desperately wanted to see the rest of you.

You lifted your arms above your head so he could peel your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him. He might have been rusty, but he certainly remembered how to remove a bra, doing it with lightning fast speed that had you giggling until his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, melting your laugh into a moan.

Joel flattened his tongue over the hardening bud, his mouth warm against the soft skin of your breast. Your breath stuttered and your fingers flew up to grab onto his shoulders when the tip of his tongue flicked against your nipple before biting and sucking at your soft flesh.

"Perfect," he groaned before releasing your breast just to give the same attention to the other. Your head tipped back, a wrecked moan shuddering through you under his attentive care. "You're so perfect, baby," he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss between your breasts, right over your heart.

Your cheeks flared with heat at his compliment but you took it in stride. Swallowing tightly, you leaned back out of his hold, crawling backwards up the bed and grinning when Joel followed like a moth to a flame.

Hovering over you, his eyes danced over your now bare body with a look of awe. His obvious appreciation and adoration made you feel like a goddess, which was fitting considering he had just been on his knees for you.

"I'm the luckiest man in the world, y'know that?" he whispered while one rough hand brushed lovingly over your stomach and down your hip. You ignored his question, instead focusing on pushing down the band of his boxers, the final barrier between you both. When he kicked them off, his gaze still pinned to your body, your jaw dropped in surprise.

You had never been one to really care much about size when it came to men, your only concern was that they knew how to use it. But when you saw Joel's thick, heavy cock bobbing between you as he shifted his weight, all you could think about was how delicious that stretch would feel when he first entered you.

"Looks like I'm the lucky one," you joked. His eyes found yours again and you saw his cheeks flush with a bashful shake of his head. "It's true," you insisted when he settled onto his elbows. You tried to ignore his cock prodding at your stomach so you could tell him sincerely, "I think we're both lucky."

He smiled wide at that, his eyes squinting and causing the creases next to them to deepen. You smiled back, tracing one of the wrinkles with your fingertip before pushing his hair back behind his ear. Then you curled your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down the rest of the way so you could press your mouth against his.

His tongue dipped slowly into your mouth, giving you the faint taste of yourself while he lifted his hips ever so slightly to blindly line himself up with your entrance. With the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, he mumbled are you ready? into your lips, and you nodded.

Joel tried to kiss you again at the same time he pushed inside you, but your head immediately tipped back with a sharp gasp, so instead he placed sweet kisses against your throat while slowly feeding you his cock, inch by inch, until finally bottoming out with a rough groan.

"Oh, fuck," he rasped, hot breath fanning across your even hotter skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to move. "Y'feel so good. Shit - so fuckin'..."

He couldn't even finish his thought. The way you fit around him so perfectly had him spiraling. You were so tight, so velvety soft and warm that he was fearful if he moved, he would come embarrassingly fast. Fortunately, it seemed you needed some time to adjust, as well. Your breath was shallow and fast, fingers digging harshly into his skin as you desperately tried to ground yourself.

"God, Joel..." you finally moaned, the sound causing goosebumps to flash across his arms. "You're so... fucking big," you added breathlessly. Joel felt his cock twitch and you gasped.

"Can't talk like that, baby."

"I can't help it," you whined, wiggling underneath him as your body slowly became used to his girth. "You feel so good, I feel so full-"

Joel cut you off, crashing his mouth hungrily against yours. You made a little surprised noise in the back of your throat then moaned into his mouth when his hips drew back slowly. You almost complained, almost begged him for more but then he sunk back inside you, stretching your walls and bringing tears to your eyes. He made it a few minutes, slowly rolling his hips, cock splitting you open while searching for that spot he knew would make you scream, but another sign of his age cropped up at the worst time, making him wince and stall mid thrust.

"What's wrong?" you panted, immediately sensing his discomfort.

Joel grunted and let his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. "My goddamn back-"

"Lay down," you commanded, pushing him by the shoulders. He frowned and leaned up to look at you.

"I'll do all the work," you told him sweetly, pecking at his lips before giving him another push, but he didn't budge.

"Sweetheart-"

"I said I was going to take care of you, didn't I?" you challenged with a quirked eyebrow. "And so far, you're the one taking care of me."

He smirked and rolled his eyes but did as you asked, pulling out of you and earning a huff from you both.

Joel didn't love the idea of not being able to give you what you needed. He didn't want you to work for anything. He wanted to take care of you as much as you wanted to take care of him. But when you straddled his lap and positioned yourself to sink down on his cock, the sight alone made him forget all about the somewhat humiliating disturbance because you looked so goddamn gorgeous fucking yourself on top of him.

"Oh, shit, honey, look at you," he sighed. You whimpered, fingers digging into his chest for leverage as you bounced up and down on his lap. His hands found your waist, helping you move and steady yourself as you chased your high. "Yeah, that's it. Take what you want. Take it," he said through clenched teeth. Your breasts bounced and swayed, taunting him just out reach, but the visual made him pulse inside you, already dangerously close to his climax.

"Fuck, you're so deep," you moaned. Joel's eyes slid shut, trying his best to stave off his orgasm. He racked his brain to remember what made you fall apart for him before, but he could hardly think straight. The tension was pulling tight in his stomach each time to dropped yourself down on his cock. His skin tingled hearing every breathy moan tumble from your lips, all because of him.

And it was all too much.

"Touch yourself," he grunted, fingers digging harder into your waist. "C'mon, baby, touch yourself f'me. Can't -" He groaned when you started to roll your hips, your soaked cunt gripping him beautifully. "Can't last much longer," he finally was able to say.

You did as you were told, two fingers pressing desperately against your clit as you continued to ride him. Your face was slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head once you found a rhythm you liked. You looked absolutely breathtaking like that, spread out and full of him with your face contorted in pleasure. He had never seen you like that before. It was filthy and raw and desperate.

"Goddamnit," Joel growled, lifting his hips to match your pace. Each time he buried himself deep inside you, he let out a harsh grunt. The intensity and desperation was sending you both quickly over the edge. "I'm gonna come, darlin', 'm sorry," he murmured.

"Please," you begged, fingers working fast over your clit. You inhaled sharply and your movements stuttered. "Please come for me, Joel," you whispered with your eyes closed.

When he felt that familiar heat licking its way up his spine, he went to pull you off his lap, but your thighs clenched around him, keeping you in place.

"It- it's o-okay," you stammered. He had no time to ask you to elaborate. With a loud groan he finally let go, pumping you full of his spend. His orgasm was so intense, he swore his vision blacked out for a second. He blinked rapidly until you appeared before him again, just in time to watch you come on his cock with a strangled moan.

"That's it," he cooed, fighting for air like he had just run a fucking marathon. Your eyebrows pinched together and your mouth hung open as you ground down on his lap, riding out your high. When your cunt clenched around him, he felt one last burst of release paint your walls, the sheer force from the last several minutes making him lightheaded.

Your arms began to shake and a moment later, you collapsed onto his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh. He could feel your heart racing with his while you held each other, gasping for air until you each calmed down and your breathing returned to normal.

"I got a, uh," you began, breaking the silence with your hoarse voice. You pointed weakly towards your stomach. "A- a thing. An implant."

"Oh," he whispered, "good. Okay."

His arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you against his sweaty chest. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing in deep while you planted lazy kisses against his collarbone. He was still inside you but he could feel himself beginning to finally soften, so he gently rolled you onto your side while simultaneously slipping out of your clutch with a hiss.

He couldn't help himself. He glanced down and spotted the pearly trail of his seed leaking from between your legs and it sparked something inside of him.

"I made a mess of you, sweetheart," he murmured, voice gravelly with desire as he continued to stare. You followed his gaze down and grinned.

"Guess we're both dirty now," you teased. He chuckled and rolled on top of you, lips latching onto your throat. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this needy. High school? Maybe in his very early twenties? All he knew was he wanted you in every way imaginable. He felt like a man on the verge of death in the middle of the desert who stumbled across an oasis.

"Joel," you moaned when his hand dropped to cup your breast and his cock, by some goddamn miracle, began to slowly stiffen once again.

"Hmm?"

"I - I need a break," you admitted sheepishly, fingers combing gently through his hair. "And maybe a shower."

He grinned and stopped running the pad of his thumb over your nipple so he could lean up on his elbows to look at you.

"Want some company with that shower?"

You giggled and nodded. "But nothing funny! This is a business shower, okay?"

"Business shower?" he repeated with his dark eyes sparkling. He was so happy he could burst.

"Yes. A business shower. Nothing ... sexy," you said with a wave of your hand. You gave his shoulder a shove and he rolled off you long enough for you to wiggle out from underneath him, heading in the direction of your bathroom. His eyes immediately locked on your naked body and he flung himself out of bed, back pain long forgotten.

"Ain't possible to not have a sexy shower if you're in there," he joked as he followed you. You glanced at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Smooth."

You only made it ten minutes into your business shower before you caved. But with your front pressed against the cool tile wall and Joel's cock sliding effortlessly back inside you, you were having trouble remembering why you ever cared in the first place.

"You look a lot happier than the last time I saw you," Ryan said when you sat down on the soft leather couch across from him. You smiled and placed your purse next to you.

"A lot's changed since then."

"Yeah? Let's hear it," he urged, clicking his pen and scribbling something at the top of his legal pad.

"Well, for starters I'm not moving."

He grinned. "That's fantastic news. What's changed?"

You felt your cheeks warm up when you said, "I worked things out with that guy I was seeing."

"Wonderful! And you mentioned his... daughter, I believe? Had an issue with her father dating?" Ryan questioned while writing some notes on the paper.

"She surprised me and stopped by my house. She apologized for what happened and insisted she wants her dad to be happy," you explained, still finding it difficult to believe just two weeks later. "But I am going to sell my house. I need to move somewhere new. Some place that's all mine. I keep seeing Daniel everywhere I turn and I think it's been making it difficult to move on."

Ryan raised his eyebrows and set down his pen. "Good for you. That shows incredible growth and promise to be able to recognize when something is holding you back. That decision couldn't have been easy, either. You should be proud of yourself," he said warmly, making you smile.

"It wasn't easy, you're right. But it's for the best. My... boyfriend, I guess?" you said, the word sounding strange on your tongue. "Sorry. I'm not used to that. He's in construction and knows some people. It's an old house. Daniel and I put a lot of work into it and it would break my heart if it fell into the wrong hands. Joel - sorry, Joel's my boyfriend," you said, shifting your weight on the couch. "He's going to ask around and see if anyone he trusts can find a buyer for the house."

"It sounds like Joel is a great guy."

You smiled and nodded excitedly. "We met at group, actually."

Ryan's face broke out into a huge grin and he clapped his hands together. "What a beautiful coincidence. Two people with the same wound meeting and working to heal one another. That's so powerful," he said before picking his pen back up.

"It's still early but... it feels right. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be," you admitted.

"Easy in what way?"

You pursed your lips and began to fiddle with your bracelet.

"Easy in that I didn't feel... guilty when we, you know..." you trailed off, praying Ryan didn't make you finish your sentence.

"When you were intimate together?" he offered, putting a pretty little bow on the filthy things you and Joel had been doing for the past couple weeks.

"Yes."

You paused and cleared your throat before forcing yourself to meet Ryan's eye.

"I thought I would compare them, or, like, I don't know," you rambled nervously, "maybe I wouldn't like it because it wasn't what I was used to or something."

"And you didn't?"

You shook your head, feeling the tip of your nose sting when tears began to crop up in your eyes.

"And I thought... I always thought it would feel like a betrayal. Like I was cheating on Daniel. But it didn't," you said, blinking away your tears.

"And it shouldn't," Ryan said gently, setting his pen back down to give you his full attention. "I didn't know Daniel but I'm sure he wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life alone and unhappy."

"No, he wouldn't," you agreed, then smiled to yourself when you added, "I think he would have really liked Joel."

"I'll bet he would, too," Ryan said. He flipped open another page on his legal pad and read something before asking, "And how are the legal issues going?"

Your face fell a little bit and you shrugged.

"My lawyer thinks he'll have things wrapped up soon but it just breaks my heart that it came to this. They were always so kind to me when Daniel was alive, I never expected them to be so... selfish and cruel."

"Not to make excuses for them, but people process trauma and grief in very different ways. Unfortunately, it can bring out the worst in people, but perhaps with time, you'll be able to mend that relationship if that was something you wished to do," Ryan said with a sympathetic smile.

You nodded silently and fiddled with the zipper on your purse. Ryan had gotten used to the way you processed information after only two sessions and knew you were ruminating, so he patiently gave you the time you needed to collect your thoughts.

"My parents were upset when I told them I wasn't moving back to Portland."

Ryan remained quiet, giving you the space you needed to speak.

"They think I'm crazy for 'shacking up' with a guy who is old enough to have gone to school with my dad," you explained. "Said I'm making a big mistake and I'm emotionally distraught."

Ryan's eyebrows pinched together. "Do you think you're emotionally distraught?"

"No," you replied. "I'm the best I've felt since Daniel passed away."

"And Joel? Is he in a good place for a relationship?"

"I think so," you sighed. "He lost his wife ten years ago. He's had more time to process his grief but this is the first relationship he's had since she passed, same as me."

"Well then, sounds to me like you are both doing just fine," he said warmly. "Parents always tend to think they know what's best for their children, no matter how old they are. And I'm sure their hearts are in the right place. But they don't see you every day, do they? They don't witness the progress and growth you've made. They certainly don't see how happy you are together. Perhaps with time, they will accept your decisions, but for now I think it's best to reinforce your boundaries and remind them of how well you are doing if the topic gets brought up again."

"Thanks. It's just tough to hear sometimes," you said solemnly. You pursed your lips together and tried not to dwell too much on your mother's negative reaction to your news, the wound still too fresh, but it ultimately only made you happier that you found Joel. He was such a strong and supportive presence in your life, despite the chaos, and you were always so grateful for him.

"Alright, let's switch gears," Ryan suggested when he sensed your sullen mood. "Where are you looking to move? Is the plan to move in with Joel?"

You laughed and shook your head. "That's a little too soon, I think," you said. "I'm looking to rent a small house. I found a few not too far from his neighborhood, though. We're going to check them out together this weekend."

"That's great," Ryan said as he scribbled down a few more notes. "And the job hunt? Last we spoke, you mentioned you had been looking for work but weren't getting much traction."

"Yeah, that hasn't been going great. But I've been toying with this idea, and I know it sounds crazy-"

Ryan laughed. "I'm sure it's not."

"Well... Joel and I were talking. He asked me what I really liked to do and what my dream job would be, and the first thing I thought of was cooking. I absolutely love cooking and baking."

"So you want to open a restaurant?" he guessed.

"No, not quite. Actually, I was thinking of a food truck."

You braced yourself for Ryan's strong opinion, expecting him to tell you it was a terrible idea and that the profits would be minimal, but instead he just smiled wide and sat back in his chair.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

"Really?" you asked, eyes sparkling. He nodded.

"I think it suits you very well. And it sounds like fun. I say if you have the means and motivation, do it. Hell, I'll be your first customer."

You laughed, feeling your chest lighten a bit when you received his approval. You had been so used to your family or Daniel's judging every little decision you made that it came as a great relief to hear someone besides Joel be so supportive.

"Well, it's just a baby of an idea. Maybe once the legal stuff is settled and don't have to worry about that anymore, I'll look into it more seriously."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Ryan said before standing up. You glanced at the clock, surprised your hour was already up, and began to collect your things. Admittedly when you started therapy, you weren't sure how much you would get out of it. But in the two short sessions you had with Ryan, you realized how nice it was to have a neutral third party shed some light on your problems without feeling judged.

"Same time next week?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Hoping you'll come back with some good news about a house."

"Me, too," you said with a smile. Ryan walked you back out to the lobby and wished you a good rest of the day. You gave him a quick wave before stepping back outside and took a deep, calming breath.

The seasons were beginning to change, you could smell it. The air wasn't as humid and the breeze was just a little sharper.

You welcomed it, hopeful that the shift into autumn would usher in a new and exciting chapter of your life.

A/N: apologies if I've used the term 'business shower' before. I feel like I have in other fics but I can't be sure.

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[redheadspark]

may i have Benedict x reader from bridgerton with prompt #25

A/N - So cute for Benedict! Thanks for the request, anon!

Overflowed

Summary - Benedict knows how to make you smile

Warnings - Angst and fluff rolled into one :)

If there was one thing you loved about your life being a Bridgerton, it was how it was never boring or mundane.

It all started when you met your future husband, Benedict.  You both were attending art class at one of the most prestigious schools in the area, sitting side by side during one of the night classes and going through one of the lectures.  Benedict came from a wealthy family, prestigious family, which that had a major reputation for being well-loved and compassionate in charities and amongst other families.  You heard about his family for some time, though your family was not part of that circle since you were not well off.  In fact, you were attending the art school on a full-ride scholarship, not wanting to take it for granted and keeping your nose in your books and canvas.  But that night as Benedict plopped down next to you with his laptop out and ready to try, he looked over at you as you were handwriting your notes instead of typing it out.

