#The Good Old Days (Past Verse)

[shesacrified]

tag dump: updating tags & new verses!

[changetyre]

He's okay

SUMMARY: It's Ivy's first time at a race and it's a lot more emotional than anyone imagined. Part of the Verstappen Family verse

WARNINGS: crash-ish, crying, fluff

A/N: Requested over on Wattpad and one of my favorite parts of this series.

"And make sure you don't let go of mommy and daddy okay?" You smiled at Lea as she repeated instructions to her 1 year old sister both in their car seats at the back. 

"Listen to what your sister is saying Ivy it's super important okay?" Max encouraged Lea looking at his daughters through the little mirrors 

Today you were taking Ivy to her first race, memories flooded your mind of Lea's first race. Lea had been older when she went to her first race but this time around Lea had been so insistent on getting her little sister to the track ever since she was born, Ivy was a little calmer than Lea was when she was a baby so after a lot of discussion you and Max agreed she would be okay to go to the Monaco GP just like her sister for her first race. 

"Okay, girls we're here you ready?" Max asked.

"YEAH!" Lea cheered happily. 

"Yeah!" Ivy simply repeated what her big sister said not really knowing what was going on. 

"You ready my love?" Max asked you as he parked the car. 

"More than ready." You let out a nervous breath before hopping out of the car. 

You grabbed Lea from her car seat while Max grabbed Ivy keeping her safe in his arms as you all made your way into the track. 

Cameras flashed everywhere at the sight of the Verstappen family all together for the first time at the track, both daughters dressed up in RedBull merch much to Max's pleasure also getting flashbacks from his oldest daughter in orange in her first race. 

"Papa woud." Ivy whined covering her ears yet a big smile on her face. 

"I know honey we're almost there." Max kissed his daughter's cheek holding her a little tighter as you walked past the cameras and reporters. 

"IVY WE'RE HERE!" Lea screamed excitedly pointing at the Redbull hospitality where she spotted familiar faces.

"LEA!" The team members cheered as you walked into the hospitality high fiving the toddler who felt happily at home in this environment. 

"And who's this?" Christian and Geri stood up from his table where he was having some coffee.

"Tell them your name darling." You encouraged your daughter to talk with the few words she knew. 

"Iby" She babbled still struggling to properly pronounce her Vs 

"Oh, what a gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl." Geri melted at the sight of baby Ivy. 

Ivy giggled shyly as her eyes explored her surroundings just like Lea on her first day taking in everything around her. 

"Papa cow." Ivy pointed at the large Red Bull logo on the wall. 

"No Ivy it's a Bull, a Red Bull," Max explained frustrated, despite having Red Bulls everywhere around the house Ivy always insisted they were cows much to Max's dismay. 

By the time Max had finished explaining Ivy's attention was already on something else. "Papa down." Ivy squirmed in her dad's arms. Ivy was mostly good with being carried but not long ago she started walking on her own...still stumbling frequently and still not running...but since then she wanted to be put down as much as possible. 

This time watching her big sister running around and playing with the rest of the Red Bull team members gave her enough motive to try to run (walk) around on her own. Knowing this was a closed space where you could keep an eye on her Max put Ivy down who took off as quick as her little legs could carry her to her sister. 

You and Max both watched happily as Lea introduced her baby sister to the team members holding her hand at all times. 

"So far so good." Max let out a sigh of relief he didn't even realize he was holding in. 

"We've got some backup this time." You hugged your husband gesturing at Lea who was still holding her sister's hand while pointing out pictures of their dad through a wall in the hospitality. 

"NO WAY IS THAT?!" Your attention was drawn to the loud and obnoxious man you now called family coming into the hospitality. 

"DANIIIII!" Lea yelled letting go of her sister's hand causing Ivy to plop down on her bottom on the spot. 

"They literally saw him this morning," Max spoke baffled at the overjoy of both his daughters at seeing his best friend. 

You were going to help Ivy up but she didn't cry or whine getting up herself before walking over to Dani on her own. "Dani!" She yelled too as soon as she was in his arms. 

"Aww my babies." Daniel hugged them tightly. 

"Actually...my babies." Max chimed in expressing his slight jealousy at the sight of his daughters in his best friend's arms. 

"MY BABIES!" another voice echoed from outside the hospitality doors, Lando standing there with his arms wide open. 

"AHHH WAN!!" Ivy screamed even louder this time running (speed stumbling) to her godfather's arms, Lea close behind her. 

"This is ridiculous." Max shrugged while you laughed loving how your daughters felt at ease and loved. 

_____________

"bye bye papa." Ivy waved her little hand as Max's car drove out of the garage ready for FP1. 

You laughed. "That's right bye bye papa." You stared at your daughter who sat in your lap looking adorable with earmuffs on that were squishing her cheeks way too big for her little head. 

"Dani!" Ivy pointed at the screen where she recognized her uncle's car driving around. 

"That's right baby that is Dani." You confirmed. 

"Chas" Ivy continued pointing at her uncle Charles's car driving around. 

Ivy continued pointing at the cars calling out her uncle's names despite sometimes getting the number of cars wrong you still encouraged her to keep it up. 

But your attention was drawn away from your daughter when you noticed an orange car hit a barrier and spin out. Your heart skipped a beat not seeing the blurred number 4 car coming to a halt, some spoke coming out the back. The Red flag was brought out immediately. 

"WANN" Your attention was brought back to your youngest daughter who had witnessed the accident, a terrified expression on her face as tears welled up in her eyes. 

"It's okay darling." You picked your daughter up off your lap turning her around so she faced away from the screens. 

"WANN huwt!" Ivy sobbed in your arms. 

You sighed in relief at seeing Lando hop out of the car unscathed as he walked to the motorcycle ready to bring him in. 

"Lando's is okay baby I promise you." You tried to comfort your daughter to no avail, luckily for you, Lea had fallen asleep in her dad's driver's room where Vicky was watching her. 

"Mamma WANNDO!" Ivy continued inconsolably crying as her dad drove back into the pits and his car was wheeled back into the garage. Max hopped out at the sight of his distraught daughter. 

"Hey, what's wrong?!" Max pulled his helmet off running over to you. 

"She saw Lando crashed and she thinks he's hurt so she won't settle." Max noticed your distress too. 

"Ivy Lando's okay honey." Max tried his shot at comforting your youngest daughter taking her from your arms. 

"Papa Wann huwt." Ivy now cried in your husband's arms hiccuping and gasping for air between sobs. 

You and Max looked at each other wondering what to do. "Head to McLaren I'll text Lando." Max handed Ivy back to you. You nodded following his suggestion. 

Ivy continued sobbing in your arms as you made your way to McLaren, you noticed the camera's following you so you tried your best to shield your daughter's crying face from view. 

As soon as you arrived you hesitated to go in not wanting to overstep but Lando hopped out from the hallway, probably after receiving Max's text. 

"Ivy look." You tried to get your daughter to look up at her godfather but she was so distraught she wouldn't budge. 

"Ivy darling I'm okay." Lando walked to you nudging Ivy. 

Ivy's face immediately popped up at hearing his voice, her sobs stopping momentarily taking in her godfather. "Oh Wando." Ivy let herself fall into her godfather's arms hugging him tightly as she started crying a little softer this time. 

"Aww baby I'm okay." Lando's heart both broke and grew bigger at the thought of his goddaughter worrying so much for him. 

"Huwt?" Ivy asked him. 

"No I'm not hurt darling I'm okay I promise you," Lando reassured his goddaughter who held on tightly to him. 

You sighed another breath of relief at seeing your daughter calm in Lando's arms your heart also bursting at the thought of your daughter being so empathic with her godfather and those she loved. 

You let your daughter stay with Lando as long as she needed knowing Lando wouldn't be able to hop back into the car at least for the rest of FP1 but most likely also FP2 due to the damage. Eventually, Lando had eased Ivy so much that she had fallen asleep in his arms, her face all red and swollen from all the crying she'd done. 

"Looks like she tired herself out." You stroked your daughter's hair as her head rested on Lando's chest. 

"She really loves me doesn't she?" Lando asked with genuine emotion. 

"I think that's clear." You smiled. 

Lando rested his head on top of her little head embracing her a little tighter. "I love her so much too." He kissed her head. 

"I think she's deep in sleep, I can take her back." You were about to grab Ivy from Lando's arms. 

"No no!" Lando whispered yelling at you. "Just a little longer." Despite Lando's arms being numb at this point he didn't want this feeling to go away just yet. 

What a rollercoaster of emotions for baby Ivy's first race. 

[yorshie]

Hello, fellow raccoon here 🦝 If it’s not too much trouble, could you write about sharing a bed for the first time with the Bay!verse turtles?

Ah! Another raccoon! Thank you for the request, I had a lot of fun writing this one! I went with head canon style.

Bayverse x reader, SFW other than bedshare, set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

Tags: @jackalope-in-a-storm @tmnt-tychou

MICHELANGELO

This sweet turtle got his nest all ready when he heard you were finally spending the night. Brought in your favorite snacks, hunted down all his extra pillows from around the Lair, and restocked his mini fridge in case you got thirsty.

So when the time finally came and you go drop your bag off in his room, there is not a free spot to be found. His bed is a mountain of pillows and blankets, the small coffee table shoved in front of his tv has everything from pizza, microwavable food, and what looks like three different flavors of cookies piled on top of it.

Not gonna lie, its a bit intimidating. You might even have faltered, if sunshine boi wasn't right behind you with your toiletry bags, happy go lucky energy rubbing off until it felt like the spotlight wasn't directly on you.

the rest of the night is spent in typical Mikey fashion, a.k.a. a game and movie marathon. His brothers occasionally wander past his open door to say hello and to see what the two of you are up to. They might have a bet running on how much Mikey smothers you and how long you'll allow it. Even Splinter is in on it, thought the old rat refrains from making an appearance so his youngest doesn't feel like he's doing something wrong. He wants to marry his sons off eventually, after all.

When you eventually get tired and it's time to delve into the towering abyss of pillows that have taken over his bed, Mikey's territorial side makes an appearance. The door gets shut and locked to avoid anyone that might think it's a good idea to pull a prank (none of his brothers would but Mikey is paranoid because he is the prankster), and he wastes no time diving in after you for some cuddles.

oh. ok, maybe there's too many pillows, because now he can't find you! He's lost his significant other! Cue a mini chase where most of his bounty ends up in the floor in his search. You are not getting out of cuddles. No amount of wiggling or hiding will save you.

the actual cuddling is quite nice. Mikey's warm and his bicep makes for an excellent pillow. He likes to lay face to face, with your head tucked under his chin, limbs entangled and churring up a storm that you knew would have his brothers wincing in second hand embarrassment if they ever heard all the turtley noises he made when it was just the two of you.

He definitely snores, though. And farts in his sleep. Fact of life, don't get mad, because we all do it sometimes, most of us just aren't a mutated turtle man with a noxious gut fueled by pizza and sour patch kids. Dutch oven him with his own farts as payback.

in the morning you'll definitely wake up first, though as soon as you start to move Mikey will be alert. Call it sixth sense, but all the turtles are hyper aware of their own personal spaces and who's in them. I hope you weren't planning on getting an early start that morning, because now that Mikey's awake he's ready to continue the movie that you getting sleepy paused the night before. While getting more cuddles and eating breakfast in bed, of course.

LEONARDO

he internally started creating lists as soon as you accepted his sleepover proposal. Panics a little and moved the date once to make sure his sheets are washed the day before. Everything in his space has to be perfectly so. If someone interupts his cleaning and prepping, they better expect to have their head bitten off. Will have a literal panic attack if you arrived early.

