#I'm exhausted from swooning over this man

[thebabblingbrookenook]

Oh Eleanor, I love this. I think about this time in their lives quite often. There is so much left unsaid and unseen that I think was a shame to gloss over. Both the books and the show haven’t really done so outside of the small clips we see from Anthony’s perspective. I always enjoy seeing it through the lens of Anthony because of the immensity of what was just thrust on him, but I think Benedict’s perspective would have the widest angle. He’s so good at stepping back and seeing the whole picture, (at least when it isn’t directly about him). He quietly observes and absorbs his surroundings, and doesn’t act before he has considered everyone and everything. I think he processes his grief, or stress in general, by focusing on others. Which is both amazing and potentially problematic. In all of his nurturing, it would be easy to bury his own feelings, and leaving something so massive unaddressed is a recipe for emotional stunting. Nonetheless, the way he loves is so beautiful.

Starting this off with Benedict alone with Anthony in silence was the perfect choice. I’m glad that they both have someone they can be still with. That’s hard sometimes. I also think this is an interesting development to future nods for him. He seems to feel so deeply, and I think alcohol has become a pacifier for him over time. Something to dull the edges. He uses it to cope even in adulthood. You see it a lot in Season 2. The parties at school, the encouragement of his brothers to partake from his flask in moments of stress. And I thought it was really interesting with the situation with Colin and the tea... He didn’t just sprinkle in a couple drops, he took the whole bag. He just needed to drown it out. Hence, my comment earlier about unprocessed feelings leading to emotional stunting. Helping others navigate themselves is easy for him because of his hypervigilance and his ability to intuit the unspoken. But he can’t regulate his own emotions because he can’t observe himself in the same light. Not when there are things he refuses to look at for too long.

I love the way you have laid out this entire interaction between Anthony, Benedict and Eloise. Benedict is IMMEDIATELY aware of everyone in the room and what they need. His inner monologue of not wanting Anthony to be burdened with any more weight was a perfect example of how their relationship works. He sees his brother for all that he is, and all that he has to become. He respects him and views him as someone that he trusts as a leader. And leaders need a second in command. I think that is what they have been to each other their whole lives. The two of them have a different dynamic than the rest of them. And then you transition to how he caters to Eloise. Literally, lowering himself to her level. Not to make her feel towered over, but to feel seen and acknowledged. And this line - “ This was Eloise, she was a creature of will, not of sentiment. “ - That was perfect. That is exactly her. Which is why I think how he responds to her is so important. The calmness of his voice, the gentle reminders of touch. Matching her will would be a mistake. It would only fan the flames. Instead, he remains neutral, leaving room for her to feel what she needs and allowing time for her to get past anger or fear. I loved the imagery of him taking her little hand in his and squeezing it when he tells her that striking someone is never the answer. But I also loved that you showed him appreciating Eloise for exactly who she is when he couldn’t contain his signature half smile at her proud resolve. All she needed was to not feel dismissed. To not be made to feel stupid. She needed safety to express herself. Once she trusted that she had found that in him, she sought the comfort of his arms and accepted his loving reprimands and guidance. They have a beautiful relationship. I could easily see this dynamic translating into the playfulness we see between them in the show.

I adore they way he keeps loyalties with each of his siblings. His choice to fetch Colin himself, while keeping Anthony from extra stress, was also a lovely gesture to Colin. Benedict knew that Colin needed a calmer approach than what I can only assume would have been Anthony’s tactics. Colin is skittish, with streaks of spiteful rebellion when pushed to it. The way you have laced in his tendency to flee hard things at an early age is spot on to who he becomes later. In the show and the books. He runs to distract himself and avoid hard emotions. Again, Benedict becomes a safe place. It feels so special to me that they have this secret hide away that just the two of them know about. It is only made to feel even more special when I think about how this was something that Benedict cherished for himself. Somewhere he could find silence. Somewhere safe for honest self evaluation. But he recognizes Colin’s kindred need and invites him into refuge. Stunning. 

Their entire rooftop conversation gives me the feels. For so many reasons. I’m not sure where to start. I think I really appreciate the bluntness and honesty of it all. Benedict doesn’t lie when Colin accused him of doing Anthony’s bidding. He freely admits that is what’s happening but makes sure it is clear that he has no intention of bringing him in for questioning haha. I think that helps Colin gauge where he stands here and how to proceed. Again, you see Benedict change his approach based on the needs of the individual sibling. And I adore his remark about holding nothing against a single one of them during this time. He just kind of puts himself out there with Colin in a vulnerable way that sets Colin at ease. Letting him know that not only their mother will miss him if he runs away, but that Benedict himself would suffer from his absence. And little Colin’s response to that is so cute! Wanting Benedict, and Benedict alone, to come with him in his escape. It was the equivalent to Eloise falling into his arms. The moment he was past all defenses. The restraint he shows when he knows not to follow instinct and reach out to comfort Colin with touch must have been so hard. I think that is what Benedict would have needed, so he was trying to soothe in the way he craved. But he knows his brother. Knows that he will ask for what he needs, and at that moment, he just wanted to be heard. Eloise and Colin aren’t so different. 

The little glimpse into Benedict’s state of mind here made him feel so familiar. The anger... That makes so much sense. And the reasons why he felt that anger. It is just so Benedict. I felt like I was able to take my first full breath when he admitted to himself that he felt relief from voicing his emotion out loud to his brother. He craves togetherness. To feel a part of something. The reassurance of working in tandem with others who love him. He finds hope in having someone to share things with. Someone to murder the fear of facing things alone. Benedict gives freely as he has been given. With love and joy in his heart. This moment that you have cultivated here between them as Benedict shares wisdom given to him by their father is breathtaking. He’s mimicking the good example of a father he was proud to look up to. 

The closing line held so much... “Very well. I’ll wait for you to give the word.” 

He’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. Their father may be out of reach now, but as long as Benedict is still breathing, Colin with never be alone. He will always be ready to embrace him. To support him. To guide him. He will always be there to love him. Even when it’s hard. 

Another job well done, Eleanor. I’m looking forward to the glimpse into each of their relationships with him. Am I hoping for too much to want a private moment with his mother as well? lol

A Brother's Love: Curiosity

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton Rated: G, angst over grief/loss Word Count: 2.5k GIF by @dailybridgerton

Summary: Benedict talks to Colin on the night of their father's funeral.

Aubrey Hall had never been so quiet, not in Benedict’s memory. The family were all scattered throughout the house wherever they preferred to be, taking their dinner separately. He was only in the company of Anthony, the two of them sitting in their father’s study, ignoring their food and partaking instead from the brandy decanter. 

They had buried their father hours earlier, and there really wasn’t anything either of them wanted to say. While they’d never admit it to each other, they also didn’t want to be alone. So they sat in silence, mindlessly swirling glass after glass of liquor and staring about the room, into the flames of the fireplace, or up at the shadows it cast across the ceiling, but mostly at the portrait of Edmund that looked down at them both.

The hours of wordlessness were eventually broken by an eerie sound. An angry but high pitched wail, like a tiny banshee, started in a distant corner of the house and then grew steadily louder as it approached the study door. The brothers looked at each other in alarm and stood as a knock announced the arrival of whatever it was. Anthony bid them to enter and the door swung open to reveal Eloise, red faced and grimacing, her hands balled into tiny fists as she stomped into the room, crying angrily. Behind her, frowning and bowing in apology was the governess, Miss Peters, ushering her forward.

“I’m terribly sorry my lord,” Miss Peters looked to Anthony. “I tried to take everything in hand myself, but…”

“What happened?” Benedict asked, kneeling directly to Eloise as he took her by the arms. He hoped she wouldn’t smell the alcohol on him, but even if she did, he supposed she wouldn’t know what it was.

“Colin is horrid!” Eloise shouted, her face growing redder, hot tears cascading down it.

“What did he do?” Anthony too looked to Eloise for explanation. 

“I never want to see him again!” Eloise continued to shriek. “He said awful things. I hope he never comes back!”

“Miss Peters?” Anthony now looked at her in alarm. “What happened? Where is Colin?”

“I’m sorry my lord,” she apologized again. “The two of them were upstairs and I was coming to put them to bed. They were in a row, I don’t know what was said. But Miss Eloise struck Master Colin quite hard and then he took off running. I sent a footman to look for him but he isn’t anywhere we’d expect him to be.” 

Anthony’s eyes grew wide.

“I came to tell you immediately because of last time, you see.” Miss Peters looked down defeatedly.

“Dammit,” Anthony raked a hand through his hair, then leveled his eyes at his sister. “Eloise, where did Colin go?” he all but growled. There was something different about him, Benedict realized, an impatient intensity that he hadn’t seen before. 

“Down the east corridor. I don’t know where he is and I don’t care!” Eloise remained defiant, jutting her chin into the air. Her crying had died down to exasperated little hiccups. 

Benedict felt a wave of relief and looked up at his brother, “Don’t worry Anthony,” he held up a hand before the viscount started shouting, “I have a fair idea where he might be.”

Anthony bit back whatever he was about to say, but still responded through gritted teeth. “Then you had better go and find him or else we’ll have to start a search.”

Benedict nodded reassuringly, then turned back to Eloise, who was sniffling. “Eloise,” he kept his voice calm, “what did Colin say?”

Her eyes began to dart. “I said…I said…I said that Papa was like Snow White. Because we put him in a coffin in the forest.” 

Miss Peters’ hands flew to her mouth and Anthony turned his back, walking to the far corner of the room. Benedict’s head swam. That he was even having this conversation was surreal.

Eloise continued, halting her words nervously. “And then I said…maybe…maybe if Mama kissed him…like the prince…then he would wake up again.”

Benedict swallowed and stared at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. Eloise took a deep breath, her fury returning. “And then Colin shouted at me, and told me I was stupid, and that Papa is dead and never coming back.” Her whole frame started to shake, new tears wetting her cheeks. “He said I would never see Papa again!” She stomped her foot against the rug, scrunching up her whole face in a look of defiance, rather than despair. This was Eloise, she was a creature of will, not of sentiment.

Benedict could hear muffled whimpers from Miss Peters, and absolute silence from the corner where Anthony stood. At last, he met his sister's eyes. She searched his face, imploring him for some acknowledgement. He didn’t know how to have this conversation, and he especially didn’t know how to have it while inebriated. So, he pivoted.

“And then you struck him?”

“Yes!” She squeaked, a flash of pride in her eyes.

Benedict couldn’t hide a small grin. “Eloise, you know you shouldn’t hit your brother.” He took one of her tiny hands in his and squeezed it to make his point. “You shouldn’t hit anyone.”

Her fire receded a bit and her voice grew soft. “I know.” Suddenly, her arms were around his neck and her head was on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

Benedict patted her on the back, “You don’t need to apologize to me, you need to apologize to Colin. And I must find him for you to do so.” He pulled her away and looked at her intently. “Off to bed with you, and we will all meet in the morning.”

She pouted at him, “But he was so mean.”

Benedict let out a shuddering breath, thinking to himself that while his words may have been cruel, Colin had been correct. Though he couldn’t tell Eloise that. “I suppose he was,” he took her hands in his again. “So you will both apologize to each other, alright?”

Her face twisted in confusion, but she nodded at him, clearly tired from her outburst. He guided her back to Miss Peters who led her out of the room and back upstairs.

“So where is he?” Anthony asked quietly. Benedict turned to see him, still angled away with his hands on his hips, casting sideways glances at the fire.

“I’ll get him Anthony, you needn’t concern yourself.” He didn’t want to add more to his brother’s shoulders, it was true. But he also didn’t want him to know about the secret hiding place where he suspected Colin to be. It was a spot only he and his younger brother had discovered, as far as he was aware.

Anthony was flexing his jaw and shifting his weight from foot to foot, the firelight betraying that tears were shining in his eyes. He gave Benedict a wordless nod, but in the gesture there was a thank you, a trust, an understanding.

---

Colin was indeed in the secret hiding spot where Benedict had expected to find him. It was outside the windows of the second floor’s east corridor. At some point in his youth, he had discovered that if you climbed out one of three given windows, you would land on the roof of the portico over Aubrey Hall's front doors. So long as you stayed out of view of the windows, no one in the house could find you. It had served to shield him, at least temporarily, when he was up to no good, or hiding from the consequences of his bad behavior. Once Colin was old enough to join him as a partner in such endeavors, he had learned of the location as well.

Benedict opened one of the windows and leaned out to see the boy sitting on the corner edge of the portico, dangling his feet off the side. 

“Here you are,” he said softly, and then clambered over the sill to follow him, pulling the window nearly shut behind them to avoid detection.

Colin looked sharply over his shoulder and grumbled, “Anthony sent you out to find me?”

Benedict had to steady himself after his acrobatics, reminded that he was still impaired by brandy. Slowly, he walked over to join his brother. “He did. But I don’t plan on dragging you back to him. I just wanted to see that you were safe.” 

He sat down next to Colin and squinted through the dark. In the meager light that shone out from the hall windows behind them, he could see that the boy’s lip was swollen, with a dark gash of a bloody cut. He sighed. “Eloise’s aim is getting better. Are you alright?”

Colin sniffed defiantly, and sucked in his injured lip. “I’m fine,” he bit off.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.” 

Benedict had rarely seen his brother so angry. Though he wasn’t going to fault anyone in his family for how they felt tonight. After scowling at him, Colin leaned rather too far out over his knees, staring down at the ground a story below them. A dread rose up inside the older brother, who interpreted precisely what his sibling was thinking. 

“If you jump down from this roof you’ll break an arm,” he cautioned.

Colin snapped around to face him, glaring. “I don’t care!” he shouted, “I’m going to run away and you can’t stop me!”

“Like last time?” Benedict hoped that by reminding the boy of his prior failed escape attempt, he would think better of his plans. 

Instead, Colin only seemed to grow bolder. “No,” he shook his head, glowering. “This time you won’t find me. No one will.”

If it were possible for Benedict to feel any more hollow than he already did, Colin’s intention to vanish certainly made him feel that way, whether or not there was any chance he would succeed.

“Would you come back to visit us at least?” It was a genuine question. While he was too tired to contemplate whether his small brother would actually run away and evade them all, if he managed to do so, Benedict couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. “We will miss you. Mother will miss you.” It was an appeal to his sensibilities, yes. But it was also the truth. He spoke more softly, “I will miss you.”

Colin stirred in the darkness, kicking his feet where they dangled in the air. He was quiet for several moments, the agitation seeming to melt out of his posture. At last he answered, quietly,  “You could come with me, I suppose. Just you.”

Benedict couldn’t hide a small grin. Perhaps he was not at imminent risk of needing to chase his brother across the English countryside. Not if he had earned the boy’s trust. He leaned back on his arms and looked off across the shadowy landscape. “Where will we go?”

Colin’s voice grew frustrated again. “I don’t know. I just…I just don’t want to be here anymore.” He picked up a small pebble from the rooftop and threw it angrily into the distance. Benedict couldn’t see his eyes very well in the darkness, but from the tone of his voice, he knew that he was holding back tears. An instinctual part of him wanted to reach out and hold his younger brother, but he thought better of it. When Colin needed comforting he always made it clear, and tonight he was not asking for comfort, he was asking to be heard. 

In honesty, Benedict understood precisely how he felt. While his heart was weighed down with an overwhelming sadness at everything that had transpired, there was an undeniable part of him that was angry. Angry at the injustice of it all. Angry that there was nothing he could do to improve the situation. Angry that there was nothing anyone had managed to do, other than sit around and be morose. “I understand,” he sighed. “I don’t particularly want to be here right now, either.” It was a relief to admit it aloud. 

Colin turned to him with a look of surprise. Benedict grinned back, happy that they had found a confidence to share between them. Perhaps together they could manage, eventually, to claw their way back to happiness. He raised a brow at his brother, “Shall we go to Spain? Cyprus?”

“How would we get that far?”

Benedict shrugged and stuck his nose in the air. “I think I have some rather useful skills. I know how to survive on the road.”

Colin scoffed at him. “You’ve never been on the road.”

Benedict frowned. “Well, neither have you. I’m older and smarter than you, at least.”

Colin ignored the jab. Time had toughened him against such remarks. “We would need a map,” he pointed out.

“Not necessarily.” Benedict shook his head. “We have the stars.”

Colin looked up at him quizzically. “The stars?”

“Of course.” Benedict’s brow furrowed. “What is that tutor teaching you?” He leaned toward his brother. “How do you think ships stay on course when all that a map will show them is a big blue ocean?” Colin only shrugged, eyes wide. Benedict continued, “The stars are fixed in the sky. Look there…” 

He began to point out every constellation he could recognize, aligning them all with the cardinal directions as he had learned in school, and as their father had instilled in his memory on nights like this when the sky was clear. Not so long ago, Edmund had stood on the balconies and lawns of Aubrey Hall, pointing out to young Anthony and Benedict the bears and archers, lions and ladles that dotted the sky over their grounds, telling them the stories of each character and how each one could help to point them home, if they should ever need. Now Benedict recounted everything he remembered to Colin. While somewhat cheekily claiming it would help guide him on an adventure, in truth he fervently hoped that the boy would use the same knowledge to always return to his family, if he ever found himself far away.

Colin was entranced, eagerly following Benedict’s hand as he illustrated the company of animals and heroes above them. Soon enough, they were lying on their backs on the portico roof, staring in awe at the expanse of the universe, the details of their sorrowful day temporarily forgotten. How long they laid there, Benedict wasn’t sure. It took a good deal of time to map out the entire sky. But by the time he had finished his tour of the stars, Colin was quiet beside him, looking dreamily up into the night, with the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Benedict?” he asked softly.

“Mmm?”

Colin turned his head to face him, the anger in his voice had been replaced with a sense of resolution. “Let’s wait a bit before we leave. I need to decide which way to go. East or south, or…” He trailed off, turning back to look at the brightest points above them. “Just be ready.”

Benedict smiled, knowing in his heart that Colin wasn’t going to go anywhere. Not anytime soon at least. “Very well. I’ll wait for you to give the word.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp

[purple-obsidian]

unconditional (18+, red hood jason todd x fem reader) wc 1.5k

⭓ this post contains explicit sexual content and is not suitable for minors. reader is afab and described as shorter than jason. established relationship. if you sense a theme in my writing, what can i say. i'm a sucker for sleepy sex. dedicated to @janybabyy who is always down to proofread my work at a moments notice.

You awaken with a start, the familiar creek of your front door closing, pulling you from your uncomfortable half-slumber.

The hall light flickers on, casting a tall, dark shadow over your perch on the oversized recliner in your shared living room.

“You actually used the door.” You mumble sarcastically, recognizing the hulking frame as your boyfriend.

Your greeting is reciprocated by a raspy exhale, followed by a heavy footstep, then another. “You should be in bed.”

He's already rid himself of his helmet. You admire the outline of his shaggy hair as he stalks closer, your heart beating stronger when he pauses several feet in front of you.