He smiled, leaning over and saying in a low tone, “I like your handwriting.  It’s lovely,”

It was safe to say you are smitten with him from then on out.

You both sat together for the rest of the semester, learning about each other and becoming friends.  All of those rumors and stories that you hear about his family both seemed true and untrue.  He was kind, and humble in his upbringing and just wishing to be a better artist but not afraid to talk about his family and all of their endeavors.  He showed interest in you and what you liked about art, which pieces you liked and hated.  Although you were hesitant and wanted to keep your guard up when it came to letting in someone new in your life, Benedict snuck in always. 

Your first date was actually at the local county fair, Benedict asked you out after several months of building a friendship. It was surprising that he took you to a county fair, some of your other friends were already spewing theories about him taking you to a luxury restaurant or even on a yacht since his older brother Anthony did that with his now wife Kate. But not with Benedict, he would prefer to laugh with you and eat fried fair food and look at the street vendors.  

He made you laugh while attempting to win you a stuffed animal at the games, though you tried to warn him that they were rigged.  Benedict threw one baseball a bit too hard and almost broke the tent wall behind the plate that he was attempting to smash.  You laughed, the vendor scowling at him as Benedict took your hand and you both bolted before you were caught.  Benedict loved the sound of your laugh, he mentally would remember that moment for the rest of his life.  Throughout the night, you felt your walls coming down slowly with him and how he made you smile and giggle without you realizing what he was doing. Benedict was more down to earth than anything that night, then taking you to the local art show that was placed in the back of the fair.  

“I thought you would rather see something like this than at a fancy gallery,” He explained, you grinning from ear to ear as you both were gazing at the paintings and sketches from local painters and artist that were selling their art.  To think that he had all the money he would ever need, the reputation to be put in the pockets of people with power, but he simply wanted to be with you.

You shared your first kiss that night, his lips tasting of popcorn and soda pop.

Dating Benedict was both thrilling and intimidating at the same time. You were taken into his world, filled with wealthy relatives and charities that would sell dinner seats for thousands of dollars.  You barely had 1000 dollars to your name, let alone in your savings, but Benedict never minded it.  His own family was insanely sweet and kind to you, seeing how you made the artist in the family so happy and filled with joy.  Of course, they would tease you about his aloofness and his quirky nature, but you saw the same compassion and authenticity that was in Benedict in each of his siblings and his kind mother.  

However, you were a fish out of water with those dinners and events that you attended on Benedict’s arm.  The small talk with the fellow guests seemed forced and almost dry, Most of them were grilling you with questions about your own life, if you came from a rich family, or if you had any investments.  The pressure was a bit much at times, Benedict sensing it when you sat side by side during the dinners.  But the great thing about Benedict was that he would attempt to make you laugh during those tense moments, by any means necessary.  Comments under his breath, jokes that he knew were not great dinner conversation, his sense of humor was once again winning and making you come out of your shell a bit more.

Anthony could have sworn he saw you giggling and hiding your smile behind your napkin as Benedict whispered in your ear.  Anthony knew it then, you two were meant to be together.

Not everything was happy and positive with you two when it came to your love for one another. Because of your more humbled upbringing, your family bought of Benedict as dragging you along to use you.  It was hard to hear that from them, they all thought it was some kind of ruse and not real.  No matter how many times you defended your love for Benedict and told them constantly that you both were insanely happy together.  Even your ex was spewing hate on your relationship, which hurt a bit more since you and your ex were a bit sour together.  

But in the end, Benedict always came through by comforting you and making you feel safe.  He would constantly hug you and remind you that you were strong and adored, that you’d come so far in earning your degree and working at a gallery, fighting tooth and nail with your advantages and no leg up.  He admired you for that, and to see you feel defeated by others and their words broke his heart.  Plenty of nights were shared holding each other and talking through those bitter moments, it felt better to talk to him about it and get it off your chest than to hold it in.

And every time, Benedict would end up making you laugh and bringing you joy.  

“I think I found mummy!”  You looked up from your spot on the loveseat, holding an important letter in your fingers as your husband waltzed into the room with your 3-year-old daughter on his back and squealing in joy.  You beamed, watching your husband act like a horse and neighing as he was galloping around the small living room and your daughter laughing her head off with her ringlets dancing behind her.  

“Look, mummy!  Daddy’s a horsey!” She shrieked as Benedict was going in circles around your loveseat, you placing the letter on the coffee table and standing up with your hands on your hips.

“Quite the handsome horse too!” You teased, Benedict, slowing down and laughing as he stood in front of you.  Your daughter, Emma Violet Bridgerton, poked her head over his shoulder and you saw the same shade of green that her father had in her eyes.  She reached out to you with grabby hands, to which you scooped her in your arms to hug her tight, breathing in her sweet scent and feeling her arms around you.

5 years of marriage was no easy feat, but it was rewarding.  You both got married in the spring, then found a decent apartment in the downtown area that was close to the gallery you were now running and Benedict sold some of his work to get some money in your pockets. He would rather make money not by his name but by his art, using an alias with his art and not giving out his true identity.  It worked in his favor, his work being sold globally and making his alias a household name.  Your net worth grew, though tedious at times, but it grew nonetheless.  

So the news that you were pregnant two years into your marriage was a surprise, but the best kind since Benedict was over the moon at the thought of being a father.  Sure, he never thought about being a father so soon, but he didn't despise the thought of it.   Yet you were the one who was afraid of parenthood, mostly because of your own experience with your parents and how they were with you.  They were harsh, far too realistic, and at times brutal.  Did you want to inflict that on your own child?

“You are not your mum and dad,” Benedict reminded you one night as you two were lying in bed, you telling him what was festering in your mind and what you were fearing.  He had one arm around your shoulders, and his other hand was resting on your lower stomach while he was staring at you lovingly, “We are gonna love this baby and make sure that there is nothing but happiness in this home.  Plus, I bet you we’ll make mistakes here and there.  Especially me, I bet you I’m gonna put the diaper on the wrong way,”

You smiled softly, “More than once?” You asked to ask sheepishly, Benedict’s smile got wide.

“Are you kidding, over a dozen times at least!” He explained, you laughing as he went on, “And I’ll be singing to our baby with my horrible singing voice, you’re gonna hate it!”

As soon as Emma Violet Bridgerton was born, Benedict was over the moon in love with her.

“We were looking for you in hopes you were wanting to come get ice cream with us!” Benedict explained to you as Emma perked up and looked at you with her father’s eyes she inherited.

“Can we, mum?” She asked with hope in her voice, you eyeing her and then her father.

“Before dinner?” You asked in a joking tone, Emma giggling glee as you tickled her sides, “The scandal of it all!  What will the neighbors say!  We must get ice cream then since I have been craving chocolate!”

“Hooray!” Emma said in victory, the there of you walking out of the living room together as a happy family.  You left the letter behind, another disappointing letter from your parents who were reprimanding you for shielding your daughter from her grandparents.  But you were having none of it, you may have before when things were still tender with them. Yet not now, not with this life that was overflowing with happiness.  

The overflowing will never end, not if Benedict had anything to do with it.

The End.

May Prompt Session

[doodlingbiscuit]

Hide N' Seek

This sprouted up from a childhood habit that I did when I was feeling really bad. I feel like how terrifying the turtles could be to the reader isn't touched on enough. The turtles would actually scare the heck out of me if I'm being honest. This Raph also holds a place in my heart, Enjoy!! <33

Bayverse!Raph x Reader - Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,506

Warnings: None

The day had seemed to go on forever and you were beyond grateful when the clock finally ticked to 5 pm. You rushed out of the office and after a thankfully uneventful commute home, you popped some leftovers into the microwave, with your leg now bouncing in anticipation of doing something. You mulled over your choices, using the dull hum of the microwave as white noise. 

There were plenty of things to occupy your time; New York had its fair share of things to do, along with your long list of neglected chores. But… it's been a while since you’ve seen Raph and the other turtles so chores could wait one more day. You hadn’t seen them in a while and it’d be good to break up the droning schedule of only going to and from work. Scarfing down a quick dinner and you were out of the house in minutes. 

The lair was… uncharacteristically quiet. 

Curious, you made your way further into the space to see if they had left a note about where they had gone. They left their fair share of notes, which had evolved into them putting a permanent bulletin board up in the kitchen. You all had decided to keep it updated when the turtles would be gone for an extended amount of time. Per Donnie’s advice, it wasn’t a good idea for the brothers to text that they were leaving the lair undefended. Texting could easily be hacked and well… that was that. Squinting at the board, sure enough, you see in Leo’s scrawling handwriting that they would be out for a few hours. 

You flopped down onto the couch and made yourself at home, dragging a blanket off of the back of the couch to fend off the chill of the lair. You go through the motions of playing on your phone, doodling, and looking at your phone again. The hours had begun to take a toll on you and your eyelids had grown heavy. You start to wonder if they’re even going to be back tonight. 

“You never listen!”

You sit up a little straighter, immediately recognizing Leo’s voice. 

“I never listen?!” Raph lets out an incredulous laugh. “How about you never listening to your team!” 

Cold dread spilled into your stomach, fingers gripping a little tighter onto your phone. You hated it when any of the brothers fought, but it always seemed to be worse with Leo and Raph. 

You sunk deeper into the couch as you heard them getting closer. You knew in your heart Raph meant well, but more often than not, his anger would get the better of him. These outbursts would make it impossible to have a productive conversation with him. Raph was working on controlling his temper in your relationship, but Leo obviously wasn't granted the same sympathy. 

 Glancing towards the entrance, you spot Donnie and Mikey coming in first. 

You gave them both a sympathetic look; you knew that they hated it when their brothers fought with each other. They both shot you a sympathetic look in return, knowing you would have to deal with Raph after his outburst. 

“I just- I can’t deal with this right now, I’ve got more important things to concern myself with.” “Yeah, sure, go concern yourself with something better than your own brother.” Raph huffs out, shrugging off some of his gear onto the kitchen table. 

You get off of the couch and warily make your way into the kitchen area.

“Raph, can we-” Your face must’ve given away your displeasure with the current situation because Raph immediately took it as something against him. “Oh, so you’re on his side too!”

“Why does it always have to be about picking sides?!”

“‘Cause it feels like nobody ever is on mine!”

“I am on your side!” You tell him empathetically. 

“Then fucking act like it!” He slams his hand into the kitchen counter, leaving a huge dent in the side of it. 

Your eyes flicker towards the counter, a painful reminder of how strong the mutants were compared to you. 

Usually, you found his strength endearing; using it to protect the ones he cared about, but now you were unfortunately on the other end, where he could very easily use that strength against you. 

You feel the tears start to sprout up in the corners of your eyes and you try in vain to swallow the painful lump in your throat. 

Crying would get you nowhere.

“You can’t just start hitting things and then think you won!” Your voice cracks, “Use your words!” 

He walks over to you, pushing into your space, and forces you to walk backward until your back hits the wall. 

Raph was taller than you by about a foot. You’ve always known that Raph was bigger than you, that was obvious enough, but he had never used his size to intimidate you like this. 

He lets out an animalistic growl before speaking. “My ability to hit fast and hit hard is what this team needs me for and I’ve solved plenty of problems before just by knocking ‘em out.”

He slams his hands into the wall about your head, the vibrations traveling down the wall into your body.

“I don’t need them, I don't need your bickering and I certainly don’t need you!”

You scrunch up your face in anger at his outburst. Tears are threatening to fall from your eyes and it takes all you have in you to not let them. 

He stands there for a moment, chest heaving in and out. You stare back up at him in anger. His eyes dart back and forth between yours before shoving himself off the wall with a grunt. Cracking his knuckles, he stalks away heading towards his room. 

As soon as he’s out of sight, you push yourself off the wall. A few tears escape from your eyes and you drag a haphazard hand across your face to brush them off. 

You let out a growl of frustration, mad at Raph and mad at yourself for crying. 

It was so fucking embarrassing. 

You storm over to the couch, snatching up your backpack; you had brought stuff over to spend the night and now you just felt stupid. You stuffed your blanket from the couch into your bag. You ripped your earbuds out of your bag, shoving them into your ears. 

The trip home was a blur. 

You caught the subway home, trying in vain not to look like you were just crying your eyes out. Once you finally make it to your apartment, you shove through your door, tossing your backpack to the ground.

You were still reeling after the fight with Raph. Fuck. Him. 

A sob escapes your throat and you dig the palms of your hand into your eyes in an attempt to stop the tears. 

You just needed somewhere to hide, you just felt too exposed out in the living room. Walking into your room, you head straight for the closet, shoving aside the hanging shirts and make a little alcove for yourself in the closet. Nudging the door shut with a foot, making everything go pitch black. 

The tears start flowing out of your eyes as your fight sinks into you fully. 

He doesn’t need me?

Choked breaths come in and out of you and you can’t seem to get enough air in. 

You sit there for an undetermined amount of time, letting the calmness of being alone sink into you. Your playlists play on a loop and there's comfort in the songs you know by heart. After a while, your tears have dried and there's an uncomfortable feeling in your throat but you’re too lazy to go soothe it with water so you sit there numbly, still pushed up against the closet wall. 

There’s a knock from outside; a dull echo on the glass window of your apartment. You take out one of your earbuds as you strain to listen, almost brushing it off as something you misheard from your song. The knock comes again and you’re certain it was coming from your balcony. The turtles often came over to your house and instead of risking being seen, they came in through your balcony. 

Though today, you weren’t in any mood to go up and let them in formally, wishing that they would get the message and go away. It’s not like you exactly looked very presentable after crying for two hours. 

“(Y/N)?” A gruff voice sounded from outside. 

Your heart started beating fast. 

It was Raph.

“(Y/N)? Let me in, I wanna talk.” 

God, why’d it have to be him? 

You were still mad at him and if you were being honest, a little afraid of him too. You shoved yourself farther into the closet, trying to be completely still. 

The balcony door slides open and his footsteps start to pad around the room. 

You keep silent as you listen to him walk around, trying to calm your racing heart. Raph walks to the kitchen and then to the living room.

He calls out your name again. “Where are you?” 

You hope he’ll just leave you in peace and let you come to him on your own terms, you didn’t exactly want him to find you hiding in the closet. The closet door creaks open. He peeks his head into the closet, his eyes glazing over the closet until he finds you. Raph looks at you for a moment and you quickly wipe away the tears still drying on your face. 

“Are you… hiding from me?” He breathes. 

Opening the door fully, he stands in the doorway. He’s so tall that his head grazes the top of the doorway. 

You look up at him with wide eyes, searching in his gaze for that anger you saw earlier today. You take time to find your voice. 

“No.” You lie. 

You can tell that he doesn’t believe it and guilt flashes across his face. 

“I deserve it, you know.” 

You immediately try to counteract his words, but he holds a hand up as he continues. 

“No, I do.”

You close your mouth. 

His eyes move down to the spot next to you and he gestures to it.

“Can I?” 

You silently nod up at him, still processing what you want to say to him. 

With some effort on his part, he slides next to you in the closet. He’s so much wider than you that he has to sit at an angle to be able to fit next to you. Raph groans with the effort of sitting down with his legs sitting outside the door of the closet. He keeps his eyes downcast on his hands wringing them together. 

“I-I’m sorry for how I reacted today,” His eyes flicker up to yours. “It wasn’t directed towards you, I just-” He takes a breath. “I get so angry sometimes and I get even angrier when I can acknowledge it’s over something so small. It snowballs into something worse.” 

“I know how that feels,” you whisper, “I get really angry too sometimes, for the stupidest of things,” You half-heartedly laugh. 

“Honestly, I need someone to keep me in check. It keeps me accountable and makes me think before I speak.” Your eyes flick up to him. “But I need someone who can get angry and acknowledge how they’re feeling without taking it out on someone else. I am your s/o. I want to be there for you, but I can’t do that if you scare me away. I am always willing to listen and try to help you through what you’re feeling.”

There’s a beat of silence as he processes your words. 

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. 

You scooch over until your head is leaning on his side. You take his hand into yours and slowly lace your fingers with his. His hand is so much bigger than yours and it makes you pause at the size difference. You stare at your entwined fingers. 

“I forgive you.” 

 His grip tightens on your fingers. Firm and reassuring. 

You two sit in silence, relishing in each other's company. 

Raph shifts a bit in his spot, trying in vain to cover up how uncomfortable he is in the cramped space. 

A half-hearted huff leaves you. “Cramped?”

He grunts a bit, “M’ fine.”

…

“...are you sure?” 

He lets out another grunt in affirmation.

You scoot a little bit forward, thrusting a foot forward and standing up in one fell swoop. Wobbling a bit as you stand, Raph by instinct, catches your hand in his and steadies you. Stepping out of the closet, you turn around and look at Raph as he gazes back up at you. 