You, of course, notice nothing out of place when he presents his room for your inspection. Yes, you read that right. This turtle will practically sweat as he waits for your verdict on whether the nest is good enough. No, he doesn't realize what he's doing. If you pick up on it don't tell him or else he might start panicking again.

The two of you will actually not spend too much time besides sleeping in his room, most of your time will be hanging out in the main living area. This serves two purposes: as the eldest Leo wants you to get along with all his brothers, and two, the thought of his bothers coming by his room to say hi to you absolutely drives is reptile brain crazy. So you'll eat and hangout with everyone else, and try not to laugh at the subtle teasing you know your turtle is going through with the whispered jokes and laughter that seem to stop every time you turn around.

When it gets late enough and everyone starts peeling off to do their own thing, you'll have to let Leo know you are ready to go lay down. Hilarious if you think He's going to suggest it's time to head to bed to you, he's trying his hardest not to think of the words "you" and "nest - BED! he meant bed!" in the same sentence.

when you finish your nighttime routine and make your way back to Leo's room, don't be surprised to find him on a makeshift pallet on the floor. There is no way you couldn't have seen this coming, but don't worry, there's an easy fix. Simply get in his bed, close to the wall, and start shivering. Loudly. Ham it up. In no time flat you'll have a turtle sneaking up next to you to keep you warm, though at first he will be hesitant. Cuddling you in the privacy of his own room with the expectation of sleep is very different from just chilling with you.

despite Leo trying to be a gentleman during the beginning, leaving you a bit of space and trying his hardest not to crowd you, by an hour in he will be wrapped around you. As he slowly gets tipped closer and closer to the edge of sleep, the more loose he will become. And once he gives in and gets used to the cuddles, he will never want to stop.

He clicks and chirps in his sleep sometimes. You woke up thinking there was a baby bird or something in the room, only to discover the high pitched noises were coming from him, before he transitions into deeper churrs from his chest right in front of your eyes. If you keep very still and quiet he might not wake up, but he will be traumatized if he does and discovers he makes these noises

There is very little chance of you waking in the morning before Leo. This turtle gets up early, but maybe just for today he can slip back next to you, after morning training, just to feel close to you for a bit longer. When you wake up you could just spend the morning talking, he won't mind being lazy as long as it's with you

You'll most likely be the one making breakfast if the other brothers aren't up yet, as Leo is banned from making anything other than tea or using the strict guidelines Mikey placed next to the microwave. But, he is an excellent sous chef, and after you're both fed he will be quick to suggest an activity so the two of you can hang out longer. Just know he's already weighing his chances of getting you to spend the next night as well.

DONATELLO

Dee had about 50 reminders set in the days leading up to your first sleepover, and a mental list he was practically grappling with in between projects. Anytime he'd focus on what was coming up too much, the butterflies would start going haywire in his stomach and he was likely to drop whatever it is he's holding at the time

Needless to say, he was in a bit of a panic by the time you showed up. Technically speaking, logically speaking, he knew his bed and room where both clean. And he knew you liked spending time with him, so why the anxiety? Why the nerves? He's so nervous, he doesn't even realize you've arrived, moved around his habitual pacing to set your bag on his bed, and now you're simply watching him with fond curiosity.

He shrieks when he finally notices you. Practically has a heart attack and knocks over at least four stacks of meticulously arranged cds and various technological components. Eventually joins in your laughter after he's calmed down enough to see the humor in the situation.

Just this once, Donnie has cleared his timetable of various projects to focus soley on you. That isn't to say that before he's blown you off or ignored you, but by now you are well aware how hard he has to work to contain his wandering mind, al lthe little tips and tricks he uses to keep his focus on the here and now and not bouncing from idea to idea.

The two of you will not be spending too much time out in the main area. The time it takes the two of you to procure dinner is more than enough brotherly interaction for the tall turtle. Not to mention, it turns almost awkward as the other's try desperately to not make prolonged eye contact with anyone else. They learned a long time ago not to tease the brother that controls all their devices and the access to the wifi.

Once Donnie and you are comfortable back in his room, the true hang out will begin. You'll play rock-paper-scissors to pick a movie, Donnie always lets you win, but he gets to pick the music that plays in the background. If you want, he'll access his computer and set up the program to make the lights in his room dance to the beat. Curled up in his arms, it is the easiest place to fall asleep, surrounded by fluttering lights that mimic being underwater.

Donnie may not actually sleep, but he stays with you the entire night. If you wake at all it might be to the idle scratching of pen on paper as he writes, his hand moving in your hair or along your back, or to his soft breaths caught in a light doze, a soft churr rumbling in his chest. If you're also the type to burn the midnight oil, you both might stay up talking long enough that the morning slowly creeps up on you before you both pass out.

Splinter often stops by the Lab in the morning on his way to meditate, if only to wrap a blanket over his son's shoulders and move his glasses to a safe spot. It's an ingrained habit, so much so that it doesn't even register that you spent the night until he quietly opens the door. He takes on look at the two of you holding each other close, and turns away with a smile.

Dee can cook, but most likely he'll order from the diner one block above their preferred manhole cover, and the two of you will sneak out for eggs, bacon and pancakes before secreting it away in his room so you don't have to share.

RAPHAEL

If the two of you are close enough for a sleepover, Raph is going to be the calmest of his brothers about you being in his personal space. Sure, he'll clean up, make sure all his dirty clothes are in his hamper and all the drawers actually shut on his dresser, but don't expect much in the way of fanfare.

He doesn't care where you wanna hang out in the evening, as long as you're comfortable. If you're out in the Lair proper however, get ready for some brotherly jockeying. Mikey almost can't help teasing Raph about having a guest over for the night, but the bigger brother will take it in stride as long as its only Mikey. Donnie tends to stay out of the limelight when it comes to teasing, but you better hope Leo doesn't so much as raise an eye ridge in Raph's direction. To be fair, the blue turtle is likely only drawing attention to how soft for you Raph is, but the two of them earning a trip to the Ha'shi might put a bit of a damper on the sleepover.

Leo's right though, Raph is completely soft for you. You want something to eat? He'll go get it for you without even a huff. You want popcorn for the movie? He'll bring back soda as well. You ask how much he can bench? He'll toe the line between showing off and making sure he can actually handle the weight. You neck hurts from having to crane around him to watch the movie? He'll lay on the ground and let you splay across his shell. You blink at him and sleepily ask to be carried? You're already up in his arms before you can even finish the sentence.

When it comes time to sleep, Raph will insist you take the inside of the bed, close to the wall, but he's thought ahead and gotten you your own pillow so you don't have to share with him. Yes, technically its from Mikey's room, but don't worry he disinfected it with a shit-ton of Lysol and Frebreze and washed the cover. This doesn't mean he doesn't want to cuddle, but of all the things Raph understands in his life, the very first few are the difference in size between the two of you, just how much he weighs, and how strong he is. So he'll tuck you against the wall and lay out on his stomach in one of the few positions that makes it hard for him to tip over. There's just enough room between the lip of his shell and the mattress for you to slot yourself against him, and he'll take the opportunity to slide his arm around your waist and bury his snout in your hair.

He'll hold you there throughout the night, breath slow and even. If you wake, be prepared that any movement will rouse him. He can't exactly help it, and he tries not to make you feel guilty over it, but you can always make out the green shine of his eyes peering down to make sure you are ok before he drifts back off again.

This turtle churrs sometimes in his sleep, but it's not the cute or soothing churr of contentment. No, someone parked a diesel engine in his man and is revving it like he's driving up an inclined gravel mountain road. The only way to get him to stop is to poke the thin strip of skin along his side, repeatedly, until he snorts and shifts. 50/50 chance the shifting will stop the churring. If not, you'll have to repeat the process.

In the morning, he'll dip before you wake, and come back to the room with warm pastries and whatever he's seen you drink in the morning. If you want your breakfast right away however, you might have to bribe him with turtle smooches as he tries to steal back his spot and catch up on the cuddles he's missed being a good boyfriend. Yes, he's holding you hostage, unless you want to try climbing over him. You might succeed if you make him laugh.

At some point in the day, after breakfast and whatever morning routine you keep, Raph will ask you what you want to do. If you want to go home, decompress, he'll take you home, but if you want to stay again and hang out some more you'll get to see the sweetest, softest smile break across his face.

[brandileigh2003]

Older wolfstar fic recs: (older in age that is)

let me know what I missed and self recs are welcome (also as always check tags for each one to protect yourself) **And I know older is relative term bc most of these wolfstar are in their 30s I do believe. But. They have more life experience than in Hogwarts or uni.

--orange juice (i've been ready for you to come home for so long) by raggedypond: divorced parents of teddy with one bed at his graduation

-Honey If I'm Not by @brigid-faye divergent post war where remus left, jily lived, and wolfstar only reconnects years later by chance. (Also has a Sirius pov)

---used my best colours for your portrait by @littleoldrachel lie low at Lupin's with flashbacks exploring remus' life

-Looking for Moony by Writer_INFJ_2w1: meet and fall in love birthday party

-Flight of Destiny by @lucigoo lesbian wolfstar meet on plane (Luci also has several others where they're older and lots of beautiful fics

--Aging Gracelessly by orphan_account: texting fic

--the mayors of simpleton by fruity_individual divorced wolfstar get back together, raising teddy

-Second Generation by MsAlexWP single parents, getting back together. The sequel is so perfect too! It's a Nice Day for a Wolfstar Wedding

-the sea is a good place to think of the future by peachyybabe (second in series is mcd but this one is open ending)

-Of Memories and Milk Thievery by moonymoment raising teddy, get back together

--Birthday Blues by YouBlitheringIdiot @blitheringmcgonagall :Sirius is turning sixty and he is appalled...

--Give Quarter to Old Men - @krethes series

--dear your holiness by mollymarymarie

--The Postwar Chronicles by @sliebman10 post canon series

-Vigil Strange I Kept by whitmans_kiss explores effects of lycanthropy

--ten reasons (to go to michigan) by @greyeyedmonster-18 remus headed home, trying to move on from divorce

--Prettiest Star Verse by Raging_queer

-I didn’t sign up for this by Moonystoastandmarsbar divorced wolfstar

-Of Protein Powders and PTAs by @squintclover and @tracingpatternswrites rivals to lovers

-An Infinte Ocean by orphan_account raising teddy strangers to lovers

--The Road Not Taken by @mollymarymarie

-extra credit by MsAlexWP rivals to lovers

-Baby On Board by aqua_myosotis

-Of Memories, Bitter and Sweet by MsAlexWP memory loss

**luci's recs

-my love, take care of yourself by littleoldrachel

-How to romance a guy with (terrible) poetry by BayleyWinchester

-Teddy Plays Matchmaker by grow_as_we_go

-The Front Step Surprise by R33sesPieces

**Recs from others** (I haven't read all these yet but wanted to include)

--Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp (be aware there is age gap)

--The Lab by de_sire again an age gap

-Till We Have Arrived Home Again by prouvairing divergent post canon raising harry

-The Patchwork of Us by TracingPatterns

-The Things I Did by Lolo_row

-The Phoenix Agency by LupinsChocolatePraline

-The Fall by EuripidesTrousers

-Pages of You by wolfpants this is drarry main but apparently background wolfstar is really good

-Just Like Heaven by the_prettiest_w0lf_star: mechanic Sirius and librarian Remus

-soloorganaas

-impishtubist

***Self rec***

--Memories of You: mcd exploring memory loss

--Through the Years: Sirius thinks about the past and how handsome his husband is while holding their granddaughter.

--DN(R): Lie low at Lupin's era where they discuss decisions Remus made in the lost years.