“Says who?” You ask, a coy grin itching at the corner of your mouth.

“Me.”

Exhaustion is apparent in his voice. You can practically feel it radiating off his body. Jason reaches a heavy arm to massage away an ache in the back of his neck as you stand up and approach.

He’s leaning into your touch before your palm even reaches his cheek. Another long exhale escapes him, your touch akin to a cool drink of water after a long run in the heat.

”Can’t sleep without you here.”

“Huh. Yeah right,” he presses his lips to the skin of your wrist briefly before continuing, “I know I wake you up. Don’t lie.”

His arm snakes around your waist, the most natural movement in the world to him. Muscle memory. That’s where you belong, in his arms, by his side. Even so, you know he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that some people are worth losing sleep over. That his love is worth the occasional sleepless night, whether it’s staying awake from worry, or comforting him through his ever-present night terrors.

“Jason…” You bring your other hand to cup his face gingerly, feeling a pang of guilt at the dark circles under his eyes.

He works so hard.

Before you realize it’s happening, you’re guiding him down into a slow kiss. His lips, warm and familiar, are tinged with the taste of salt and blood. You allow yourself to indulge for a beat before shying away, wanting to check him for injuries. But as you rescind, needy lips follow, an almost desperate groan rumbling in his throat.

“Don’t.” He mumbles, lips flush against your own. Rough hands grip you closer at the small of your back. “Please, sweetheart. Need you. Missed you.”

You swoon, allowing him to consume your senses. Eyes closed, lips entangled once more, Jason Todd never needs to ask more than once for your affection. Ever since the day you confessed your love for each other, you give it to him, freely and willingly. You are his safe space, his haven. The one person he’s finally let himself be vulnerable with, where there’s no need for his reticence.

And in return? You have, in him, a best friend. Your protector, your lover, the only man who can make living in this hellhole of a city worth it. There are very few problems in your life that he cannot solve. Nevermind that most of those problems are caused by dating him in the first place. Dating a vigilante has its dangers, but Red Hood seems to be at the top of the ‘food chain’ when it comes to Gotham’s criminal underworld.

All that influence, all the money and power that comes with it, and he still chooses to come home to you. In your mediocre flat, with spotty internet, expensive heating, and a dishwasher that never seems to stay not broken, no matter how many times he fixes it.

Several articles of clothing, discarded in a tired haze of affection, lead a telling trail to the bedroom. Jason lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed, keeping himself close so he’s on top of you. Cognizant of his size, he remains propped on his forearms, caging you in but graciously allowing you to breathe.

“Need you too.” You whisper up at him, basking in his attention. You bite your lip, and reach down for the waistband of his boxers, the only remaining article of clothing keeping him modest.

“M’gross.” He mutters, voice tinged in hesitation. “It’s been a long night.”

But he doesn’t stop your fingers from tugging on the elastic. He helps you, kicking them off, and settling his frame over yours again, allowing his lips to rest against your forehead.

“Don’t care.”

You turn your head, allowing your breath to fan over the scarred skin of his neck.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you, Jay. Besides…” You nudge your nose against him, inhaling deeply, savoring his musk, eyes rolling back at the rush of feel-good hormones that flood your brain from the familiarity.

Your boyfriend chuckles, “Yeah? Besides what, hm?” Peering down at you with lustful eyes, his deep tone sends a tingle down your spine. Nerves on fire from the closeness, you reach for him, slow yet confident, not disappointed when your fingers wrap around his length to guide him to the space reserved for him and him alone.

He knows what.

“No prep? You sure, sweetheart?” His voice is tired, strained, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in how he addresses you. You know he doesn’t have the energy to get you warmed up. He barely has the energy to be on top.

“I can handle you, handsome. Just take it easy on me.”

With no willpower to contest your assurance, Jason's heavy eyelids flutter shut as he slowly lowers himself flush on top of you. Chest to chest, skin to skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes his aching cockhead inside the familiar warmth of your body. Your velvet walls weep from his intrusion, the sting in your inner muscles one you’ll never quite get used to. It’s a bittersweet pain that you've come to associate with this behemoth of a man you share your home with.

Jason takes his time. His movements are slow, languid, letting you grow accustomed to him an inch at a time. He keeps close, exhaling little praises into your ear every time a pained whimper escapes your throat.

“Good girl, shhh, nice and slow.”

“Been thinking about you all night.”

“That's it, relax for me, beautiful.”

His unhurried thrusts, tender and deliberate, are slow enough that the cool air of the bedroom has enough time to cool your slick along his shaft before he pushes his progress back in. Your strained panting fills his ear, the way you cling to him urges him to continue on despite the stretch you feel. You don’t want him to think he’s too much.

He’s never too much for you.

Never.

“Jason… Please.”

You clench around him when he pushes deeper, your body finally catching up and leaking your desire around his girth that’s splitting you open.

“Fuck.”

The muscles in Jason’s back tense and release. He pauses his hips, biting into the pillow behind your head, adjusting one arm to hold a bit more of his weight.

Desperate for more of him, you shift your hips up and buck him deeper inside you in short thrusts, digging your fingertips into his back. You’re careful not to use your nails, having promised yourself long ago that you would never be the cause of one of his scars.

But deep down you know, this man would wear a scar from you proudly. He’s proved on more than one occasion that he would die for you.

Just because he would take it, doesn’t mean he deserves it. Which is why you use your self control to restrain yourself while you cling to him gently, crying out in pleasure when he finally starts moving again to match your rhythm, heavy breathing shaking his whole body.

The friction from the increase in pace has you flexing your feet and writhing, nodding your head, stuttering out his name.

“I love when you’re like this…” He admits. “Fuck, you feel so, ugmmmph!” Jason loses his breath, his orgasm hitting him unexpectedly, like an ocean current that sweeps you away so quick, you don’t know which way is up. All he can think about, all he can perceive while the pleasure spasms down his legs is you.

“Y-yes!” You stuffer, helping him bottom out deep inside you, his tip kissing the entrance to your womb, decorating it with his essence while his climax peaks.

Taking advantage of his euphoria, you wrap your legs around his strong abdomen, and hold him closely, showering his neck in fervent kisses.

The noises he makes in response to your affection sound guttural, like you’re fulfilling a primal need of his that he’s been deprived of for too long. A need all humans have. Something Jason Todd, specifically, was lacking most of his life, until he met you.

Enthusiastic, genuine, tender affection. Love that’s unconditional.

The type of love that doesn’t care if he’s dirty and scarred. The kind of love that understands not every instance of intimacy will be an epic performance. It’s the love that finds it endearing when his gentle snoring fills your ear less than a minute later, still one with the most intimate parts of you.

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⭓ masterlist ⭓

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

[victoria-grimesss]

Call the Doctor, I'm in Love

masterlist

->Paring: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Medic!Fem!Reader

->Words: 2.9k

->Warning: fluff & angst, mentions of injury/wounds

->Summary: Soap has a big ol crush on you, he’s not sneaky or quiet about it. Here are the many times he’s fantasized about you and the one time you answered his dreams.

->A/N: a little something because I love Foap!

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is a pretty guy, a hunk if you will and he knows it. He has no troubles with the ladies and is highly experienced but he always feels like he’s lacking something, someone. Until you came along, pretty new medic. You’re his favorite. He always goes to you for a patch up even waiting for medical help until you come back from break. Johnny is a saint, he is a patient and giving man. 

But he wants you, desperately. He’s got a big fat crush and he’s not quiet about it. The 141 is exhausted hearing about what you did today and that Soap thinks you looked dreamy today, stitching up his arm. He saw you look at him a little extra that means you want to be with him right? They can’t wait until you either reject the poor fool or take him on a bloody date. Here are the times poor Mactavish has swooned over you:

The 1st Time: Your Introduction

Soap has found himself head over heels for you. He first saw you in the medical tent after him and an enemy went headfirst over a steep rockwall, he was fine of course, seems like that guy can bounce back from anything, you had nursed him back to health and he was done for. Your caring words and gentle hands were all he wanted now. And imagine his surprise and excitement when you became the team's new task-force medic.

“Alright team I hope you read over the file, we got a new member to our team. She's going to be our medic but don’t worry she can hold our own on the field. She’s reliable and damn good at her job. We’ve had too many close calls lately and I don’t want anyone dying of something that could have been prevented.”

Price ends his introduction and you greet your way around the room, everyone is nice enough for tuff military men. You find yourself sitting next to John, or Soap, or sometimes Johnny depending on who you ask. He’s a good looking guy, as are the rest in the room but you have a job to do so you don’t plan on messing up your place on the team by intermingling with one of them.

“Aye lass, do you carry one of those stethoscope things around with ya?”

He’s leaning on one arm, checking out the equipment you had brought with you.

“I usually keep it in the office, why is something wrong?”

You’re looking him over for anything obvious but nothing sounds any alarm.

“Ah no, it’s just my heart… it’s acting funny, beats a little faster when you come around.”

He’s smiling and you laugh not expecting a bad pick-up line but seems like he’s that kind of guy.

“I see. Well might want to try working on your cardio then that’ll improve that heart rate of yours.”

He pauses, thinking of what to say next to lure you in.

“You like bars doctor?”

“Not particularly..”

“Would ya mind joining me, I hate drinking alone.”

You smile, amused.

“Why not one of the other boys, someone you’re more familiar with.”

You’re looking into your bag and he drops his head lower so you’ll look him in the eyes.

“I’d like to be more familiar with you bonnie.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips pretending to think.

“Well I’m not so interesting, just a doctor after all. I’m sure Gaz would love to join you, you two seem the best of friends.”

He seems a little discouraged when you don’t play into his game but he looks at the small smile that plays on your lips and knows he’s just gotta keep trying. You won’t shake him off that easily.

—

The 2nd Time: The Flu Incident

Flu season. Your favorite time of the year, your inner monologue drips with sarcasm as you scrub your hands raw for the sixth time today. It’s late afternoon and the sun dips over the horizon as the rooms are casted with a honey soaked orange glow. The murmurs from the outside hallway peak your interest and you dry your hands and exit to the hall.

“I told you MacTavish I can help you just as easily as any other nurse or doctor, just come into my office and we’ll get you fixed up.” 

An older more seasoned nurse has her hands on her hips, gaze pointed at Soap with a motherly disapproved look at her face. You step out of the room tossing the paper towel into the bin.

“Troubled patient?” 

Soap lifts his head at your voice and he smiles, voice nasally and strained.

“Ah there ya are bonnie, been waiting for you. Think you can fix me?” 

“You’d be in better hands with her you know? Unlike me she knows what she’s doing.” 

Your tone is playful and Johnny stands weakly, hand on the wall.

“Yea but you’re my favorite, can’t feel better unless it’s you.”

The other nurse is called away shooting you a good luck look with her eyes, no doubt happy to not have to deal with the sickly man.

“Alright Johnny whatever you say. Let’s get you to a bed.”

“You’re a real saint hen.”

You place a steady hand on his back leading him to the bed in your office, away from the overflow so he can hopefully get some rest.

“Alright Johnny go ahead and lay down I’ll get your temp and let’s see if we can break that fever alright?”

He groans as he lays down obviously dealing with joint pain from the flu, it’s a nasty one that’s hit the base this time.

You run a washcloth under cool water, grab your thermometer, and sit next to him making sure he’s comfortable. You take his temp and frown, 

“Give it to me straight doctor, am I going to make it?”

He grips your hand dramatically and you laugh while patting his hand.

“I think you’ll just scrape by, it’ll be close though.”

“Oh thank heavens. Guess you’ll just have to take extra close care of me right?”

He’s giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes again as you place the washcloth on his forehead and place the back of your hand on his cheek to feel the temp there as well.

“I guess since I’m part of your team now I’ll have to make sure you live, so yes. I will take extra good care of you.”

You smile at him softly, you don’t like seeing anyone sick but sick Soap reminds you of a kicked puppy.

You miss the way his eyes shine up at you as you chart his info. How the thoughts in his head are those of you and him on dates, what ring he will propose to you with, where you’ll honeymoon and various other daydreams he has swirling around. He would do anything for you to be his, he would capture the stars for you.

You get up from your chair to put his info into the computer and he looks at the sad flowers on the side table, shriveled and needing to be tossed.

“These flowers aren't lookin so good.”

You glance over and frown.

“Oh yeah, it’s been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to replace them yet.”

He hums and you walk back over to him and give him some painkillers and electrolyte drink mix.

“Take these and get some rest please, it’ll do you good.”

He sits up, eyes on you as he takes the pills, handing you the little cup back.

“I’ll get you some new flowers, take you out too.”

You’re facing away from him, a smile gracing your features.

“Johnny, I-”

“You don’t have to say yes now lass, just please, for the sake of my well-being think on it.”

You move over to him and dab the cloth onto his cheeks and cool down his pulse points, heart growing slightly as you reply.

“Sure Johnny, I’ll think about it. Now sleep, doctor's orders.”

He sleeps quietly next to you as you finish your charting. The sight of him so calm warms your heart and it scares you a little bit, you wouldn't want to throw off the balance of the team or make any weird power dynamics by falling for him but he makes it harder and harder. 

The next week fresh flowers are left on the side table.

—

The 3rd Time: Award Ceremony Ball

Dressed to the nines each of you are. A very successful mission rewarded the whole team with a variety of medals and everyone was looking very nice all cleaned up.

Your dress was a floor gown with a slip up the leg and your back was exposed, the dress felt so silky and it was nice to not be covered in blood for once. Although you did manage to spill some kind of fancy jam on it and you were frantically dabbing at it with water when you were interrupted with Soap meeting up with you.

“Well don’t you look nice.” 

He’s lively tonight, eyes bright with optimism after the job and sporting brand new chest candy to show off.

Your eyes drift up from the new stain on your dress to him and he, well he looks damn good. A new pink scar graces his jawline but it looks good on him, he can wear scars well.

“Thank you, you clean up well yourself too.”

“Ah bonnie don’t make me blush now.” 

The rest of the team is chatting at a nearby table, Price is nursing a short glass of something dark, Gaz is going to town on the amazing food, and Ghost is engaged in conversation with the two of them.

“You wanna head back to the table?”

You offer, he shakes his head and offers his hand.

“I ask the fine lady to a dance.”

You blush, never asked to dance before, the ballroom floor filled with experts, couples swirling to the melody in the air.

You stew on it for a moment, and put your hand in his.

“Ok but if I fall you fall with me okay?”

“Always.”

Your hands are intertwined, one of his is on your waist and yours is on his shoulder. You both try to copy what the others do and the messy dance combined with the flutes of champagne you both consumed makes for quite the site. The mess of bumping feet and unsteady movements.

“For a sergeant you’re rather uncoordinated MacTavish.” Your laugh is light.

“I didn’t go to fuckin dance school, certainly didn’t learn this in the marines that’s for sure. What, did they teach this in medical school?”

“Does it look like they did? I can stitch up a bullet wound but lord help me I can't dance for shit.”

You bump into him again and his grip tightens slightly.

“I got ya bonnie.”

He could be living in a dream right now, you in such a pretty dress adorned in your well deserved medals, him with his. You’re gripping his shoulder and he’s got you in his arms, he can smell your perfume and see the small hairs out of place as the two of you spin but he loves it all the same. He wants it all the same.

“Johnny. Can you hear me?”

He blinks harshly, really sinking back in. You’re not his right now, he can’t take you back to his place after this and kiss each part of you, unzip the dress and let his fingers graze over the skin that's revealed to him. Watch how you move under the moonlight as he touches you just as he imagined. Not yet.

“Yea?”

“I said I think Gaz just devoured his fourth bowl of that dip I wanted to try.”

“Must be good then, should we head over before he finishes it all?”

You laugh and agree.

“Thank you for the dance MacTavish, you made me feel less silly for not knowing what I’m doing.”

His eyes sparkle at your admiration.

“I’m always happy to help.”

—

The 4th Time: Yes

This mission could not have been more fucked up. Shrapnel flies and bullets whiz by. The air is cold but your body is so hot, on fire from the adrenaline. 

The coms are staticy and choppy but you can make out the team. 

An undercover mission with Soap had you outside a pretty nice villa at dusk. It was meant to pose as a couple on a retreat to gain intel from an organization nearby but all hell had broken loose. You're cornered and Soap had been down to three bullets and you at two until you were able to take down someone else and gain the upper hand.

Communication with the team was hard, they had sent for backup now you just had to wait.

And Soap is shot.

He has taken a bullet for you and you’re frantic. 

“Fuck Johnny, shit.”

He grimaces as you rip your bag off of your back to grab for first aid. It’s not enough though, you had to pack light and it’s not enough.

“Stupid ass job, told them to find a way to get more equipment.”

You’re more muttering to yourself, ripping things out of the small bag you were allotted to patch him up.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

Johnny laughs and it sends him into a coughing fit, the bullet is in his side. You pray it hasn't done permanent damage but the gravel in his cough scares the hell out of you.

“Hold on Johnny, I’m gonna get you fixed up alright, just stay still.”

A bullet nearly misses your head and he shoots back hitting the guy before clutching his side again.

“You think that’s all of them?”

“Fucking hope so, I need- I have to clean it.”

He’s strong, so strong and sweet and kind and nice and charming and you can’t lose him. 

Not when you know you want him now. That you need him now. 

“Gonna lift your shirt ok? Just watch your breathing.”

“Aye, not even going to take me to dinner first.”

Your eyes are blurry as tears slip down, first one the two.

He wipes them away, his blood smearing onto your face and you choke back a sob.

“C’mon bonnie, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

His voice grows weaker the more he speaks and you beg him to stop, but he rambles. 

He talks about how each morning he wakes up to see if you’re up yet. He waits for you at the gym, always goes to you when he feels unwell, gushes to the rest of the team about you when you’re not around. 

He flirts openly with you and what a fool you’ve been to not reciprocate fully, to reel into him.

The needle breaks his skin and his eyes grow heavy, the blood is still flowing freely and you almost feel it rushing out of you as well.

“I’m so sorry Johnny.”

You stitch and wipe and repeat. It’s a gaping wound and it makes you sick seeing it on him. 

You’re so focused on stitching him you don’t notice when his eyes close. His breathing is shallower now. 

Your eyes race around his face, head now slumped to the side.

You wipe the wound, it’s not good but it should be ok. Heavy on should.

Your hand, coated in blood cups his cheek, shaking.

“Johnny?”

You move his head, it's heavy in your hands and your breathing hurts now.

You get closer, enough to press his forehead to yours and you inhale his smell. 

You hold cloth to his wound to try to stop the bleeding and you whisper promises to him if he will just pull through. 

Your lips are so close to his that when your tears roll down your face they roll off your nose onto his lips.

The hand that cups his cheek feels his pulse on his neck and it’s quiet and slow. It’s so silent here now.

“I’m so sorry Johnny. I love you. Fuck I love you so much I just didn’t want to mess anything up. Please don’t leave yet. 

You lips touch his softly, like if you pressed any harder he would shatter.

“Could have- could have told me all that before I was dying yea?”