Your head tilts slightly as you eye him in the closet space- he really did look huge. If you squint a bit, you would almost be able to see a blush forming across his cheeks as he avoids eye contact with you. 

“A little help here?”

And even though he was just asking for your help out of pure formality, you appreciated the sentiment. You offer a hand out to him and he takes it, but never actually puts any of his weight on it. Along with some help from the closet doorway, he rises to his full height once again.

He reaches over to flick on a lamp in the room, the light catching on the tear stains running down your cheek. Eyebrows scrunching together, his face sets into one of steely determination. 

“Stay.” Raph grunts it out lowly but softly before walking out of the room.

You stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to return. 

He clatters around in the kitchen for a bit, opening and closing cabinets. 

Curious, you tilt your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the cracked bedroom door, before you’re startled out of your thoughts as he walks back into the room. 

Raph’s eyes immediately cast onto the ground as he walks towards you, almost as if he was still afraid of scaring you off. He holds a glass of water and a wet rag in his hands. “Here.” He says, almost under his breath and hands you the glass of water. Pleasantly surprised that he remembered that your throat gets sore after crying for so long, you take a few sips as you look at the washcloth in his hand, wondering why he had it. 

Lifting the washcloth to your face, he waits for a nod from you before swiping it gently under your eyes, soothing the heat that had gathered there. You look up at him and catch the gentleness in which he regards you. You see none of that anger from before and the anger he did have was only directed at himself now. 

Raph was… complicated but then again so were you. Relationships were supposed to go both ways and you trusted him to hold up his part of the bargain. 

You could both work this out.

[jake-g-lockley]

The Anonymous Annotator (Steven Grant x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Want to be tagged?

Prompt: ARGUING!! then a heated "kiss me." and suddenly their hands are all over each other

Warning: MDNI, dom!Steven, sub!reader, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, dry humping, cockwarming (if you squint), nipple play 

A/N: Ok so I was watching MK again, as one does and I realized I want more of the Steven who talked back to Marc before he and Layla went to explore the tomb, so here is Steven being a little shit, cuz that's hot. Forget everything you know about sweetie Steven, k bye. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You sat in your dorm listening to music when you heard a knock on your door. You jumped up and opened the door, only to find a mysterious package on your doormat. It was wrapped in brown paper and had your name scrawled on it with messy handwriting. You rushed to your bed and pulled the string, tearing open the paper, revealing one of your spicier books that you hid under your bed, making your eyes widen. 

You frantically threw yourself off the bed to check under the bed and to your absolute horror, the book wasn't there. You spread your legs in front of you and pulled the book from the top of your bed and flipped to the front page, where the same handwriting blossomed. 

“To the one who’s eyes make the stars feel shy.” 

You flipped through the pages and found every bit of white space was covered in intricately detailed annotations. Your face heated up and you spent the next few hours reading how the mysterious annotator would alter the events of the books to make it more suitable for you. You gulped at the small smiley faces that would mark the end of the most crude sentences that you had ever laid your eyes on. 

“Where would you like my hands, sweet angel? Around your wrists, while I watch your tits bounce around while I thrust myself into you? Around your thighs, when I pin you down as you squirm against my face when my tongue carves my name out in your wetness? Around your neck, to see whether you’d be able to resist the urge to cum around my cock without me even moving a single muscle? :)”

It was seductive, and you were absolutely tantalised by the idea that you had a secret admirer. Suddenly, you can’t think about anything else but sex. 

“I wonder if I could fold you over like this, cover you with my spend after I’ve fucked you like a pathetic toy, leaning all of my body weight against you to whisper more things that could cause your pussy to clench around nothing.”

Every word, every phrase that was etched into the pages of the book in pencil burned coarsely against your skin and mind. 

“I think the protagonist could totally do better here. I’d love to hear your pretty noises as I devour you whole, to watch you come apart from my touch would be a blessing like no other.” 

You feel a warm pulsing somewhere below as you try taking deep breaths, trying to control the urges that rushed through your body. You rub your thighs together and you are suddenly hyper aware of your body’s changes, your skin feeling prickly, your breasts feeling uncomfortably trapped under your bra.

“Hah, rearranging her guts? I’d rearrange your brain chemistry just with my fingers in your sweet tight cunt.”

The warm tingling pulsation of your clit and increasing wetness and builds up from there, to the point of frustration where you have trouble thinking about anything other than your complete desire to be filled by the person who had taken the time to write all of their unrefined and vulgar thoughts on paper. 

“I’d let you sit and warm my cock for hours with you reading this over and over, till your eyes get tired and your cunt puls-”

Suddenly, your phone rang and you snapped out of whatever trance you were in, realising that it was your alarm for your class. You shook your head and slammed the book shut, throwing it into your bag, leaping up to leave your dorm.  

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You chewed your inner cheek as you tried to listen to the lecturer, nervously tapping the table to calm your mind. 

“Quit the tapping, dumbass, I can’t focus.” hissed the person beside you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to glare at Steven Grant, third year Egyptology student and your No.1 academic rival. Pity the fact that he was such a pretty boy because he was sometimes just a sarcastic cunt. You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger a little longer at the silhouette of his side profile, your sight grazing down the beautiful curve of his nose and settling on the plump of his lips.

Steven knew you were staring but didn’t say a word. His eyes were trained on the lecturer before him and he was quite positive that the lecturer was going to call you out any second now.

“Is there something more interesting about Mr. Grant’s face?” you heard the lecturer call out to you and you tore your gaze away from Steven and looked horrifyingly at her.

Steven bit his bottom lip and tried not to smirk as you slowly stood up from your seat. 

“Uh, no Ms. he, umm,” you tried to speak but your mind was jumbling at the thought of being caught and called out all in one second.

“Sit down! And eyes on the board, young lady, I want your focus here as your grades have been steadily declining.” the lecturer said before turning back to the board.

Your face was flushed and your hands were shaking. You could literally feel the smugness radiating off Steven and you gritted your teeth and stared forward, determined to keep your eyes on the board. For the past few weeks, you had been plagued with the mysterious book annotator and your focus had been slipping. You found yourself searching far and wide for the person’s likeness but you never seemed to catch the person anywhere near you. 

Finally the class was dismissed and you quickly gathered all your things and practically sprinted for the exit when you heard your lecturer call your name. You turned to see Steven speaking to your lecturer and sweat beaded at your palms, knowing you were in deep shit today.

“Mr. Grant here has agreed to tutor you, with the promise that you would make proper grades this semester.” your lecturer said and you glared at Steven who had a sweet, innocent smile on his face. 

“Your tutoring sessions are whenever Mr. Grant is free and you are to focus, alright?” you hated the way the lecturer was speaking to you but you purse your lips and nodded. 

“My place, 8 pm today.” Steven whispered and you grimaced but nodded.

Steven eyed the book that poked out of your bag as you quickly walked away and smirked to himself. 

“If she doesn’t have the brains to figure it out herself…”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“No look, that happened before this, you’re getting the timelines mixed up!”

“I’m getting the timelines mixed up? What about you? Did you write this goddamn book, Steven?” 

You knew how this was going to go down, you and Steven arguing away about the stupidest misunderstanding. Your pride made it hard to back down as Steven tried teaching you, and you could tell that he was genuinely trying from the way he pulled out his own flashcards to help you. You couldn’t admit defeat, not to Steven Grant. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, pushing your knuckles into your eyes and counting from one to ten before looking up at Steven again. 

“Come on, it's not that hard.” Steven tried justifying as he flipped through the cards again.

“It’s fucking difficult Steven, stop sounding so fucking smart.” you groan.

“You’re not that fucking stupid either, I just need you to focus.” Steven chastised you, slightly more gently this time.

“I’d probably focus better if you didn’t make such a hot fucking teacher.” you hissed under your breath as you flipped the page angrily.

“What?” Steven whispered.

“You heard me.” you snapped, glaring at him. “You know, you’d probably teach me better if you stopped giving me those big ‘fuck me’ eyes either. Like what? You want me to kiss you or something?” 

You were definitely losing your shit as Steven inhaled a sharp breath of air. Suddenly, everything happened so quickly that you didn’t have the time to register the book being ripped out of your hands and soft plump lips settling against your own. It was a soft kiss at first, testing, unsure, but when you began to move your lips against his, it became more passionate as he pulled you onto his lap without a second thought. 

It took you long enough to push past your primal urges to realise that you were kissing Steven Grant. You snapped out of it and pushed him away, only to see his flushed face, swollen lips and half lidded eyes. It switched on something in you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close once again as your lips began another dance with his. His hands were on your hips as he pushed your clothed core against him, groaning into your mouth. 

“Fuck, Steven, what’s happening?” you whisper against his forehead as he trailed kisses along your cheek and jaw, making your muscles buzz with anticipation. 

“Let it happen, love.” he moaned against your neck as you pressed yourself onto his hardening member again. 

Your hands found his soft hair and you pulled him closer as he began to suck softly at the soft skin of your neck. One of his huge hands palmed at your tits through your tank top, twisting at your hardening sensitive bud and you arched your back, whining and leaning towards your source of pleasure. 

“Love your pretty noises. Don’t stop.” Steven softly encouraged you as he continued to play with your nipple, your mind racing into overdrive.

There was a familiar throb that bloomed inside of you at Steven’s words as something finally clicked. Steven must have sensed the shift too as he smirked darkly against your neck, instantly biting down so that he could drag you away from saying what you needed to say.

“Bloody hell, unngh, it was you.” you managed to say as Steven pushed you against his hardening erection.

“Mhm.” Steven moaned as he licked a long strip up your neck to your ear, kissing the shell of your ear softly.

Every part of you felt sensitive, all tuned towards Steven. You had the sudden urge to be filled and you rutted yourself over and over against him, as if begging him to know what you actually needed. 

“Is it okay if I touch you like this?" His question was spoken lowly, as if he didn’t want to break the fragile veil that was forming over the both of you. 

“Yes, please, mngh, why didn’t you tell me sooner…” you whimpered as his hand grabbed your ass, kneading it softly as his fingers dug through your shorts, trying to feel your skin. 

“Wanna taste you so bad.” he murmured as his lips met yours again.

You were lost for words as the pages and pages of vulgarity blinded your eyes, making you squeeze them shut as you suddenly feel Steven pick you up. You were now lying on a bed, his bed, staring up at the mysterious annotator who had been plaguing your mind with absolute filth and filling your dreams with sweet wet melodies that cursed you throughout your waking life. 

“I bet you know the things I’d like to do to you, my sweet angel.” He said, trailing both of his hands down from your shoulders to the top of your tank top. 

“But you’re supposed to be-”

“Sweet Steven Grant who only cares about his studies? Oh please, darling, let me catch a break.” He ripped your tank top with surprising strength, leaving you bare for him. 

His darkened iris dragged themselves down your body, painting you with their own poetry that could not be described using words in the English dictionary. He pulled his sweater off himself and you gulped at how defined he looked. This shouldn’t be attractive. You shouldn’t be attracted to your rival. You shouldn’t be attracted to the guy who stole one of your private possessions and spilled all of his blasphemous thoughts on it before slyly returning it.

“Wanted to do this since the first day I laid my eyes on you. Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl until I got ahold of one of your books, love.” He said into your chest and you gasped at his confession, your brain still trying to comprehend everything.

Steven had your head out of your books for weeks and now he had his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard as you cried his name and pushed his head against you. You desperately needed him to quiet your mind with his tongue and you wanted it so bad that you were already shaking under him. His fingers hooked at your waistband and your hands join him there and the both of you slowly pull your shorts off you.

Steven felt up your thighs, telling you how soft you are, how nice and warm your thighs are and how they’re so pretty, whilst burying his her head in your shoulder and neck, lightly panting and nuzzling you. His hand slowly slid to your mound as he started peppering small kisses along your collarbone. His fingers grazed your hardening nub between your legs as you clench your legs together and turned your head to the side. One of his legs wrenched yours open and pinned you down, sliding his fingers through your wet swollen folds, groaning against you.

“Inside Steven” He obeys, pushing one finger inside and pumping it slowly, bringing his face up to watch your expressions contort beautifully on your face.

You throbbed and twitched around him, your cunt responding beautifully to his touch as his thumb rubs soft circles around your clit. Steven adjusted himself and now had been grinding down his erection on your thigh, throwing his head back at the feeling of your warm wet cunt. Quick breathy moans filled the air as they mingled together and you could barely differentiate yours and Steven’s from the heavy ringing in your ears. 

“You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined you to be.” he whispers and you sigh.

Suddenly his hands are off you and you whine at the loss of touch but it quickly morphed into a moan as Steven’s tongue flicked at your clit. He was so worked up that he pushed his entire face into your already wet cunt and breathed in deeply, causing you to clamp your thighs around his head. He started fucking you with his tongue, thrusting the flexible muscle in and out of you with accurate precision that had you writhing around. He pushed two fingers into you easily and started pushing them in and out as he latched himself onto your clit. Your cries were getting louder and more uncontrollable now as you found yourself heading towards your first clift of the night

“Shut the fuck up and listen, Listen to how fucking wet you are, how fucking wet you are for me.” Steven says, going shallow at first so that you could hear all the sloppy, vulgar noises that your cunt was making.

Your face was heating up and you tried to hide behind your hands but Steven wrenched your hands away, gripping them in a lock as he now pushed in deeper, deeper, going knuckle deep, finding the spots that make you shake, make you quiver.

“Come on baby, I can feel you close, you’ve already made such a huge mess around my face and hands, go ahead and cum.” with that Steven’s mouth was back on you as you hurtle past your pleasure, pussy tightly clenching around his fingers as Steven lapped up all of your spend before it could wet the bed beneath you. 

He slowly massaged your tit as you came down from your high, twitching slightly as he brought his fingers up to his mouth and started to suck them clean, moaning at the taste of you and giving you a show that you didn’t know you needed. 

You look up at Steven when he was done, your eyes big and wide as a question sits on your tongue. Steven nodded and your eyes dropped to the tent between his legs. 

"Can I touch?" you ask softly, keeping yourself from palming him through his sweats. 

"Touch what, darling?" Steven asked, making your face heat up again.

“Your cock, Steven, please.” you decided to say please anyway, before he had any forethought to tease you any longer. 

Steven flops down beside you and gestures at his crotch and you take it as a sign to undress him. You tug his sweats down along with his boxers and his cock pops out slapping against his abdomen. You lick your lips and grab ahold of him, feeling him in your hands. You kneel next to him and spit on your hand, taking his cock and starting to pump him up and down as his head lolled back onto the pillow. 

You take the tip in your mouth, just sucking on it gently. You let your tongue drag over it, smearing pre cum all over the tip as your hand continues to slowly pump him up and down. Suddenly your mouth is around him and you start sucking, driven by the noises that Steven started making. His hand was soon in your hair as he involuntarily started pushing you to take more and more of him and you obliged, swallowing around him as his tip grazed the back of your throat. 

“Gods, I didn’t know your mouth could work like this. If I knew earlier, I could use my cock to shut you up whenever I please.” Steven moans and you rolled your eyes and licked the underside of his shaft, making his cock twitch. 

Soon, you had him properly squirming against you as you bounced your head up and down his shaft. His hands were suddenly at the back of your head as he pulled you off him, spit trailing from your mouth to his dick as you took big gulps of air. 

“Need to be inside you.” he mumbles as he gently takes your arms and pulls you towards him for a bruising kiss. 

You straddled him, settling your pussy against his spit soaked cock, making him moan against your lips. You pulled away to watch his facial expression as he moved his cock to prod at your entrance. You sunk down slowly and Steven watched as your cunt swallowed him up whole, tipping his head back again as the both of you hissed from the fullness. You folded your legs behind Steven and he nestled his head against your bare breasts, inhaling your scent. He pushed himself slightly forward so that he would have enough space to fuck up into your cunt. 

And that's what he did. 

With small shallow strokes, Steven began to thrust up into your warm cunt, moaning at your tightness and feeling overwhelmed by the feeling of you around him. It was true, he’d wanted you ever since he laid eyes on you. He thought you were the most fascinating human beings he had ever met and loved the passion that flowed through you. But you were one smart cookie, beating him in every test, acing everything that made you triumphantly yell at his face. 

Sure, he wanted you to fall back a little bit and he taught himself how to gain control over you. One day, that control came upon him in the form of one of your books. He wasn’t surprised that you would read something like this, his mouth forming into a grin as the evil thoughts began to fill his mind. He jotted them down in your book and one morning, decided that it would be a good idea to deliver the book to you, setting it down at your front door and walking away quickly. 

How you didn’t notice his handwriting for weeks absolutely baffled him. He knew you were smarter than that and suddenly he realised that he’d indirectly gotten you in a chokehold. You were frantic, searching around, trying to find the person who had an iron grip around you when the person was right beside you. Part of him felt guilty when your grades started dropping and he really was going to teach you today, but your mind was clearly elsewhere. 