**also- the wolfstar librarian is always a great resource make sure to give some likes on posts: 30yo and Up part 2 Bring Black Back Back from the Veil Lie Low at Lupin’s Post Azkaban Grimmauld Place

--Feel free to check my other rec lists, as well as the rest of my fics

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] "Sins of the Guilty"

Summary: SDV Bachelors lusting over the nun that's recently come to visit Pelican Town Warning(s): Not proofread, Sacrilege of nuns, Sub!Sebastion [Reader is kinda a dom in his part], Sebastion doesn't have active sex with the reader, it's only imagined, I kinda favored Sebastion's part ngl, Dom!Shane [The usual lol], This is the filthiest thing I've ever written ngl, Elliot is the king of making readers squirt fight me on that, Elliot is a simp low-key, Bachelors loosely follow the plot of the verses, Unprotected sex [Wrap it before you tap it folks], Pure filth, Porn with plot. Word count: 8,285 wordsSide note(s): Inspired by the fact that- I like nuns and priests man. Going to religious schools all your childhood will do that 💀. Also, sorry for not including all the bachelors. I mostly wanted to focus on those who I think would struggle the most with being presented with a pretty nun in front of them cause it's more fun that way pfft.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Shane - "Hopeless Sinner" 1 Peter 5:8 - Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

♡ - Never in his life had Shane been a religious man.

Too much had happened in his life for him to even consider the possibility of a god, and even if there was such a thing? There was no way that they'd look down favorably upon them, especially with all the sins that weighed down his soul.

And he had a lot.

He was a drunk, he could hardly keep his eyes open half of the time. It was common for him to stink, absolutely reek of alcohol and past missed showers and he far too commonly let his alcoholism get him into frequent situations that he would only come to regret the next day. And to add to that list of sins? He wasn't exactly a people person.

He was rude and curt, saw people as an annoyance and treated them like such. He wasn't open to hearing people be kind to him much less try to suggest ways to change himself. The only time he felt semblances of happiness was when he was with his niece and even then? Those times were fleeting and brief, all because of his aforementioned addictions to the bottle.

And...despite all of that, all those troubles...he wasn't intent on changing.

In his eyes? He was a lost cause, too far gone and there was no point in expending energy on something that was damaged. And he only doubled down on that ideology when rumors began to circulate that a nun was going to visit the town for a little while. He even made it a mission to avoid any places where you could've possibly been at!

The last thing Shane needed was some old woman lecturing on the goodness of Yoba and the sins that came with drinking. How that "he wasn't too far gone" and that he could be "saved", all if he just believed and dedicated himself enough.

At least...until he saw you in person one day outside Pierre's shop on his way to get some cans of beer.

. . .

"You must be Shane, I'm Sister Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

It was like the entire world paused for the briefest of moments.

Just enough for him to truly take in your features the moment he saw you, right in front of Pierre's shop no doubt.

Your smile alone could have chased away the darkest of storms and replace it with a sun that shined as much as your eyes did. They were as wide and big as a dog looking up at its owner, he thought. As if you were expecting some type of praise or reward for greeting him with so much enthusiasm. You were slender-figured but graced with long legs, your skin appeared smooth and your lips were pink and full. Yet as Shane looked back down, he was shocked that you weren't wearing a long black dress like he had thought nuns wore but...shorts-

"Shane? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah...I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "How in the hell do you know my name anyway?" He continued, surprised when you didn't flinch at his rude tone.

"The Church made sure to brief me on people's faces and names before I came to visit!" Of course they did…though, he didn’t know whether or not to complain at this fact or to allow himself to silently be happy in a way. After all, it wasn’t everyday that someone cute knew his name off the bat, much less greeted him with a smile that didn’t have badly hidden disdain or disgust behind it.

“Anyway…” You cleared your throat. “You should come to service this Sunday! It’ll be my first one in the valley and I’d love to have everyone there, I-if possible of course.”

He clicked his tongue.

At the very most? He’d think about it.

“Maybe,” Then, he walked past you.

. . .

After the two of you first met, Shane tried avoiding you the rest of the week until Sunday passed him by.

But though be was successfully avoiding you physically, mentally was a whole other issue as no matter what he did? No matter how much alcohol he drank, you’d always find a way to squeeze your way into his thoughts. When he cringed at his own smell at times, suddenly he’d would be hit with a wave of grace as he remembered the smell of your light perfume. It was even beginning to infect his dreams.

Dreams that…were far more pleasant as of late.

In his dreams, you’d sit with him and talk out in some meadow somewhere. Perhaps you’d go on and on about the book of Yoba all the while you steadily inched closer and closer to him before you’d place a hand on his arm. Your chest touching him as your sweet words grew more sensual, forgoing the talk of holiness to instead invite Shane to touch you through your clothes.

But before getting to the good part?

He’d always wake up, left with an aching hard-on and his alarm screaming at him to get ready for work.

That was the first and possibly the only time that Shane began to believe that there may have been such a thing as "The Devil". After all, why else would he suddenly have these thoughts of someone who just arrived in town a few days ago? Especially someone so out of his league?! Also, the two of you only met once and you probably didn't even remember his name!

But after the fourth time of waking up, his own brain once again blue-balling him?

He knew he had to see you in person.

Even if it was just to hear your voice again.

. . .

So, the next day, he went to the shrine of Yoba where he knew you'd be.

And the second he knocked on the door, you responded with a gentle "Come in" before he stepped inside. And...he couldn't help but feel like a black sheep amongst all the holy symbols and the gentle sound of a religious choir playing from a phone, suddenly, the paranoia of Yoba knowing about Shane's unholy imagination of you began to glare up. He felt as if he was going to burst into flames as punishment for daring to offend a sacred place with his presence!

Once he had turned a corner and saw you sitting on a pew, facing the statue of Yoba however...all of a sudden, he was calm and he remembered why he was there.

He simply wanted to confess his sins and have someone hear him out.

"Shane?" You said as you turned around, a smile immediately jumping onto your features. "I thought that was you! It's easy to recognize grumpy voices in this town."

He rolled his eyes.

"Can I help you with anything? What's going on?"

When he opened his mouth, he realize that he didn't have a single clue about how to admit that he wanted to confess his sins. Especially when those sins revolved around you (not that he'd ever dare to say that part out loud). "I uh...want to confess my sins."

Your smile grew. "Oh? Please, sit." You scooted over on your pew before tapping the space next to you.

Obediently, he sat down but a considerable distance away from you. His hands started to sweat and shake, how was he supposed to confess that you were the source of his sins?! How was he going to tell the pure nun of the valley that he was struggling not to masturbate to you defiling yourself on his unworthy cock? The imagination of your moans combined with the image of you begging him to fuck you against the shrine of Yoba plagued his mind. And what's worse?

He didn't feel an ounce of guilt for it really...he just wanted to be around you. Be it fuel for the mind or something more, he just didn't know.

"...Something tells me that you didn't come to confess." You spoke breaking the silence and snapping him from his thoughts.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Did he do something to give himself away?

"How do you-"

"I've been doing this for a while, you tend to pick up clues." You chuckled. "So tell me, what's really going on? I'm a good listener."

The moment you turned around and looked at him, his breath hitched in his throat as his dream from the night prior suddenly flashed in the forefront of his mind. Your pretty pink lips soaked and glistening from your spit whilst you panted heavily like a bitch in heat, practically for him to do something to you, anything to you. Already, he started to feel his cock twitch inside his boxers, causing Shane to quickly clear his throat and look in front of him.

He tried to think about anything else to keep himself from getting hard in front of you.

"...I've been having weird dreams." He finally admitted. "Dreams that aren't...good."

You hummed to yourself for a moment before you responded. "Like..."I may do something awful" type of bad or another type?"

"Lustful." He muttered.

Like the flip of a dime, it felt like the atmosphere in the room changed.

"You've been lusting after someone?"

He nodded his head.

"Who?"

"Does it matter?" He said snappily, eliciting a chuckle from you.

"Don't be so snappy, I like a bit of gossip as much as the next person..." You scooted closer. "Though, if you've been struggling with these thoughts then...the correct thing for me to say as a nun is to suggest you to stop. To be tempted by the flesh is a sin, your thoughts should never be focused on such things."

Finally, Shane forced himself to look at you, fully expecting you to look at him with some type of reprimanding disgust in your eyes but...he was shocked when he found nothing of the sort. You looked at him like a tiger would eye a piece of prey. "But...?" Shane said.

"But, I as an individual say that you should pursue this person. Who knows, she may like you."

Now that made him snort, there was no way that you would like a drunk like him. He was certain of that. "I'm the town drunk, why would she— you like me?" He decided to be upfront, to which you met his words with shock for a moment before you offered him a simple smile in return.

"Nuns have needs too, and who said this had to be a permanent thing? I'll only be in town for a few more weeks, all your sins will simply...wash away, stay between us, once I leave."

It felt like his dream was becoming truer by the second. Only...you were naughtier than what he originally assumed based on your appearance, but it added to the charm, and with each sugar-coated word that fell from your pretty lips, the further his mind slipped into depravity and what he wanted to do with you as he felt his cock chub up against his thigh. After all, when was the last time he'd gotten his rocks off? His right hand and his brain could only stave off the longing for a real tight cunt for so long!

And as he watched you start to lift your dress and slip your panties down your legs.

He immediately took the plunge.

. . .

"F-Fuck!" You cried out as your legs were spread, Shane on his knees as his lapped at your cunt like a man-starved.

And he might as well have been.

He felt as if he had been in a desert for months and had finally spotted an oasis, your slick upon his tongue was sweet and dripped from your pussy like a nonstop faucet, something that he wasn't going to dare let go to waste as he alternated between tongue-fucking your sex with his tongue and moving onto sucking your clit whilst his calloused fingers plunged in and out of your weeping hole.

And you couldn't get enough of it.

"Sooooo d-deeep...." You whined as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head.

Shane's resolve would've snapped if he hadn't been so focused on both eating yu out and prepping you to take his leaking cock, the sound of you, a nun sounding so fucked out and horny...practically crying out for his tongue and fingers made him rut into the air to try and alleviate the tight feeling within' his pants.

"S-Shane...I'm- I'm cumming-" Your high-pitched whine suddenly died on your lips when Shane stopped pistoning his fingers in and out of you as he stood and shredded his clothes.

"No you aren't lil' slut, you'll be doing that on my dick." He grumbled, his hands practically shaking from how eager he was to get inside of you before he finally freed his dick from its confines and lined himself up to your entrance, his hand coming up to press against the middle of your leg and push it till it nearly touched your chest.

Your mouth opened in a wide O at the size of him, causing the man to chuckle.

"Never had something this big in your pussy?"

You unconsciously shook your head but, your pussy nonetheless twitched in eagerness for the man's cock. Despite Shane's eagerness though, he made sure to be as gentle as he could be with you as he gently pressed his mushroom tip against your hole, the feeling sending a rush of electricity over your skin at the feeling of a cock touching your pussy.

It was strange and...it felt hot. Hotter than what you expected it to be.

Shane gripped his cock at the base before beginning to press his tip against your hole, steadily inserting it into your hole before thrusting forward a little as he steadily filled you. The man groaned at the feeling of your wet walls clenching onto him, almost as if you didn't want to let him go despite you possibly being the first man you've ever been with. "L-Loosen up..." He whispered, already feeling a knot begin to form and tighten in his stomach.

It seemed he hadn't been laid longer than what he originally thought. It took ever ounce of Shane's strength and will not to fuck you like a toy, to be as gentle as he could be until he was certain you were ready to be fucked into the pew like you were begging him to when he first started to eat you out.

Then again, you weren't going to last long either as you had just recently had your orgasm denied.

"Y-You're too big..." You whispered, trying to relax your cunt like instructed to but it hardly seemed to do anything at all. You moaned when you felt Shane's cock twitch at your words, a cocky smirk crawling onto his stubbled features as he leaned closer to you. "I'm big huh?"