He laughs weakly, his smile cracking the corner of his lips. You cup his face fully now, careful to remove your hand from the wound but you applied enough pressure by now the blood has coagulated some. 

“You mean all that?” His eyes are heavy but he still looks at you with that same shining he always did.

“Yes, god yes. I just didn't want to mess up the team dynamic but I don’t care anymore, you just have to pull through alright then let's go out.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Blades of the helicopter sound nearby cutting through the silence.

“Just hold on Johnny we’re gonna get you patched up. Then I want to see you in that suit again.”

“Anything for you bonnie.”

—

He recovered well with you by his side of course. You dressed his wound properly and gave him a kiss to make it heal faster he would say. Then two weeks later he showed up in a suit with flowers at your office door. The rest is history, but the team is much happier not listening to Soap’s rambling about you but they are happy nonetheless.

[sturnmeovr]

Batman Has Arrived - Matt Sturniolo

Pairings - fwb!Matt x fem!Reader Summary - Two weeks into the break Matt proposed, he pops up on you at a Halloween party. Warnings - Strong language. Sexual suggestions. Fluff. A lil angst?? W/c - 2560 A/n - That tiktok Matt posted had me dreamingggg. It's now no nut November (idk if I'm participating) so I didn't want to turn this into a smut lol. Let me know what you guys think!! 🦇 Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler (if anyone else wants tagged just let me know!) My Masterlist Current series - City of Love (Matt) Current works - part two to You Like me? (Matt) Latest work - Pierced (Chris)

“Code red!” your best friend sounds from behind you, making you whirl around to face her. “He’s here and he’s so pissed,” she tells you before taking a sip of her drink. Your heart drops to your stomach, the drunken haze you’re in isn’t making it better, “you told me he wouldn’t be here!”

“I didn’t think he would be!” she throws her hands up defensively. It had only been two weeks since Matt proposed a ‘break’ between you two. His reason being - ‘he wasn’t in the right mental state for a girlfriend.’ You thought it was bullshit, and it was. Matt had a bad habit of not being straightforward with you. Truth be told, even though he was always the one to suggest a break, he was always the one to come running back. His constant need to go back and forth left you feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted. This wasn't the first time he brought up the idea, in the beginning you'd constantly check in on. After the third or fourth time of him doing the same stupid shit, you decided ignoring him was best.

Already knowing how the night will end, you pour yourself another shot. Before you can bring it up to your lips, “Batman has arrived,” you hear your best friend scoff. She throws a shot back with you as Matt approaches the kitchen island. “Drinking away your problems, huh?” the familiar voice makes you hold your breath out of nervousness.

You roll your eyes almost immediately, “I didn’t have any problem until I noticed you were here.” You were still holding a grudge. It had been six months since you and Matt first started hooking up. He was probably the most confusing man you had ever been with. One minute he’s talking about a future with you, and the next he’s telling you he needs a break, that he's not ready for a relationship. You’d feel a lot better if he actually communicated, telling you what’s truly wrong, but he did the exact opposite. He never told you shit, just springs unexpected breaks on you like your feelings don’t matter.

Even worse, Matt knew you were head over heels for him. Everyone knew. The way you stare at him when he was in close proximity resembled a schoolgirl swooning over her first crush, that’s what it felt like anyway.

“Don’t be like that, Y/n/n,” he says after leaning down to your ear. The loud music blaring through the house made it hard to hear anything. His hands fall to your waist, and he leans you back against his chest, “I only came out tonight so I could see you.”

You tilt your head to get a good look at him. Black paint smears over his eyes making him look more mysterious than he already did. You gape at him, “Batman?”

Matt’s fingers make gentle circles on your waistline, the fabric of your costume bunching up in the process. You were dressed in all black, as a fallen angel. Before the break, you and Matt planned on going as Catwoman and Batman, inspired by Robert Pattinson and Zoe Kravitz. It was one of your favorite superhero movies, along with his. Apparently, Matt wasn’t creative enough to come up with another costume idea. Seeing him in the costume you coordinated for him made your stomach twirl. Little did you know - he was praying you'd come dressed as his Catwoman.

“Fallen angel?” he asks before he spins you around to face him. You nod, a bit taken back with how touchy he was being. Matt wasn’t the pda type of person, just like he wasn’t the going out type. You figured Halloween was a special occasion since it was his favorite day of the year. Matt keeps his grip firm, “you look really good.”

“Are you drunk?” you ask him, leaning in so he can hear you better. Matt immediately shakes his head, “I can’t miss you?”

Sucking your teeth and shaking your head at him, “no.” You let your eyebrows knit together, looking at everything except Matt. Truth be told, every time he suggested a break it left you heartbroken. In a way, you felt like you weren't good enough to be his girlfriend. That’s how the constant back-and-forth shit made you feel, like you weren’t good enough for him.

Your drunken state makes it harder for you to blink away the tears prickling at your eyes. Matt’s hands move from your waist to your arms, rubbing them gently like he’s trying to distract you. “Well, I do,” he tells you, searching your face for answers neither of you seem to have. The reasoning behind all the breaks wasn’t because of another girl or wanting freedom. It was simply because he felt like his mental health didn’t allow him to treat you the way you deserved to be treated, and he knew that.

Sucking a breath in and deciding to stay strong, “I’m not doing this tonight, Matt. I came here to get my mind off of you,” you spit out as you take a step back. You run your finger through your hair, hoping the night wouldn’t end how you expected it to - in Matt’s bed.

Before he can say anything else, your best friend, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, snatches you out of his grip. “Okay,” she stretches out, “that’s enough arguing for tonight.”

Matt’s face drops and he keeps a firm grip on your arm, “what? We weren’t arguing,” he defends himself. You look down at the tight grip on your arm, “c’mon y/n/n. Please don’t be like that,” empathy leaking through his words.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can Chris appears out of nowhere. He whispers something in Matt's ear, making him realize he’s causing a scene. He keeps grip tight as he looks around the room, taking in the people who are staring at you two. Innocent bystanders probably thought he was some crazy overprotective boyfriend. That wasn’t the case though, and it made your heart hurt. Matt being possessive over you was pointless if he never had any plans to make you his.

Six months. Six months you had been fucking him and he still hasn’t asked you out. You were losing hope at this point. You had the ‘don’t go back to him’ talk with your best friend time after time but you never learned your lesson. Nights like this always ended with an angry Matt fucking you into his mattress as you spoke in tongues against his pillow, leaving drool stains on the process.

Chris wraps arm around his brother's shoulder, guiding him away from you, and waving an arm over his shoulder. It was his way of signaling you to get the fuck out of there. You quickly take notion, spinning around and hauling ass out of the kitchen, your bestie close behind you.

“That was fucking intense,” she tells you once you lead her to an empty bathroom, closing the door behind her. You groan, throwing your head back, “did you see how fucking good he looked?!”

“No, no,” she says in a panicky tone. “You’re not going home with him tonight!” She knows you too well. Looking in the mirror, you critic your Halloween makeup, making sure none of it got ruined yet. Your best friend makes her way to the toilet, quickly dropping her pants and squatting, “sorry I have to pee.” You shrugged at her, knowing you’d do the same if you really had to pee.

“I feel so bad though,” you tell her while applying more lip stick. “Bitch, he should feel bad for constantly playing with your emotions,” she scoffs.

“He does. You seen his face,” defending him against her harsh opinions wasn’t uncommon at this point. Y/bf/n was just as protective over you as Matt was. Her knowing every detail about the relationship you shared with him made her question his true intentions towards you. You were never the type to have a friends with benefits relationship, and Matt was pretty much forcing you into it. He hadn’t left you alone since the first night he had you, but he never talked about furthering things either.

“Just because his face says one thing, it doesn’t mean it’s accurate,” she tells you honestly. She had a point, but you knew Matt. You knew he wore his emotions on his face before he communicated them to the world. He held a lot back from a lot of people, you included.

You shake your head in disagreement, but before you can talk, she does, “I know you’re gonna leave with him. But at least tell him what you actually want before the night is over and if he doesn’t give it to you then you need to leave him alone. Matt’s not good for you, Y/n.”

After y/bf/n finishes lecturing you, you quickly exit the bathroom, making your way back to the living room. Only problem was, Matt was standing by the doorway with Chris and Nick, scoping his surroundings in hopes to find you. As soon as his eyes land on you, his feet move in your directions. Nick and Chris in tow close behind him, you’d think they were babysitting their drunk brother, but Matt was nowhere near drunk. He was fuming.

“Y/n,” he calls out as soon as he approaches you. You let your face do the talking, scrunching your nose at his comment. Matt never called you by your first name unless he was serious. “You’re coming home with me,” he states, not bothering to give you an option. He quickly redeems himself, “cause you’re drunk.”

“Right,” you huff, running a hand through your hair, “that’s why.” Matt's lips curve upward a bit like he’s trying to smile but he fights it off, keeping them pin straight. Nick lets out a laugh behind him, followed by Chris. Ear hustlers.

You really didn’t have the time or patience to have your Halloween night ruined. You were a girl who liked to have a good time, so Matt putting a halt on your night made you give in to what he wanted. Anything to avoid the conflict at all costs, you had a soft spot for him. You couldn’t tell if it was black paint he had smeared across his eyes, something told you had to go home with him. Then again, your conscious convinced itself every other night you needed him. Holding out for the past two weeks did neither of you the justice it should’ve. It only made the infatuation worse.

Not even twenty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of Matt’s car. He sped through traffic occasionally glancing at you with the sour expression still stuck on his face like glue. Two weeks and you were already wasted at a Halloween party, giving any random guy the opportunity to make a play on you. It pissed him off to no end.

Matt knew every time he suggested a break, it broke your heart a little bit more. He couldn’t bring himself to publicly announce your relationship, he feared the attention would ruin it all. If you were soft for him then you’d be soft when the hate comment came along too, and he wasn’t willing to let that happen. As overprotective as he was, he knew he’d lash out at anyone who threw a negative comment your way. He had a soft spot for you, he just didn’t let it show. Deep down, you could sense it every time you were with him and that’s what reeled you in more each time.

“What’s with the looks?” you decide to finally break the silence, cutting the tension that floated in the air. It didn’t matter how mad he was, the Batman costume was doing wonders for you. Matt gives you the silent treatment, mentally scolding himself for practically kidnapping you. He knew it was toxic, and he knew he was the cause of it. The rest of the car ride is silent until he pulls up to his apartment.

“C’mon Matt,” you whine, “I really like the way your face is painted,” pulling the sleeve of his shirt. Not wanting to fight with him anymore, you caved like usual. Instead of letting his shitty mood get the best of you, you made light of it, doing anything you could to make the night end well.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” keeping his tone low and teasing, “you ghost me for weeks and now all the sudden want me, wonder why?” This wasn’t unfamiliar for you and Matt to be so hot and cold with each other. Whether you liked it or not, it happened too frequently. As soon as the door is open, you rush inside to kick off your shoes, stumbling in the process, “slow down!” Matt reaches a hand out, snaking it around your waist to steady you. A blush creeps up to your cheeks as you hold on to his bicep in an attempt to steady yourself even more, “I’m drunk.”

“I know, baby. I can tell,” he keeps his grasp tight on you, kicking his shoes off, and leading you to the bedroom. Needles and pins stick into your feet with every step you take, making you take a mental note to never wear those heels again. Matt pushes his bedroom door open revealing his messy room. He never made his room look nice unless he was expecting someone you. In a way, you found it comforting because you knew he didn’t fuck anyone during your breaks. Instead, he sulked, trying to find ways to make the situation better but it never worked. He never put in full effort, and he knew it. It killed him.

You take your spot on Matt’s bed, making yourself comfortable. “I’m gonna go wash up,” he tells you quietly.

“What nooo,” you stretch out, rising to your feet and stumbling in the process. “I told you I like it,” crossing your arms over your chest.

“Seriously?” He asks as he takes off his jacket, hanging it on the back of the door. “I thought you were kidding,” he chuckles. Even though he was still upset over the whole situation, he couldn’t help but think your drunken haze was the cutest thing. He loved how goofy and playful you were, like all the shyness disappears.

You reach out to him, taking the hem of his sleeve between your fingers, “I really wanted to be your Catwoman tonight, y’know,” giving him those seductive doe eyes you mastered years ago. That look made him crack every time.

“The least you can do is be my Batman,” filling in the gap between the two of you. You press your body against his and wrap your arms around his neck, “you missed me?”

Matt hangs his head, making sure he’s ear level to you, “I did,” growling lowly. He places a sloppy kiss on your earlobe and sending shivers down your spine. Matt's hands wrap around the back of your thighs, and he pulls you closer to him. It never failed, as soon as he got you in his possession, there was no keeping his hands off of you. The break ended right then and there.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 26

part 1 | part 25 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, recreational drug/alcohol use

He’s marching over the grass with a couple of varsity guys; two on his left, two on his right; V-formation like a flock of geese. Jason's at the head of the group, self-assured purpose of a leader, and it’s weird, seeing this little runt all grown up. The kid used to worship Steve; used to follow him around practices like a lost puppy, called him Captain before he’d even earned the role.

“Is this freak bothering you?” Jason asks. His voice is harsh, winded, winding up for a fight. Steve can see it in his stance: the tightening of his jaw, the clench of his friends’ fists. Plant your feet.

Steve’s gotta shut this shit down before it goes where it always does. Smashed plates, broken bones. All pissing contests flow toward the ocean or whatever.

“Nah, man,” he answers, standing up to dust himself off. The coke zips under his skin, makes him jittery and hot. Hard to play it cool. “We’re good. Busted my ass on the rocks; Munson was just helping me up.”

Munson. Like they’re buddies. Like Eddie’s thumb isn’t still damp from Steve’s tongue.

Jason doesn't seem to buy it. Little pastor-cop in training, he narrows his eyes and turns on Eddie. “Were you following him, Freak?”

Eddie's eyes flash in warning, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Steve shifts his weight to stand in front of him, and his fingers twitch around empty air. He wishes he had his nail bat with him; kind of wants to glue the handle to his palm.

Never know when monsters will come crawling out of the woods.

"Well?" Jason barks, "Answer me!"

His lackeys all pipe up then, the guy to his right sneering, "Not so talkative without his lunch table to stand on, is he?"

"Look at him shaking," adds another.

"Think he was trying to do some Satanic ritual shit while no one was looking?"

"I don't know," says the guy on Jason's left. "Looked like they were sucking each other off to me. Hey, maybe Harrington’s turned fag.”

“Andy!” Jason warns, and Steve—

Steve staggers forward with three arrows in his chest. One for every letter of that stupid fucking word that's been haunting him for years; raging fire in a black box in the far reaches of his brain, belching thick, black smoke, singing his fingertips whenever he gets close enough to touch it.

He wonders if Andy can taste the sulfur in it, too.

“No, go on,” he seethes, voice deadly calm when he lays a hand on Andy’s chest. Steeple his fingers, tips his chin. “Say it again; don't think I heard you right.”

Andy swallows hard, grinds his teeth; tenses to square off for the fight, but Jason throws an arm in front of him. "Easy," he says.

Easy. Down boy.

Andy snarls and backs off.

Jason lowers his voice, searching Steve's face. "You sure you're good? Can't be too careful with..."

His gaze slides over Steve's shoulder, his nose wrinkling in disgust. Steve's never wanted to risk a concussion more. "I'm fine," he grits out, balking at the diplomatic bullshit that's about to slither from his mouth. "Really. Thanks, though, man; appreciate you looking out for me."

Jason gives him a serious nod. "Any time."

—

“So, uh…” Eddie squints at Steve once Jason and his goons run along. His arms are hugged tight around his middle, and he's biting his lip; nervous jiggle of his leg. “How, um— How are we playing this, exactly?”

Steve scrubs at his face; swoons where he stands. Feels like all the blood's drained out of him without the adrenaline to prop him up. Goddamn, he's still so drunk. “Playing what?” he asks, confused.

Whatever it is, it’s already been played, hasn’t it?

Fight’s over; Steve’s exhausted. He just wants to go home.

But then Eddie shakes his head and tuts softly at the ground, his expression gone sour and sad, and there it is again. That feeling that Steve’s fucking everything up somehow.

He’s so tired of that feeling.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches out a hand. Skims Eddie's side; leather jacket, bony hip, and then he hooks his pinky finger into the belt loop of his jeans. Tugs, just a little. Not hard enough to topple him, just—

Enough.

He hopes.

—

part 27

tag lists in separate reblogs with the tag "#trailer park steve au taglist" if you'd like to filter that content, comment and let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)

[cellophaine]

Chapter XI: TIEBREAK

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader, Art Donaldson x Tashi Donaldson.

Warnings: Angst, discussion of miscarriage and women's reproductive health problems.

Author's Note: I'm so so so sorry for being late for one week and three hours ohmygod. I barely have time to write as is because of my work schedule, which has taken over my life in a way that exhausts me every day. This is far from my best chapter, and I'm so so sorry for that.

GIF Source

2019. New Rochelle.

Your eyes locked from the distance, and you realized it didn't hurt as much anymore when you looked at him. At the time of the unexpected run-in with Art in the elevator, old memories and long-buried pains came rushing back like tidal waves, reminding you that there used to be a time when the mere mention of his name would pull a reaction from you, the kind that was nestled deep in your guts and painful as its exterior would lacerate your insides as you tried to expel it. Now, being in this proximity with Art, there was only a dull ache. His gaze followed your every movement, burning hot on your skin as you approached him. When he settled down from across the table, you allowed your eyes to fully drink him in, to note the small changes that the brief exchange two days ago didn’t allow you to.

An abstract shadow cast on his face, shading in the sharp angles of his features, turning his boyish charm into the contemplative man sitting before you. He looked great, still, but he didn't look happier when he had every reason to be. The familiar yearning for the man you loved so much that you were willing to look the other way when the warning signs flared their signals tugged at your heartstrings, but you knew better now than you did thirteen years ago. Art was the baggage that took a long time to shed, the heartbreak that took a long time to recover from.

As much as you wanted to blame Art for ruining other men for you, but you knew you weren't innocent in this game of two. You couldn't bring yourself to commit to the few men you dated over the years before giving up dating entirely after a painful engagement. Your failure in relationships that came after Art was not a reflection of how you were still caught up in him. It was the way you loved like there was an expiry date to the love you gave.

You weren’t hungry and didn’t feel like eating, but you ordered an appetizer anyway. Art did the same, casually said to you after the waitress dropped off your drinks and went away with your food order.

“We can share.”

He had said it so casually. You didn’t correct him. The two of you took the time to observe each other in a comfortable silence before Art disrupted it.

“How have you been?”

“I’m doing good. My career took off.”

Just like you said. But you didn’t say that part out loud.

“So I’ve heard. I see your name everywhere.”

“It can be annoying, can’t it?”

You said, tongue in cheek.

“Never.”