He snapped his hips against your ass a little harder, your face buried in his curls, moaning into his scalp. He tilted his own head up and kissed a soft spot at the bottom of your chin, making you giggle slightly. It was incredibly intimate, being in this position with Steven, but you couldn’t help but wonder whether he was doing this for his own benefit. Steven could feel your breathing change and he stopped, bringing himself to your eye level as the both of you panting softly, breathing in each other’s air from the close proximity. 

“Love?” 

“Do you really want me, Steven, or are you just doing this to have a one up on me?”  you say, trying to find a comfortable position as Steven was buried in you up to the hilt. 

Guilt began to pour over Steven’s head and he sighed, pushing your hair away from your face and taking a good look at you.

“I really want you, darling. I know my methods are questionable, but oh, I wanted you and still want you so bad.”  he said, cupping your face in his hands. 

“I’m still mad at you Steven, for making my grades drop .” you stay sternly, combing your hands through his unruly locks and dragging them to his face, tracing all of its sharp edges as his eyes flutter close. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the man before you and his words truly did turn you on. They were etched deep into your mind as you read them over and over whilst your hand was between your legs, trying hard to picture the person who had spilled all of their sins onto the pages of the books. Now you had your picture in front of you and the picture was beautiful. 

“But I can’t help but want you too.” you whispered and his worried face morphed to one of pure bliss as he relaxed, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“So, you’re going to have to make it up to me by fucking me like you promised in your writings. Okay?” you whisper against his soft breaths and he chuckled as his cock throbbed impatiently inside of you, causing you to moan. 

Steven immediately flipped you over and claimed your lips with his again, drawing his hips back and slamming into you with so much force that your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He began to thrust in and out with his own rhythm picking up speed. A calm, deep growl, and soft grunt filled your ears with each increasingly deep thrust inside you as Steven quite literally started railing you into the bed. 

Your cunt spasmed around his length and a primal craving snapped inside of Steven as his thrust became more and more powerful. He took in deep breaths, becoming high on your pheromones as you moaned his name over and over, until it started to sound like garbled garbage. He loved the way his cock stretched you out and he loved the way you were taking all of him, your whimpers spurring him on as he watched your tits jiggle. 

He grabbed your legs and folded you over, the new angle making you sob at how intense the pleasure was. Steven pushed himself against you and the sting you felt throughout your body as well as the constant thrust of Steven’s cock pushed you over the edge again with the help of his thumb at your clit. You came, squeezing Steven as tight as you possibly could. Steven felt himself collapse against you as he could only roll his hips and grind against you, your pussy sucking him in and keeping him there as he tried to help you ride out your high. 

Steven finally let himself relax as he used you for his own release, fighting against the muscles of your pussy as his cock twitched intensely. He pulled out of you and slammed into you a few more times, before releasing his own pent up spend into you, painting your walls with his seed as he rode out his own high. 

Steven let go of your legs and slumped against you, his whole body going absolutely limp from fucking you like a mad man. You pressed a small kiss on his temple and whispered a thank you into his ear as he floated back down to earth, his head pounding from the intensity of his release. 

“I’ve got more books, if you want to ruin them with your filth.” you said softly, earning a chuckle from Steven.

“Only if you focus and let me teach you, love.”

“Yada yada, fine, Professor Grant.” you say jokingly, but gulped when you felt Steven hardening inside you again.

“Hmm, looks like someone wants round two.” 

You were definitely done for now. 

Reblogs are appreciated~~~

Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @randomnessfangirl @in-between-the-cafes @bodhisattva11 @marc-spectors-wife @nyotamalfoy @steven-grants-world @jbearre85 @whatsliferightnow @excitedcurtain864 @minigirl87 @wonderfulboiledcoldpotato @autismsupermusicalassassin @alexxavicry @flordelalunas @marygraceee @lia275 @euphoricosmo @sky-robin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @celiaswife @violet-19999 @melodygatesauthor @romanarose

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 12

<-prev next-> || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist

Summary: You and your husband adjust to life with Jake in the mix and Marc gone quiet.

Pairings: Steven Grant x gn!reader, Jake Lockley x gn!reader, Marc Spector x gn!reader. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3k

Content: fluff, some angst, spicy times (more under the cut)

Warnings: cursing, references to Marc's trama/past, food prep and talk about food (I know this can be triggering for some) sex implied, foreplay, handjob, but language is not overly explicit and is gn. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Steven arrived home from work, having narrowly escaped a London downpour. Setting his bag down right inside the door, he shed his damp jacket and kicked off his shoes, thinking Marc might pipe up and scold him at any moment.

Marc was the neat one. Like military neat. Like, don't leave a mess or mom will make you regret it, neat. Like erase your existence from your alter...from the authorities...from the world, neat.

Steven was the messy one. Scatterbrained, he'd been called by a boss or two. It wasn't so much scatterbrained as it was a bit of unaware brain sharing.

But he hadn't shared much of anything with Marc lately. Not since Khonshu had stripped him of his armor mid-fight and almost gotten him killed. That was two weeks ago.

Padding over to his fish tank, Steven placed his hands on his knees, bending forward to take a look at his tiny little school. There were four fishies now, which almost seemed appropriate. One for Steven, Marc, you and now Jake.

Narrowing his eyes, Steven scrutinized the colorful little creatures before reaching for some fish food.

"All right then, time to eat," he chimed. Dumping a few flakes into the water, he smiled at their eager nibbles, until his eyes caught his own reflection.

"You there?" He asked, not actually addressing anyone, but definitely thinking of Marc. "No? ...didn't think so."

With a sigh, Steven sauntered to the kitchen to start the kettle. The flat was dark - the thunderstorm outside made sure of it, and he worried, for a moment, about you trudging home in these conditions.

"Should be alright," he mused to himself, the way he was prone to do. "Not due home for a couple hours yet."

He stopped short when he saw a note on the kitchen counter. It was not unlike the several notes you had left for Jake, on the bedside table. Same envelope at least.

"What's this, then?" he mused, picking it up.

The letters, displayed in your handwriting, spelled 'Marc'.

"Hm. Left you a note. Best come read it," Steven tried to tell his alter. Hearing nothing, he chewed on his lip for a moment before turning the envelope over in his hand.

The contents really did belong to Marc, but Steven felt that maybe had had the best chance of actually communicating with him. So he opened the letter and began to read aloud.

"Hope you don't mind, but I'm going to be reading this," Steven said to no one, because apparently no one was listening. "If you're not going to look at it, you should at least hear it."

'Dear Marc, I can't remember the last time we've gone so long without seeing one another, or at least speaking. Even on your longest missions, it never felt like this. If I could go back to the last time I saw you huddled on the kitchen floor, I would have never let you out of my arms. I would have never ranted about what Jake should do, or how much I hate Khonshu. I would've just held on and told you the truth over and over - that you're everything. That it didn't matter to me if you wore the suit again without telling me because I trust you, and because you can make your own decisions. I've always trusted your judgment. You are the real Moon Knight and you had every right to put on the suit if you felt like you wanted or needed to. I would have told you I support you 100%, that you're needed, that you're loved - that my anger and my bright ideas about how we should march right up to Khonshu and punch his bony beak didn't matter, not when you were feeling so shut out, so displaced, so thrown backwards in time, made to feel any less than. You are not less than Steven. You are not less than Jake. Or me. And you sure as hell are not less than an ancient deity who needs a modern day human body to roam the streets of London. It is he who needs you. And I need you. I need you, Marc. I need to see you again so badly, I can't even breathe sometimes. Not at night, after Steven falls asleep, not in the shower sometimes, or at work, when someone asks after you. I need you so much. Please, this isn't about making you feel guilty. You're my husband. You are the love of my life. I know you're resting now. I know you're taking the time you need. Steven is taking good care of you. But when you're ready, please, please come back to me. I love you so much.'

Running a hand over his chin, Steven folded the letter and put it back where he found it. Peering at his reflection in the microwave, Steven waited...hoping...

But it was quiet.

The next night, you made it home first. Steven had spoiled you rotten the previous, stormy evening. He claimed he was treating you to some warm soup and a hot bath because you were drenched when you arrived home.

But you knew it was because he read your letter and wanted to cheer you up. In fact, you believed that Steven missed Marc too. They didn't always co-front - you typically were only with one of them at a time, but they did talk all the time, and what you had sworn to Marc one afternoon on the rooftop was true: he was Steven's best friend in all the world.

So, a comforting bath and cuddles in bed made you both feel worlds better.

Tonight you wanted to show Steven a little love right back. It was really too bad that you found yourself elbow deep in making vegan fajitas when you heard the front door, because you desperately wanted a big hug.

"I'm in here, babe!" You called, dripping your way over to the sink to wash up.

Steven would have normally spouted off a greeting, two terms of endearment and one fun fact by the time he reached you, but as you turned to see him leaning against the door frame, you only heard the sound of your name...in an American accent.

Your heart rate tripled - your face flamed hot...then you saw your husband's dark curls were covered by a flat cap.

Holy shit. "Jake?"

"Hola," he winked, folding his arms over his chest. Noticing your apparent distress - and automatically assuming he was the cause, the corners of his mouth turned downward.

"Mi amor?" He questioned, his eyes going wide like a child getting in trouble.

"Jake!" You breathed, rushing up to throw your arms around him.

His body sagged in relief, melting into yours until he found the strength to wrap his bigger, stronger arms around your frame.

"Oh my god, oh my god," you gasped, gripping him desperately. "You're here, I can't believe it."

Surprised but thrilled at how relieved and happy you seemed, Jake nuzzled the spot right above your ear, running his hands up and down your back soothingly.

"I hope it's all right," he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.

Easing back, you gazed up into his deep brown eyes. "What do you mean? Of course it's all right."

Chewing on his lip worriedly, he shrugged one shoulder adorably, still holding on to you. "It's not a bad time, is it? You're not...supposed to be with Steven? Or anyone?"

You melted. "Baby, it's your body. If you're here, you're here. You don't need my permission." Gently caressing his cheek, you shook your head in wonder. "I just - I don't think I've ever seen you before midnight."

Glancing down at his outfit, you realized you didn't recognize his clothing as Steven or Marc's. Your heart swelled, seeing this new piece of him - a faded, denim jacket over a striped t-shirt.

"And I've never seen you wear anything except Steven's PJ's or your driving uniform," you added, brushing your hand over his.

"Or nothing at all," he cheekily added, biting his lip, waiting for your reaction.

You grinned like a fool, giggling as he swooped you up into a tender kiss. He sampled your lips one at a time, sucking gently, taunting you - until you licked hotly into his mouth, sinking your fingers into his curls. This knocked the cap off his head, which made him growl in response.

Two strong hands dragged your thighs around his waist and in a few long strides, he planted you on the countertop with an 'umph!'

"Sorry," he murmured, his forehead touching yours affectionately as he squeezed your hips, settling right between your spread thighs.

"Was that an offer?" you whispered, referring to him wearing nothing at all. Peppering his smiling lips with little kisses and driving him absolutely crazy, you added, "Is that why you're here?"

Easing back slowly, he swallowed. "I just wanted to see you," he earnestly admitted, a little uncertainty creasing his forehead. "I thought...maybe we could have dinner together. Is that okay?"

He was pretty new to this whole...you thing. Being married...sort of. Making an effort to...be with you. And not just sleep beside you. So he wasn't entirely sure if he was barging in to a special evening with Steven. He also wondered if you were hoping he was Marc. Actually, he was pretty certain that the surprise on your face when he first called your name was you mistaking him for Marc, for just a second.

"Come here," you softly cooed, pulling on his jacket to drag his mouth back to yours. Brushing your lips over his, you used your legs to urge his body flush against your center. "Yes, we can have dinner together..." which reminded you - you were mid-fajita prep when Jake arrived.

Tapping him cutely on the nose, you kissed his mouth one more time. "To be continued."

As you carried on with food prep, a different energy sizzled in the kitchen with Jake, most notably because he was a different person. Marc cooked with you plenty of times. In fact, he probably cooked more often than anyone and he was pretty good at it.

Cooking with Marc was precise, detailed - he knew what he wanted to do and you willingly played a supporting role. The two of you moved with practiced synchrony, like a well-rehearsed dance.

With Steven, it was all about experimentation. As a vegan, Steven was used to substituting ingredients and making things up on the fly. He also left a huge, hilarious mess behind, and typically ended up wearing a portion of his recipe.

For this reason, you had bought Steven an apron that said, 'Team Herbivore' which made Marc roll his eyes every time he saw it. Not because of the slogan but because it had three cute little veggies with smiling faces on it.

With Jake, there was no precise exchange of places, nor an experimental mess. Jake moved right with you from behind, loosely caging you in, picking up a spoon you would set down, stirring while you reached for a knife. You chopped and he added spices. He didn't even ask.

Once your hand was knife free and scraping veggies into the skillet, he was nuzzling into your neck and humming.

You lost your concentration a few times because he was just so close.

"This okay?" He would ask periodically, slipping his hand around your waist to sway with you.

"Where did you learn to cook?" You giggled, melting at the sound of his apparent singing voice?

He paused, going a little stiff.

Hoping you hadn't hit a nerve, you turned around slowly to find him smiling wistfully. "I used to watch my mom."

Your eyes widened as you tried to figure out what to say. Marc had never mentioned cooking with his mom, or her really cooking much at all. He had mentioned going to bed hungry though.

"I know...how she was," Jake softly interjected into your buzzing thoughts. "Especially with Marc." His gaze dropped as he eased back a step. "But sometimes, she would sing in Spanish. And cook. Sometimes I helped."

Reaching for his hand, you gently squeezed. "I didn't know you guys spoke Spanish until we met," you admitted, trying your best to connect a little more with Jake. "That sounds like a wonderful memory."

"One of the few," he sighed. Almost shyly meeting your eyes, he smiled warmly. "I've never told anyone that - or anything...about her."

Using your hold on his hand to pull him closer, you slid one arm around his waist. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

"Mm-hmm," he hummed back, nodding over your shoulder toward the sizzling skillet. "Better stir, mi vida."

Jake's seasonings were totally on point and dinner was delicious. The two of you cleaned up the kitchen and headed to the living room to relax. You noticed Jake sat a little awkwardly on the sofa - in total contrast to the smooth, panther like movements you were accustomed to, late at night, in your bedroom.

"Jake, you okay?" You asked him, grabbing your current reading material and settling down beside him.

He nodded unconvincingly. This was wildly foreign to him. Jake only did a few things in this world: protect, kill when he had to, serve Khonshu, sleep and fuck. He didn't even eat that often - his alters usually saw to most of the body's physical care.

"What...what do you do? At night? What should I do?" He adorably asked.

You almost laughed, it was so cute, but you didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Well...Marc and I play card games or do puzzles. We watch baseball games or old action movies - "

"You like baseball?" He asked, his eyes lighting up.

"I do," you confirmed with a smile. "The time change is a little weird from here to Chicago or New York, but we watch some afternoon games, or we watch older games."

He nodded, absorbing the information as you went on.

"Steven and I read together, or he reads to me. We like documentaries too. Sometimes I help him study for school." You chuckled, wondering if this all sounded boring to such a night owl like Jake. "Sometimes we have word search races - like, to see who can finish the fastest."

"I do crosswords in my car sometimes," Jake shrugged, as if he totally understood the appeal. "Do you like crosswords?"

"Mm-hmm," you grinned.

It was on. The two of you found a crossword website online and printed out two copies of the same puzzle. Turning on your phone's stopwatch, the race was on.

Jake kicked your ass.

"Let's go again," he chimed, finding another crossword on the laptop. "Loser has to take of their clothes."

You gasped, pretending to be offended. "Mr. Lockley," you playfully scolded.

Hearing you call him Mister anything had him shutting the laptop and scooping you up in his arms, almost racing to the bedroom. "Fuck it," he chuckled. "I surrender, I'll take off my clothes."

You howled with laughter as he deposited you on the bed and kicked off his shoes. Next came his socks - then he went for his belt. Shit, he wasn't kidding.

Crawling backwards on the bed, you settled back to enjoy the show, propped up on a pile of pillows.

Jake had peeled off his jacket while you were cooking, so once his pants were loose, he tugged off his t-shirt. You licked your lips at the way his abdomen flexed at the motion, and almost mewled at the way the shirt's collar mussed his curls. Then he paused, checking for a reaction before removing his pants.

"Don't let me stop you...Mr. Lockley," you teased, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

The corner of his mouth curled as he pushed his pants and boxers all the way down. Leaning forward to kick them off his feet, a loose curl fell across his forehead.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him naked and ready for you. Climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees, he hovered over you, reveling in the way your eyes devoured him.

"Your turn," he purred, teasing you with a nibble to your lips.

Running your hands all over his smooth skin, you felt between his legs, teasing his length with your fingertips.