You nodded your head breathlessly, a moan tearing from your throat when Shane finally bottomed out inside of you, his hips pressing against your ass whilst he tightened his grip on your leg to keep you from trying to escape the stretch his dick gave you.

"J-Just fuck me..." You hissed, shooting a glare to try and chase your denied orgasm. And the man gladly did as you wished, slowly pulling himself out of you before suddenly slamming back into you, almost knocking the air from your very lungs before he immediately went into a harsh and brutal pace. Shane almost had a mind to tease how you looked, your lips flushed and lips wet from your shared salvia from your earlier kissing session.

Your moans were loud and unbridled, to the point where even he was worrying about whether or not your slutty moans would attract unneeded attention to the shrine!

But as his balls slapped against your ass, the sensation in combination with your cute moans only served to make his balls tighten in anticipation of his impending orgasm. "Oh Yob, r-right there!" You yelped out when Shane suddenly positioned himself to fuck into you deeper, his cock slamming into the deepest part of you with each thrust. Shane then moved his hand down from its position on your leg to your hips, using the leverage to pull you onto his cock as he threw his head back to let out a drawn-out groan.

"Fuuuuccckkkk..." He moaned, his mouth hanging open before he lazily looked back down at you, smiling at your fucked out expression as he spotted drool beginning to dribble out from the corner of your lips.

At that moment, his thumb reached to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips before plucking the digit into his mouth with a smirk at your taste. "Can't believe how lucky I am...Yoba must be real," Shane snickered. "I get to fuck one of his cute lil' slutty nuns...especially one that doesn't know what to do with herself when presented with a real dick in her cunt." He continued as the need to fill you up grew with each thrust.

You nodded stupidly, Shane had an urge to kiss you but...your moans sounded too good for him to risk messing up his position and ruining your pleasure that was causing you to cry out so abashedly.

"C-Cummin-" Your climax hit you like a freight train as your body suddenly went rigid. Your cunt spasmed and clenched impossibly tighter around Shane's cock like a vice grip, nearly making him stutter in his movements as you came around his cock. "Y-Yoba-" He hissed, sucking in his bottom lip as he leaned forward a little at the sheer pleasure your spasming cunt brought him.

Shane only managed a few more thrusts before he spilled into you, his stomach clenching and his body stilling as if it were putting all its remaining energy into filling you up.

A breath he didn't even know he was holding released when he finished and looked back at you. Your gaze was unfocused as your cheeks were flushed red and spit trailed down the corners of your lips.

"Oi, you with me?" Shane said as he pinched your cheeks together with his hand, gently shaking you to try and snap you out of your daze.

You could only respond with a soft moan before you looked at him but not at him. He chuckled, he would accept it for now. He just needed to get you dressed, after all...he definitely wanted to discuss if his confessions with you could be a regular thing, at least...until you left of course.

Elliot - "Forbidden Desires" Proverbs 6:25 - Do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes;

♡ - When Elliot and you first met. It was on the beach of all things.

Out on the wooden pier that overlooked the ocean. Frequently, the writer would visit here to collect his thoughts for his writing and try to find inspiration from the gentle waves that crashed lightly against the pier and beach alike. Yet it was when he turned his head to the side briefly, the world suddenly seemed to stop on its axis.

He thought you were gorgeous.

Baked in the backdrop light from the sun, he nearly thought you had a halo on your head. Glowing with your holiness that made all the features on your face that much softer, like the way your hooded eyes looked out across the water almost longingly as if you were beckoning for a wave to come and carry you somewhere else. How pieces of your hair escaped your veil and blew with the sea breeze along with your dress.

The longer he admired you quietly, the more he thought you were an ethereal spirit, completely unaware of how you were tempting him despite your outfit telling him that you were the sister that the town had been expecting for about a week now. It was your job to be a role model as to how not to sin.

Yet...he wanted to do the opposite- "Are you going to keep looking at me, or will you say hello?" Your voice snapped Elliot from his thoughts before he finally noticed you were looking at him with a curious but soft gaze, a smile gracing your features when you saw how his cheeks began to tint red.

"E-Excuse me." He said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I was just in shock, I wasn't expecting the long-awaited nun to be at the beach."

As the two of you stood side by side, he noticed how you were shorter than himself. "Oh," You said. "Did I interrupt your alone time?" You smiled.

Elliot smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, I don't think you could ever do that." He responded, your mouth hanging open a little as a blush of your own started to coat your cheeks. It was then that Elliot quickly cleared his throat and tried to find a way to apologize. It seemed like he wasn't himself, his thoughts kept coming out before he could fully think about whether he could say them or not!

"Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."

You then turned your body fully to face him. "Oh, you're not doing that. I find your forwardness charming." You were dangerous for Elliot's heart, the way you looked up at him made his mouth dry while equally making him feel as if he were floating amongst the clouds. Up until you caught his attention again with a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Elliot," He answered immediately.

"Y/N." You responded. "It'll be hard for me to come to the beach with my duties and all...you should try visiting the shrine in the Pierre's shop. I'll be there most of the time."

"How long will you be staying in town?"

"Two weeks." He struggled not to immediately frown at that answer, all while he simultaneously struggled to not throw a curse at Yoba for making him feel this strongly about one of his devoted followers. Elliot could be frank with himself, he knew that you would be in his every waking thought from this point onward. All he'd think about is how to get closer to you, get to know you and so much more!

"I hope you'll enjoy your two weeks here then sister." He finally said.

"Oh, I'm certain I will." Then you turned to walk away, your faint perfume tickling Elliot's nose as he was left along with his thoughts, his thoughts settling on the newfound fact that you were his muse.

All of a sudden, his inspiration to write came to him like rushing waves during a typhoon. Stories of how a man fell into a forbidden relationship with a woman, or perhaps a shorter tale of how a man falls in love with a spirit, someone he longed for but knew he couldn't ultimately have. Yet, as all the thoughts flew through his mind. One thing was for certain, you left him with a burning ache in his pants.

. . .

Later that night, he admittedly felt slightly guilty for palming himself over his pants at the thought of you. The pretty nun with the soft voice and heavenly features, although Elliot tried not to think too hard about your words from earlier, to not misunderstand how you phrased your words or how you looked at him as a signal for something more...the image in his head was far too addicting to let go so easily.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock while he sucked at your breasts, planting kisses all over your body as you moaned for more...was it wrong of him to have those thoughts? Then again, surely you knew how you sounded when you spoke to him on the beach! You sounded like you were interested in him! That you may have wanted to pursue something more with—

"Ah...look at me," Elliot murmured to himself, running his fingers through his hair as he scoffed at how ridiculous his thoughts were.

You were a nun.

You were just being friendly!

What he was doing was wrong. To think about a holy sister was potentially one of the greatest sins (at least, to what he knew about the book of Yoba).

Perhaps he needed Yoba more than he realized.

. . .

And that’s what prompted him to visit Pierre’s shop three days later, specifically where he knew you’d be, the Shrine of Yoba.

Elliot’s plans were simple, to confess his sins, receive your judgement and advice, then leave. Of course though, he’s leave out the part where his thoughts revolved around you despite the fact the both of you hadn’t known each other for that long. But once he was standing right in front of the door that would lead into the shrine…he felt like his entire body had frozen in place.

Were you actually a nun or secretly a demon? He thought.

No person should ever have power over another like this. But the moment Elliot’s nerves loosened up a little, he quickly knocked a few times on the door before a gentle “Come in” could be heard from inside, causing him to walk in before he immediately saw you getting up from your kneeling position at the shrine.

You smoothened out your clothes and then looked at Elliot with the same angelic look you gave him the first time you met him. “Elliot?” You said. “You came.”

He nodded his head, keeping his head down just long enough in an attempt to ease his blushing. “I figured I was overdue for confessing my sins.”

“Don’t be silly,” You chuckled. “We all come and confess our sins when we’re ready, there’s no pressure.”

It was easy for you to say, he thought.

You weren’t the one who was losing sleep over imagining the naked form of the person you just met. And as Elliot walked to sit on one of the pews, the more he couldn’t help but think that this may have been a bad idea. Although your attire was similar to what you wore on the beach, he didn’t know if his eyes were tricking him or not but…your clothing appeared…tighter.

Around your chest to be more precise and it was driving him nuts.

He silently begged Yoba that you wouldn’t come close enough to where you’d be able to spot his steadily growing hard-on. And thankfully, you kept your distance via sitting on the pew just in front of him with your back turned.

“Now, you may confess when you’re ready to begin.” You murmured a quick prayer before clearing your throat as a sign you were attentive and listening.

Elliot sighed. "Sister, I've been...well- I've had unholy thoughts as of late. Thought that revolve around a woman that I'm infatuated with."

When you didn't say anything in response, he continued.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever been blessed to see. But it would be wrong for me to pursue a relationship with her."

That was when you spoke. "May I ask why?"

Elliot's throat bobbed up and down at the question. "She's a nun."

The silence that followed was so loud that it nearly rang in his ears. Yet, as you turned around to face him, his mouth immediately fell open to apologize until a certain glint flashed in your ears as you looked at him with a smile, a finger tugging at the collar of your uniform.

"And...what do you want to do with this nun?"

"I want to kiss her." At his confession, it was like a string had broken before you and Elliot's lips crashed together. In the writer's mind, it was as if your lips were meant to be with his own, the taste of your mint-flavored lipstick addicting to his tastebuds as he felt around in your mouth. Your breathing became heavier, pressing yourself as close to Elliot as you possibly could despite the pew that still separated the two of you. "What else do you want to do to me?" You panted when you both separated, your breaths labored and heavy as a single string of spit still connected you two.

Elliot silently eyed the rest of your body.

"May I show you, sister?"

. . .

Had you known the man you met a few days ago was capable of this. You would've fucked him right then and there out on that wooden pier.

The position Elliot currently had you in was making you see stars and galaxies behind your eyes, your legs spread out on his lips as he held you tight against his form, almost as if he were afraid you'd disappear right before his eyes whilst he fucked up into you like a man on a mission. Each thrust making his cock assault your sweet spot deep inside you, you felt as if your organs were molding and reshaping themselves just to better fit Elliot's cock.

"Y-Yoba's name..." He whispered hotly against your neck, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and all the way down to your exposed collarbones from him hastily pulling down the front of your dress. "Y-You're so tight-" Elliot grit his teeth together as he groaned against your skin.

However, each time he fucked up into you, the sound of your sexes meeting reverberated throughout the small area of the shrine as your slick poured down from your pussy to pool and coat the front of Elliot's thighs, you were starting to...feel something.

A certain coil beginning to tighten tighter and tighter by the second in your stomach.

Compared to the orgasms you've given yourself in the past, privately when you were in your room or in an area you were certain was vacant of other people. This one was more intense and threatened to wash over you with such a force that you worried you'd pass out from the intensity! But, it was hard to voice such a worry when you were being fucked to the point that you couldn't utter a single syllable, to where you nearly had a mind to forgo this life and simply be the plaything of Elliot for the rest of your days.

"E-Elliot...!" You keened as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, Elliot's thrusts somehow growing even more ruthless as he tucked his face into the valley between your breasts.

"Shit..." You managed to hear him breathe out.

Your mouth steadily started to form a large O shape as the coil inside your tummy tightened more and more until it finally burst.

Suddenly Elliot stilled his movements to raise your dress higher to witness the wetness that flowed from your pussy like a fountain spewing water, his mouth dropping in shock whilst the lust inside his eyes grew at the arousing sight of your orgasm spewing from your cunt and splattering onto his thighs.

He was only snapped from his trance when he heard your fucked-out moan and your hand tap his shoulder.