A simple word, accompanied by a bright smile, yet you couldn't help but feel bashful at the undeniable pride that he radiated. It felt genuine, more than the time your parents demanded to see you in San Francisco. All of a sudden, as your book's sales kept climbing up and up, no distance was too much to drive for your parents. At a high-scale restaurant of their choosing, they swooned over your brilliance and told you how proud they were, that they knew you would succeed. You owed them your success, they said, since they brought you up and you wouldn't be here without them. They admitted none of the abuse, and they congratulated themselves on their talented daughter. Your dad eagerly asked about the money, and unashamedly rewarded himself and your mother a bonus from your royalties. To fix up the house, he said, and they needed a new car so they didn't have to drive the old thing that could croak any day. You only nodded, feeling numbness spread all over your senses and body like a self-defence mechanism. You ended up paying for the meal, telling them that they needed to contact your accountant for what they wanted. Knowing June, the accountant of your trusted team, she would die before giving your parents a penny.

On your part, after that day, you decided not to entertain them any longer. You chose to protect yourself, and that meant going radio silent on their calls and texts. Every once in a while, you would receive demanding messages, asking for compensation. None of them received an answer.

Art interrupted your train of thought.

“But how are you really doing? Are you still with–”

You shook your head quickly and cut him off.

“Same old. How about you?”

Your fingers ran over your naked ring finger almost in defence. Art could see your attempt at a distraction and he allowed it to slip past.

"I'm just … alright."

"Come on. You’re doing more than just alright for yourself."

He huffed, and its bitterness wasn't lost on you.

“Not as well as Tashi would like me to.”

You hummed, taking a sip of your soda.

“I could tell as much judging by what you told me at the hotel.”

Art offered a self-deprecating smile and said nothing. He said thanks to the waitress as she settled the trays of entries down. Neither of you was in a hurry to take a bite. You leaned back on the leather seat, barely concealing a weary sigh.

“What am I doing here, Art? If it’s to listen to your marriage problems, then I don’t think I’m equipped for that kind of task.”

“I don't expect you to do that."

He tapped on the glass of water distractedly, seeming to consider his words.

"I just want to tell you that you were right.”

“About what?”

“About Tashi.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was the truth, it always has been. Especially now. What you said about her.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was talking about. The fight between you before you broke up for good. You still remembered how you said Tashi was only using him. You dipped your head, feeling shame crawl to your cheeks.

“Look, it wasn’t my best moment, and I was harsh. I don’t know Tashi enough to talk about her like that.”

“But you were right. I just … didn’t think about it in the way you framed it. Her living through me because she couldn’t play. I ignored it because she made me a better player. For the longest time, I was okay with it."

You stayed quiet, watching as Art worked through the inner monologue in his head. Art didn't look at you, staring at the untouched plates of food instead, while his hand played with the straw wrapper. You had a feeling that he wasn't quite done.

"And then, I started to see … it. I can't remember a day that she didn't talk about tennis. The way she’s only happy when I win. She would reprimand me if I didn’t apply her guidance at times. I thought I could make her happy if I could be the person she wanted me to be. Still, I could feel it. Her resentment."

He swallowed before kept going.

“It was worse after my injury. I recovered from it, and she didn't. I think Tashi resents me for that as well. I’m still playing for the both of us, years later.”

You let the weight of his confession settle in. His shoulders slightly sagged, and you couldn't help but think about how he probably couldn't talk about this to anyone.

“Art, if you’re really unhappy, you can walk away. You know that.”

“I know, but we’ve been together for so long. It's not easy.”

You knew that feeling all too well. But that was where your difference split. You knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

Art looked at you, pondering over your question. A sad smile deepened in his frown lines.

“I thought I could talk to you, as a friend.”

“It sounds like you want something more.”

He licked his lips, contemplating his words.

“What if I did?”

You sighed, feeling memories of the past flapped their wings, overlapping with the present.

“What do you want me to say, Art? That I still love you and I want to run away with you? That's not who I am, and that’s not who you are, either. Deep down, you’re devoted to Tashi and your family. Look at you. You'll sacrifice your own happiness if that means your family can stay together. If it means staying with your wife even though you know she hates you. You’re not going to leave her.”

You knew that deep down because when he was with you, he yearned for Tashi. A part of him wanted Patrick, too, but it went unspoken due to the rivalry Tashi inspired. Yet, here he was, in this dimly lit restaurant, looking at you like you held the key to his heart, and if you said the words, he wouldn’t even question them. If you asked, he would leave this place with you.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like if we were still together. I will be happier. Would we have our own family? A little boy, or girl …”

His words rattled you to the bones. You grabbed your drink and took a large sip. All of a sudden, you were the one that couldn't look at him, while Art was on the opposite. His eyes on you were electrifying one moment, and intruding the next. He could see something was off in the way you went completely silent. You only realized that you hadn't said anything for a long moment, until Art softly called your name. You swallowed the lump in your throat that wouldn't go away, trying to find the words that you barely used outside of therapy sessions and many phone calls with your sister.

“I can't– I couldn't have given you what you have now. Maybe a nice house. But not a family."

You took a steadying breath.

"I’m … I have … endometriosis.”

You received the diagnosis a little while after your engagement to Isaac, your now ex-fiancé. After over a year of dating, when things had been serious between you two for a long time, he expressed his want to have kids. You didn't want any and were firm on the matter. But Isaac was nothing if not a sweet talker with a sharp silver tongue. He made the idea of having kids sound easy. Even heavenly. Your book sale was better than good and with Isaac's rich background, you were more than comfortable to have a kid. You decided to go for it. The first positive pregnancy test came with a proposal from Isaac shortly after. You were nervous but happy, and Felix always looked at you like you were his golden ticket. That statement turned out to be true, you couldn't help but laugh at the irony when you realized it later on.

The miscarriage happened just almost a month after you found out that you were pregnant. Recovery was tough, and after running some tests, the doctor told you that you had endometriosis. Some things started to make sense. The painful cramps, nausea and prolonged fatigue. The nights spent upright in your bathtub and bedroom floor because you didn’t want to puke or bleed on your beddings. Isaac was pensive when the doctor broke the news, and his first question was if you could still get pregnant. The doctor responded with methods and treatments you could follow. But you didn't care for any of that anymore. The pain was all you could think about, its haunting memories plagued your mind. Your heart went completely numb when the searing pain took your breath away as you crouched on the floor of your bathroom. You could never forget the searing pain that sucked the air from your lungs as you collapsed to the floor of your bathroom, the sight of your clothes after you took them off. The bloody mess soaked through the materials and stained the white marble floor seared into your eyes while your heart pounded in your chest, knowing that something had gone very wrong. You needed time to recover, and possibly rethink the idea of having kids. But, Isaac, only a few days after you came back from the hospital, brought up many different sources and pamphlets and ideas on how he wanted to try different methods for kids right away. But you didn't want to. You didn't want to look at the evidence of your shortcomings, your harrowing experience with the pregnancy. But for some reason, Isaac insisted. When you asked if he wanted a baby or you more, he couldn't answer. You broke off the engagement, and Isaac moved out of your apartment two weeks after that.

A month later, Isaac's sister reached out to you, offering her sympathy and shedding some light on why he wanted to have a baby so badly. Their grandfather was old, dying, and most importantly, filthy rich. In his latest will, he stated that a part of his inheritance would be saved for his great-grandkids' education, paying for the best private schools in the country until they could go out into the world independently. Isaac wanted a cut of that money as well, and he needed to have a legitimate child to get a cut from his sister's two kids, who were the sole beneficiaries. It was another hard truth in a whirlwind year, and you thought that was the end of you. With the help of your sister, a few friends and a therapist, you eventually came out the other side. You poured your heart and time into your next book, forgot about dating, and kept on living the quiet life you craved.

After wrapping up the story, you glanced at Art to see his reaction. You were grateful to find compassion, and not pity as you had learned to expect from the few you told this story to. That was all you needed.

Art reached over the table and grasped your hand. You allowed his hand to linger on yours, his thumb caressed your skin soothingly. After a long moment, you pulled your hand away. Art pushed the dish of calamari forward, offering you a bite. You humoured him by taking a bite, feeling the crispy crumbs on your tongue. After the bite, you spoke with a resolve you'd learned from all these years.

“Tashi was who you wanted all these years ago. I knew it, even back then. You couldn’t quite break away from her.”

“I know, and it was unfair to you. But I hope you know that I truly loved you.”

You nodded. He didn't need to say it. A mutual understanding that was so deep that it would take both of you a lifetime to unlearn was something that you shared. Despite how your relationship ended, it didn't diminish your meaningful connection. The heart and mind were the strange and curious things despite their proximity to the body that contained them. You could control them in a way, but in the end, the heart wanted what it wanted, even though the morality deemed it wrong. You still cared for each other deeply, and even though years had passed since you last spoke, the connection was nurtured and forged in stone, becoming a part of your history that neither of you could ever forget. The concept was foreign, and you lived through it before you could truly understand it.

“Despite what happened, and I know I should hate you for it, but I’m glad that you got what you wanted. A great career. A family. Lily seems like a sweet girl.”

There was a touch of hesitation when Art spoke.

“She is. But there's … something else.”

You waited for him to go on. He eventually did, with doubt riddled his words.

“I think Tashi slept with Patrick after our engagement a few years ago.”

You blinked. You didn't anticipate that to come out of him.

“I was on a tour, and I … I couldn't sleep. She wasn't with me, so I went down to the lobby to find her. Then I saw her and Patrick sitting together. Someone distracted me, and when I turned around, they were gone.”

You considered your position, and decided to stay quiet.

“Maybe they went out for a smoke.”

“Tashi doesn’t smoke.”

“A drink, then?”

“There were two on the table by the time they left. Going to another place for drinks seems redundant. I’m not stupid, you know?”

You felt torn. Art deserved to know the truth, but it had to come from Tashi herself. You didn't want to meddle more than you had just by being here with Art and listening to the admission of how much he had missed you.

“Art. You have to ask yourself why you're thinking about the past and having doubts.”

When he didn't answer, you went on.

“Was it worth it to break your friendship with Patrick for Tashi? Are you happy with the choices you made?”

Art remained silent. He averted his eyes, a weariness weighed his shoulders down. You wanted to reach out, to almost say sorry for confronting him, but you kept your hands to yourself.

“It’s strange, how all of us are here.”

“Patrick is here as well?”

Art nodded.

“Yeah. I’m playing against him tomorrow.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Like we’re still playing for Tashi’s number.”

A sarcastic chuckle left his lips.

“He’s still the same. Cocky. Overconfident.”

“And still somehow got under your skin?”

“No. We’re too old for that game.”

A tentative look passed Art's eyes, and you could almost tell what he was about to say.

“He said that you two ran into each other a few years ago.”

“We did.”

“He mentioned that you spent the night together.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing. What you did with him is none of my business.”

You sucked your teeth before letting it go with a soft cluck.

“It’s funny. After all these years, you still can’t say what you really want to say. At least, Patrick was upfront about wanting to sleep with me.”

“So, you two didn’t …”

You waved a dismissive hand.

“Relax. For the record, we didn’t. I still loved you then. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I know that I don’t have any right to feel jealous, but I can't help it.”

“You really don't.”

“I know. I’m the fucking worst."

You didn't feel the want to revel in the admission of guilt he had shown you. What you wanted to do was to tell him about how you felt after everything that happened.

“You really hurt me, Art. I couldn’t understand why you got engaged with Tashi so quickly after we broke up. I accepted why you wanted to be with her, but I couldn’t fathom the timing.”

“You broke up with me. And I desperately wanted to get over you. I was envious of Patrick and Tashi’s relationship for so long, and I wanted her attention for so long that I thought it was the only way to get over you.”

You sighed deeply, seeing the invisible repeating patterns that had started to resurface. You leaned over to the table and took his hand.

“You have to move on. If the three of you can’t find a way to be together, then you have to break apart. Don’t let this consume you. And stop punishing yourself. Tashi’s shortcomings aren’t yours to carry.”

Art nodded, his brows furrowed in a way that made you feel like he understood you completely. After a long moment, he turned to the jacket he left on the seat. You went to pull your hand away, but Art held onto it as if he didn't want to let you go. You let him hold you, running soothing circles on his skin. The evidence of his fidelity to Tashi gleamed under the dim light, and the solidness of it cut into your heart. He pulled out a badge and placed it in front of you.

“It’s for you. Come, see me play. I’d love to have you there.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please? I was hoping to have at least one person who has always been in my corner to be there.”

You rolled your eyes in good humour.

“You have plenty.”

“They’re not you.”

His eyes on you were serious and unwavering. You searched for an ounce of insincerity but came up with none. Eventually, you gave in with an exhale.

“Fine. I seem to have a soft spot for you.”

“I can say the same about you."

"Oh yeah?"

You whispered. Art locked you in with a searing look, arousing a warmth that spread all over your skin and inside. The space between you was compressed by a new proximity, so close that you could see the flutter in his long lashes.

"You are, somehow, still holding the best part of me. I have never stopped thinking about you.”

You reached out with your free hand and caressed his face. His lips kissed your palm, and you allowed him to linger for a moment.

“Too bad we aren't meant to be.”

/

Art drove you back to the hotel. Neither of you said too much, knowing everything was already laid out on the table back at the restaurant. You got out of the car first, and Art followed. You went in for a hug at the same time and met each other in the middle. His body was solid and warm, and a sense of wistfulness laved at your emotion receptor. Art wrapped his arms around you tighter, pulling you flush against him as if he didn’t want to let go. After a while, you broke apart. You walked away first since you didn't want to be seen together. Art called after you when you got into the elevator.

“I really hope to see you there.”

Your eyes locked to the very last moment. And then, you were alone with your reflection.

/

It was ten minutes past three in the morning. You fell in and out of sleep with Art's words echoing in your head. Frustrated and tired, you decided to seek a little assistance at the bar downstairs. You had about a finger of rum left when Tashi came in. You didn't bother to look away from her when she noticed you. She approached the bar and got herself a tea. You knocked back your drink and prepared to leave when she said.

“You know, I was surprised when Art offered to arrange the hotel.”

Your face was a blank slate. Tashi's carefully articulated what she wanted to show you.

“Then I found out that you were here as well.”

“I didn’t plan this.”

“I know. Art did. He saw an opportunity to see you and he took it.”

You met her pragmatic demeanour with your own unsentimental tone.

“Hm, sounds like you need to tighten your leash.”

“Look, I don’t care what he did, or has done with you tonight–”

“Does he need your permission for everything he does?”

“–as long as you don’t distract him from his game.”

She was unfazed. But so were you.

“Don’t worry Tashi. All we did was talk. I wouldn’t come between you two.”

You meant it, and Tashi's resolve softened. After a quiet standstill, she spoke with a sincerity you didn't expect.

“Art keeps tabs on you. He reads your books. He even annotates them.”

You were about to shrug her off when she said it.

“He still has the scarf you made him.”

The scarf. How could you forget? Taken aback by her confession and Art's affection, you could only stare. You had to come to terms with the outcome of your relationship with Art a long time ago, and no matter how intimate the new details were, they no longer held significance. What difference would that make now? You shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re the one that he wants.”

The bartender nodded as you gestured for another drink.

“Take care of him. He really loves you. ”

“Then why do I feel like I’m still second to you?”

“I felt the same way when we were in college.”

You shared a rueful smile. Her outfit picked at your curiosity.

“Why are you out so late?”

“I went out for … a smoke.”

“In this weather?”

“I'm just … worried about tomorrow.”

“I see.”

You nodded and didn't question her any further. Tashi stood up from her seat.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

She left the bar, leaving you alone with your drink.

/

You arrived early, grabbing yourself a seat in a familiar spot. The bleacher was filled with people and even more whispers on how it was a fated match between Art Donaldson, who had been on a losing streak, and Patrick Zweig, whose career had never taken off. Started from the same place, yet they had two wildly different paths and ended up in this place today.It had been a long time since you saw a tennis match in person, and you couldn't help but feel a little excitement.

The tension was palpable, knowing what you knew. You caught the looks exchanged between Art and Tashi, and Patrick's sneaky glances between the two of them. After the first set, they went on a break with Patrick in the lead. Art's eyes roamed over the audience, looking for you. You waved, and his eyes brightened when he found you. He gave a soft smile and a subtle nod. Your eyes stayed on each other until he broke the connection first.

Everything changed in the third set. Patrick copied Art’s serve. The atmosphere shifted. Art didn’t react. When he served, the ball hit the back wall hard, and the shout he emitted was something you’d never heard from him. Primal. Pained. His gaze shifted from Tashi to Patrick, before settling on you. The sheer vulnerability behind his eyes was heartbreaking. He held your eyes for a brief moment before turning away to get a new ball. Tashi noticed that, and craned her neck to look at you. You gazed back at her, sharing the same confused expression that she wore. Something Patrick did trigger Art, and while you didn’t know what it was, you could understand the severity of it.

The match went on. It was the most intense game you had ever seen. Your heart hammered in your chest as the rally kept going. The distance between Patrick and Art grew smaller and smaller. Art jumped, and the movement propelled him over the net. Patrick dropped his racquet, catching Art as he descended. Tashi’s scream pierced through the crowd's cheer. You exhaled in relief. It was something you’d never witnessed before. Based on Art and Patrick’s faces, it was the closure they needed. You stood up from your seat and left. You didn't need to know who won at the end. Something was unlocked between the three of them, and it was all you needed to see.

You didn't see Art’s longing gaze as he tried to find you in the audience when the match was over.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[mrsackermannx]

lies | ino takuma

tags: angry (argument) sex, intruder role play, unprotected sex, sorcerer ino/non-sorcerer girlfriend, degradation kink, soft ending, not beta read.

authors note: @p00pdev1l jazz i meant to send this to you on asks and then it got super long but i swoon at the thought of being ino’s non- sorcerer gf idk there’s something about it didbdksjsksj. ive not uploaded any writing for so long bc there’s sm different ways and things i want to write and idk how to start idk…this lowkey is it i suppose. i miss writing hehe been so busy but yeh ENJOY MY DEPRAVITY.

- - -

You love your life with Ino, and he loves his life with you. No matter what a curse throws at him, he knows as soon as he sees you at the end of the day that it’ll all be worth it.

But it’s one night that he comes home especially roughed up…

You’re watching TV, but you hear him shuffling into your apartment, carefully locking up behind him, taking off his shoes. “Hello pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice almost hoarse. He leans over you to kiss your forehead. “I'm off to bed, you should too…”

You’re tired of the whispering phone calls, the leaving you to run away god knows where in the middle of dinner, you’re sick of not being able to tell your friends what Ino does exactly?

All these lies, all this mystery. You call him out on it and it leads to a fight…

It’s your sharp, “I’ve been waiting up for you,” that hits him right in the gut.

“Baby, I tell you not to.”

“Tell me?”

“i meant ask, baby,” his voice lowers, almost breaking from exhaustion. He's so close to snapping. Too close.“I mean ask—so-please, not now.”