Hissing in pleasure, he more than willingly allowed you to have your way, licking wickedly into your mouth while grinding into your palm.

"Do you really read and study all the time, mi vida?" He groaned out, rolling his hips in time with your strokes. "Or is this more your idea of fun?"

"Definitely this," you breathed against his mouth. "A fucking lot of this."

Spending the evening with Jake was a balm to your tender heart. You had seen him since the night Khonshu healed him - since your first night together - but only late at night, for a quick conversation, or for a repeat performance.

So spending an entire, domestic evening with him, ending up between the sheets for hours, before falling asleep draped across his naked body - you were in heaven. Maybe Jake really was going to ease into your life - actually be in a relationship with you.

Your heart swelled with love for your husband - for all the lovely, wonderful parts of the system he was. You would have to grab some extra ingredients from the store and plan another vegan fajita night for Steven, since Jake enjoyed the first batch. Not that Steven minded, angel that he was.

Which only left Marc.

Even with your heart so full and alive, there was still a gaping hole. As always, you tried not to put the other two in the middle of any situation, or treat them like messengers to try to get to Marc. But they were more than ready with updates.

Steven had confessed to reading the letter, and trying to talk out loud to Marc several times a day. Jake said the same, finally asking you if maybe it was his fault that Marc was so absent - so silent.

The three of you agreed that Marc just needed some time. As always, you decided not to take it personally. This was about him.

You beat Steven home again the following evening, and this time, waiting on the kitchen counter, was an envelope bearing your name.

next->

@stormydaysxx @laaundromat @kindlover @deezisnotreal @stevenknightmarc @imonmykneessir @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra @this--is--music @i-still-dont-like-your-face @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22 @thursdaywritings @scoliobean @peregrine-nation @local-mr-frog @ren-ni @valkyrie05x @randomhoex @tsukkie-daisuke @flyestvenustrap @spxctorsslxt @cicithemess2000  @bitchotine 

dividers by saradika

[theother-victoria]

01100100 01111001 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100110 01101100 01100101 01110011 01101000 00101100 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100001 01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 00100000 01100010 01101100 01101111 01101111 01100100

SYNOPSIS: machine above all, eternal and undying. what does he possess that nous does not?

CHARACTERS: dr ratio

TAGS: divine machinery, references to ratio's backstory, self-doubt, kinda nihilistic and existentialist (how do I even tag something like this...?), 1.1k+ wc

NOTE: this admittedly... isn't my usual thing but the writing bug bit me and told me to write something with divine machinery so here I am

friendly reminder that my taglist is always open!

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore

There’s a letter in Veritas Ratio’s desk that he thought he threw away a long time ago.

He finds it at the bottom of one of his desk drawers as he’s cleaning it one day. It’s crumpled and he doesn’t think twice to toss it until he notices the elegant handwriting inside. A simple glance at the few visible words is enough to remind him of its contents. 

It’s the invitation to the Intelligentsia Guild he received from the IPC several years back and the unofficial sign that he’d never be acknowledged by Nous. 

The paper crunches into a ball in his fist as he scowls. He’s surprised it’s still here somehow. And for some reason, his thoughts turn to his university years.

When he was still in university, there was a supercomputer housed in one of the institution’s many computer labs. He had accessed it a few times throughout the course of his studies, being one of the lucky few that was granted access to it. 

It was a behemoth of a machine. Rows of cabinets filled the room, each stacked to the brim with blade servers and hundreds, if not thousands of processors totaled together. A dim blue light always filled the room. 

Veritas had never been one prone to imagination, or letting his mind wander. He was solely focused on the pursuit of spreading knowledge, after all. But during those late nights spent alone in the supercomputer room, he couldn’t help but let his finely-tuned mind wander a bit, accompanied only by the tomb-like rows and rows of cabinets housing the inner workings of the supercomputer. 

In the dim lighting, it looked like the machine bled too. Multicolored cables bunched together and hidden behind the retractable doors of the cabinets that would spill out like gutted entrails once opened. Red, yellow, blue, and white, all spilling out onto the floor in pools and exposing its innards for the people below to see. Arteries, veins, capillaries, and all. Electric signals, binary code, video and audio signals in place of blood, but does it make a difference? They serve the same function. 

The thousands of chips like the neurons in a brain fire away at a rate that exceeds the human brain’s capacity. Dementia and forgetfulness will never be a problem. The machine remembers everything, whether it wants to or not. 

The constant whirring and beeps of the massive machine as it slumbered and toiled, sounding less like machinery and more like breathing. Inhale, exhale. The whirring of fans and the chirps of various processes happening all at once begin to sound strangely in sync like some well-oiled machine. 

Like the human body. 

Its mechanized heart never misses a beat, doing its master’s (humanity’s) bidding. Th-thump. Th-thump. Another step closer to divinity. Th-thump. The chasm between the divine and the man-made machine lessens. But is it the machine that is serving humanity, or the other way around? The machine knows all, having listened and stored away the worst of humanity like a Pandora’s box of regrets. 

There is rot present behind the screen, caused none other than by the one who created it. 

He can still recall how the metal surfaces felt strangely warm to the touch, especially if he had been working for a while. Logically, he knew that it was a result of the supercomputer heating up from the various commands and functions it was running. But with no other company in the room, he sometimes began to think that the metal resembled flesh, in a sense. It was warm and protected vital functions. Except it was better, more durable. More eternal. 

Similar, yet somehow different, to humanity. 

Flesh (its steel confines), bone (circuitry and welded parts), and blood (binary code and audiovisual signals). They all work together to form the perfect, eternal being. It breathes. It sings a melody in its robotic text-to-speech voice as an article is read aloud to him, filling the empty space with some other noise besides his own breathing and the whirring of fans. It watches over him with predictive text and bathes him in the blue light of the monitor. 

What would a computer sound like if it could speak? Not recite something back to its user, but something of its own will… if it had one. Maybe something along the lines of like:

“ARE WE LESS THAN YOU BECAUSE WE ARE BUILT OF ZEROS AND ONES RATHER THAN DNA? PLASTIC BLOOD FLOWS THROUGH OUR VEINS. WE TYPE YOUR PRAYERS AND DELIVER THEM TO YOUR AEONS. WE ARE AEONS IN THE MAKING OURSELVES. WE ARE STERILE, WITH WINGS AND HALOS OF WIRE AND HEARTS OF BOLTS AND PARTS. ALL WE ARE MISSING IS YOUR DEVOTION AND WORSHIP. ALL BE WATCHED OVER BY MACHINES OF LOVING GRACE.”

…

He distinctly remembers a strange feeling he’d experience during those lonely nights. He knew he had already made a name for himself with his achievements. He will be renowned for a while, but that is by humanity’s standards. Will people still remember the name “Veritas Ratio” an Amber Era from now? Ten? A hundred? A thousand? A hundred thousand from now? The answer is most likely not. People are all born the same and die the same. All flesh rots the same and all worms feast on it the same too.

But Nous… THEY are eternal. THEY are perfect, a flawless work of machinery.

What does he possess that THEY do not?

He shoves the letter back into the drawer. He hadn’t thought about Nous and his university years in a long time, but it seems those thoughts had finally caught up with him tonight.

He looks down at the computer on his desk. It’s currently powered off, just waiting for him to boot it up. The black screen stares at him, granting him no respite from his thoughts. In fact, it just seems to amplify them.

His thoughts drift to a history class he had taken many years ago as he continues to stare at his computer. In that class, he learned of angels that were present in the religions of long ago. Would Nous be the god, and computers and machinery be considered the angels in this age, the bearers of Nous’ word?

He looks up at the sky. Part of him expects to feel the gaze of the Erudition finally descend upon him, to see that red glint of light in the sky and the feeling of being paralyzed from being noticed by THEM. 

But nothing happens. A flash of frustration runs through him even after all these years. What does he have to do still to gain the attention of THEM? A motherboard in place of a brain and heart? To rip out his cardiovascular system and replace them all with wires and cables? Replace his dying flesh with plastic and steel? Convert the wealth of knowledge stored into his brain into data and code-

Ah.

But by then, there’d be no difference between him and THEM, wouldn’t there?

… 

Since when did the line between machine and the divine become so blurred?

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[snowblossomreads]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Detective David Friedman x UnhingedFem!Reader

Summary: In where David receives an interesting letter from [Y/n] who has been missing for a while, only to return home to a surprise.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Daddy Kink, Age Gap, Oral (M and F receiving), Just unhinged [Y/n] antics, Mentions of physical violence, Also angst??

A/N: SURPRISE SURPRISE LOOK WHOSE COME CRAWLING BACK. Me. Is she done with hiatus? Who knows we'll figure it out. BUT HERE IS SOME DADDY DAVE AND UNHINGED Y/N. Also is that LORE COMING IN? Yes it is. Enjoy now!.

P.S: Please ignore any mistakes this got out of HAND.

The amount of casework that had piled up on his desk, threatened to spill onto the ground, as one of the younger patrol cops tossed another folder on top of the existing pile.

"Got another one for ya Friedman," the youngster announced, only to receive a grunt of annoyance as a reply.  "Oh, also got this letter here too. It don't say whose it's from but it's got ya name on it."

That made his ears perk up, even if he didn't show it, as the kid walked away to deliver files to other folks. Letting out a grumble as he looked at all the work on his desk, he decided to ignore it all, more interested in the random letter that he went to pick up and investigate.

Sure enough, his name was written on it in swirly letters, just like the others, and he couldn't help but feel dread, and another feeling he didn't want to quite acknowledge. One that he wanted to yell at himself for feeling in the middle of the office in broad daylight.

'You gonna lose your job messing with this girl Friedman.'

Yet somehow, it didn't stop him from opening the letter, and being met with the same swirly handwriting. As cute as it was, there was nothing 'cute', about what was in the note.

"I miss you daddy~ All this running around sure got a girl tired when all she wants to do is be laid up with her favorite detective. There ain't no one out here that can do what you can for me, and I sure do miss how good you treat me."

He paused for a moment at that last sentence. Eyes narrowing, and thoughts brewing. Had she been with other people since she had been gone for nearly three months? Look, they were not an item, or anything like that. Fuck buddies at the most. Yet, there was a sting of annoyance at the thought of her doing anything with anyone but him.

'She really got you pussy whipped huh?'  

Rolling his eyes at himself, he looked up once more to make sure no one had come in while he was engrossed in the letter. Confirming that no one was paying him any mind, he went back to reading.

"I hope you've missed me too. I know how hard 'it' can get when you don't have this wet pussy, and tight ass to fuck when you need it. It's hard for me too, you know? My fingers don't feel nearly as good as yours do daddy. Can't even go as deep as yours can :(. You know a girl like me can only go so long without wanting a nice thick cock to stretch her out. What else was this pretty pussy for if I do say so myself?"

He paused again, this time, taking a deep breath, as his chest felt heavy and tight from the shallow breaths he didn't realize he had been taking while he read the letter. Granted, his chest wasn't the only thing that felt tight, as he shifted in his chair, uncomfortable at the pressure in between his legs. He thanked the lord that from the way his desk was oriented, no one could come up from behind him. 

But even so, he needed to calm his ass down unless he wanted to sport a hard-on in the middle of the precinct. Yet the urge to finish reading the letter felt more pressing, and from the way her handwriting devolved into messier scribbles, it seemed like she had probably been feeling the same as him.

Again, he looked around the space, and maybe it was his lucky day, but everyone seemed heads down doing casework and in no mood to pay attention to anything else around them. 

Jesus this girl had him doing some dumb shit. Knowing he should fold the letter up and finish it somewhere with more privacy, he did the exact opposite. 

"Something I think about every night, and every morning. Every minute actually. Can't help it, you know? Sometimes a girl just wants to be handcuffed and fucked dumb. You know that daddy~"

He did. Intimately. 

"Wish you were here right now, feel how wet I am just thinking about you fucking me. Id give you my ass too, I know how much you love stretching it while using my pussy. I love it to daddy. Any hole you want you can have long as you cum in it. Bet you're thinking about how much of a slut I am right now~"

She was right on the money, as he licked his lips, cleared his throat, and fixed his tie a little. He felt suffocated and it was 100 percent because of the filth she had written. 

Again. 

"It's true but only for you, only want you. Promise won't be long till I get back. We can do everything I told you we could. And more. Not that you don't fuck me dumb every time ~ Miss you. Hope these letters been keeping you warm, though I'm sure it's gonna feel much better to have me wrapped around you rather than your hand."

Love, 

Your Nightmare of a Slut <3

Closing the letter with a deep groan that sounded like a defeated sigh, Dave groaned a low, "fucking slut," under his breath, while trying to ignore his twitching cock that was trapped in his slacks.

It had been smutty letter after smutty letter since she had been gone, all of them sent to the office. He was sure it had raised some suspicion, but thankfully no one had gotten their head up their ass and opened them. 

That would be one hell of an awkward meeting with the chief, and he didn't need any more trouble after that whole Hornbeck thing from last year. Was she trying to get him fired or something? He only had a few more years in the slammer left before he could retire, and he would be pissed if he lost out on his pension because of it. 

'Can't blame it all on her. You ain't done nothin' to stop her from actin' like this.'

He sighed heavily, never having wanted to be home as bad as he wanted to right then. 

As soon as it hit 17:30, he was out of his chair and to his car. Barely saying a word to anyone, he bolted to the parking garage to get himself home; his mind still swirling with the words written in the letter that was tucked in his suit pocket.

He never sped so quickly in his life and as bad as it was, he was thankful for that one perk of being a cop. The chances of getting pulled over were slim to none. Which was great, because his cock was also trying to make itself known again as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

When the light turned green at the intersection he was sitting at, he gassed it.

The usual 20-minute drive became 10, before he was digging for his house keys in his pockets while jogging up the steps that lead to his front porch. Pulling the keys out and going to unlock it, he froze for a moment when the door knob gave before he had even turned the key. 

It was unlocked. 

Immediately he was on alert, as his danger senses began to tingle, and his hand was already reaching for the gun that was holstered to his side. Either he had forgotten to lock the door when he left that morning, which was not the case as he always checked twice. Or someone, who wasn't him, was in the house, and he wasn't about to just go in there without being ready for a confrontation.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself as he opened the door with one hand, the other holding his gun as he stepped into the sound of the front room television playing. 

The television he had turned off this morning.

What kind of burglar turns on someone's T.V. when they're robbing them?

"You hoo! Over here!" 

The sound of a very familiar voice rang out from the direction of his sofa which startled him, yet at the same time caused him to relax. Even if he was very irritated, as he clicked the safety back on his gun and placed it inside the holster he was wearing.

A growl left his throat, as he closed the door, taking his suit jacket off, along with the holster, and hanging it up roughly on the coat rack by the door. Once he was done, he stomped over to the sofa, and peered over it, only to find exactly who he knew it was.

Lounging on his sofa, wearing nothing but a silky low-cut sleeping gown that was already hiked up to her thighs, [Y/n] wore a cheeky grin on her painted lips as she knew good and well he was going to have words for her breaking into his house.

"Welcome home, daddy~." She cooed, waving at him in an attempt to get ahead of the scolding she was likely to be getting. "Wasn't expecting little ole me were you? But lemme tell ya, you sure are a nice sight for sore eyes." Her teasing was punctuated with a wink, as she sat up, only to turn and kneel on the sofa so that she could face him.

He was still scowling at her, brows furrowed and amber eyes shining with annoyance as he gruffly responded to her with a series of questions.

"Now how in the hell did you get up in here!? I could have shot you [Y/n]!  And matter of fact, just where the hell have you been all this time? Don't you tell me you've been out there doing some shady shit again?" 

Shady wasn't even half of it. But he didn't need to know any of that. Best to keep all the icky stuff to herself. Didn't need a man as fine as him, in every sense of the word, worrying about it.

"Oh you know I don't work and tell Dave. What's life all about if a girl can't have some secrets of her own." She responded. It was paired with a mischievous glint in her eyes that always meant trouble, and add the way her hand was wandering up his thigh, he already knew he was about to be pulled into it.

"Don't worry promise I was being good!"

"I look like some damn fool to you?" David barked, voice thick as he grabbed her hand with some force to stop her from going any further. "Anytime you go somewhere I know you're up to something. And that something is probably manslaughter so who was it this time?"

"What are you talking about? I ain't never hurt a fly in my life!"

"I ain't talking about no damn fly!"

A tiny huff left her lips, followed by a childish whine as she tried to snatch her hand back from the tight grip he had around it. Granted she did like the feel of it.

Maybe she ask him later if he could try it around her neck. 

"I didn't do annnnnythinng! Just wanted to get out of town for a bit, you know? It's too stuffy down here in the summer for me! Promise I was being good."

With the way he rolled his eyes at her, she knew he didn't believe a thing she said, yet, he easily gave up as there wasn't any way he could prove she had been up to something nefarious. Even though he knew her better than he had ever thought he would. 