"Truly, you are the woman of my dreams," Elliot said with an equally fucked-out voice as if he were the one who just came. "Do that again." Your eyes snapped open as you tried to quickly voice your protest but not before your words were shooed from your lips when the writer fucked up into you again, resuming his previous pace before he gently leaned you back, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you steady whilst his other went to lift your leg higher so that he had a better view of your cunt.

The squelching noises were like a symphony to his ears.

But all he could think about was you squirting again.

The pew you both sat and fucked on was already dirty...defiled.

It didn't matter to defile it some more.

"Please, squirt on my cock again," Elliot begged. "Will this help my dear? Don't hold back, please." Without a single word of warning, the hand that held your leg up dived down to rub quick circles on your clit with his index and middle finger.

"F-Fuck! Elliot...baby, w-wait- you're going to-" Your entire body shook and convulsed from overstimulation as you struggled to keep your head and thoughts straight, moans falling from your lips shamelessly as you could hear Elliot's raspy moans and throaty groans, the sexy noises only serving to make you clench around the writer's experienced fingers.

Elliot took your pussy getting tight as a sign you were close once again, causing him to speed up both his thrusts and his fingers as they rubbed side to side without abandon on your clit. You tried to cry out for him to slow down, to give you a short break but your moans fell on deaf ears as Elliot only silenced you via fucking you harder to the point your moans took the place of the words you wanted to say as he abused your cunt. "Ahhh...." You moaned in pleasure as you felt something begin to well up inside you again.

"E-Elliot- f-fuck...." You couldn't do anything else but whine and beg, his name slipping from your lips repeatedly as his fingers on your clit sped up whilst he rose you forward a little to plant kisses along your breasts.

"Don't be embarrassed my dear," He whispered against your skin. "Just cum, I got you...please." At the sounds of his begging, that earlier feeling of a coil beginning to tighten started to nearly grow unbearable inside you, your eyes barely staying open as you allowed your body to take all the pleasure your eager lover was bestowing onto you.

"Oh, Yoba...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-" Your body once again grew rigid as Elliot's eyes darted to where the two of you were connected, his eyes widening as your pussy clenched onto him tighter than before as a clear liquid squirted out from you and around his dick. Upon seeing that sight, he wasn't too far behind from his climax, managing a few more hard thrusts before his head dropped forward a little as he moaned.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath until it was you who broke the silence as you steadily rose your head and slid your hands to rest on Elliot's shoulders with a soft moan and a dopey smile. "You know..." Your voice was hoarse as your hand moved to catch Elliot's chin under your hand before you tilted his head back to make you look at him.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, a sweet lovesick moan leaving the writer's lips before a smile slowly came onto his lips. "We should do this again."

"How..." Elliot took a moment to further catch his breath. "How long will you be in town?"

"Couple of months, we can discuss about this being a regular thing as well as...you possibly taking me out on a date next?"

He couldn't think of anything better.

Sebastion - "Hungry Recluse" Genesis 2:18 - Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”

♡ - He had heard about a nun coming to the valley when his mother brought it up at dinner a few weekends ago. And back then? He didn't have a mind to care really.

He was a recluse.

He had nothing against religion but he preferred to stay away from crowds. If a nun was to come to the valley then he was more than certain you would bring a crowd, preaching about Yoba and the likes and he respectfully wanted no part of that.

So, imagine his shock one night when he was outside his home smoking. Only to spot a nun doing the same.

"A nun, smoking?" He nearly choked on his own cigarette. His words catching your attention before you cursed under your breath before you dropped your cigarette and quickly stomped on it with the heel of your shoe.

"Goddamn it..."

He scoffed. "And you curse too?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're going to snitch to someone, do it now." As Sebastion stared, thinking about how much he wasn't going to snitch to anyone (after all, he believed it wasn't his place nor did he feel like anyone would believe him should he have wanted to do it). He couldn't help but think about how...well, how pretty you looked.

You sported a more roguish look to your uniform compared to what he was originally thinking you'd look like. Clean outfit with a bright smile, maybe a hand carrying a bible or the cross of Yoba perhaps. Instead? One side of your dress was bunched up, exposing quite a considerable amount of thigh as well as the black stocking you wore underneath, and the similarly colored boots that would've typically been hidden underneath.

Your make-up was gothic and you had a septum piercing along with a couple more piercings on the outer edge of your right ear.

And if he was seeing things right...was that black nail polish on your fingers- "Are you going to keep staring?" You said bitingly.

"Sorry," He apologized, quickly looking somewhere else. "I just didn't expect the nun to be-"

"A sinner?" You interrupted with a heavy sigh.

"Different." He finished his sentence.

You clicked your tongue. "Yeah well...that's what you get when you're an unwilling member of the church." You spilled.

Now he was really curious about you. This entire time, he had expected a goody two-shoes sister who would rave on and on about Yoba anytime that they could! Or maybe even some old hag as old as Evelyn was, nagging and constantly haggling people about converting and praying more to Yoba.

But instead? The town received neither.

Only you.

And he was absolutely enthralled by you.

So much so that he found himself unconsciously walking up to you before he cleared his throat. "Do...you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not looking for pity if that's what you're-"

"I'm not trying to pity you." He interrupted. "You just seem to be in need of a confessional as much as anyone else." He shrugged, his words sparking a chuckle that sounded like a melody in his ears.

. . .

And that was the beginning of you and Sebastion's relationship.

One where you two would meet under the guise of night every other day after you had finished your "performance" during the day of playing the innocent nun who wanted to spread the word of Yoba. Something that Sebastion quickly learned was nothing but complete bullshit. The two of you would rant about your lives and how much you two wished you could change things.

Whether it was from Sebastion's dreams of moving away from Pelican Town and into the city, to you ironically praying to Yoba that he'd give you an outing from the church.

The one day you'd be free.

"...Why are you stuck in the church?" Sebastion had asked one day, lighting your cigarette before his own.

You blew a puff of smoke before sighing. "Mommy and daddy had unresolved debts and issues." You said. "To pay 'em off, they got rid of me." You continued.

"Now I wear this damn get-up and play "Good follower of Yoba"." You mumbled a few curses under your breath afterward, ones that made Sebastion snicker under his breath as he considered your situation. Although obviously different, the similarities in your stories were eerily similar. The two of you longed for another life, felt as if you didn't belong in the current one you both lived, and, as much as you both could, you tried to actively change that.

But...where Sebastion could easily pack some things, get on his bike, and head for the city.

You didn't have that luxury.

"Why don't you move here?"

"Unresolved debts remember?"

"I know but...there's a lot of abandoned places here in the valley. We even have an abandoned farm not too far from here. You could live there."

"My cage would be no different then, just a new window to look out of."

A small smile crept onto your features when you spotted an apologetic frown appear on Sebastion's face. One that made you flush a little as his cheeks appeared puffier and cuter. You appreciated being able to talk to him, more than you'd ever be able to convey but...you weren't looking for sympathy or solutions to escaping that only involved you living a life on the run and in hiding.

In truth? Being asked by the higher-ups to visit this small town, meeting Sebastion?

It was as close to a blessing from Yoba as you'd ever get.

Back home, you were a glorified maid if not eye candy for old men. You'd clean for them, cook for them, bring them drinks...it was such a dull life. You hadn't even been able to go to college. You couldn't even do most math but you could damn well recite random passages from the book of Yoba.

You hadn't nor would ever be able to find love!

All talks of boys and falling in love were strictly forbidden, seen as nothing more than a gateway for potential sinning, something you'd eventually learn was nothing but complete hogwash as there were plenty of times you've seen your fellow sisters open their legs for priests when it pertained to the topic of being able to get away with some things. Here in the valley though? You didn't feel that pressure.

You liked it here.

You liked...well, you liked the people. They were nice.

"You should be happy here Sebastion." You said, breaking the silence.

"You have a good life here, it may not be the one you want it's the one that's the best path for you at the moment."

Sebastion rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say, you don't live here."

"Maybe, but I'd need a million more fingers in order to count how many situations are worse than this." You sighed. "After all...you never know, one day you may find yourself liking it here. Life is funny like that." At those words, you placed a gentle hand ontop of Sebastion's for only a brief moment before you got up and walked away.

An act that only served to leave Sebastion's heart skipping beats and...strangely upset.

. . .

And he must've sat outside for an extra thirty minutes before he finally went inside.

Dinner tasted bland, and all of a sudden Demetrius' snide remarks and insults didn't even make him turn nor lift his head to briefly glare! All Sebastion could think about was you.

You, you, you, you, you.

He didn't know what sounded weirder or more pathetic.

Him chasing after you like he was in some chick-flick, exclaiming how he wanted to be with you despite only knowing you for going on close to a week now. Or if he said that you were the only person in this entire town who seemed to understand him! The only one who made him truly happy aside from the small yet rare-found joys in his life! He could introduce you to his friends, Sam and Abigail, he thought you'd get alone well with them.

Maybe you could teach Sam to play new songs? He remembered you mentioning how you knew how to play the guitar a little. Or maybe you could simply be another girl added to the group, someone for Abigail to hang out and talk with.

As Sebastion sat on his bed. His mind further diving into his racing thoughts that concerned you, so many situations revolving around the question of 'What if?' that he could barely keep track of them all! He wondered then about what if you'd be another addition to the farming community here. If you would actually take over that abandoned farm.

What would you grow, would you be good at it or would you only prefer animals like Marnie?

Or...maybe you'd be something else?

A writer like that one guy who lived at the beach with Willy.

Or maybe an inspiring somebody like himself or Sam?

Another member to the Adventurer's Guild perhaps?

He considered it all but the one scenario that made his heart strangely ache the most was...if you were with him.

You made him smile the most out of everyone here. Sebastion enjoyed your curt personality that blended well with your shockingly soft tendencies. You were pretty and when your lips weren't covered in dark lipstick, they shined a surprisingly glistening red. Your eyes were the most gorgeous underneath the moonlight ad your figure (if he couldn't guess from the first moment he met you) was something that made his jaw drop every single time.

Suddenly, there was a throb in his pants at the thought of what you'd look like underneath your clothes.

But no, even if you stated you didn't want to be a nun.

He'd give you the respect all the same. He wouldn't dare to do anything inappropriate with your face in mind. It wouldn't be right.

. . .

But oh...did he think it would feel so right.

It wasn't a bad thing to touch himself to the thought of you, was it? You weren't there and so long as you didn't know then technically sin would have ever been committed! At least, that's what he comforted himself with as he furiously jerked himself off underneath his covers, breathless moans leaving his lips as he imagined it was your hand stroking him off rather than his own.

And as he did so, he swore he was more turned on than he ever had been in his entire life.

He imagined you were wearing your dark lipstick as your hand went down to massage his balls, your lipstick leaving smudge trails up and down his cock as you flattened your tongue to trail along the prominent vein that ran on the underside of his cock. Yet as you did so, you kept a firm eye on him as you looked at him through your lashes.

"You must've been so pent up Sebby..." His cock twitched at the nickname. "Waiting for me to do this to you, you must've been thinking about this since the day we've met. Huh?" A whine left escaped him at your words, his vision beginning to blur from both pleasure and growing embarrassment as his cock began to leak more and more pre.

"Not going to answer~?" You purred. "That's okay, you seem to be way more talkative down here than with that mouth of yours."

"P-Please..." He whispered.

Your smirk grew as your hand quickened in its pace, your face leaning in closer to his to the point he could almost imagine your breath gently blowing on his face. "Please fuck me..." He moaned. "R-Ride my cock, j-just do something more with me."