His usually sunny demeanour is all gone. He’s working so hard for the recognition of so many people, you being one of them. He wants to be good enough, he wants to exorcise as many curses as he can. He has his own goals, his own vision of the future he wants you in. But he’s so fucking exhausted right now.

He’s not usually like this, he’s usually so reactive it’s almost unbearable. So you push and push.

“I don't even know what you do. What kind of guy are you? Who have I been dating-“

“What. What did you just say?”

You blink twice.

He’s never raised his voice at you like this before. It’s not that it scares you but it ignites something in you, stroking something dark and shameful.

He cages you against the wall, glaring at you. He smells like Ino, looks like Ino, caramel hair tousled and tucked behind each ear. As usual, so devastatingly, boyishly handsome, but his energy is sharper, his grin gone.

“Telling me you don’t know who I am? Huh? Then why the fuck do you let me inside you every night when I come home? If I’m so bad? If I’m this bad guy you don’t know? You let a stranger touch you? Huh?”

“Takuma-“

He gives you such a pointed stare your words escape you. One arm cages you below him whilst the other cups your chin. “You think I’m some kind of bad guy? Don’t you know me by now? Haven’t we been through enough?”

This is necessary communication, he knows it, you know it. But that doesn’t stop the suffocating tension crackling between you two any less bearable.

“I know you’re a good guy, in how you treat me, who you are, but I have no idea who you are sometimes and it’s— it’s, something that i-i…”

You’re getting choked up, but you’re also overheating. Ino is never like this, never so the opposite of himself, never so full of darkness and not his light.

But you guessed it was a good thing you weren’t afraid of the dark, or the man you loved so dearly in front of you.

“What?”

“-it scares me,” you blurt.

“But you like being scared.”

His voice is rough, teetering on the line between restraint and pure lust. He's neither asking nor stating.

“You like it when I come home in the dead of night.” He cups your pussy, your silk nightdress bunching against his palm, he clicks his tongue at the heat. “Sneaking in beside you, you practically baring your pussy for me to use, abuse and—fuck, until you’re begging for more, and more-“

“Takuma,” you whimper into his chest, he smells so like him, he strokes through your hair like he always does, so full of love. He’s holding your most intimate part of you like he owns you, you suppose he does. You suppose you’ve been in the palm of his hand from the moment you met him.

“Not so innocent then are you? When you’re taking my cock in your cunt in the middle of the night? Begging for it, begging for me to wreck this tight little-“

“Takuma! Please.”

He alternates pressure on your clit, over and over, feeling your drip down his fingers.

“I bet you’d like my mask too? Wouldn’t you?”

His hand wraps around your throat, contrasting the way his thumb was smoothing across your jaw. You always felt so special with Ino, like his lover, regardless of whether you were fighting.

“What mask?” Your voice was so shaky you barely recognised it. His hand mapped down his torso to his pocket. Then he slipped on a black mask with nothing but holes for his eyes. “So, this? This is who you are?”

He hated this. He hated you thinking he was some bad guy, some good for nothing criminal.

“Who do you want me to be?” he edged closer, his voice slow and dripping with something dangerous, something that made your pupils dilate, and your pulse run.

“How about tonight I be the bad guy you want me to be,” he drawled. His hands skimmed up and down your sides, admiring…staking their claim on what was beneath them.

“Take me, Takuma.”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you?” he shoved his knee between your thighs, “Or take you?” He squeezed your neck until you moaned, “You and your control? Your body? Your soul.”

“Both.”

It was a blur before you processed that Ino had you flipped against the wall. That he was already brushing your entrance with his cock and then teasing you against it. The head of him almost slipped in, over and over. But he had you flailing and whimpering like a desperate mess instead.

“Shush now, pretty girl. I don’t care if your boyfriend comes home. I’m using this cunt as my own anyway.”

“Oh my—fuck.”

That was it. Your control, your pain, you let it all go. You let it free, you let the wild throbbing in your core take over. You would have fallen to the floor without the wall and Ino standing firm behind you. You gave into your sinful desires.

He trailed his hands down your body, then in a movement so unexpected you cried out as he tore apart your night dress. “Let's hope your boyfriend doesn’t come home to you getting fucked like this, angel.”

He thrusts into you in one brutal slam. “Fuck I love ruining good girls like you,” he sounded so undone that it had you close to breaking, moaning with every slam into your pussy.

“Your cunts are made to be broken into like this, waiting for every drop of cum, squeezing me so tight like that. Fluttering on cock that you’ve been craving so badly, you—pretty —little—slut.”

It’s a primal fucking, and Ino seems to take everything out on you, but you submit so easily you’re succumbing to pleasure you’ve never felt. The things he says are dark and twisted, but the way he holds you is anything but, he holds you like you’re precious, even if he calls you his slut, to him you’re his angel.

When you start to match his rhythm, bucking out your hips to take in more of him, he comes so powerfully you feel his tears slide your back. Panting and groaning out your name, “I love you,” his voice shakes, and he’s breathless as he locks you in his arms.

“You’re so precious to me. More than my own life. More than any goal. I’ll tell you anything, and everything.”

You’re overcome, reeling from your orgasm, but nevertheless you accept his embrace just as tight. “I love you, Takuma.”

“I love you,” he chants, for a while. Until you’re sleeping, bodies coiled together, his hand in your hair. And it feels good. Too good to have finally told you everything.

[unwishablestars]

Hi I’m not sure if you take this type of requests and if you don’t you can just ignore it. Could you do Cassidy, Hanzo, Genji, Lifewaever and Mauga (not sure if you writ for him) comforting their s/o after they got rescued from being kidnapped. Can you also add that the s/o was pregnant but had a miscarriage due to the kidnapping? If you don’t want to add the last bit that’s fine.

Thank you. 😊

I failed

Pair(s): Cassidy x Pregnant!Reader | Hanzo x Pregnant!Reader | Genji x Pregnant!Reader | Lifeweaver x Pregnant!Reader

Genre: Angst , Hurt/Comfort (little comfort ngl)

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: Headcanons, Angst, Miscarriage, Multi-Character, uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

TWs: Miscarriage, Kidnapping, Angst, Mildly-described violence

Summary: Cassidy/Hanzo/Genji/Lifeweaver's partner get kidnapped while pregnant leading to reader's miscarriage.

A/N: HIIIII ANONNNN!!! Thank you so much for your request!<3 I'm really sorry about the delay since life got in the way a bit :( And sorry I don't write for Mauga cuz idk how yet--- fresh hero ykyk</3 I hope you like this though!! Sorry for the delay again :(

Cassidy

Even before joining overwatch Cassidy was already a pretty wanted man due to him being part of the dead lock gang

And it never really changed when he joined overwatch

Though this time he wasn't a criminal but he was still in a dangerous field, but you always loved him because you've seen him in all the ways he loves you.

He was swooned when he met you.

One cheesy love story later, BOOM, you're preggers.

Whether you were a civilian or an agent, Cassidy WILL NOT let you get involved with his work while pregnant.

So he was absolutely distraught when he couldn't find you in you're shared home.

He walks through the door calling out for your name, ready to pamper you for the night, only to get no response.

Suddenly, he sees the signs of struggle. Knocked over furniture, thrown books, and just a general mess of your home

He is frantic.

Starts yelling your name, running around the house trying to look for you. "..Fuck..FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK"

After a few hours, they eventually locate you. They waste no time at all.

The plan was simple, (maybe even too simple), just get you out of there. Unharmed.

Cole, with worry and adrenaline as strong as ever, finds you tied to a chair. Crying, distraught, and bleeding.

Now you lay on the base's medic bay, face showing numbness as you learned the news of your baby.

Everyone had left after attempting to comfort you. All except for you lover.

He held your hand as he felt a familiar pain of loss, holding back tears, he just wanted to make sure you knew you weren't alone. And that he is so sorry.

"Darlin.. fuck.. I'm so sorry.. I was supposed to protect you. Our child.. it's my-- I'm so fucking sorry, love. Please.. please don't hate me."

Of course you didn't hate him. But too exhausted to speak, you brought his hand up to your cheek and weakly said "Just.. stay.."

"Darlin.. I will never leave your side."

Hanzo

Hanzo has been hiding in the shadows and constantly on the run for years. Alone. Until you, of course.

You offered to give him a place to stay after seeing him about to doze off sitting on a bench in the park

"No, it's fine. I'm just resting." He was literally about to pass out--

He had eventually opened up to you after much persistence and kindness, and grew incredibly fond of you.

To him, you brought him peace.

For a while, he tried to lessen contact with you as to avoid any conflicts with the people searching for him.

But he was conflicted when he found out you were pregnant. He did not want to leave your side but he also did not want to endanger you, especially in this state.

After some reassurance, he agreed to stay and take care of you.

He had hoped he would lay low enough that not only would he have to worry about your safety but also be able to be a present father to his child.

But when he came to your shared home and the door wide open, he fuckin lost it.

Frantically looking for you in your home, swearing all sorts in his home tongue didn't solve the issue.

He couldn't find you but he did find an envelope containing you're whereabouts.

They've been planning this for a while, how long were they watching him? Why did they only strike when you're health was so critical.

Hanzo was livid realizing this.

He headed to your location and found you tied to a chair, sac over your head, in a dimly lit warehouse

He knew it was a trap but ain't no way he would let anyone put a finger on you.

After being roughed up himself, (but ultimately beating the shit put of a of em) he took a look at you and saw the bruises, the scrapes

and the blood down there

he held you close, forever blaming himself for what happened

Genji

Genji and you met during your time in overwatch while they were in their prime

He was emo back then but you liked that,

And when he realized he liked you're unconditional admiration, he liked you too.

He didn't admit it of course, neither to himself nor to you but whatever.

Years later, Winston sends the recall.

And he was pleased to find out you had come back,

With a new mentality, a new acceptance of himself, and a more open acceptance of your love.

This time he made the first move, trying to act smooth like his pre-overwatch days, but his stuttering and nervousness gave it away though.

He was worried you'd remembered him as the angry and vengeful man he once was, but you saw who he was deep down

Which is the exact reason why he fell in love with you.

Eventually, after feeling a bit of morning sickness he urged you to go Mercy or Bap or anyone to help you get better.

Only for you to find out you're pregnant.

You stayed away from missions for a while as Genji requested, at most doing paperwork and helping a bit around the base.

But when the base was suddenly attacked, Genji pinned, yelling at you to stayed back.

You tuned out his pleads and gripped your weapon to help the father of your child.

And you did, but you were knocked out and taken away. He was too weak to reach you.

They immediately set out to rescue you, fully aware of your vulnerable state.

Though they had insisted for Genji to heal up first, through his broken visor, he shot them a glare that wouldn't stop him from saving his love.

After finding you in a cell, bruises all over in a weakened state, unconscious, he carried you back to the ship and held you close, eye getting watery.

You woke up in a hospital bed in the medbay, the first thing you notice being the ache your body feels, and the pain in your stomach.

Then, you notice your lover hold you close and tight.

Followed by the sorrowful looks of the doctors.

They left to give you two some space.

"I'm.. so sorry.. please.. forgive me.."

With tears in your eyes, you held each other close, never wanting to let go again.

Lifeweaver

You had worked alongside Lifeweaver in his development of biolight,

He loved having you at his side.

Soon he took you dates, brought you gifts and food, too show appreciation.

Not realizing he was indulging in his growing love for you.

After giving him some clarity of his feeling with a bold kiss, you two were inseparable, even more than before.

After you had missed you're period, you showed your lover the positive test and he way beyond joyful.

He always urged you to rest and didn't let you lift a finger. He didn't want you to be stressed or worried, he saw such beauty in you.

But those you wanted his biolight saw opportunity.

He was out buying food for you and his future baby but he came home to an open door, silence, thrown trinkets and portraits.

In his panic, he wondered whether or not he would need to contact his family. Or Satya. Or Baptiste. Anyone.

He received a video file on his desktop.

Asking for the acces to his biolight as well as the information to it's creation.

He was shaking, he wasn't strong enough to fight them on his own, he needed help. He needed you. Please come back to me.

He cannot wait any longer. He caved. Only for you. And for them.

He had sent all the information they needed. And as breathed heavily on his knees. He heard a vehicle arrive at his estate.

He hurried out, even almost tripping in the process, he needed to see you were okay, that you were both okay.

He saw you being lead to the front gate, and the abductors lackey walking back to their vehicle.

Giving him a face of no remorse.

As he held you in his arms once again, the look in your eyes had told him everything.

You two stayed there. Just feeling the comfort of what you two still had. Each other.

[fandomrose]

Alhaitham - Stress comfort.

Hello. I love this man and I need to sit in his lap while he reads so here this is.

Just fluff, a little suggestive at the end but you can read it as a massage session instead as it's not explicit in what he's implying.

But yea not much to say.

Please enjoy 💙

You return home from another exhausting day. They seem never-ending at the moment. You plod into the house you share with your boyfriend and roommate to find said boyfriend lounging on the sofa reading. He hears your approach, having known you were due to return and removed his soundproof headphones. He puts the book face down on the arm of the chair and beckoning you to join him.

"Your back, come sit." He said simply patting the sofa next to him. You flop down intending to cuddle but he immediately stands and heads to the kitchen. 

"Stay." Is all he says. If it were anyone else you would have berated them for a lack of manners and for being treated like a dog but you knew your lover and you knew that was just how he spoke. With the least effort necessary. (Unless he's waxing poetic in a language you've never heard about your body and attitude after a passionate encounter. But that's for him to know.)

You sigh and sink into the large sofa and wait like he said, too tired to get up. You look around and note the book isn't one he'd typically read. It was a fantasy novel... one from your childhood that you mentioned brought you comfort to read. It wasn't the best written or the most original story but you loved it and now he was reading it. It touched your heart and you couldn't help but feel the stress alleviate to make room for love from your boyfriend.

As you were silently swooning about Alhaitham he returns with a cup of something herbal smelling and a plate of food. 

"Here, a tea specially blended for your relaxation and palette and dinner. You've been working far too hard lately and since work has been easy on me since being willfully demoted back to scribe. It's the least I can do."

You chuckle and smile up at him taking the tea while he sits down with the plate in one hand, wrapping his free arm around you and stroking your shoulder with his thumb.

Casual intimacy was difficult for you both at first. With you desiring it but not knowing how to go about it and Alhaitham thinking he'd hate it. But the two of you figured it out and now he loves touching you and being close, during hot days it's not unusual that he will refuse to cuddle but he'll stretch out a foot to put on your leg, always touching you in some way. 

You were swooning again but trying not to make it obvious and inflate his ego more. But when you chance a look at his face he had a small smirk and a cocky look in his eyes. He could read you like an overly complicated 347 page philosophical thesis on silent languages.

"Thank you Alhaitham, this means a lot already."

"Hm you don't need to say it, I can see how grateful you are. You're an open book to me. I'm just glad it's helping, even if I knew it would." 

"Ttsh, arrogant ass" you say with nothing but love in your voice. In response he chuckles and squeezes you with his arm.

"Now, now, is that any way to treat your extremely generous and caring lover?" 

You sip your tea dramatically, "you know I mean it with love darling."

"Hmm, yes of course you are head over heels for me. You love this arrogant ass. How could you not." You sigh, meaning to sound faux annoyed but it just sounded blissful instead. He was only this dramatic and faux arrogant with those he truly cared for.

"Indeed how could I not-" In a smooth move you take his hand from your shoulder and press a kiss to the back of it before placing it back on your shoulder. You hear him chuckle in a way that makes your heart flutter. He kisses the top of your head before picking up his book again.

"Come on eat, you'll need the energy."

You could feel your face heat at the implications and you can just imagine his smug face. So you decide to play innocent.

"Why? The day is almost over."

He chuckles again and squeezed your shoulder. "Because someone looks like they could use some stress relief. If someone wants of course. If not we can skip straight to the bath."

You chuckle and sigh. "'Stress relief' hmm? That does sound nice."

"Then stress relief it is my كنز. Then the bath, you'll need it. Now eat L'amour de ma vie." 

"Alright alright love" you quickly eat, ready for what sounds like the best evening in a while. Moments like this remind you that no matter what happens during the day, your loving boyfriend will be there for you.

[animeyanderelover]

Can I please request madara with prompt 162. "No matter what happens, I will never let anyone else have you."?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, threats, blackmailing

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan

Words: 2.1k

Prompt 162

"I didn't know know that you were so exceptionally unreasonable. I'm surprised that you survived through all of your missions despite your childish attitude."

"Well, I didn't know that the head of the Uchiha clan had so incredibly little to do for him to follow me around like a lost puppy. There doesn't seem to be much behind your title if you have so little to do."

People were staring at you two as you stormed through the streets of Konohagakure, your nose held high as you didn't even bother to glance at the man with the black mane who had been walking right behind you for a while now.

"I think that speaks more for how good of a job I do rather than how little responsibility I hold with my status." Madara retorted with an infuriating undertone of amusement and satisfaction that told you that you had already lost the moment you had allowed yourself to get provoked by his words. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as you quickly strolled through the village yet no matter which turn you took, Madara insisted on tagging along. And here you had thought that his clan was more reclusive yet the exception truly proved the rule with this man.

"You're not quite doing an excellent job though from what I have heard. You still haven't picked a bride after all, haven't you? At this rate you're going to give your elders a headache." You replied with a sharp voice and you had to suppress the triumphant grin when he let out an almost inaudible groan when you reminded him of the bothersome trial he had recently found himself in.

"How do you even know that?"

"I work quite closely with the Hokage at times and he loves talking about his dearest friend."

The sigh that followed from Madara's side just screamed 'I'm not surprised but still disappointed' energy and as much as you didn't like Madara, one of the few things that you would still give him credit for was that the friendship he had going on with the Hokage was quite endearing due to the contrast within their personalities. That was about all that you would want to comment as something worth acknowledging in a positive light besides his strength as a shinobi and warrior.

"Those old geezers are giving me just as much of an headache as you claim that I give them."

"I find that hard to believe as you are by far the most persistent and and annoying man of your clan that I have met so far."

He clicked his tongue as he looked at you, clearly unphased by your comment.

"Most people would be either too intimidated to talk to me the way you do or they would be too busy swooning over me."

"My apologies for giving you a taste of reality then because not everyone has to be scared of you or has to admire you." You answered, your voice dripping with sarcasm as your steps quickened more and more. When was he going to leave you alone?

"Are you going to follow me even into my own home? Because then I at least have a good reason to charge you with some crimes."

"And you think that that would do anything?" He replied with such confidence that you wanted to rip your hair off. God, you hated this so much. Madara was incredibly arrogant but what made it all so much more frustrating was that he had the means to back his confidence up. As a warrior and fighter he was nearly unmatched, he led an entire clan of strong and skilled fighter and had a reputation that went far beyond Konohagakure and made even other newly formed villages tremble. It made him only more unbearable as he was fully aware of the achievements he had reached in his life.