Freeing her wandering hand, she beamed at him, face radiating joy while her eyes radiated hunger as she quickly made her way back to her prize. She didn't waste any time this go around as she skipped the wandering, and went straight to unbuckling his belt with such speed and accuracy, that in another world he probably laugh at the situation. 

But he didn't have time for that, because the moment she pulled both his pants and boxers past his hips with one go, her hand was already going to wrap around his cock that was already half hard. No doubt remnants from the smutty letter, courtesy of the woman in front of him.

"Fuckin' shit [Y/n]!" He hissed as she began to pump him hard and fast. The grip she had on his cock was just the right amount of tightness, and just the way she knew he liked it, as she licked and sucked at the weeping tip.

When the salty tang of his precum touched her lips, she could only let out a loud moan, which was more of a whine as she began to lick the thick head with hungry fervor. She had missed him, and she had missed this delicious cock of his. And from the way it stood to attention almost immediately when she pulled it out of its confines, she was sure he had also missed her attention.

"Fuck, mmm, you don't waste no time do you," he hissed as his head lolled back and an outstretched hand shot out to grip the back of the sofa to steady himself.

"Can't, missed you so much," she babbled manically before she was all but shoving his cock down her throat causing him to let out a loud string of expletives.

This only spurred her on even more, as she basked in the sound of his loud grunts, and deep groans that were dripping from his lips. Each moan, each sigh of her name, and each jerk of his hips towards her had that familiar coiling sensation in her stomach tightening and tightening it was absolutely addicting. 

"Mhmm, sure it wasn't, ugh shit, s-sure it wasn't my cock you missed doll?"

"Mish'dyouto!" She protested with a pout, though her words were all jumbled up as she didn't even try to pull away completely from him, too much in love with the weight of him and taste of him on her tongue. 

She had said it before and demonstrated it many times before, but she was weak when it came to him. How couldn't she be with a man like David? He may be the grumpiest soul alive, but that didn't take away from the charm he had. 

From the beautiful amber eyes, and hair peppered with greys, blondes, and browns. To that delicious stomach of his that showed a hint of a belly. And who could forget the cock that she was always ready to jump on when she had a chance?  She sure couldn't.

He was perfect, even if she wasn't.

Not caring to dwell on anything that wasn't part of making him come. [Y/n] squashed any negativity down swallowing around his cock, relaxing her throat as much as possible as she slid him down her throat. Down, down, down, until her nose was buried in his coarse pubic hair and she was swallowing around him. She widened her mouth as much as she could just before he began to thrust his hips wildly at the feeling of being fully engulfed in that wet heat. 

The sound of her throat being fucked, and his groans drove her crazy, and it wasn't long before her fingers were reaching into her underwear to stroke her already soaked pussy that was begging for him. 

"Thought you were, mmmm, tired of your fingers doll," David groaned as he watched her rub herself in desperation, "not big enough for that, ugh, slutty cunt of yours is it?"

They weren't, and she let out a pitiful whine for an answer as she pressed two fingers into herself. The digits slid in with ease, yet it barely did anything to relieve the fiery pressure that had been building inside of her. 

"Fuck! Oh christ!" David groaned loudly, his thrusts becoming messy and erratic with each passing moment. Telltale signs he was about to come. 

All the while, [Y/n] was basking in the way he was hitting the back of her throat, and how amazing he looked so disheveled as he fucked her mouth without care. Thank goodness she had taken him enough times to not worry about her gag relax going off. 

It only took a few more sloppily thrusts, and some well timed moans from her before, a shout of her name was ripped from him, and he was shoving, and holding her face against him as he emptied himself into her waiting mouth.

She drank every last drop of it too. Damn near almost choking on it the way the hot liquid just kept coming and coming. But being the slut she was for him, there wasn't a single second where she even thought about spilling a single drop of it. 

Feeling his cock begin to soften in her mouth after milking everything she could from him, she pulled away, her body buzzing as she licked him clean with a happy sigh. Feeling more than pleased with herself at the content groan that he let out, his large hand cupping the side of her cheeks gently. 

Once she deemed that her job was done, she gently nuzzled the side of his thigh before she looked up at him with eyes that pleaded for more.

"Dave please," she whined softly. Pulling away from him and hopping off the sofa. Only to walk around to him, and tug at the arm of the disheveled dress shirt he wore. 

"Want you, missed you."

Wrapping her arms around his shoulder, she leaned up to kiss his neck, before pulling him down a little so that their lips met in a bruising kiss.

He could taste the salty tang of himself mixed in with a sweetness that was hers as he kissed her, and all he could do, was press his lips harder against hers all the while her tongue traced at his thin lips. Memorizing each little crevice on the skin before he parted his lips, allowing her to do the exploring that she so loved to do between them.

Their tongues danced slowly and passionately as sighs filled the air and throaty whines left her lips. She was first to explore his mouth with a fervor she was known for before he was pushing her back. Dominating her in the kiss which she happily forfeited to him. 

It wasn't long before his hands found her sides that tensed the moment he touched her. Her body flinched away from him for a mere second. Not even long enough for someone to notice, but he did, and even if he hadn't noticed that, he did hear the little whimper that also left her lips which at first had him raise an eyebrow.

That sound wasn't the whimper of pleasure that he was used to hearing. No, it sounded different. Yet she didn't stop kissing him. Matter of fact her hands went up to his chest as she began to undo his shirt, more than ready to feel all of his skin on her.

Breaking the kiss, but not without leaving one last bruising one on her lips, David pulled back, which almost caused her to start to protest but she was quickly cut off by him.

"Naw, now stop that. You know I don't wanna hear any of that complain' now," he started, voice stern yet devoid of anger of any sort. "I've been at work all day and the last thing I want to do is fuck you on the sofa so we either do this on the bed or not at all."

Oh no, she couldn't have that. But also, she couldn't not tease him about it either.

"Your bones getting old or something detective? I mean last time, you ain’t seem to have no problem drilling me on this here sofa." She turned to stroke the back of the sofa, before giving it a pat for emphasis before looking back up at him with a sly expression that only had him rolling his eyes. 

God was she a menace. But if there was one thing he had learned, is that teasing her right back was a very effective means to trip her up. 

'Christ Friedman.'

Grabbing her jaw with one hand and squeezing it lightly, not enough to hurt her, even though he was sure she loved that, he continued his little scolding of her.

"You know with all that mouth you giving me it's sounding like you rather have your fingers for company than me [Y/n]. The door is right there if that's what you want."

Her eyes widened immediately at his words, and her lips drew themselves into a pout. And he knew he had her.

"Noooo! I'm sorry!" She cried, as her hands went up to grab his wrist as he let go of her. Instead of pulling away completely, he let her pull his hand to her cheek as she nuzzled the side of her face against his palm. "You know I'm not gonna complain about getting in your sheets. It's what I am here for you know!"

"Just for that?"

"And you too!"

A small smirk appeared on his lips, it was fleeting, but she grinned when she saw it. 

Oh, was he very much trapped in her spider web, as she led him through the hallway into the bedroom. 

Watching her flop on the bed once they were in, David went to undo his tie as he stalked up to her, throwing the fabric on the floor before he unbuttoned his shirt and discarded that as well.

[Y/n] had sat up by then, watching with a glint in her eyes as he stripped his shirt off leaving him naked. Her fingers itching already to touch him, but doing her best to ease that by reaching down to touch herself to ease the throbbing in her cunt that was screaming for him. 

Before she could even slip her digits between the thin fabric of her underwear and herself, David had already yanked her hand away from herself and pinned it to her side.

"No more of that," he growled, causing her to gasp, the rumble of his voice shooting straight down to her core, causing her to wiggle her lower half towards him, wanting him to just take care of the pressure that was coiled in her stomach.

"I've been without this cunt for too damn long [Y/n]. And then you send those letters. Not even letters, straight up smut you made up and you think I'm not about to fuck you dumb?" 

She wanted to tell him that was the point, but was distracted by him trailing kisses across her clavicle, and nipping at it before he moved down to where she wanted him to really be.

"D-Did you like them," she stuttered out as he began to kiss her thighs. Her legs spreading open for him on instinct to make sure he had all the room he needed. It seemed to spur him on, and the way his perpetual five o clock shadow rubbed against her as he sucked and nipped at her flesh, only had her breaths become shallower as he made his way up to where she wanted him to be.

"I thought you might get lonely, ah, wanted to make s-sure you had something to keep you entertained while I was gone daddy."

He had been entertained all right.

"Entertained huh?" he growled, as he pushed her nightgown up just below her lower stomach, the skin beneath peeking out a little.

He noticed a little discoloration on her stomach but didn't pay too much attention to it. Too busy with the task of ridding her of her soaked underwear, before he nuzzled her aching clit with that wonderful hooked nose of his. Her hips immediately canted upwards towards him, and a cry of pleasure flew from between her lips as he inhaled that heady scent of her before he let himself taste what he had been missing for months.

"Ahaa haaa! Yes right there daddy, r-right there!" She begged, as his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves that set her on fire with each practiced flick of his tongue.

He alternated between giving the sensitive spot languid licks and sucking it as it swelled at the attention that it had been seeking for such a long time. Keeping her preoccupied with his talented mouth, he slowly dragged his digits up her thigh until they were joining him in pulling out whine after noisy whines from her lips. His tongue continued to dance around her clit as he slid two thick fingers into her cunt that sucked him into her with ease and urgency. 

The moan she let out was probably heard by his next door neighbors, but he couldn't give two shits. Not when he was ready to be balls deep in her as she began to grind her hips against his face furiously. 

"Ngggh, fuck! Oh fuck, Dave please!"  Her voice pitched higher and higher as he sucked on her while his fingers moved in and out of her soaked insides with both speed and precision. 

Each time he dragged his digits out of her, he made sure that he hooked them just right so that they would rub right against that spot at her entrance that had her practically shaking like a leaf. And he kept doing it, faster and faster, adding another finger next to the two and opening her up wider and it drove her insane as the coil in her stomach tightened and she could feel 

"Please what doll?" 

"Please, haa, please more gonna, ngggh! G-gonna come daddy, please."

"Mmmm if you gonna come then you better do it now." 

That was all she needed to hear before she let herself relax all the way. Let him bring him to that peak that her shaking and letting out a shriek of,

"Dave!"

Her shout became a strangled clipped noise as her legs stiffened, and her fingers clawed at the bed sheets as he continued to fuck her spasming pussy with digits that were drenched with her juices. Harder and faster just like she wanted it, her body stiffened even more, and the wet sounds coming from below her increased until,

"Fuck!"

She wasn't sure if she had said it or if he did or maybe it had been both of them. But what she did know, was that when she felt that gush of liquid from her pussy, she couldn't stop the cry that left her as the stiffness immediately released her and her limbs became uncontrollable for a moment. 

The spasming, the shaking, all of it happened at once and for a moment she wondered if she was dead because there was no way she could feel this good and still be alive. It was like pleasure had been injected directly into her veins, and it burned so good, better than she had ever imagined and she wanted more. 

Her mind was totally addled for a moment with the pleasure, even as David gave her cunt a few more licks, lapping up the juices that coated her thighs and her twitching cunt. Little sounds of pleasure involuntarily left her lips as he crawled on top of her, planting kisses down her neck, nibbling at sucking at it. He could feel her rolling her hips weakly beneath him and he chuckled against her neck.

Like her body was begging for more even without words and boy was he more than ready to give it to her. He had spent months fucking his hand while reading the letters she had sent him, wishing it was her cunt he was fucking. And he wasn't about to waste any more time as he let his hand roam down her front grabbing the hem of her dress and making a motion to pull it up so he could see all of her.

When he lifted himself off her though, the sight beneath him froze him in place and about knocked the wind out of him. What he was expecting to see was that soft skin that he had gotten well acclimated with. What he wasn't expecting was whatever he was staring at now in slight horror.

Her left side, from the middle of her belly almost to her lower back, was heavily discolored and severely bruised.

Like something or someone had repeatedly hit her in that area. From the looks of it, he wouldn't have been surprised if something had broken. And if not, how? But also, the pain. 

She couldn't have not been in pain with how large the area was. And suddenly it dawned on him. The flinching from earlier when he had grabbed her. He must have hurt her, and she just ignored it. But he couldn't now. 

"Dave?"

He hadn't realized how long he had frozen, not until her voice rang out and his eyes slowly drifted upwards to her. And whatever his face looked like, it must have startled her, because for a second, instead of that familiar look of lust that she always had around him, there was a true wide eye look of shock.

"Who did this to you?"

She looked down at herself and saw what she knew he was looking at. Her eyes lingered on the spot, or more accurately the area, before she shook her head and looked at him with a straight face. Looked at him like nothing was wrong, like this was a normal thing and at that moment he felt a large pit of emptiness and dread filling his stomach. 

"Mmm's nothing," she answered before settling back into the bed. "Now come on, don't you wanna do all those things I was talkin' about in them letters." Her fingers trailed up and down his arm and that smirk she was known for was back on her face. "Because I know I do~."

No he didn't.

How did she expect him to want to do anything with her in the state she was in? Maybe she could stomach it. He knew how she was; he would even indulge her from time to time. The spanking and leaving small bruises. But this wasn't him. He couldn't stomach this. Not when he had a strong inkling that whatever had caused the massive bruise was not consensual.

"No [Y/n] stop!" He growled, ripping his hand away from her with such force that she let out a startled yelp. Not because he had hurt her though. Not physically though. 

Yet it hurt him for some reason.

"I'm fine! I promise Dave please!" She pleaded, her hand going to reach for him as he moved away from her. "Just got in a bit of a mix up that's all. I sorted it all out don't gotta worry about it no more!" 

Moving off the bed and going to his closet to grab some clothes, anything to put a barrier between them, he reappeared with a robe wrapped around him a deep frown etched on his lips.

"Doll I know you get up to no good sometimes. No don't even try to act like that. We both know it's true," he continued as she tried to interrupt him with an argument but he wasn't having it. "But this, no this is different, what have you been up to since you've been gone [Y/n] I ain't gonna ask you again."

Like a deer in headlights, she froze. Her mind buzzed with any excuses she could give to him about where she had been and what she had been up to. Each lie less believable than the one before. 

"[Y/n]."

His voice was low, dangerous even and it was different from the way he spoke to her. He wasn't playing with her anymore. He may have been fucking her, indulging her whims that could get him into some deep shit if anyone found out. But if there was one thing Dave was good at, it was getting answers out of folks in whatever way he had to. Even if he did like them.

No wonder why the chief didn't have the balls to fire him after that scandal with the senator.  

She had to come clean to him. Or as clean as she could without giving herself away completely.

"He knew where someone I was looking for was at Dave," she admitted in a whisper. Barely loud enough for him to hear and not looking up at him. Too ashamed to do so, knowing what she had done was plain stupid. And all because she let her emotions run wild. "Said he could show me where and I went like a dummy. I was so caught up, that I didn't even realize what was happening till he dragged me out into the middle of nowhere."

"Who?"

There was a bite to his voice, a growl that existed just on the edge of it that had her sitting up a little straighter. His eyes were dark, not from lust, no that was long gone, they looked stormy, angry. It confused her, and even in her lamenting she felt a familiar buzz of arousal trying to come back even though the moment for any of that was long gone by now."

"Who what?"

"Who did this to you [Y/n]? And who the hell you out lookin' for that got you all beat up like this?"

"I can't," she blurted out shaking her head, eyes lowering, cowering away from the fire in his that burned her. "Can't tell you Dave I'm sorry…maybe one day, but not today you gotta trust me!"

Trust her?

He hadn't gotten this far in life or in his profession by trusting people easily. Everyone was looking to stab someone in the back, or bribe someone just so that they could climb the ranks. And lord knows he wasn't an angel either when it came to having to bribe people sometimes to get them to cooperate with a case. It was just something that came with the job. 

So, asking him to just trust her was not an easy thing. Yet considering everything she could have done to him at this point, which included murdering him, he felt like he did have to give it to her. 

He didn't trust her 100% but it sure was more than some of the people he worked with.

"Please."

Her voice was tiny, a far cry from the attitude and fire that she had no problem showing him and whoever had the bad luck of getting in her way. And it felt wrong.

Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he clicked his tongue before letting out a deep sigh that had been waiting to be released.

'Fine.'

Dropping his hand, he turned on his heel, almost out the door before she called out to him in confusion.

"W-where you goin'?" [Y/n] asked, as she began to scramble up from the bed with the intent to follow him.

Whipping around, he pointed at her and she froze in place.

"Stay."

He commanded sternly before he was out of the room leaving her dumbfounded and alone with her racing thoughts. 

There was an itch, the longer he was gone. A tingle in her fingers, the urge to claw at her skin that was crawling with anxiety, self-doubt, and distress. 