"Such a good boy~"

As you sat up, you licked the tips of your fingers clean from his pre as straddled him to where your pussy hovered over his cock. He twitched at the feeling of your heat, his eyes glued on your dripping pussy before your finger tipped his head to look back up at you. "Keep your eyes on me." You ordered before swiftly pressing a kiss to his lips. A choked-up moan escaped Sebastion's lips when you suddenly sunk yourself onto him. Your hips immediately started a fast pace that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Until you suddenly slowed down. "W-Wha...?" He said dizzily, looking back at you. "Why-"

"Eyes on me Sebby~ or what? Is my pussy too good for you to listen to me?" You suddenly slammed your hips down, Sebastion's hand gripping the bedsheets with a loud moan before you resumed your original pace. "You should be following what I say more diligently than this Sebastion" You pouted. "A holy nun is giving you her untouched pussy, the least you could do is look at her~"

"Y-Yes!" He moaned. Tears flowed down the sides of Sebastion's face as he kept his eyes on you, the sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt echoing throughout the room as a familiar knot steadily started to appear in the pit of his stomach. His cock twitching inside your warm pussy as the feeling of your walls nearly drove him to insanity.

Your moans, your face contorting in pleasure as your hands roamed up and down his chest underneath his hoodie. Everything about you made him want to exclaim just how much he had developed a crush on you, something that he wanted to take farther rather than just simply have sex with you. Yet, as the heat in his belly turned white-hot, his moans sounded closer to wails as he begged to cum.

He had to remind himself that this wasn't real.

You weren't even here.

Something that was slapped into him the second he felt his cum pool over the top of the hole he made with his hand rather than feeling it fill you up.

"Y/N..." He moaned as if you'd magically appear before him.

Tomorrow, he would definitely confess his feelings. Religion be damned, he knew that he wanted something with you.

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”  

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.  

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”  

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.  

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.   

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”  

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”  

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep. 

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.  

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing? 

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.  

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss. 

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button.  Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

[chestharrington]

Infatuation || Gator Tillman x Reader

Part One: Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: SMUT (f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v), mild/implied stalking, abuse of power, brief non-sexual choking, harassment, slut shaming, misogyny, unplanned pregnancy, implied/referenced abortion, unhappy/ambiguous ending

Summary: As you face the consequences of your unsatisfying encounter with Gator, he finds new ways to worm his way into your life, for better or worse.

A/N: Here is the highly requested part two :) Thanks for all the love, and I hope you enjoy! This can be read as a finale of sorts to this story, but if there is interest I can write a "wrap up" epilogue :) Anyways, enjoy!

As it turns out, Gator Tillman beating the guy you were dancing on within an inch of his life wasn’t exactly good for your career. And the fact that you had technically stolen that guy’s money was the shit icing on the shit cake. 

The club was crowded, maybe more so than you were used to, but you couldn’t find a single patron who wanted you for a dance, or a private dance, or even a second of eye contact. 

And, really, you should have seen it coming just based on the general trajectory of your life, but by the end of the night, you were fired. Apparently, that stint with the realtor and Gator had harmed the stellar reputation of the business. That was bullshit anyway. Like, four people had OD’d in the bathrooms, and plenty of old guys had heart attacks on the floor. 

The problem wasn’t that the realtor got the shit beat out of him. No, plenty of guys came in, got drunk, and wanted to prove how tough they were. The problem was Gator, but, more than that, it was a fear of the Tillman’s getting too close. 

You left the club with maybe thirty dollars in tips and a box full of your shit, which you unceremoniously dumped into the trunk of your car. It was past five in the morning, which meant the sun would start creeping over the horizon soon enough. 

As you drove back into town, you couldn’t help but pull over at the twenty-four-hour diner. The homey interior glowed through the windows like a siren song to weary travelers. It always smelled like coffee and grease, and there were always oldies playing on the jukebox. You sat down in a booth and practically melted into the seat. 

The older woman taking your order seemed nice enough, though there wasn’t anything about working at the asscrack of dawn that brought a smile to anyone’s face. 

“Does Sarah still work here?” You asked, glancing back behind the counter. 

“Quit.”

Well, there was that. Your ex-husband’s skanky mistress wouldn’t be showing her face to ruin your night (or, technically, your day) even further.

There was a sign on the counter— Now Hiring! Probably in Sarah’s position, if you had to wager a guess. You chewed on the inside of your lip. It wouldn’t be glamorous, but it would be a hell of a lot better than it had been at the club. 

“You’re really hiring?” You eventually asked the older waitress as you nursed a cup of hot chocolate. When she brought out your meal— a big stack of pancakes and the greasiest pile of hash browns the world had ever seen— she placed an application and pen down right beside it. 

They really must’ve been desperate, because you got the call the following afternoon that they’d like to interview, and even that wasn’t formal. You walked in, got a three-page employee “manual”, and that was that. 

Things seemed to be getting better… at first. A new job that had significantly fewer creeps, and free food once a shift. You got to wear flat shoes and real clothes, which was also a plus. A little less money in your pocket, but it was more stable. 

Occasionally, you’d get a tipper who thought it was cute to leave a fake $100 bill with a bible verse on the other side, or an old man grabbing at your tits and ass “accidentally.” Spills and messes were more frequent than you expected— and usually wound up on your apron or soaking through your shoes.

The good with the bad. You had to keep reminding yourself to take the good with the bad.

It was a few weeks of getting on your feet before Stark County’s finest walked through the doors, boisterous and loud. You hadn’t noticed, hadn’t even thought to consider that Gator might visit the town’s best source for greasy comfort food. 

When you came out from the back of the diner, your eyes caught him immediately, sitting in your section. You swallowed, grabbed your order pad and a pen, and approached. 

“Good mornin’, officers.” He looked up at the sound of your voice, a sly grin spreading across his features. “Do y’all know what you want, or can I run through the menu for you?”

One of the other men just snapped his fingers at you. “Coffee all around.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get that right out.”

You heard them snickering as you left, accompanied by loud whispers of don’t you know who that is? 

Gator was staring at you, maybe he had been the entire time and you just hadn’t let yourself look. “We’ve missed you at the club, sweetheart. Wanna give us a twirl for old time’s sake?” His grin was smarmy as he looked you up and down, reaching over the table to place down the mugs of coffee. Your blouse gaped open, giving him a glimpse of your cleavage and a remarkably unsexy comfy bra.

As you reached to place the last mug down, Gator slapped your ass hard, making you spill the hot coffee across the table. His little friends laughed as your face burned hot. You did your best to mop up the mess of coffee, but it wasn’t enough and the table was left sticky and gross.

“You’re not gonna get a good tip if you’re so clumsy,” one of them said with a grin, holding up a dollar bill. It felt slimy, like you were back in the club entertaining them for singles. 

An hour later, you had coffee and grits spilled on you, as well as a plate accidentally knocked off the table to shatter on the floor. They laughed at you on your hands and knees, picking up pieces of the china from the black and white tiled floor. And at the end of it all, unsurprisingly, there was no tip, no thank you, no anything.  

You wish you would’ve spit in their food, but there was always next time. And you knew there was gonna be a next time. 

But Gator didn’t like sharing, especially not his playthings. One morning of watching his friends make your life hell had been enough, you supposed. The next time they came in, they were nothing but respectful. All yes ma’am, no ma’am, thank you ma’am. The message was clear enough. He wanted you all to himself. 

After a day on your feet, all you wanted to do was watch a shitty reality show on the couch you’d stolen from your ex-husband. You smelled like the deep fryer, which made you nauseous, but you knew if you took a shower, you’d pass out shortly after.

There was a loud knock on your door that nearly made you jump out of your skin. You stood, wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, and opened the door just a crack. 

“We got a tip that you might be harboring illegal contraband on the premises.” Gator was leaning against your doorframe like he owned the place, his foot carefully wedged between the door so you couldn’t slam it closed. 

You grit your teeth. What bullshit. “You don’t have a search warrant, asshole.”

He gave a careless shrug. “Eh, maybe I don’t, but who fuckin’ cares about that?”

You stood firm, holding the door in place as best as you could while he pushed against it. “Gator, no. Whatever game this is, I don’t wanna play. I have a headache, and I’m exhausted, so—” He gave a firm push on the door, and your strength failed you. You fell to the side as he barreled his way in, making a beeline towards your bedroom.

The door slammed shut, followed by the click of the lock turning. With a groan, you went for the coat closet and retrieved a wire hanger that you could finagle the lock with. After a moment, the lock clicked again and you pushed your way into the room. 

What the fuck? He was rifling through your dresser drawers, tossing things onto the ground at random. You doubted he was even really looking for anything in particular. Gator’s priority, above all, was to be a creepy nuisance.

“Gotta be thorough,” he said with a smarmy grin, finally recognizing your presence. “Interfere, and I’m bringing you in for obstruction.” Like the perv he was, he was digging through your panties, grabbing handfuls of lace and cotton. He continued on, throwing things onto the floor just to piss you off. After he’d successfully wrecked one dresser, he moved to the nightstand. 

He smiled victoriously and dumped the contents of the drawer onto your bed. Your cheeks flamed with embarrassment at the sight of your modest collection of sex toys, right there for him to see. 

“There we are. This goes against the city ordinance prohibiting the ownership of more than two personal pleasure devices,” he said matter-of-factly.

“That’s not a thing,” you argued with a scoff.

He grinned. “Oh, it is. My dad worked to codify an ordinance to fight obscenity. And Jesus Christ, sweetheart, this is obscene.” He surveyed the pile picking up the devices with amusement and a hint of disgust. “Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ fiend by the looks of it. What’s this even do?”

You grabbed at the vibrator in his hand, but he held it up above your head with a grin. “You’re a fuckin’ pervert,” You hissed.

He pressed a button and it buzzed to life, which only made his amusement grow. “You know, if you found yourself a man, you wouldn’t need any of this shit.”

You rolled your eyes at the notion. Half that stuff was collected during your marriage, not that it mattered. Jack was worse in bed than he was at being faithful. You grew to relish in the nights when he was in some other woman’s arms and you could finally find some release. 

And you especially relished an opportunity to relax and relieve stress when Gator was hellbent on ruining your fucking life, which was all the time. 

You crossed your arms and glared up at him. “That’s a crazy thing for you to say considering you didn’t even bother to get me off.”

He wrinkled his face in annoyance, dropping the vibrator back onto the bed. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? You came probably, like, three times.”

You could have laughed. “Whatever. Just write the goddamn citation and leave me alone.”

“Maybe I’m concerned about you,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, if you’ve got this many sex toys, that’s some kind of perversion or somethin’. You’re sick in the head. What kind of officer would I be if I punished you for that?”

He grabbed another one off your bed, a rabbit vibrator this time, which only seemed to confuse him more. “Besides, I don’t think you can really afford the fine for breaking this law. I mean, with what you’ve got here, you’re looking at thousands.”

Anger flooded your veins. “Bullshit,” You snapped. “You’re lying.”

“I mean, you can find out tomorrow,” he replied with another stupid fucking shrug. “Or I can forget I ever saw ‘em. Up to you.”

You swallowed hard, already getting a warm, overbearing feeling in the pit of your stomach. Like your body wasn't sure if it wanted to jump his bones or kill him. “And what exactly would make you do that?”

He smiled, showing off his canines. “I mean… now I’m a little curious. Tell me how you use some of ‘em.” He waved the rabbit in his hand. “This one especially. Looks like some kind of fucked up torture device.”

You huffed with annoyance and reached up, grabbing it from his hands. “This one, I mean… this part goes in, and this part stays out.” You explained with vague gestures toward the toy. You grabbed another off the bed. “And this one is, like, just a standard, like, you know. It buzzes. And that one like, kind of thrusts a little bit. I—I don’t know what the fuck else to tell you.” Just seeing him standing there beside the toys made your brain go a little fuzzy with desire and mortification.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between the two of you. “I think I’m more of a visual learner, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low. He reached up, brushing a lock of your hair from your face, and you did your best not to lean into his touch. Why did you want that? “So why dontcha take off your clothes, lay back, and do a little show and tell, huh?”