“You are insufferable.” You replied after a while as you felt too exhausted to say anything else. You just wanted to get home and spend time for yourself but that proved to be quite hard with Madara Uchiha casually walking behind you like it was everyday’s business. You really hoped that he would be busier with his duties the next time so that you would be able to catch a break.

“I’m insufferable? It is very interesting to see how much your perspective on me changed in such a short time. You didn’t always see me like this.”

Your steps ceased for a few moments, his words bringing back memories that you didn’t want to remember anymore. The past should stay in the past after all. If only it would be that easy…

You pursed your lips, your chest rising with heavy breaths as you could feel the barely suppressed turmoil inside of you coming back to life. You didn’t want to look around and look into those black eyes that you used to admire so much. You didn’t want to look at the man who had been your former role model back when the village had just been in the process of being built. There were a lot of things you could have said to him, a lot of stuff that you would have wanted to say to him yet your tongue always turned to lead whenever you tried to form those words. It wasn’t any different in this moment, your throat closed as if keeping you from making any sounds.

The silence gained weight with every second you two stood on the pathway as you knew that he was expecting an answer from you. Your eyes were darting back and forth as if in desperate search of a boulder to give you some courage for this moment where you felt terribly vulnerable in front of the person you least wanted it.

“You’re such an asshole…”

Your answer was devoid of all the previous sneer and snark you had exposed. Instead it was laved with a hollow sadness that was hard to express to others in words which was why you had never bothered to let anybody in so far.

You eventually forced yourself to keep on walking as you became aware that people were staring at you. This time your gaze was focused on the ground though as you were afraid of what kind of expressions you would make if you were to meet someone’s eyes now that Madara had rubbed salt in the wound that you had been carefully concealing for months now.

“Is that all you have to say about it?” He questioned you but to your relief he didn’t ask you any other questions after that almost as if sending that doing so would be useless. That didn’t mean that the awkward and oppressing silence that took place between you two instead was comfortable. It was just less stressing to your own mind and feelings.

When you were able to see the apartment complex, you noticed with a simultaneous hint of joy but also dread that his steps slowed down behind you. That meant that he wasn’t willing to follow you any further but on the other hand you were surprised at the thought that he would be giving up so easily.

Your gut feeling was proven right when you suddenly felt him grabbing you by your shoulder and spinning you around. When you were face to face with him, you wished that it would be a smug grin adorning his face instead of this grim frown.

“You’re still blaming me for this acccident?” He asked, although his voice indicated that he already knew the answer to his own question.

“It wasn’t an ‘accident’!” You hissed at him even if your voice was wavering right now as you felt the emotions trying to break out of you.

“Do you prefer the word casualty then?”

“Stop referring to them as if it was a completely mundane and daily thing to happen.”

“It is, (y/n).” He spoke lowly, every word of his emphasized with a grimness that reminded you that Madara had gone to war ever since he had been a small child.

“Despite what you may think, the war isn’t over. It merely has changed the front and has new enemies. My clan and Hashirama’s clan may not clash into conflicts anymore but our village and other villages are on very hostile terms. A fight was bound to break out when you two accompanied me and both of you were aware of that. If you want to blame anyone, you have only yourself to blame.”

“But you could have done something! You are unbeatable! You are the strongest person I have ever known! Yet you-you…just stood there…”

Your anger died down as quickly as it came, your voice losing rapidly volume and firmness until it reflected the same heartbroken feelings you were experiencing in that moment.

“That’s the fate of those who are too weak to survive on the battlefield. It’s either to kill or to be killed. The difference between you and your friend was that you got off lightly because of your strength despite your hesitation. They on the other hand lacked in both.”

You hated how you were almost able to sympathize with him as there was a look of harsh acceptance on his face that had probably been beaten into him over years of witnessing everyone around him falling in the many wars that he had fought in. You two were living really in completely different worlds. Unfortunately you had realized this far too late.

“So you think that the worth of a shinobi is only determined on strength and their ability to kill?”

“Yes.”

It was a short but honest answer that he gave you and you hadn’t hoped for anything else either. You hung your head low, letting out a sad chuckle.

“It was naïve from me to ever believe that I could be like you. I just can’t. I’m not even sure if I want to be anymore.”

A calloused hand snuck under your chin, his fingers seizing it as he guided you to look at him. His eyes were narrowed as he observed you.

“Where did my fierce warrior go?”

He sounded genuinely upset and sad about it to the point where you couldn’t help the laughter spilling from your lips, filled with self-pity and disbelief. You grabbed his one hand with both of yours, your own hands soft in comparison to his own, before you tore his fingers away from your chin.

“I was never meant to be one in the first place for I failed to realize that with glory also comes potential sacrifice. I’ve stopped being a shinobi Madara so please…just let me go.”

You were begging at this point to be left alone forever by him. You wanted to leave the past and your silly dreams behind for they had costed you a dear friend before you had realized that they would be impossible to reach for someone as naïve as you who had spent their childhood playing around whilst he had spent it holding swords and kunai and killing people.

He was scrutinizing you very closely and even without his Sharingan activated, you could feel the intensity behind his gaze. You didn’t look away nor did you try to walk away as you knew that he would most likely prevent you from leaving just like this.

“Is your false confident facade the only thing you have left now?” He asked, his tone much more colder now as if seeing you in a new light.

“I-I don’t know. But I’m definitely not who you thought that I was.” You replied honestly, hoping that he would give up on you. You had entertained him for far too long.

He narrowed his eyes dangerously as if repulsed by your defeated demeanor before he took a step back, his gaze still focused on you. You were mildly shocked to see him letting you go just like that. Just as you wanted to walk away though, he spoke up one more time before he disappeared.

"No matter what happens, I will never let anyone else have you. You’d do better to remember that."

You didn’t turn around, although you could feel his gaze on the back of your neck. You just did your best to walk as normally as possible back to your apartment, locking the door before leaning against it.

You wished that he would just let you go. But that seemed to be impossible for no one else would be able to capture his heart like you had done.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 10

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Implied smut, angst. Read the tags if you're especially sensitive to certain triggers. I don't want to put them here because they're sort of spoilers.

Word Count: 4,698

A/N: Here's Ch. 10. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

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Soft snow drifted slowly past the window, white lace against an inky black sky. The world was muffled, and it felt like there was only the two of them in all existence. 

Y/N loved these moments. She wished they could last longer.

But their first week together was almost over and she could feel the vice-like grip that time had on her life. 

They'd been out and about, all over New York and she loved it. But these were still her favorite moments - when the world slept, and time slowed. 

She laid on her side, stretched out and naked beside Dean. She was propped up on her elbow, her cheek resting in her palm. 

Dean dozed lightly as she ran her free hand up and down his torso. He was covered to his waist with the blanket, leaving the wide expanse of his chest and the flat of his stomach exposed for her to run her fingers over.

As she brought her fingertip up to trace over his lips, Dean's breathing changed and his eyes fluttered open. When he saw her staring down at him, his eyes closed again and a sleepy smile pulled up the corners of his mouth.

“Why are you staring at me?” He asked in a voice rough with sleep.

Y/N shrugged and ran the tips of her fingers over his cheekbone and down his jaw. “I don't know, you're just pretty, I guess.”

Dean's smile grew wider and he turned his head slightly so he could kiss her knuckles as she slid them across his scruffy cheeks.

“Well, then by all means, continue.” His words were slightly muffled against her fingers.

His eyelids fluttered open again and Y/N sighed deeply at the site of his stunning emerald gaze. He wasn't pretty, he was beautiful - the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, easily.

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “What's going on inside that mysterious mind of yours?” He asked softly.

Not wanting to admit that she'd simply been swooning over him, she smiled teasingly. 

“I was just thinking that there's an awful lot I still don't know about you. I have questions.”

Dean rolled his eyes playfully. “And you've decided the best time to ask me these questions is at,” he looked at the clock on the wall, but couldn't make out the numbers in the darkened room, “at this ungodly hour of the night? When I'm exhausted?” He finished.

Y/N grinned. “Yep.”

When Dean just shook his head with an indulgent smile, Y/N launched into her questions.

“When is your birthday?”

“January 24th.”

“Ooh, it's coming up.” 

Dean shrugged and nodded. “Soon enough.”

Y/N put a finger to her lips, thinking. “Mmm…what's your favorite meal?”

Dean thought for a moment. “Steak and potatoes. Medium rare.” He held up a finger. “Uh, the steak, not the potatoes.” He clarified.

Y/N chuckled. “Good choice.” She paused for a second. “Have you ever been in love?”

Dean's surprise showed on his face before his expression darkened and he pulled away from her, sitting up against the headboard. He shook his head and his tone attempted to be teasing, but didn't quite make it. 

“You went from steak and potatoes to love?” He said the word with a hint of a sneer and shook his head again. 

“No.”

“How do you know?” Y/N asked, aware by his expression that she was on thin ice, but desperately wanting an answer.

“I know because I know.” When Y/N opened her mouth again, he cut her off. “Next question.” He said firmly.

Disappointed, but realizing that was all the answer she was going to get, she moved on, sitting up as well, and tucking the blanket around her nakedness to guard from the chill. Without Dean's warmth, she got cold quickly.

“Um…what kind of student were you?”

Dean's tightly stretched smile softened a little and he shrugged. 

“An unruly one. Sammy was the good student; he was the one who loved school.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I left school when I was thirteen to work.”

Y/N frowned. “That's awfully young.”

He shrugged and his tone was a little too nonchalant. “I like my work.”

“Still, it's a shame you didn't have more time.”

Dean’s brow wrinkled. “Time for what?”

“To be young.” Y/N said, her tone sympathetic.

Dean shook his head. “I'm good.”

Y/N was going to ask more questions, but suddenly Dean pushed up to his knees and used his weight to shove Y/N backwards onto the mattress. 

He reached between them to yank away her blanket, but it didn't matter; she didn't need it with his warm skin and searching fingers back to heat her up.

As he pressed hot kisses down her body, Y/N gasped. “I thought you were exhausted.”

He smiled wolfishly as he moved back up to claim her mouth. He slid his fingers up through the slick wetness that was pooling between her legs, making her suck in a breath as he ended the kiss.

“I'll sleep when I'm dead.”

***

The next morning, they were both exhausted. Dean slept later than he'd meant to and woke up running. 

He came out of the washroom as he tied his red and blue striped tie around his throat.

“Oh, there's a friendly poker game this evening that I'd like us to attend. It's being held in the private back room at Gladwell's Gaming Hall. It's being organized by the group at Northern Freight, but men from Clearwater will be there too along with others. There's going to be a lot of business happening amongst us, so I probably won't be much company.”

He finished tying his tie and darted back into the bathroom, his voice rising so he could still be heard.

“But I think it's important you come, so we can keep up the facade of a social gathering anyway. Other women will come with some of the men, I'm sure.”

“But not wives.” The words were out of Y/N's mouth before she could stop them, but she wished she could take them back immediately. 

Of course not, you fool. Y/N thought angrily at herself. You think these men are going to invite their wives to a gaming hall?

There was silence from the bathroom for a moment and then Dean came out, brushing something from the sleeve of his perfectly tailored dark blue suit.

“No,” he said quietly. “Not wives.”

Y/N shook her head and smiled widely, trying to dispel the awkwardness surrounding them.

“Alright, I'll be ready for seven?”

Dean nodded, walking towards her and bending to kiss her lips briefly. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “See ya.”

He left the room and Y/N felt her stomach sink. The prospect of the gathering didn't fill her with excitement, but she tried to put it out of her mind, reassuring herself with the words she'd been using a lot recently.

It will be fine.

***

By ten o’clock Y/N felt sick to her stomach, and all she wanted was to escape back to the night before, and the soft peace to be found in the dark.

The evening had started well enough. She'd worn a pale pink gown, with a pink and cream striped bodice that was cut in a way that complimented her figure well. The gown had short sleeves which Y/N paired with a pair of long, cream-colored evening gloves.

Dean's eyes glowed when he saw her, and that was enough to make Y/N very pleased with her choice.

Dean had said the party was taking place in a “back room”, which led Y/N to imagine a small, smoke-filled parlor with dingy lighting and yellow walls. She should have known better.

Instead, the “backroom" was the size of a small ballroom. There were seven or eight poker tables set up at one end of the room, and a light buffet and bar at the other. Throughout the evening, food and drinks were served liberally. 

All over the room were pockets of couches, chairs and settees for the women, and occasionally the men, to recline on. They were welcomed into the room by George Taskett, the president of Northern Rail and Freight. 

Y/N knew this was the man Dean was hoping to win over and that it would mean a lot for his business (and by extension, his employees) if he could impress the white-haired gentleman. So, she worked hard to be as friendly and charming as possible when she met him. 

He was a lively older man, easily in his late sixties, but still sharp and engaging. His bright blue eyes twinkled as he gave a slight bow over the hand Y/N held out to him.

“What a charming companion, Mr. Winchester, a lovely addition to our party.” He said smoothly.

Y/N blushed at the compliment which only seemed to delight the gentleman further.

Their conversation was interrupted, however, by Byron Temple, the vice-president of the company. Unlike George Taskett, Y/N knew this man frustrated Dean completely, and she immediately understood why. The man gave off a very unsettling quality. His stare was too intense as he raked it up and down her form. His smile seemed oily when he shared it.

“Indeed, Winchester,” Temple said, picking up the thread of Taskett’s comment, “where have you been hiding such a beautiful bloom?”

Where Taskett's compliment had felt genuine and kind, Temple's was cloaked in something dark that made Y/N step slightly closer to Dean.

The man continued to stare at her, licking his lips before addressing Dean again. “I believe I know what you were doing when you thrice canceled our meetings. Who would want to talk about boring business matters with something so delectable just waiting for them to get home?”

Y/N felt Dean stiffen beside her and take a step towards Temple. But George Taskett spoke before he could.

“You forget yourself, Byron.”

It was clear who was the real power at Northern Freight because Byron was instantly full of apologies.

“No disrespect meant. I just think you'd be a hard woman to ignore.”

Taskett smoothed things over by introducing Y/N to some of the other women, including a beautiful woman with chestnut hair and pale blue eyes that he introduced as his “dear friend”, Viola.

“They'll keep you company while we men gamble away our good fortune and sense.”

Viola patted Taskett’s arm. “Win big, Georgie.”

Taskett seemed slightly embarrassed to be addressed like a six year old schoolboy in short pants. But nevertheless he kissed his companion’s hand and moved over to the poker tables. 

Dean kissed Y/N's cheek and gave her a wink before he followed.

Unfortunately, Y/N’s shy nature didn’t serve her well when it came to getting acquainted with the women she went to sit with. Most of them seemed to know each other already and chatted easily together. The conversation began innocently enough - what they thought the new fashions were going to look like in 1901, where they thought the hemlines and waistlines were bound to fall.

They discussed the latest issue of Harper's Bazaar and exchanged some stories and anecdotes about acquaintances known to them all. Though she wasn’t joining in, it was an interesting enough conversation to keep Y/N invested and listening, nodding along quietly.

However, as the evening wore on and the wine, champagne, and sherry kept flowing, the women began to loosen their tongues and things soon became a little crass and then a lot carnal.

The women's voices fell as they began discussing some of the men in the room, as well as others they'd known that weren't present. Eventually nothing seemed off limits. The women began comparing their lovers’ techniques and stamina as well as the size of their bank accounts and…other things. 

Y/N was trying desperately to fade into the background, but she knew her face was turning bright red as she listened. She now knew more about the men sitting around the tables than she ever wanted to.

Amanda, a blonde woman with small gray eyes which she rolled in annoyance, explained her lover's biggest flaws. “Grant farts every time he comes. It's completely disgusting and will rip me away from anything close to a climax.”

The women all laughed. “But,” she added, “I've never had a man demand so little of me. You know, he's perfectly content to just let me lay there while he enjoys himself. So, I can't complain.”

“Thomas really spoils me.” A woman named Celia boasted loudly over the end of Amanda's sentence. “When I saw this simply exquisite cameo in the window of Francois’, he insisted on buying it for me.”

A dark haired woman named Doris scoffed. “Of course he spoils you. It's the only way to combat his fat stomach and bald head.”

The circle of women laughed again, though Celia was unimpressed. Y/N tried to smile, hoping to stay out of things, happy to be ignored. But Doris quickly turned her flashing black eyes in her direction.

“This one on the other hand,” she said, pointing a long skinny finger at Y/N, “has landed the cream of the crop!” 

Y/N just smiled and nodded again, hoping someone else would pick up the conversation. But all eyes turned to her.

Viola spoke up. “Yes, how did you hook him? Doris has been after him for years without a nibble.” 

It was Doris’ turn to frown as the women chuckled. She scowled at Y/N and then lifted her nose. “Doesn’t matter. I'll get another chance soon enough. We all know Dean Winchester changes women like he changes his socks. Isn't that right, Faye?”

She caught the eye of a plump woman whose curly blonde hair couldn't possibly be her own. Faye smiled wickedly. “Best month of my life! I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” She sighed dramatically. “But he never goes back to his previous women.” She looked at Y/N and wagged a finger. “So, take my advice, darling, enjoy every minute.”

The women all nodded knowingly and began pestering her and Faye for details about Dean. Coming to her rescue, Viola cut them off. 

“Yep, gotta hold onto those good ones that’s for sure.”

She launched into a story about the first man to take her in; she explained that she’d been a stage actress when she was young and he’d discovered her there. 

Most of the other women seemed to know the story well, because they broke off into other conversations amongst themselves. But Y/N was transfixed by Viola's words; they made her stomach tighten in a very unpleasant way.

“He just plucked me from the stage. He said I was too beautiful to be ‘hoofing it for the masses’, as he put it. Swept me away to his country estate.”

She shrugged. “It may have been a little boring out in the country, but it was rich and lush. It was heaven. Then wouldn't you know it - wife shows up, screeching like a mad woman and chucks me out of the house, not a cent in my pocket.”

The women listening along with Y/N, commiserated as Viola shook her head. “Don't be fooled by pretty words girls,” she said wisely, “get those rocks up front.”

A few minutes later, some of the women began pairing off with their men, most of whom needed cheering up, having had poor luck at the tables. Y/N looked over to see Dean still sitting casually in his chair, a fat pile of chips in front of him. It would be some time before he left the table.

For a little while, she sat on her own, trying to digest everything she'd heard, and slipping what she hoped were discreet looks in Faye’s direction. 

What had her relationship been like with Dean? What had she done with him? 

A sarcastic voice popped into her mind. 

Well, I bet she wasn't denying him access to anything; and very likely, she wasn't trying to hang on to her virginity by not letting him bed her properly.

Y/N felt her cheeks burn, partly from embarrassment at her thoughts and partly in a completely irrational, jealous rage at Faye-the-fake-blonde. Y/N tried to stop, reminding herself that Faye had been perfectly cordial to her and that she was being uncharitable. But logic and rationality weren't readily available to her at that moment.

Eventually, Y/N gained some company when Viola crossed the room and grabbed up her hand, pulling her over to sit on a small settee in the corner. She patted Y/N's hand as she let it go. 