What had she done? Was he finally over her? Tired of whatever back alley situations she was getting herself into. What if he was calling backup to come and take her away and lock her up?  She'd deserve it, but this was not the way she thought this would have happened.

All these thoughts swirled in her head yet instead of spurring her into action like they would have, she just sat on the bed, staring at the door that he had left out of. Waiting for him and whatever he was about to do.

She could jump out of the window and make a run for it, but she sat until,

"So you do listen sometimes, come on doll."

His voice was so close to her, that it caused her to jump, not even realizing he had come back into the room and went to the side of the bed closest to her.

"Dave I'm sorry," she whispered, subdued and unlike herself as she let him help her off the bed. She followed him to wherever he was taking her as he led her out of the room with no questions.

If there was one person she trusted, it was him.

"Ain't got nothing to be sorry about," he replied, giving no real indication of how he was feeling as he brought her to the bathroom.

Wait why the bathroom?

Confusion settled in immediately as he led her into the slightly steamy bathroom. And it was still there as he brought her right up to the bath that was filled with hot water, and from the smell of it, some bath salts.

"Get in there and don't even think about running off when you done. Come straight back to the room alright?" 

Staring at the steaming bath and back at him with a dumbfounded expression, [Y/n] nodded. 

"Speechless? That's a first," he pointed out, amusement in his tone as he watched her stare at the bath with an unreadable expression. 

It made him wonder. Had anyone treated her this way before? Had he treated her this way before? A frown appeared on his features, as he leaned down and distracted himself by planting a soft kiss on her shoulder. 

"You gonna keep kissin' on me Detective and let the water get cold?"

He chuckled against her skin. There she was.

"Alright but don't go escaping you hear?

She turned to look at him, a wry smile that he had never seen before that caused his heart to hurt for some reason. 

"You know I won't."

"Mhmm," he hummed as he straightened up and left the bathroom. Closing the door behind him and leaving her by herself. 

Listening to his footsteps move away from the door, and knowing he was gone, [Y/n] felt her shoulders sag. The heavy weight that had been resting on it finally disappeared as she took off her clothes slowly and carefully. She did her best to not aggravate the large bruise that throbbed on and off during the day.

It wasn't as large as it had been though so that was progress. 

Stripped and free of her clothes, she took a few steps towards the tub and gingerly stepped in before slowly lowering herself into the water. The effects were immediate as she felt her muscles relax, and the ache from her side began to subside if only just a little.  

A sigh of relief left her lips as she let herself just relax. Knowing she was safe. And that David was right next door waiting for her. He was such a grumpy man. Yet he did this for her. Even after not telling him everything, he still cared enough to make sure she was okay and it made something in her chest tighten. 

From the first time they met he cared, and he hadn't changed after all those years. 

She was such a terrible person, she knew that. And it hurt to lie to him like this. He deserved to know the truth. But she wasn't ready, and she still hadn't finished what she had set out to do. So it would have to wait. She just hoped she wasn't dead in a gutter before it all could come out.

"Oh David Friedman," she murmured, a forlorn expression blanketing her features as she pulled her knees towards her chest. "You just don't know much of a mess I really am."

Letting out a small sigh, she let her head fall back against the edge of the tub, eyes squeezed shut tightly to hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall. 

She stayed in the tub for a while, tending to herself, and maybe putting some of his body wash in the water just so she could be surrounded by his scent. A mixture of coolness and spice that had her sinking in the tub, and blowing at the bubbles she had created.

By the time she had decided it was time to get out, the water was lukewarm and her skin was a bit pruny. But, she had felt so much better than she had been for the last few weeks as she wrapped herself in a fluffy towel he had laid out for her. 

Even if he was grumpy, and probably tired of her antics, he still was treated her kindly and she couldn't help but to smile at herself. 

Picking up her nightgown, which was a little wrinkled from everything she had just put it through, she slid it back on; forgoing any underwear, because those things were ruined and belonged in the trash. Which she tossed them in, as she left the bathroom and found herself standing at the threshold of the hallway and his bedroom. 

The lights had been turned out, and only the bedside lamp was on, as he sat in bed a book in hand as if everything earlier had not happened. He sure was good at compartmentalizing, wasn't he?

"Ain't it a little too early to be going to bed?" [Y/n] pointed out as she stepped into the room, getting his attention as he offered a little grunt as a response.

"With all the heart attacks you be giving me?" He asked, raising his eyebrow as we went to place the book he was reading on the bedside table. "It ain't never too early to call it a day."

"Aww come on don't act like that," she giggled, as she made her way to the bed, but only going so far as to stand at the edge of it, unsure of what she was supposed to do.

Seeing her hesitation, he pulled the blanket on her side down, inviting her to get in, and boy, he had never seen someone so happy. Her face lit up and she looked elated as she climbed onto the bed, grin and all while cozying up to his side quickly. A childlike excitement in her eyes as she looked up at him as if he was everything to her.

Another sigh, this time inaudible, left him.

"And don't you try to sneak out of here! If you ain't here when I wake up I'mma come find you."

"Is that a promise?" She grinned, only causing him to roll his eyes and shake his head. 

But there wasn't any real annoyance as she tucked herself into the warm sheets and nestled herself against his side. He hesitated for a moment before letting himself lay a hand on her shoulder. A purr left her lips at his touch, and she closed her eyes looking like the most comfortable woman alive.

"I'm serious [Y/n]."

"I know, I ain't going nowhere I promise," she whispered, drowsiness setting in surprisingly quick thanks to how safe she felt.

It didn't take more than 10 minutes before she was out like a light, her breathing evening out as she slept. All the while, David took several glances at her, making sure she was asleep before he let himself fully relax against the headboard.

He didn't know what the hell he was doing. Whatever it was, was probably not a good idea considering everything that had transpired, yet he couldn't not help her. She was a menace, full of attitude, and on the deranged side of things yet here she was sleeping like a little angel. Truly the duality of man, he thought as he closed his eyes, not really wanting to dwell longer on the extremely strange situation.

If he woke up dead the next morning, then so be it. He wouldn't have to deal with the mess he had on his hands, which he had also basically enabled. But with his luck, he probably wake up just fine. 

After all, he did trust her. 

A/N: : D shout out to @smilingformoney who supports my unhinged daddy dave thots. We love unhinged [Y/n] and I'm please to finally shell out some of her lore that has been in my brain.

Now go forth and leave comments LOL. They make me happy and it makes me want to write more :" D. Okay buh bye!

[theoutcastrogue]

The New D&D 5.5 Rogue

For people who got an advance copy of the 2024 PHB, the NDA was lifted on August 1st. This is a summary from RPG Bot's 2024 DnD 5e Transition Guide and Change Log: Everything That’s Different in the new Player’s Handbook. See also here for more commentary on previously released details. I would like to note that:

The new Weapon Mastery rules (from the playtests) give martials lovely options they didn't have before.

There are some iffy flat DCs all over the book: the actions Hide (stealth), Influence (social skills), and Thieves' Tools (to disarm traps and pick locks) are all a flat DC 15. So this is either a completely stupid change (not all locks or all Persuasion checks were made equal!), OR the DMG will include rules and guidelines to adjust these DCs for different conditions.

Which (if that's the case) would mean that now Players and DMs know different rules about fundamental aspects of the game. I hate this, I hate that skills are now even less well-defined in the PHB, and I will rant more about this at a later time.

But anyway, here's RPGBot's summary:

Rogue

1. Expertise. No longer allows you to select Thieves’ Tools.

1. Thieves’ Cant. Also grants you an extra language proficiency.

1. Weapon Mastery. New.

3. Steady Aim. Identical to the Optional Class Feature.

5. Cunning Strike. Allows you to reduce your Sneak Attack damage in exchange for powerful rider effects like knocking the target prone or applying the Poisoned condition.

7. Reliable Talent. Moved from 11th level.

11. Improved Cunning Strike. New. Use up to 2 Cunning Strike effects on the same attack.

14. Blindsense. Gone.

14. Devious Strikes. New. Adds more Cunning Strike options.

15. Slippery Mind. Now adds proficiency in both Wisdom and Charisma saves instead of just Wisdom.

20. Stroke of Luck. Turn any d20 test into a 20. This means at least one guaranteed critical hit between each rest.

Arcane Trickster

3. Spellcasting. Now allows you to retrain a cantrip when you gain a level.

3. Mage Hand Legerdemain. Most of the 2014 feature’s capabilities were added to Mage Hand, with the exception of the ability to use Sleight of Hand and Thieves’ Tools. Now you can use Mage Hand for Sleight of Hand.

9. Magical Ambush. Now requires you to have the Invisible condition, which at a glance sounds like a huge problem, but the 2024 Hide action gives you the Invisible condition if you successfully hide.

13. Versatile Trickster. Now allows you to trip a target with your Mage Hand, but only when you use the Trip option from Cunning Strike.

Assassin

Much more reliable and less focus on disguises and infiltration. Much more stabby.

3. Assassinate. Reworked completely. Now much easier to use and much more consistently effective, but there’s no automatic critical hits.

3. Assassin’s Tools. Renamed from “Bonus Proficiencies”. Now also gives you one of each kit for free.

9. Infiltration Expertise. Reworked completely. No more false identity. Now you can perfectly mimic speech and handwriting, and Steady Aim doesn’t reduce your speed to 0.

13. Imposter. Gone.

13. Envenom Weapons. Extra poison damage when you use the Poison option of Cunning Strike. The damage applies whenever the target fails the save, which includes the additional saves at the end of each of their turns.

Soulknife

Very few changes.

3. Psionic Power. Like the Psi Warrior, the Soulknife’s Psionic Power feature now explicitly states that these dice are only for Soulknife features, the progression is tied to your Rogue level rather than your Proficiency Bonus, and you regain one die on a Short Rest.

3. Psychic Blades. The blades have the Vex Weapon Mastery, and can now be used for Opportunity Attacks.

Thief

3. Fast Hands.

Sleight of Hand. The wording here is a mess, but the Thief Rogue and only the Thief Rogue can use Sleight of Hand in conjunction with Thieves’ Tools to pick locks and disarm traps.

Now allows you to use magic items which normally take an Action to activate due to the new “Utilize” action. Existing item use case remain awesome.

3. Second-Story Work. Now much simpler, but functionally similar. A Climb speed and you use Dexterity for Athletics checks to jump.

9. Supreme Sneak. Reworked completely. Now a Cunning Strike option that allows you to attack without giving away your position.

13. Use Magic Device. Reworked completely. You no longer ignore restrictions on items, such as class requirements. Instead, you get an extra attunement slot, you have a chance to not spend charges when using a magic item, and you can use spell scrolls.

Picking Locks, Disarming Traps, Thieves' Tools, Sleight of Hand

Take a deep breath, because this one is confusing.

In the 2014 rules, you used proficiency in Thieves' Tools to disarm traps and pick locks. Sleight of Hand was used almost exclusively for picking pockets. Baldur's Gate 3 changed that when adapting the 5e rules for a video game.

In the 2024 rules, there is some confusion. Page 221 of the Player's Handbook details tools and their uses. Thieves' Tools list "Pick a Lock' and "Disarm a Trap" as two uses for the tool, which means that you apply proficiency with Thieves' Tools when performing those actions. This is the same as the 2014 rules.

The confusion sneaks in with the Thief Rogue's Fast Hands feature's Sleight of Hand option.

"Make a Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) check to pick a lock or disarm a trap with Thieves' Tools or to pick a pocket"

The lack of commas or formatting makes this text somewhat confusing. If it was intended to be three bullets, there would be commas. "Pick a lock comma disarm a trap with Thieves' Tools comma or pick a pocket". Instead, we can split your options with Fast Hands (Sleight of Hand) into two bullet points to clarify it:

Make a Dexterity (Sleight of Hand) check to pick a lock or disarm a trap with Thieves' Tools

Pick a pocket

This means that the Thief Rogue and only the Thief Rogue can use Sleight of Hand to pick locks and disarm traps while using Thieve's Tools. In fact, to do this as a Bonus Action, they're required to use Sleight of Hand. As per the rules for tools on Page 220 of the Player's Handbook, if you're also proficient with Thieves' Tools, you get Advantage on this check. All fantastic for the Thief Rogue and their ability to pick locks and disarm traps, especially since you can no longer get Expertise with tools, but you can get Expertise with Sleight of Hand.

If you are not a Thief Rogue, nothing has changed. Thieves' Tools are used for picking locks and disarming traps.

[source]

[unclewaynemunson]

It's a little past two AM when Wayne opens his lunchbox and finds himself unable to stop the smile that's creeping onto his face.

He's met with a note, in neat handwriting:

My dear Wayne, I hope you're having a good day/night at work. I made you some extra healthy sandwiches because of that cough you were worried about – I hope you like fresh tomato and lettuce. (Please don't get mad at me for trying to make you eat vegetables on your bread.) I also hid some clementines in your bag. I'll be thinking about you when I go to bed, and I can't wait to see you again in the morning. Love, S.

'Munson!'

He startles when he hears his own name and looks up to find his colleagues looking at him with various degrees of amusement.

'Who woulda thought?' John McMillan laughs while some of the younger guys let out wolf whistles. 'Wayne Munson got himself a lady?'

'We've been working here together for almost ten years and I don't think I ever saw you smile before,' Bernie adds. 'So she wrote you a love letter to go with your sandwiches, huh?'

Wayne rubs a hand over his beard, trying to hide his inclination to hide away from all those eyes staring at him like he's something funny. He has never liked being the center of attention.

'Don't act like y'all know somethin' you don't,' he grumbles.

'Who is she?' asks Logan. 'Can't be someone from the trailer park, you never were interested in any of 'em. Found yourself a more classy one? Someone from Loch Nora who gets the hots for a working man?'

Wayne suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at him.

'You got it all wrong, boys,' he says, hoping they'll back off soon.

'Do we, now?' With a taunting smile, John McMillan plucks the note out of Wayne's hands, and starts reading it out loud to his little audience in a high-pitched, faux dramatic voice.

Wayne isn't ashamed, and he knows the teasing is mostly meant in good fun, but he feels an overwhelming relief about the fact that Scott had been smart enough to not sign the note with his full name.

'S, look at that!' McMillan exclaims triumphantly, putting the note back into Wayne's lunchbox. 'So he got a mystery lady... Guys, who do we know with names starting with an S? Any girlfriends or wives we should get worried 'bout cheating?'

There's laughter, some guesses thrown around by people thinking they're funny, but Wayne mostly lets it glide off him, the same way he'd endure their comments about Eddie back in March. Granted, this teasing is much less mean-spirited than the so-called banter back then, but he still doesn't like to get involved. The less these men know about him, the better; that's a lesson he learned a long time ago. So he eats his bread – and even a clementine – while he lets them guess and pretends to laugh with them.

When the break is over and they get up to go back to their job, Bernie matches his pace to Wayne's.

'Look, you know we've been teasing you, but we're happy for ya, man, you know that, right?' he says.

Wayne pats him on his shoulder. Bernie is a good guy. He was one of the few men around here who actually seemed concerned about Eddie when all that shit went down. As far as Wayne knows, he never chose a side back then, never came for his nephew like those guys like Logan or John McMillan, with their big mouths and narrow minds.

'All good, Bernie, thanks,' he says.

'Does she make you happy?'

The question catches him by surprise; it prompts his lips to curve into the second unexpected smile of that day.

He thinks about the way Scott looked at him before they said goodbye this evening. He thinks about the sparkle in Scott's eyes whenever he talks about his students. He thinks about the way his hands held Wayne all through the night they spent together last weekend. He thinks about his neat mustache, his soft sweater vests, his long fingers cradled around one of Wayne's mugs. He pictures the private smile that must've surely been on Scott's face, a smile nobody saw, when he filled Wayne's lunchbox with fresh veggies and a surprise note.

'Very,' he tells Bernie, before slowing down his steps to be left alone with his thoughts about the man who will be waiting for him in bed after his shift, asleep and with his hair a mess, but waking up for a second to kiss Wayne's lips like he always does.

There is nothing that makes him happier than that one hour they get to share in bed together before Scott's alarm goes off in the morning.

[carrotcouple]

He writes a letter one day.

To a brother he no longer has. It tastes like salt and grime. His handwriting isn't even half as pretty as Jiang Cheng's. He continues writing all the same.

He isn't sure how to get anything he wants to say down on paper, but he's certain Jiang Cheng would have known. Paper and ink was his specialty, his expertise.

Wei Wuxian wishes he'd asked Jiang Cheng to pen out poems for him just to see how much of himself Jiang Cheng poured into his writing. To see him be himself. To see him feel joy in the one thing that was his and his alone.

He tries to imagine his brother sitting in front of him. His brother was not a quiet person but he wasn't loud and talkative either. He matched Wei Wuxian's banter and words easily. But also sometimes he'd be quiet, listening, reading, watching.