The moment of hesitation in your brain dissolved in an instant. You wrinkled your face in disgust and shoved him back. “Ugh. Fuck that, and fuck you.” 

Anger flashed across his face, only for a moment, before he masked it with his usual shithead attitude. “Oh… I get it,” he said, looking down at you. “Probably on your period with all the attitude you’re givin’ me. Forget it, I don’t even wanna see that nasty shit.”

You narrowly avoided him as he shoved past you, heading back towards the door. The scales of kiss versus kill had firmly tilted towards the latter at his last comment. Anger unlike anything you’d ever felt flooded your veins. 

Without thinking, you grabbed a book off of the coffee table in the living room and threw it at him as hard as you could. It collided with the back of his head and he swore loudly. 

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” His hand went to the crown of his head and came back covered in blood. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you stupid bitch?” You grabbed another book and raised a brow in challenge. “Whatever, you’re not even worth it anyway.”

He slammed the door on his way out. The squeal of his tires as he peeled out was music to your ears. 

Later, you sighed as you collapsed atop your bed, exhausted from the long process of cleaning up the disaster he’d left in your room. But despite how tired you felt physically, your mind was still racing with thoughts of Gator. 

The worst person you’d ever met, who somehow still managed to light every single one of your cells aflame with need. You didn’t want to be with him, obviously. He reminded you of all the worst parts of your ex-husband. And yet… you were staring at the ceiling thinking about the next time you’d see him and all the bitchy things you could get away with saying to him. 

With a huff, you reached into your bedside table and grabbed the first vibrator you could get your hands on— simple, without any bells and whistles. Whatever. You were pissed at yourself as you stripped off your pajamas, then your bra… and then your panties. 

Stupid fuckin’ man. Your head fell back against your pillows as soon as the vibrator touched your clit, and you couldn’t help the whiny moan that escaped your lips. Your free hand rested on your breast, kneading softly until it wasn’t enough anymore. 

Your legs spread wider, hips canting up to seek out more as you began pinching and tugging at your nipples. The plain vibe wasn’t close cutting it, even at its highest setting. All it was good for was working you up to the point of dripping with arousal and needing more. 

You clicked it off and sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were a little sick in the head. Why else would you be thinking about him right then?

You reached back into the drawer, fumbling blindly until you retrieved the rabbit. It slid in without any resistance with how worked up you were, and you let out a contented sigh at the full feeling.

The second you turned it on, it felt like liquid electricity was dancing through your veins. The external vibrator was positioned just right, so intense that your thighs were trembling. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, back arching slightly. Maybe you could’ve let him watch you. It would’ve taught the asshole what it actually looks like when a woman cums. 

You could almost imagine what he’d say too— encouragements veiled with insults. Takin’ it like a fuckin’ slut, aren’t ya? Look right at home on your back like that, spread out all nice and pretty. 

You thrust the toy shallowly, eyes rolling back as it brushed against your sweet spot. You could’ve really drawn it out and made an evening of it, but fuck it. You wanted to get off and go to sleep. 

You held it just right, so the vibration was focused on your g-spot and clit simultaneously. It was so intense that your moans were pitchy and whiny, hips canting as you got closer and closer. 

With a moan more like a sob, you came, the pleasure so intense you had to pull out the toy altogether. As soon as it was out, wetness sprayed from you, making a breathless moan slip past your lips. 

Your fingers rubbed at your clit, prolonging the orgasm and making your cunt gush and leave a puddle beneath you on the sheets. When you finally came down, it was with shaky breaths as your body trembled with aftershocks. 

You laughed weakly at the ridiculousness of the entire night up until that point, unable to move for a solid few minutes until the fog cleared from your mind and you reached over to turn off the toy. Your legs wobbled as you stood to clean yourself up and change the sheets.

Well, at least if you were going to get arrested for possession of obscene materials, you got the best orgasm of your life out of it. If only you hadn’t been thinking of him the entire time. 

——

By noon the following day, you hadn’t received any citation, or been walked out of the diner in handcuffs for your depravity. A quick Google search proved your suspicions that the obscenity ordinance was complete bullshit. Which, you know, made sense considering the sex shop and strip clubs within county lines. 

When Gator showed up in his regular booth towards the end of your shift, you did your best to ignore him. One of your coworkers brought him out his artery-clogging usual order, and you were mostly convinced that you might be able to slip out the back without even having to utter a word. 

And yet… Outside, Gator was leaning on your car, fucking around with your radio antenna absentmindedly. 

“Can I help you, Deputy?” You asked, arms crossed as you squinted against the sun. Your entire body was achy and you just wanted to get home.

He made a vague gesture towards the front bumper. “Headlight’s out.”

You glanced at the front of your car, which was mostly held together by zebra print duct tape and sheer force of will. “Yeah, well, some fuckin’ pervert told me I should save my money to pay for some citation he’s writing up for me.”

Gator grinned. “Oh yeah… I decided to let you off with a warning. For the assault too. My head fuckin’ hurts, you know.” You rolled your eyes, pushing him lightly so you could open your door. “Y’know, you’re being ungrateful. Why don’t you be a good girl and say, ‘Thank you, Gator.’”

You hated the way your heart raced just hearing those words coming from his mouth, but you pushed it down and pulled open the door. “Go fuck yourself, asshole.”

A smug smile spread across his lips. “That’s an interesting choice of words, isn’t it? Bet you had a real good night after I left, didn’t ya?” 

He was looking at you like he knew, which he couldn’t have, but he also definitely did. You made a face as you slammed the door shut and flipped him off through the cracked and peeling window tint. 

There was one bar in town that was a certified Gator-free zone. Apparently, he’d gotten into a nasty fight there, slammed a guy’s head into a pool table a few times, sent him to the ICU for a week. Most people don’t realize that the actual table part is made of a giant slab of slate, but a lot was learned that day.

You sat at the bar, eyes trained on the photo of Gator on the Do Not Serve bulletin board. He could be kind of handsome when he wanted to. In that picture he looked a little younger, a little more serious. Maybe a little softer if you really wanted to believe it (which you did). 

Maybe it was the fact that you had conned the guy beside you into buying you all your drinks (of which there had been plenty) or maybe it was the weird mood you’d been in for the past month, but you really wanted to just wash all of that gel out of his hair and wash his face and maybe buy him a pair of pants with the normal amount of pockets. 

“Did you hear what I said?” The guy sitting beside you— Noah? Nathan?— asked. 

You tore your gaze from the photo and turned to him, batting your eyes a few times for good measure. “Sorry, I think I’m just a little buzzed.” You smiled flirtatiously and nudged his arm with your own. “You were talking about… a trip to New York, right? Some sort of walking tour?”

He smiled, nodding enthusiastically before continuing, going on and on about things you were mostly half-listening to. He was smarter than most people you talked to, not surprising after you clocked the giant gold college ring on his hand. Mid-conversation, you grabbed his hand in yours and marveled at it, playing up how impressed you were just to make him feel important. 

His family is from around here, but he lived in Minneapolis. He was in town visiting while his mom was recovering from surgery. He showed you pictures of the cows on his mom’s land, of the view from his apartment, and of the dog that was waiting for him back at his mom’s place. He was sweet, which made you feel guilty for using him to forget all about Gator. 

“Do you want to maybe come back to mine?” You asked, playing at bashfulness. He nodded enthusiastically, looking like you’d just offered him a winning lottery ticket. 

In bed, he was generous and eager to please, making sure your needs had been taken care of before his pants were even off. You were so worked up and sensitive that you came twice from his mouth alone, not that he was even particularly that great with it. And then he was inside of you, and you came again, which probably gave him quite the ego. 

It had to be some kind of fluke. He was a sweet guy, but he wasn’t exactly a sex god.

But there you were, boneless and panting and flushed and sweaty as you both came down. He was red in the face, fumbling for his glasses so he could really see you.

He wanted to talk and stay up the rest of the night with you, which should’ve been nice. Really, you wanted to be excited. He even tried to ease you into his arms, hold you against him all nice and cozy.

You couldn’t fucking do it. 

“I’m just gonna grab some water, alright?” You said before hopping out of bed. Your robe was slung over the back of a papasan chair in the corner. You tied it loosely and made your way out of the bedroom. Needing space, and distance, and god, you didn’t even know.

A sane person would have turned back around, spent time with him, and gotten to know him better. Maybe even wake him up in the morning with coffee and pancakes, or a second round in the shower. But you just wanted to be alone.

The knock on your door shouldn’t have been surprising. You had been pretty loud, even louder than the previous night alone. You tied the robe a little tighter and went for the front door, opening it a crack. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I know we were l—“ You trailed off when you caught a glimpse of who was outside. “You’re kidding me.”

Gator stood on the porch, arms crossed and looking irritable. “Got a noise complaint,” he said, glancing between you and the house behind you. “You alone?”

“No,” you replied, crossing your arm. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He scowled at that, and you recognized the way he was feeling almost immediately. Oh, he was jealous. A tiny laugh escaped you, which only served to piss him off more. 

“What’s so fuckin’ funny, huh?”

“Nothin’,” you replied with a shrug. “Is that all, deputy?”

He puffed on his vape and the sickeningly sweet smell of watermelon or cotton candy or whatever the fuck made your stomach turn. You gagged, mouth turning into a frown. “Do you have to blow that shit right in my face?”

“Nope,” he said while repeating the same action. The smell was overwhelming. You could almost feel alarm bells going off inside.  “Whatever. Better go on and send your fuck buddy back to whatever hole he crawled out of.”

In the back of your mind, you could hear Gator going on and on, talking about how he bet Noah (how did he know his name?) didn’t even make you cum, and that his dick was small, and he’s probably just some big city loser who comes out here for an easy fuck. But that was in the back of your mind. All you were focused on was the overwhelming smell of sugar as he fucking huffed his vape, and the sinking feeling in your gut. 

Nausea clawed up your throat, and a familiar feeling of panic settled over you. You clapped your hand over your mouth, but it was no use. The contents of your stomach spilled onto the floor as you vomited right onto Gator’s boots. 

He swore loudly and colorfully, stepping out of the puddle at his feet. You wiped at your mouth weakly, and you would’ve said something like I fucking told you so, but you just felt awful. 

“That’s so gross,” was all you could offer. “‘M sorry, Gator.”

And then you were crying your eyes out, and he was walking you inside so you could sit down, and that made you cry more. 

“Jesus, you’re moody, huh?” He asked, but the bite in his voice was nearly gone. “Stay here, alright? Before you make an even bigger mess.”

You sniffled and nodded. You saw Noah stepping into the living room, wearing his actual clothes again, which was a relief. You didn’t really want Gator seeing him naked. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked, taking a few steps forward. 

“I’m fine, I’m just embarrassed,” you said, voice croaky with tears. “I just got sick from the drinking, I think.”

There was a noise from the kitchen and Noah furrowed his brows. “You have a roommate?”

“No, he’s—“ you trailed off, unsure of what to say. “He was here to handle a noise complaint, and I kind of puked on his shoes.”

Gator walked into the room, then paused at the sight of Noah. His face furrowed in blatant judgment. He handed you a sprite, then went straight back to staring at Noah.

“Who’re you?” Gator asked, his arms crossed like a club bouncer. 

“I’m Nick.” Oh. Well, at least you were close.  

“You should head out, dick,” he said, standing taller, trying to appear more imposing than he really was. 

Noah glanced at you and hesitated until you gave a tiny nod. “I had a good time,” you offered. “Sorry about… all of this.”