“I just wanted to make sure that you weren't upset or bothered by what Doris or Faye had to say; Faye is old news to Dean, I'm sure, and Doris is just jealous.”

Y/N shook her head; she didn't want to talk about any of it. “No, it's fine.”

Viola smiled knowingly. “You have to understand where they’re coming from; you scored the prize bull your first time at the rodeo.” She arched a brow. “This is your first time at the rodeo, isn’t it?”

Y/N shrugged, not sure how to answer that. But Viola nodded, coming to her own conclusions. “Being new to the life can be exciting and a little scary, I know. But I meant what I said earlier. Be cautious. From everything I've heard, Dean is incredibly generous. Take advantage of that, because you don't know what the next one will be like.”

She lifted her hand. “Not that I'm saying you shouldn't enjoy yourself.” She reassured her, sighing in much the same way Faye had, very wistfully.

“I suppose we're all a little jealous of you, even me.” She shook her head. “I don't think there's a girl in here who wouldn't happily drop to her knees and give that man anything he wanted if he said he'd take her.”

When Y/N just stared at her, Viola put a hand over her mouth and giggled lightly.

“Gosh, you really are new, aren't you? Don't worry, you'll fit in soon enough.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper and she spoke behind her hand. “But you've just got to tell me. Is he as good in bed as everyone says?”

“I…uh - I don't…” Y/N stuttered, completely at a loss for how to answer that.

Viola gave Y/N a conspiratorial look. “Making him wait a bit, are you?” 

Y/N just sputtered some more, but Viola wasn’t paying attention. “Word to the wise when it comes to that tactic. It can work really well. Men love the ‘innocent flower’ act, and you can string them along for quite a while that way, and reap all the benefits.” 

She held up a finger in warning. “But you can't deny them too often, can't do it for too long, or they get angry and lose interest. Make sure you're timing things right.”

For another thirty minutes Viola went on, giving Y/N tricks of the trade and unsolicited advice. Y/N appreciated the sentiment, but it wasn’t helping her nausea.

“Take my Georgie,” Viola said with an affectionate look in his direction, “he can't get it up anymore which is a shame, but he spoils me a lot to make up for it. And you've gotta play the hand you’ve been given. My apartment on Bleeker is an awful lot nicer than what Celia has. Thomas can barely manage to put her up in a one room flat on 78th Street.”

She shrugged delicately. “But, she too is playing the hand she was dealt, because it's still a big step up from where she was when he found her.” She shook her head. “Some leaky mess on Channing.”

Viola gave Celia a pitying look. “I hope she's smarter this time around when Thomas goes looking again. Hope she watches her money and finds a good buyer for that cameo he bought for her, so it lasts her till the next man comes along.”

Throughout all of Viola's advice, Y/N couldn't seem to come up with appropriate reactions or facial expressions. In the end she just felt herself go blank and numb.

She knew Viola was trying to be kind, trying to give her advice, help her fit in, as she said. But Y/N felt sick at the way she talked about jumping from man to man like it was nothing.

No, Y/N thought to herself, it's not nothing. 

According to Viola, it was everything - the ability to find a new man when this one dropped you.

Finally seeming to catch on to some of Y/N's upset, Viola patted her arm.

“Oh, sweetie, don't worry. Like I said, Dean is incredibly generous to his women. And a pretty little, innocent looking thing like you,” she shook her head, “you'll get snatched up quick when Dean is done.”

Y/N had no response; she just nodded. “Thank you.” She said huskily, praying this conversation was over. 

Very thankfully, she saw Dean making his way over to her. Viola patted her hand again and rose, smiling coquettishly at Dean as she passed him. Dean's face was content and happy as he approached Y/N. 

“All in all, I'd say this was a very productive evening. Managed some good talks with Taskett, all while emptying Temple’s pockets.” He said with a wide grin.

Y/N smiled lightly. “That's good.” 

Dean frowned a little. “Is everything alright?”

Y/N nodded, not wanting to burst the bubble of his evening, and really not wanting to describe hers. 

“Oh, yes, just tired. Late night, long day.”

Dean lost his frown and smiled. “Yes, absolutely. Would you like to go now?”

Y/N hoped her frantic nod didn't seem too eager.

“Alright, I'll ask for our coats.” He strode away to speak with someone, but as he walked out of ear shot, she felt a presence come up behind her. 

She turned and started slightly as Byron Temple appeared at her elbow.

He snickered lightly. “I'm sorry, Miss - Taylor, was it? I didn't mean to frighten you.”

She wanted to tell him that he was a liar; everything about him said he was there to put her on edge. He stood too close and he dipped his head too low when he spoke. She could smell the brandy on his breath and wanted to step back, but that would mean falling onto the settee.

So, she merely smiled and shook her head. “No, it's fine, sir, you didn't frighten me.”

His eyes lit up. “I like the way you say sir.” Again he raked her up and down with his gaze. He leaned imperceptibly closer and spoke very low. 

“You can call me that again, as soon as Winchester sets you aside. Then you’ll come stay with me and learn what it's like to be fucked by a real man.” His breath was hot against her neck as he lingered a moment before he slithered back the way he came. 

Y/N felt dizzy, like she might pass out. 

Or scream. Or run at the disgusting man and scratch his eyes out.

But Dean showed up at her side to help her into her coat, and she remembered that Temple was someone he was supposed to do business with; she couldn't cause a scene.

So for the hundredth time that night, she smiled when she wanted to cry and let Dean escort her away from it all. 

***

She knew she was too quiet on the carriage ride home. Dean asked her twice if everything was alright. Both times, she answered that she was just tired.

She knew he didn't fully believe her. When they got back to the hotel, he helped her out of her dress and corset, but before he could do anything more, she moved into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

She splashed cold water on her face, but she emerged still feeling ill. She'd changed into one of her new nightgowns, a long, lace and silk garment with a dressing gown to match. She tied the glossy belt around her waist as she entered the room, and Dean paused as he was removing his tie to give her a low whistle. 

“Huh. I think I get you naked too quickly when we get home every evening. Need to let you put on these beautiful things so I can take them off you.”

He came up behind her as she tucked away her evening gloves in the wardrobe drawers. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her cheek, placing soft kisses along her neck.

Her body responded immediately; her stomach fluttered, and she could feel her nipples harden against the silk of her nightgown.

But she still felt sick from her evening - heartsick and unsure of everything, and it stopped her from melting into him completely. Dean noticed quickly and turned her gently in his arms. 

He cupped her cheeks and let his thumbs sweep across her cheekbones. “Do you just want to sleep?”

Viola's voice came back into her mind.

“...But you can't deny them too often, can't do it for too long, or they get angry and lose interest…”

What rules came along with the role of mistress? Could she just go to sleep? Her thoughts were a whirling mess as she looked up at Dean, questioning. 

“Is that allowed?”

He pulled back from her slightly. “Allowed?” He asked a little hesitantly.

“I don't know the rules.”

Dean frowned. “The rules about sleeping?” 

Y/N paused for a breath. “About saying no.”

Dean's eyes widened and he stepped away from her completely. His expression was incredulous. 

He raised his hand and pointed a finger at her. “You wanna know the rules…” He paused briefly. “... about saying no to…me.”

Y/N shrugged; her head was aching. “I'm just curious.”

Dean's jaw ticked. “Curious. About whether or not you're allowed to refuse me.”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. Anger she couldn't explain began rising in her chest.

“Well, strictly speaking…I mean, you're paying for everything, paying for me, so doesn't that make me an employee? Don't I have to do what I'm paid for?”

For a flash Dean looked like she'd slapped him. “Jesus Christ.” He said, hoarsely. 

After a beat, the hurt in his eyes melted away to be replaced by anger. 

“You really need to ask me whether you're ALLOWED to say no, or whether I'll just say ‘too bad’ and force you?”

His anger bolstered her own. Everything was confusing and she was exhausted and all she wanted was to cry on Dean's shoulder. But instead she balled her hands into fists and gritted her teeth before speaking. 

“That's a little dramatic, I'm not talking about you forcing me.”

Dean spoke loudly over the end of her sentence. “That's exactly what you're talking about, Y/N. If I try to bed you and you say no, and I just take you against your will?” He threw up his hands. “Y/N, that's the goddamn definition of rape!” He ended on a shout and Y/N felt tears prick the backs of her eyes.

Dean spun away from her and swiped his hand down his face. When he slowly turned back to face her his voice and his expression were cold. 

“Fine then, the rule is as follows; in the future, when you're not interested in having me touch you, all you have to do is say no. And trust in the fact that I'm not going to just ignore your wishes and molest you.”

He grabbed up his coat from where he'd tossed it on the green chair. “You’re tired. So I'll leave and let you sleep.” His green eyes were as hard as jade as he stared at her a moment, before looking at the ground. “Goodnight.”

He walked out the door, and Y/N half expected him to slam it. But he closed it quietly, taking away her anger and leaving her with nothing but a ticking clock and a battered heart.

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@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Joseph, Jotaro and Johnathan are Werebears or it’s just Johnathan and he considers you his ‘Little Bear’ because of how small and defenseless you are (Or it was Joseph who coined the term)

Or maybe it’s just Johnathan vs Dio and they’re Werebears?

Or it can be Johnathan vs Dio, Joseph vs Kars and Jotaro vs DIO (All Separate)

Darling accidentally enters their territory and finds JoJo’s home (To escape from the storm), seeing that it’s messy she cleans the place up, however she feels extreme exhaustion after all that she endured and falls asleep on the huge couch

JoJo is very shocked seeing a Human in his home! However he wouldn’t toss her out as that would be very ungentlemanly of him to do that, especially since it’s going to storm very hard for a few days

I’m totally not thinking that Werebear!Johnathan would cuddle Darling like she’s his personal Teddy Bear after getting attached to her

OR

Platonic Johnathan and Erina as Werebears with Reader being a Human Child who got lost after running away from her dysfunctional family? (They’ve been wanting a child for a very long time) Maybe they call Darling ‘Little Bear’ because she’s a Cub compared to them (Maybe she’s around 6-10 years old?)

I know a little bit about bears, like how the males leave the mother bears after they mate, however because this is Johnathan I feel like he would want to be part of the child rearing process (He would be very overprotective)

Don’t mind me, I’m totally not using this as an excuse for the idea of the JoJo’s and Villains to have Bear Ears on their heads *Lies* 😅

My mind was sorta scrambled and pretty much everywhere when I thought about this

Ooh interesting.

I think Jonathan, Joseph and Jotaro would be good (have them as siblings in this au)

I was originally thinking sloth bears but they aren't so much hunters, so I'm going with American black bears instead.

Of course seeing darling sleeping in their house causes a back an forward between the siblings.

Jotaro being the stern yet cautious suggests they have darling leave to protect their meanwhile Jonathan and Joseph believe that darling should stay because of the stormy weather. Jonathan being the gentleman his while Joseph has alterier motives.

Of course Joseph is straight to flirting before the other two are quick to pull him away. Jonathan thanks darling for cleaning the kitchen and living room (he feels guilty as he had plans of cleaning) and offers to let darling stay till the weather clears up, even offering his bed. Not just because he's a gentleman but also to avoid her from finding out about their other forms.

Of course Jonathan and Joseph are immediately fawning over darling. If darling is intimidated by Jotaro they will assure her that It's nothing personal, Jotaro is just the abrasive type and he'll warm up with time.

Jonathan offers up warm meals, even dinner which is something they don't partake in their human forms. When darling is about to go to sleep he tells darling to not be concerned by any sounds as bears tend to roam around the surrounding property at night.

The rain doesn't let up for days, even when it does calm momentarily the ground is far too muddy to trek safely.

At this point Jotaro begins to start hovering around darling, which the other two find endearing. In honesty they don't seem to mind the fact that they're all developing feeling for the same person except that Jonathan and Jotaro not to happy with Joseph's forwardness, which Joseph away tells them that if they want something they have to grab it by the reigns and not expect to get her attention if they're just going to sit around and hope she reciprocates.

Unfortunately Jonathan does agree to certain extent with what Joesph is saying. If darling wasn't already flustered by one man trying to swoon her then she definitely is now with Jonathan's flattery.

However one early morning darling wakes up as they return home (luckily in their human forms. Unluckily that they're all probably naked as to not wanting their clothes to be ripped during their transformation) covered in mud and Jonathan as well was Joesph covered in deep cuts. Darling has questions but puts them to the side to quick help Jotaro with preparing hot water to clean them and dress their wounds.

"So what happened?" Darling would ask while bring them fresh clothing.

"Theives, luckily we were able to chase them away before they stole anything" Jotaro would lie but darling is still sceptical. With Jonathan and Joseph in bed recovering darling offers to help around the house.

Darling decides to stay up and watchs them from the stairway. She manages to see them transform and accidentally catches their attention. They can't talk in this form so darling is under the impression that they're attacking her and she trips and hurts herself. Leaving her at the mercy of the monsters in front of her.

They probably have her held down for awhile to calm her before she passes out. She knows their secret now and with monster hunters keen on killing their kind they can't let darling leave, not that they had plans to earlier.

[vodika-vibes]

Hi, love~ I am back with request #7 (last one)

This time, I'm choosing Fox, with an opal, and at midday. He needs some love. Some *good* love. Real good love. The kind of love that makes him realize he's worth loving. Give this man the bestest love for me 🫶🏻

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Not A Question Of Worth

Summary: You remind Fox that your love for him isn’t conditional.

Pairing: Commander Fox x Reader

Word Count: 744

Prompt: Opal - Faithful Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm not sure if I hit the prompt for this one. I had an idea and I wanted to write that, but maybe I also did? I dunno, I'm getting sick and it's making everything hard. Also. If you wanted to send me a prompt for my baby boy Dogma I would love you forever and a day. 🥺

You know when Fox has had a bad day.

Partly because Thire and Thorn and Stone, sometimes all of them, will shoot you a message giving you heads up. But also because you know Fox. And you know his moods.

So when you get a message just before you leave work for the day, a warning from Stone that Fox had a really bad day, you’re already planning on what you can do to make his evening better.

On your way home, you stop by his favorite restaurant and grab the food you ordered in advance, you pop into the florist and grab a bouquet of his favorite small purple flowers, and you dip into a bakery to buy a premade cake.

If you’d had more time, everything would have been individually ordered, but such is life you suppose.

You hurry home, and you’re not surprised when you step into the home you share with Fox and you hear the shower running. If the day was as bad as Stone implied, your Fox will want to wash the day off his skin before he sees you.

Your perfect man seems to think that if he touches you after a bad day, he’ll do nothing but hurt you. Which is silly, but if it helps him feel better than you’re not going to question it.

In any event, the fact that he’s distracted, means that you’re able to get the room ready. The flowers are put in a vase and set on the table. The curry is removed from the containers and placed on the fancy china that your mom gave you when you moved out of her house. The cake is put on a fancy platter and cut into slices. Two scented candles are lit and set a safe distance away from the flowers.

And then you dart into the bedroom and peel off your work clothes for something more comfortable. 

And you managed to do so in less than five minutes.

You’re doing one last check of the kitchen, making sure that everything looks perfect, when the shower stops. You turn to the bedroom door and, only moments later, Fox steps out of the bedroom clad in his sleep pants and nothing else.

It takes everything in you to not swoon for him. He really is so handsome that you just want to cry.

“Cyare,” Fox’s voice is rough, “Welcome home.”

He looks exhausted, you note. You’re glad you prepared everything before he got out of the shower. Now he just has to enjoy it.

You walk over to him and slide your arms around his waist, “Stone sent me a message and said you had a rough day.” You stand on your toes and kiss him, “Did the shower help?”

“A little.” He leans his forehead against yours, “I meant to have dinner ready for you-”

You beam at him, “You’re so sweet!” You lightly pull back and take his hands with yours, “Luckily, I took care of it.” Gently, you tug him into the kitchen, and he pauses in the doorway.

You watch him scan the room. From the flowers and candles, to the food and the cake, and then he focuses his gaze on you, “What’s all of this, cyare?”

“Well, Stone said you had a rough day, so I thought I’d try to make it a little better. Do you like it?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he turns to look at you, “I’m not worth all of this. I didn’t do anything for-”

You reach up and press your fingers against his lips, gently interrupting him. “My love is not conditional, Fox. You don’t have to do anything to earn my love. You have it anyway.”

He stares at you, and you can’t help but hope that maybe, this time, he’ll believe you when you say that. Though you’ll repeat it as often as you need to. 

Fox sighs and presses a kiss against the pads of your fingers. “I’m not worthy of you. You should be with someone brighter…like Cody.”

“It’s not a question of worth, Fox.” You kiss him gently and then kiss him again and again, “I love you. I choose you. It’s as simple as that.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he ducks his head and kisses you deeply, “I love you” He says against your lips, “Thank you for loving me enough to try and make my day better.”

[numberonetastemakerwhispers]

Lustful Desires

Miguel O'hara series...

Pairing: !pornstarmiguel x !smallcampaignreader

TW: NSFW BELOW CUT ✂️

Miguel o'hara. Known for his work and videos online through his years of working as a pornstar. Hes only posted little to few videos, but the outcome of them all were beautiful.

You had found him after scrolling through some videos on your browser, the title reading 'Lust and Fuck'. You pressed it reluctantly, expecting something boring than what the title was. Instead you were greeted with a muscular tanned man. Your eyes following how his muscles flexed, the way his lips curled up as he smirked. Shit he was hot.

And god you swore you almost came at the sight unraveling. (You did) The end where he was grunting loudly as his hips moved sloppily to where he finally came.

Your hands seemingly moving on their own as they dipped down to your panties, rubbing slow circles on your clit, making you shudder. (rewatching the video, hehe)

You watched the rest of his videos, cumming almost twice as much as you usually have in months. All being breath taking and exhausting as your hand cramped from chasing your high each time.

You were also a pornstar, but not on his level. You usually did solo videos, wearing pretty lacy lingerie, indulging yourself with your sways and swoons as you unraveled yourself for the camera. Maybe even fucking yourself silly with whatever toys you had, having you moaning like a slutty bitch. Your neighbors probably have heard.

Although you did solo, you did take some requests on considering to work with others, maybe those who also did solo, or more experience but god you weren't expecting the email you were just about to get sent...

----

Few hours go by as you were getting settled in your bed, getting ready to knock out when your phone suddenly buzzed. You thought it was from one of your managers, maybe even a notifiction from one of those thristy men on your porn site. You were oh, so wrong, looking at your phone as you gasped. Your eyes scanning the name from whom the email was from before opening it. Miguel O'hara.

You thought you must have been dreaming? The one and only? It couldn't have been! But you read the message over and over and that you almost peed your pants! (or maybe you did. jk)

The message was mind blowing to you, but still it was unexpected.

' Subject: Request ...

Hello preciosa, Ive seen your works and I must say you are a sight for sore eyes...

I was wondering if you would love to work with me in one of my own?

-

Miguel O'Hara.