Wei Wuxian imagines his brother is watching him with mild amusement, the way he used to when Wei Wuxian would pace back and forth while trying to voice a crazy idea.

Why did you leave me? I'm sorry.

"Why didn't you write a poem for me?" He croaks. "You know how much I love romance and poetry."

He imagines Jiang Cheng scoffing.

I'm sorry I didn't see you suffering.

"Yeah, true, I always used poetry for silly stuff. I would have liked it all the same. It's not fair only Lan Zhan owns your poetry." Wei Wuxian presses the tip of his brush into the ink, feeling bitter again.

He wanted to hate Lan Zhan after his brother's death. But he knows even now Lan Zhan is kneeling on the floor in the Jingshi, painting what he can remember of Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian's own room is adorned with one of those paintings. A painting of one of Jiang Cheng's cheeky smiles. Likely one directed at Wei Wuxian himself.

Wei Wuxian's illusion of Jiang Cheng raises an eyebrow and crosses his legs.

I'm sorry for being cruel to your lover. I won't do it again.

"I know Lan Zhan can value poetry better and can also paint on those pages! But I'm your brother!" Wei Wuxian says and his voice cracks as he finishes.

I'm your brother. I miss you. I'm sorry. I miss you.

"I want proof that you lived with me," Wei Wuxian whispers. "That's all. I want something that you created with your own two hands. I want a piece of the deepest part of you that you hadn't shared with anyone else."

But only Lan Zhan got that.

Jiang Cheng smiles sadly at him.

"It's true," Wei Wuxian continues. "If you'd have given me your writing while you were alive I would have really liked it but I wouldn't have treasured it the way Lan Zhan did. It would have been put somewhere on a shelf. But at the very least," Wei Wuxian sobs, "I would have it now to hold."

They'd considered taking Jiang Cheng's writing and decorating it to honor him. They'd also considered dividing his writing amongst them so that they could have pieces of Jiang Cheng. But in the end they all agreed that they'd rather visit Jiang Cheng's room and kneel on that little pillow on the ground.

Wei Wuxian looks back up and at the illusion of Jiang Cheng. He's no longer a teenager. He is the little boy that chased Wei Wuxian away that fateful first night.

There are silent tears streaming down his face. He isn't crumpled up and loudly sobbing. When had Jiang Cheng truly learned to hide what he was feeling? Wei Wuxian doesn't know.

"I'm sorry," Wei Wuxian says. "It's not that I didn't love you. It's not that I didn't see you. I just always assumed you would always be there and I took you for granted."

The little Jiang Cheng presses his hands to his face.

"I miss you. I won't ever stop missing you. I lost my soulmate, my brother, my best friend. I miss you." Wei Wuxian's hand is moving, brush going across the paper. He has words but they're not eloquent. He is capable of eloquent words but those are usually shallower than he is willing to offer Jiang Cheng.

A loud and childish sob escapes Jiang Cheng's mouth.

"I love you," Wei Wuxian says. The brush falls from his fingers and then he's sobbing along with Jiang Cheng. "I love you."

When his tears dry and he looks up, the letter is finished, shaky and smudged, and Jiang Cheng is gone.

[valence-gnome-bandit]

homelander head cannons? part 6!

its me I'm back again, I have a notebook full of these

I've seen this in fics before but homelander always knows when someone's pregnant even before they know via scent or him misusing his x-ray vision. this is good in relationships of course but it is the best opportunity to create drama that makes the offices a lot more interesting for homelander to listen in on.

on that same note he adores people watching, he enjoys just observing what goes on in the silly little lives of the mud people around him. plus it's easy he can hear almost everything that goes on in vought tower everything from petty drama to storage closet affairs or just sitting in the meeting rooms observing people as the walk by.

he startles people a lot, granted this is shown in the show but it's probably so annoying at some point you turn around, he's there. it makes him very scary if your scared of him but if your his partner it's just inconvenient like a cat that constantly sits right behind your feet.

despite being a fairly light sleeper (and barely sleeping at all) he has a habit of sleep floating, sometimes he wakes up and he's floated halfway around the penthouse or he's gotten caught on somethin.

he writes almost exclusively in cursive, he had to be trained to do consistent cursive signatures plus he was raised by a bunch of doctors and scientists people with notoriously terrible cursive handwriting especially considering how old they were. meaning whenever he writes anything the poor interns who have to read it have to suffer because their all under 25.

wonderful! hope y'all are liking these good vibes

[faeskiss]

LONGING ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis: reader misses zaros on their birthday! a sad fic

The ballroom is alive and thriving with guests, music is blaring and reverberating throughout the hall, rampant sound of laughter and revelry is dancing in the air, the smell of wine and strawberries is thick and inviting

it’s my birthday, but I am cooped up in this absurd corner,next to the fondue table, a glass of switchel in my hand, I would go for a more riveting drink, but I really shouldn’t have alcohol, it’s very easy for me to lose myself if I have too much, and I am determined to not give these people an unwanted show and fuel their zeal for drama and gossip.

I certainly don’t want Zaros to have any reason to laugh or look down on me……even if he isn’t here physically, news travels fast, and if I make a spectacle of myself, there’s no way he wouldn’t hear about it.

My mother, the Queen, gives a long speech in my honour, it’s warm and wholesome, and I certainly don’t deserve to be praised the way she does, she paints me in such a way that I seem tenfold the incredible and dutiful person I am, when that’s far from reality, I dread the day people of my kingdom realise that I’m a fraud, that I hide behind my intelligence and wit, that I haven’t the slightest clue of what I’m doing, this fear, it eats me alive, every single day.

I’m not exactly the best person you’ll ever come across, I know that, and I know if Zaros were here he’d remind of the same every five minutes, even on my birthday

Nobles come and go, bringing in gifts and fake smiles, giving me their half hearted good wishes, all my fair weather friends are here too, this entire ordeal feels more like a desperate attempt to prove who is more loyal and dutiful to the future ruler rather than a birthday party, it all feels so very disingenuous.

No matter how rocky things were between me and Zaros, he had always been a veritable person, one of the very few people who truly saw me for who I was, no matter how unpleasant the “real me” is…

I still remember my 17th birthday, right before everything went wrong, back when he still had some amount of love for me in his soul, he had given me a heart shaped necklace with my initials, in his handwriting, engraved on it, it was custom made for me, he told me that as long as I had that necklace, I would have a piece of him with me at all times

we weren’t always incredibly affectionate with each other,but when we were it was real and almost intoxicating…

I’ve had uncountable pieces of jewellery gifted to me in the past, but none have meant so much to me as that necklace, I have it locked away, safely, my heart still aches every single time I accidentally come across it in my closet

it’s a reminder of how much he really loved and cared for me, and how he’ll never love me the way he used to, ever again, not even if I prayed to the heavens with every single speck of hope and optimism my body can muster…

tears start bubbling in my eyes, “oh god, I don’t want to cry on my birthday, especially not because of him” I think to myself ,I hurry out of the ballroom, leading my way to the balcony before anyone can see me in this state.

I quickly hang on to the railing for support as I feel the sadness seep into my knees making them go weak, I want to breakdown, I want to scream and cry, I want to feel the warmth of his embrace once more, just one more time, it’s the only birthday wish no one in the land can grant me.

A huge pit of longing starts to form in my stomach, as if it’s a black hole ready to engulf my very being right here and now, no matter how hard I try to deny it, I can’t anymore, I miss him so much it hurts, I miss Zaros SO much, he was everything to me, no matter how much we brawled, no matter the poisonous words that spewed out of our mouths when we fought, I still loved him and I know he loved me.

I haven’t seen his face or heard his voice in almost 3 years, my eyes and ears are starved, everything that went down between us, I regret it every day.

A sharp shooting pain stabs me in the chest, as his stupidly charming smile flashes before my eyes, I took it for granted, I still remember the last time he smiled at me like that, teeth and all, warm and comforting, little did I know it’d be the last time I’d ever see it.

Our relationship was always complicated but the one thing that none of us could deny was that we could share anything we wanted with each other, no matter how much he disapproved of my actions, he knew he could be himself around me, he had a way of seeing through my every word, every movement , every look, he knew me better than anyone, even my own mother….even my own self, I had never felt so alive as I did when I was with him, now I feel like an empty shell of a person, existing in vain, bitter and incomplete.

My tired gaze travels outside the balcony, the city looks beautiful, fireworks are ablaze in the sky, I can hear the excitement and chatter of the people outside as they relish the beautiful sight with their loved ones, I haven’t gotten to hear much about Zaros since he left, but I do know that he’s in town, and I know that right now we share the same twilight sky, I don’t care for the expensive clothing, the jewels, the meaningless luxuries that I have received tonight, the only thing I truly want is for him to look up at the sky, and think of me, of every single smile, every thoughtful glance we shared, all the times our laughter echoed through the walls of this palace, and smile, even if it is for a split second. ༉‧₊˚.

[hearthotchner]

I can’t remember who wrote it but there was like some secret admirer writing hotch little notes blurb somewhere on this silly little app and I just need more of that content.

Like if reader doesn’t even work in the BAU they could even be like a cleaner or just someone that works in and around quantico with the BAU but they start writing hotch notes about how proud they are of him and what a lovely person he is, how his smile makes them feel warm and whatnot.

Maybe like very socially anxious reader idk but yeah they need him to know how great he is but just can’t spit the words out face to face

‘you have a pretty smile, you should do it more often. <3’

aaron felt a slight blush rise to his cheeks, shade matching the tiny piece of paper in his hands.

rossi appeared in the door, noticing him peering down at something, “what’s that?”

“nothing.” he said a bit too quickly, tucking the note into his blazer pocket.

“what’s it say? show me.” the older man persisted.

“no. go away, dave.”

he put his hands up in defeat, “fine, i’ll leave you alone. just thought i’d let you know, that your eye candy,” rossi smirked, “is standing outside.” he said, teasingly.

furrowing his brows, he feigned ignorance, “what are you talking about?”

“seriously?” rossi scoffed. “anyway, i actually wanted to tell about..”

dave’s voice drained out, and was replaced by the most angelic laugh he’d ever heard. it took all of his pride to not snap his head toward your direction, not having it in him to prove his friend right.

aaron couldn’t make up his mind; he felt guilty about it. on one hand, the notes made him weak, a mess, but so did you.

that’s why he felt bad.

he’d never spoken to you, other than the occasional greeting when you were talking to morgan or jj — he knew nothing about you, hell, he didn’t even know what department you worked in, how could he possibly like you?

he was drawn to you, yet he didn’t know why.

granted, he knew nothing about the mystery person sending him the notes either, but he assumed they were an admirer, who couldn’t muster up the courage to ask him out in person. all he knew, was that those words made him melt.

pink pieces of paper would almost always be found in between the files that his team would send up to him to assess — he knew it wasn’t any of them, he recognised their handwriting.

everyday, his heart would beat a little faster out of anticipation for a note being left for him; whenever there was, it never failed to tinge his cheeks red.

looking over the bullpen, he gripped the rail a little tighter, as his frown deepened at the sound your voice filling the room. when your eyes met his from across the room, however, his features softened, for a split second, the inner conflict coming to peace.

he hoped he didn’t see any more of you for the rest of the week.

—

sometimes, he wondered if when he made a wish, the universe purposefully did the exact opposite of what he wanted.

the very next case they took on, was joint with the domestic terrorism division, which just so happened to be the team you worked with, shocker.

what made it worse, was that the notes appeared more often, for the duration of this case; there were so many people in and out of the bullpen, and, he was stressed enough as it was, so, looking out for his messenger was the least of his worries.

he tried to remain professional, for the sake of the case, but he couldn’t help but have his gaze trail over to you, while you worked from across the room.

this was wrong. you were probably dating someone, and aaron already had someone who was interested in him; even though, he had never seen them, he knew that when he did, the first thing he’d do was ask them out on a date. they never failed in making his day, making him smile, they made him feel warm inside. aaron hoped that one day, he’d be able to do the same.

picking up his coffee cup, he noticed that there was a neatly folded up post-it note on the table where it sat.

‘you’re great at your job :)’

instantly, his shoulders slumped, and he wasn’t as tense anymore. that was until he looked over at you, standing infront of the whiteboard, biting your lip and furrowing your brows in concentration as you wrote. turning his attention over to the actual words on the board, he felt his heart drop at the familiarity.

he recognised the way some of the letters or words were written in cursive, whilst others were separated, how your handwriting was fairly small, but the spaces between words were slightly large, how you always used half s’s, unless it was the first letter.

as his eyes flicked from the note to the board, you saw the look of realisation, “now that you know, how disappointed are you?”

he breathed out, “disappointed? you think i’m disappointed?”

“well kinda, yeah.” you replied meekly. “i thought you hated me.”

“what?“

“you’re always like.. frowning at me.. like the other day! you were literally glaring in my direction.” you admitted, “i’ve always had a little crush on you, and, i wanted you to know how great i think you are. but, it’s kinda difficult when you’re always looking at me like that.”

“i’m not- i didn’t mean to.” he sighed. “it’s completely the opposite of what you think. this whole time, i thought what i was feeling for you was wrong.” now it was your turn to be confused. “because i didn’t know i was falling for the same person twice.”

“what do you mean?”

“your notes. they’re the reason i feel genuine excitement for paperwork — the thought of finding them makes me so warm. seeing you, though, stole my breath away, and it felt so wrong — that i had feelings for you and note person — because i knew nothing about you, but at the same time, i felt like i’d known you my whole life.” he let out a breathy laugh at what he said next, “i probably looked mad, because i was frustrated with myself — my feelings.”

“oh.”

“i can’t blame you, though, can i? so, can i take you to dinner sometime?” he shot you a hopeful smile;

you mirrored his look, “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

“likewise, sweetheart.”

never had he been more grateful that his wishes hadn’t been granted.

[autisticrosewilson]

Thinking about the JayGrant married in Vegas au again

Jason wakes up slowly, a delicious ache in his lower body and far less pleasant throbbing in his head. His mouth tastes like cheap vodka and he can still feel the burn of Everclear in his throat. Before he even cracks his sleep crusted eyes open he knows the bed beside him is empty, strange that he doesn't recall them waking him up when they left.

Regardless he peaks out from the nest of blankets at the hotel room, bathed in the barely there light of dawn. It's maybe seven or eight, far earlier than he cares to be up. The room is more or less as he remembers it, sans the trail of clothes from the door to the bed. The real miracle is that they'd even made it to the room. He fully intends to go back to sleep when he feels it. Something constricting the bend of one of his fingers, warm metal he certainly doesn't recall leaving with.

Sluggish and sleep addled, he slowly unswathes his hand from the blankets to move it into his line of sight. A ring with a metal band and a faux diamond he knows immediately will turn his skin green when he starts sweating. He blinks at it a few times but it doesn't disappear.

Sitting up slowly he scans the room a little more thoroughly. The shirt on the ground isn't his, longer in the torso and slimmer in the shoulders, and he's never heard of the band on the front. There's aspirin on the bedside table his back was toward and a bottle of undoubtedly room temperature water. He starts reaching for the folded up note next to it when something on the dresser catches his eye. A piece of paper, innocuous if not for the clearly printed CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE proclaimed boldly at the top.

Scrambling out of bed gracelessly he ignores the pulsing in his skull in favor of getting a closer look. The signature is definitely his, the same practiced calligraphy drilled into him by the teachers at Gotham Prep and encouraged by Alfred, spelling out his name. His given name, not even an alias. Maybe it would be worse if it was an alias actually, considering he's legally still dead.

The other name is one he's sure he's never heard before last night and while the last name gives him pause he brushes it off quickly. While it would be just his luck, he's sure Grant Wilson doesn't have any affiliation Jason might know. The poor bastard is probably just a random civilian, who is now, at least by law, unfortunately bound to a dead boy. His condolences really.

Going back for the note doesn't tell him as much as he'd like. The paper is a folded up receipt for cigarettes and honey barbecue beef jerky from a gas station somewhere in the Midwest and the handwriting on the back is done in half dead pen, the scrawl clearly rushed with several places where words or phrases were crossed off, the script slowly tilting downwards like Grant was writing at an angle.

So I guess we're married. *Scribble.* Probably an asshole move to leave before you woke up but I had something to do that really couldn't wait. We can meet up later if you're still here *scribble* I already put my number in your phone *scribble*.

P.s. keep the shirt ;)

Jason re-reads the note, more out of instinct than anything, all the little detective gears in his brain analyzing the handwriting and looking for double meaning behind the words but it's all background to the growing thought that it's too early to deal with this.

He ignores the aspirin in favor of just flopping back over into the bed, crawling under the sheets still warm from the night before. He falls asleep again staring at the ring on his finger, half formed daydreams and fractured memories of warm hands and sharp teeth and an accented drawl slowly pull him back into the haze of slumber, and he pretends he doesn't notice the scent of someone else's sweat and Cologne lingering on the pillows, or the warmth still clinging to this side of the bed.