You squealed as your fingers starting typing faster than your brain could process, having to delete then reform your words as you typed back.

'Subject: yes please!

Ive seen your works as well! I'm quite a fan

... and i would love to work with you. We'll work things out with our managers yea?

-

Y/N.

You sounded almost too excited. Desperate even. But who wouldnt be? When a well known pornstar like Miguel who blessed with a body of a goddess? You thought you had been blessed by the gods, or cursed even. Since you couldn't sleep a wink after that email.

-

6:00 AM

Your alarm had went off on your phone. Grumbling and groggy from your restless sleep as you turned it off, wiping your eyes and the puddle of drool that had been growing from your slumber, as you checked your phone. Another email!

You tapped it as you read it over, your body feeling fully awake now at the message.

Subject: Plan

'Alo, carino you sound excited.. tomorrow at 2 pm at ******.'

-

Miguel O'Hara.

It was short. It spoke truth. it was TOMORROW?! You had thought that a meeting would take a few days even a week but it was happening tomorrow! You felt your cheeks flood with redness as your buried you face in your hands.

What was the theme going to be? Did you have to bring your own clothes of choice? Was the fact meeting him face to face might actually give you a heart attack? Would he even like how you look in person? Would it give him a heart attack?!

Gosh you decided to calm yourself down, seeing how overwhelmed you were getting over a email. You took a deep breath and started typing a reply back.

'Subject: Plan

Im a little excited.. more nervous tho. Ill be there tomorrow!'

-

Y/N.

You sighed as you hoped the day would go by slowly, letting the time for you to consume your inner thoughts and the need to be settled down. You got up and went on with your day. (with the thought of miguel lingering)

-

It was almost 10 as you settled in your comforters after a nice long shower, finishing and editing a draft of yourself up to your site as you yawned exhaustly, ready to knock out. The thought of meeting up with him roamed your mind, making you jitter with anticipation and anxiousness. You pushed those thoughts aside, ready to get back to them when you wake up.

-

You groaned. you couldn't even sleep at all. Only finally falling asleep around 4 in the morning, scrolling through pages and posts to help you fall asleep faster, to no surprise it brought you hell.

It was 10 AM, your meet up was in 4 hours, but you'd be heading there an hour early since the place was pretty far from where you lived.

You called your manager, making sure everything was still in order (it was) as you were up and getting ready. It was scary really, as you did your best to find what would be most appropriate to wear and what wouldn't be.

You decided for a skim black skirt, white sweater with a pink vest over it. Your hair blow, starting your makeup after showering and doing your daily skincare.

You had lipgloss and mascara, a little blush from here to there and that signature mole on your right cheek. You made sure you looked decent as you did last minute sprints of perfume before you trampled out your apartment.

Rushing down your apartment stairs, as you hopped into your Toyota that you had bought off an auction for half the price, starting it up as you finally hit the road, ready for the day to unravel.

You made it, but 30 minutes late. Blaming the traffic that went on your hour early drive over. Always traffic...

You had found yourself talking with your manager along the way, him scolding you back and forth about being late, as you just huffed but apologized. You were lead into a room with lights and cameras scattered around the room, an area in the middle where it must have been where you were going to perform the scene with Miguel. It was all mind blowing, even more when you laid your eyes on him.

He was way more attractive in person, his smile flooding the room. The way his shoulders flexed with every movement, the way he slicked his hair back to not let any piece fall on his forehead. He was a man who would be seen as a piece from a museum you thought to yourself.

You had caught yourself staring that sent you straight back to reality. He was looking straight back at you, with a smirk that was seen clear for days. It had your cheeks flushed and your manager still fussing on how you weren't paying attention to his lecture.

It didn't matter after you and miguel had walked up to eachother greeting eachother and eachothers managers. You smiled sheepishly as he smiled back as well.

"Alo preciosa.." He said, his voice sounded rough and smooth a hint of a grunt being heard.

"Hey.." you said your voice almost a squeak from how shy you were. You earned a chuckled from him as he took your hand in his as he gave it a firm squeeze, placing a kiss on the back of your palm.

"No need to be shy carino, since we're working with eachother today." He reassured, which made not only your heart flutter but your other heart beat with need. (oopsies)

You nodded as you chuckled to yourself, looking up into his coffee brown eyes, his fangs poking out as he smirked at you.

"Okay ill try... but don't be disappointed when I do." You said softly as your managers starting discussing on the scene and prepping the platforms, choice of clothing and need of materials.

It was all so new to you, to be working in an actual studio, and it was a big bump to your campaign seeing as you were only just a small creator. Although you knew this would be a huge raise for not only you, but your campaign as well.

When you were pulled to the dressing room you had seen scatters of different clothing presented before you, making you awe and oh at such selection.

Although it all seemed appropriate for the scene you had to display with Miguel. The scene of which 2 lovers coming out of an argument, which turned to hot angry sex.

Something new to you and a jump to what you expected. Thought of maybe slow sensational romance, him coming home as you both held onto one another but instead happened to be this..

--

After roaming through your selection of clothing, you decided to go for a simple 'at home' look. Silk shorts that clung onto your thighs nicely, and a matching silk tanktop (sleep wear). You finished by getting prepped and sprayed down after having your makeover, mascara and eye liner, lip gloss and instead of your signature mark they decided for you not to wear it.

You made your way out the changing room as your eyes caught onto the tall burly man who wore a black t-shirt that strained against his chest, making it hard for your gaze to be pulled away. He wore grey sweats, clinging onto his musclar thighs just right, showing the plump of his ass which had you blushing like a fool.

He saw you, maybe even you staring at him in such a way, as he made his way over.

"mi nína... estás preciosa..." (my girl...your beautiful...) He murmured, his gaze traveling down the outfit you wore just for the show, for him specifically. You smiled softly as you didn't understand his spanish, which made it awkward but fun.

"What are you saying?" You giggled, looking up at him with those doe eyes of yours, the feeling of staring into his seemingly felt like you were being lured in.

"nothing to worry about." He smirked as he took your hand in his, his own making yours looked drawf compared to him. You felt jittery and vulnerable, letting him drag you along as you both got on set. You take a deep breath, feeling rather tense. Miguel seemed to noticed as his hand rubbed slow circles on the small of your back.

"shh..No te pongas nervioso, te tengo amor." (dont be nervous, i got you love.) He reassured looking down at you with comfort and ease in his eyes, your body seemed more at ease as you smiled up at him.

Although you didn't know what he was saying but you knew it probably meant something sweet.

--

"SCENE STARTS IN 3..." The manager yelled from the back, you being in the kitchen as he just got back home from the pub, really to you it seemed like a toxic plot, but with miguel he seemed so sweet and reassuring, that you didn't seem to care for the plot.

"2..1 ACTION!" Your manager yelled as cameras were turned on, lights making sure they luminated the right places, as miguel walked into the door of your home.

"Hola hermosa, ¿qué estás haciendo?" (hey beautiful, what are you doing?") He asked, his arms raveling around your waist, pulling you close as you nudged him aside.

Although you didn't know what he was saying, reading your scripts and having to scan it a million times put ideas in what it might be.

"Don't hey beautiful me." You mumbled, nudging him away as you avoided looking up at him. His eyes were analyzing your reaction and movements.

He scoffed as he shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tried to approach you once more.

"Hey.. whats the matter with you?" He said, his accent weighing heavy on his words. His eyes demanded to look at yours, as he grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

You furrowed your brows, huffing as you were forced to stare into such dangerous eyes, ones that made you dizzy and undone if stared into too long.

"Let go of me, you reek of alcohol." You said, slapping his hand away as you walked it off. But not without him swooping you against the wall, his gaze was sharp, a low growl heard from him.

"¿Con quién crees que estás hablando? You know better.." (who are you talking to like that?) He said in a firm tone, his face getting closer to yours, the feeling on his breath fanning against your lips.

Your lips quivered, his thumb brushing over them as his gaze dropped to your lips.

"cariño, dime, ¿por qué estás molesta?" (baby, tell me why your upset?) He sighed, letting his grip falter as he pulled you close, hands grazing down your body as he squeezed at the plump of your ass, making you squeak.

You'd almost forgotten that this was all for show, all for a video to publish, as you got lost in the thought of acting appropriately.

"Your always out, i..didn't have the best day today, thinking if I-"

"Took your anger out on me would help?" He finished your sentence, as you nodded sheepishly.

He chuckled as he pulled you closer, pinning you against the wall as he pressed a kiss on your temple, another to your cheek before whispering against your ear.

"Meaning it would help by getting me all riled up till we ended up hate fucking?.." He chuckled as he lowered his head, pressing kisses on your neck, making you moan out as you nodded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Words hermoso , use your words." He hushed against your neck, biting at the nape softly, leaving a mark as he licked it afterwards, soothing the sting.

"yes.. yes i did.. bu-"

"but what? wanted me to lose my patience with you? wanted me to fuck you mercilessly? till you cant breath, till you cant think straight?" he clicked his tongue again, making you gulp back the guilt.

"Qué desastre para mí, cariño, un pequeño desastre, a slutty whore for me yea?" (such a mess for me baby, a pretty little mess) He chuckled, making your face go red as he picked you up, pressing his lips against yours as you both savored each other. His hands holding you firmly against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist for support as you felt his bulge against your stomach.

You gulped at the size, it felt huge. Girthy even. He noticed by your face, whispering something against your ear, quiet enough for the cameras not to hear.

"Gonna ruin you sweetheart." He whispered. He pressed a kiss on your temple before wrapping his lips around yours, letting his tongue explore. His hands worked on your body, groping the flesh of your hips, traveling up to squeeze and tease at your breast, making your back want to arch off the cold walls.

His weight pinned against you, making no effort of escape possible as you moaned out his name, trying to hide your face into the nape of his neck before one of the managers yelled.

"DONT HIDE YOUR FACE." Your manager yelled leaving you pouting as you brought your face back up. Miguel's eyes gazing into yours as he smirked, before running his hands under your tanktop, flicking and pinching at your breast as you whined against him. The feeling of his hips trying to find relief only adding on to your pleasure.

He peppered you with kisses, biting and sucking marks all over your chest mumbling 'mine' and 'who do you belong to hermoso?' here to there, not that you noticed, already being lost in the feeling of him slow burning your need for him.

He stopped, making you whine as he smirked momentarily.

"Got to fuck you properly." He growled, as he brought you back into his arms, carrying you to the bedroom, as he threw you down onto the bed. Your body plopping into the soft mattress before his weight towered over you.

"shh.. quiet don't want to wake the neighors." He teased, before going back to kissing you until his lips left yours, as they traveled down your body, biting and sucking at at soft flesh. His hands soothed the sting that brought from the bites, the pain only making it better.

He finally slid down your shorts, revealing the heat growing between your legs as he groaned at the sight.

"joder..toda mojada y bonita para mi ... all for me." (fuck... all wet and pretty for me) he growled as he dove right into your wet heat, lapping at the nub of nerves making you quiver, your thighs tightening against his head. His large burly hands wrapping around your thighs, pulling them apart as he started fucking you with his tongue, making you moan like you haven't before.

"M-miguel plea-"

"Shut up.. you wanted me to fuck you right? Fuck you the way I wanted? Then let me do it properly you greedy slut." You whined. His words degrading you making you nod obediently. He then slowly teased the entrance of your cunt, before shoving them right in, curling them right right.

You gasped as he started thrusting them into you roughly, curling his fingers at that one spot that made you come undone. You felt like you saw stars with how far your eyes rolled back.

You panted heavily, you were close. The feeling of him sucking at your clit with his fingers stretching you out was all too much. He must have sensed it, pulling his fingers out your needy cunt, licking one long line against your puffy clit. He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your clit before sitting up.

"Taste so good precioso" He groaned before unbuckling his belt, your eyes wavering over as he patted the spot infront of him, making you get up, crawling over to him.

He pulled his cock out, groaning as he pumped it a few times before instructing you to open your mouth, his tip leaking with precum. He had to be atleast 8 or 9 inches, girth making it seem abnormal from how large it was.

The cameras came closer to the scene as they made sure to catch your face, not missing a single shot of it as he slapped his cock against your tongue, throwing his head back with ease. His hands bunching up your hair into his fist before pushing your head down, not letting you breathe from how far he pushed his cock into your throat. You gagged and drooled, his hips fucking his way into your throat as he cursed at how tight it was.

"Fuck.. baby relax your throat f'me.." He groaned. As you did your best, allowing him to use you as if you were some type of sexy toy, his sex toy. He rutted himself into your throat, loving the way tears trickled down your face, mascara running down your teary eyes as your flushed cheeks brought a primal part of him out.

He pulled out as you gasped for air, his hands manhandling you effortlessly, throwing you onto your stomach as he pushed your back down, your ass up on display for him as he slapped it, leaving a light sting and a imprint of his hand.

"Qué hermosa... eres jodidamente hermosa." (your beauitful, fucking beauitful) He awed at how his hands left beauitful marks on your flesh, before soothing it over with his hand, before placing his hands on your hips, as he alligned himself.

"W-wait miguel let me-"

Before you could even speak he already slammed his hips against yours, shoving all 9 inches of himself into your tight wrath as he let out a breathless curse. Your eyes rolling so far back into your head you couldn't even remember if cameras were still filming or not. Nonetheless if you were even on stage or at home experiencing this.

"What were you saying? Can't hear with you

cryinf and moaning bonito.. All pretty and displayed for my cock." He grinned as he started thrusting into you, slamming into you faster but with long rough deep strokes that hit against your cervix, making you go numb.

Cameras came close, ones filming the way he was fucking you recklessly while other on your fucked out expression. Your makeup all ruined, tears prickling down your eyes at how overwhelmingly good you felt. You moaned like a bitch in heat, the way he groped at your breast, pinching the sore parts of them making you whine and cry out in pleasure as he fucked you mad.

His low grunts and groan, the breathless curses he let out as he slapped your ass, making it all red and achey before you finally felt your climax building, throwing yourself back against him as he growled at the feeling, slapping your ass roughly, pulling mewls and gasps out of you.

"Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over my cock baby?" He cooed, slapping your ass over and over till it was a deep shade of red. His groans growing more desperate as his hips slammed into you sloppily, showing how close he was.

"Cum with me.. cum with me mi precioso" he panted, leaning down to press soft kisses along your spine, as he slammed into you once more, shooting his ropes of cum inside you, fucking it back into you to keep you nice and full. You rode your high, his hips grinding into you slowly helping you out tremendously. As you fell against the bed limp, exhausted and fucked out as he chuckled, pulling out slowly as his cum drooled out your hole, the camera making sure to catch the sight.

He leaned over, pressing kisses on your temple, over your cheeks, and the nape of your neck all the way down your back.

"You alright mi amor?" He asked softly, his voice the sound of gravel and softness as all you did was nod numbly, trying to present a smile.

-

The scene was done and you both got cleaned up, refreshed and back into your normal clothes. You whined at how sore your cunt felt, maybe he did go a little too rough, not that you cared atleast. You had marks littered all over you, from bitemarks, to hickeys, scattered everywhere making you huff at the sight.

You finally met with eachothers managers, both seeing eachother once more before he brought his hand to hold yours, pressing a kiss to the back on your hand.

"Pleasure working with you hermoso..." He grinned, standing back up at his full height.

"Pleasures all mine, I hope the video came out as you liked." You smiled up at him, the feeling of pride filling your senses.

"Might be my favorite tape..." He chuckled, seeing the way it made you all flustered.

"Here.. before we part ways." He pulled out a piece of paper, placing it in your vest pocket as he gave you a playful wink before waving goodbye, which made you confused, excited, and sad.

As he left you pulled the note out of your vest, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your veins as you read.

'mi amor ... here is my number .

(***) *** ****, for when you want to talk or work once more. don't be shy to call mi amor.'

Miguel .

Your heart felt as if it pounced out your chest, the feeling of getting his number was all you needed to be able to expect further things in the future. But for what you knew, you were definitely going to leave a little message in his inbox.

* End *

---

(This is my first publish of thought! Sorry if theres any miss spells or grammer issues-- scanned through it so many times and still struggling.

Hope you enjoy!)

[goatcheesecak3]

Art teacher

Adam Stanheight x reader (with a sprinkle of Daniel Matthews & Brent Abbot)

Fic type: basically just a very longwinded headcanon, wholesome, platonic.

Summary: your boyfriend, Adam comes home and excitedly tells you about the art lessons he's been teaching for two boys he met at survivors meetings.

Adam arrived home, his already tatty clothes covered in specs of paint.

You turned to look at him, a proud smile stretching across your face.

"Looks like you and the boys had a lot of fun" you chuckled, kissing Adam's cheek as he kicked his shoes off and hung up his bag.

"Yeah, they're really smart kids y'know? They've both got real talent" Adam grinned.

The aforementioned "boys" were two teenagers by names of Brent and Daniel. Both rebellious and rambunctious, but sweet at heart. Adam had met them at jigsaw survivor meetings and over the last few months, the two boys had grown pretty fond of Adam. Aside from their similar trauma, they all had quite a lot in common, their love of punk music and art had been easy to bond over, and the two teens saw Adam as a sort of big brother figure. After a while of getting to know eachother at meetings, Adam had asked the boy's mothers if they might enjoy taking some art lessons from him, as a way to try and find a positive outlet for all their emotions left from various traumas.

Since both boys had recently lost their fathers, their mother's were more than eager for their children to have a positive male role model back in their lives, and jumped at the offer.

Adam flopped down on the sofa, visibly exhausted but with a satisfied smile.

"I really think I'm starting to get through to them, you know, y/n" he beamed, patting the seat beside him for you to sit down.

"Daniel's art is so intense and thought provoking, and Brent's been trying different mediums- he's gotten so good with spray paint!"

You couldn't help but swoon, watching how excited Adam got over the boys' progress, he really was ever so good with kids.

You took Adam's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"I'm so proud of you" You beamed, taking his face in your other hand and lightly caressing his cheek.

"Heh... thanks" Adam chuckled shyly, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.

"Y'know.." he said, a look of realisation creeping onto his face, "it's funny that that asshole, jigsaw claimed he was trying to make me appreciate life more, he didn't need to shackle me up in some prehistoric bathroom to achieve that, all I needed was an afternoon teaching those boys how to paint, and that's enough to turn me into some sappy, life is beautiful maaaaan hippie guy"

Adam chuckled, he seemed more able to talk about jigsaw ever since being in those survivor meetings, and his sardonic sense of humour had returned in full swing, it was nice to see.

Adam continued to mentor the two boys, growing close with their mother's and really becoming part of each boy's families. Years and years down the line, he was best man at both of their weddings

"It only makes sense," They would go on to explain, "you're my brother".

Hello!! I've had this idea in my head for a long time, it just made sense to me that Daniel and Brent would be friends, and that they would look up to Adam as the cool older punk guy at the meetings :'^)))) sorry it's short and kinda rambly, I just needed to get these thoughts out in some way because brainrot etc etc