He scribbled his phone number onto your grocery list by the door, offered a wave, and then headed out, leaving you and Gator alone. For better or worse. 

It was quiet as you sipped your sprite, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Are you pregnant?” He asked suddenly. “And don’t fuckin’ lie.”

“What?”

“You’re acting all bipolar, and you're puking over my vape, and your tits look bigger.” You glanced down at your boobs with a frown. They did? 

“I’m not pregnant,” you replied defensively. “I got my period, like, right after we fucked.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. You wanna know what I do believe?” You didn’t, but he was going to tell you. “That you pocketed the money for the Plan B, ‘cause you want to get pregnant and blackmail my family.”

You scoffed. “You’re out of your goddamn mind.”

His jaw ticked with annoyance as he looked down at you. “Take a test.”

“Whatever,” you said with a shrug. “I’ll buy one after my shift tomorrow if you’re so fuckin’ worried about it.”

He shook his head. “Fuck that,” he said while tapping away on his phone. “You’ll just lie about it. I’m doordashing this shit.”

You would’ve protested, but what was the point in that? You had nothing to hide— certainly not blackmail. The idea of purposely letting yourself get knocked up by Gator Tillman almost made you want to puke again.

You had finished your Sprite by the time the poor kid arrived, probably seventeen, with his face burning red as he handed Gator a bag from the twenty-four-hour convenience store. Gator slammed the door and dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table. 

Two boxes of pregnancy tests, a monster energy drink, and a pack of cheese bugles.

You grabbed the boxes and trudged towards the bathroom attached to your room while Gator followed close behind. You went to shut the door, but he held it open. 

“No fuckin’ way,” he said firmly. “If I leave you’ll just fake it.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritability you felt close to reaching a boiling point. “I’m not pregnant! I don’t want to be pregnant, least of all with your fuckin’ kid!” 

When he didn’t move, and, to his credit, stayed completely stoic. You huffed and turned. “If you’re not gonna leave, you can be useful. Hand me one of the little cups beneath the sink. Next to the mouthwash.” He furrowed his brows, but obeyed. “I’m not pissing in front of you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen worse.” You closed your eyes, doing your best to ignore him and just pee into the fucking cup. The whole situation was so infuriating that you just wanted to scream. Once your shy bladder got over itself, it was easy enough. Dip the tests in the cup, cap them again, lay them out and try to forget they’re there. 

You’d taken plenty over the course of your marriage— and you hoped for the same result then that you did before. 

“What’d it say?” Gator asked as you washed your hands. He was squinting down at the tests, trying to discern what was happening. 

“It’s not instant. You’ve gotta wait three minutes,” you said. After drying your hands, you looked at him again.

Really looked. He was all fidgety, a little pale. His lip was bleeding where he’d been biting at it. He was just as anxious as you were, but you doubted it was for the reason he was saying. 

“You kind of want one, don’t you?” You asked, meeting his gaze.

He scoffed. “No. I hate kids,” the words came out quickly, defensively. He was lying, and he was just as bad at it then as he was every time before. “Besides, what the fuck would I tell my dad if I knocked up a stripper?”

His words should’ve had some bite to them, but he just reminded you of a skittish animal lashing out at anything near it. You leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “You’re pushing thirty, Gator. Who fuckin’ cares what your dad thinks about you?” Gator rolled his eyes, because you just didn’t get it, or whatever. But you knew plenty about outrunning parents and the weight of expectations. About outrunning the weight of not being what they wanted.

You looked at him again, narrowing your eyes. “What do you really want, huh? Outside of making my life hell, terrorizing the town, and making your daddy proud?” You paused, but were met with silence. “If you’d just try to be a decent human being for once, you might find a nice girl who wants to be with you.”

“And that asshole you brought back here and fucked was decent, huh?”

“I think so, yeah,” you replied.

“And you’re gonna see him again? ‘Cause he’s so nice?”

“No, Gator, I’m not gonna see him again,” you said sharply. “I’m not, because he deserves better than a second night with someone who didn’t want to be around him.”

Before he could respond, the timer on your phone went off, louder in the tiled bathroom. Your hands fumbled as you turned it off, heart pounding with nerves. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, just look,” Gator said, clearly annoyed by your hesitance. You watched him flip them over, one by one, all reading the same result. 

Positive. Positive. Positive. Positive.

Gator squinted at the lines, then at the back of the box, a few times until it settled in. 

“Goddamn it!” He shouted, slamming a hand against the counter. You flinched, but couldn’t bring yourself to react further than that. “I told you to take a fucking Plan B, didn’t I?”

You swallowed hard, doing your best to remain calm. “You did, and I did. Maybe, if you didn’t want to knock me up, you should’ve pulled out like I told you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know, it probably isn’t even mine,” he said, glaring in your direction. “You let that asshole from the bar cum in you tonight?”

Your cheeks burned hot. “You’re disgusting,” you sneered. “And, no. I don’t make a habit of letting guys fuck me raw.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, but you were so willing to give it up for me, huh?” He grabbed your arm, hard for the briefest second before his grip softened. “See, this is why I know you’re tryin’ to fuck my family over.”

You gave an exasperated groan and yanked your arm out of his grasp. “One, you didn’t pull out. Two, how exactly am I gonna blackmail your family if there’s no baby, you fucking idiot?”

His expression softened slightly as he considered your words. His brows furrowed in confusion, as he looked back at the tests. “Those are all positive, that means you’re pregnant.”

You gave a long exhale and met his gaze. “And it’s early enough that I can still have it taken care of. Maybe not in this fuckin’ state, but my car can still make a trip to Minnesota. Probably.”

He processed the words and the implications before shaking his head. “No.”

You raised a brow, taken off-guard by that single word. “I’m sorry?”

He shook his head. “I said no. You’re not doin’ it.”

You scoffed incredulously, blinking away your confusion. “Five seconds ago you wanted to punch through my drywall because you thought you were being blackmailed. Now you suddenly care about the sanctity of life? Give me a break. You nearly beat that guy to death in front of me at the club, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve done worse than that.”

”It’s different,” he argued, annoyed that you called out his hypocrisy.  “It’s mine, so I should have some sort of say.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the curtains near the window so you could avoid his eyes. “Exactly. It’s yours. I don’t want to have your baby, Gator. I don’t want to bring another goddamn Tillman into the world.”

He had you pressed against the wall before you even had a second to realize he was moving. Your head knocked against the drywall, making you yelp. One hand was wrapped around your throat, keeping you pinned to the wall with a light amount of force. “I could stop you,” he finally said. “I mean… really stop you. Make it so you can’t leave. Could keep you at the ranch, make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because that would mean involving his father. Knocking up a stripper doesn’t exactly give men like his father warm and fuzzy feelings. 

When you swallowed, your throat bobbed against the palm of his hand. Your eyes trailed up, landing on his as your breathing came out in pants. 

His mouth was on yours suddenly, claiming you with a searing kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, making you moan.

He’d never kissed you before, not once. You hadn’t even thought he’d want to. But there he was, groaning into your mouth as he made out with you.

“Gator—“ you gasped as he ground against you, already rock hard without any real coaxing. He shut you up with another kiss, hungry and messy. 

You got the message— no more talking about that. He pulled the tie of the robe you wore and it fell onto the ground in a pile, leaving you completely bare. 

He pulled back from the kiss, eyes raking over your body hungrily. Big hands traced over your skin, making you shiver. A gasp escaped you as he squeezed your tits. 

“They really are bigger,” he said with a wry laugh.

“Shut up,” you snapped, head knocking against the wall as you tossed it back. 

“You’ve got a bad fuckin’ attitude. But I can fix that.” One of his hands moved down your body, cupping your cunt, fingers dipping into the pool of your arousal. “You get this soaked for that asshole?”

You whimpered as his fingertips teased your entrance, just shy of everywhere you needed him. Just shy of slipping inside, purposely avoiding your clit. He locked eyes with you, his gaze intense. 

“Don’t be shy, you can tell the truth,” he said,  continuing to tease with featherlight touches. You could feel just how wet you were getting— dripping embarrassingly down your thighs. 

“Only ‘cause I thought about you,” you admitted. A sly grin spread across your face. You’d never let him have an easy win. “You’d probably be one of the best fucks I ever had if you bothered to make me cum.”

“Don’t fuckin’ piss me off,” he said with an eye roll. He thrust his middle finger inside of you, and you moaned softly. “Such a goddamn liar.”

He was a little more gentle with you, despite, well, everything. Warming you up with one finger before adding a second. Moans fell from your lips as he curled them just right, the cocky expression he wore told you he was dead set on proving that he really was top-ten material. 

His thumb brushed against your clit, making your legs tremble. You couldn’t help but clench around his fingers, your entire body overwhelmed with need. Maybe it was hormones, or maybe it was all the tension between you, but your entire body was aching for him. 

“Close,” you gasped out. Your open, panting mouth was like an invitation. He kissed you deeply, his tongue licking into your mouth as he continued fucking you with his fingers. When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours. 

“That’s it,” he practically cooed. “C’mon, give it to me.” You moaned, walls clenching around his fingers as you grew closer and closer to the edge. He tried to pull his hand from between your thighs, but you grabbed his wrist and shook your head. 

“Gator, don’t fuckin’ stop until I tell you to.” His cheeks went pink, eyes flashing with something unfamiliar. 

Your moans grew pitchy as you got closer, hips canting against his fingers, shoulders digging into the wall as your back arched off of it. 

You barely had time to gasp out a feeble, “‘m cumming!” Before your climax hit.

Broken moans escaped you as pleasure radiated through you. His fingers kept their pace, and every brush of his thumb on your clit made spots dance across your vision. When you were finally spent, you had to tap his wrist weakly. “Okay, that’s enough,” you managed. 

He was coated down to his wrist with sticky arousal, which made you look away with heat burning in your cheeks, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

He grabbed your jaw and turned your face back to look at him, wearing a smug expression. “Don’t act all shy now. Tell me you want more.” Bold of him to assume he could make you cum again. But you nodded anyway. You’d like to see him try, at least. 

“I want more,” you said, even though it killed you to just give in so easily. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, before he pressed a little more and breached the pouty seal of your lips. 

“Yeah? Your friend didn’t wear you out before this?” He asked, his voice dripping with a false sense of concern. He pushed his thumb a little deeper, pressing down on your tongue while you sucked on it. You had a pretty good sense of what he was getting at, but a hot need was bubbling up in your stomach and you couldn’t deny yourself any longer. “I’m just saying, sweetheart. Takin’ two cocks in one night is… well, it’s pretty fuckin’ slutty.”

At his words, you bit down on his thumb until he withdrew it with an annoyed huff. “You wanna leave?” You asked, raising a brow. He shook his head. You stepped around him, settling in the middle of the bed. “Take your clothes off then.”

He was quick to undress, clumsy in his haste. His vest knocked against the wall and sent a picture frame tumbling off its hook. He stripped off piece after piece in a sort of never-ending Russian doll until he was finally naked and standing there waiting for you to compliment him, or something. 

You took in the sight of him hungrily, and the hormonal neediness of it all made you want him more than you had before. “You’ll do,” was all you said, smirking as he pinned you down against the mattress.

“You’re such a bitch,” he said, but there wasn’t any real malice in his tone. Actually, you were pretty sure he liked it about you. You spread your legs to accommodate him, shivering as he rocked his hips just so and let the head of his cock brush against your folds. “But you want me so bad, huh? Just need me to fuck that attitude out of you, don’t you?”

You whimpered when he pressed himself against your center, only letting the tip slip inside briefly before pulling back out. He raised a brow, wanting to hear you beg.

”Gator, if you don’t get inside me, I’ll call Nick to finish the job.”

You would have laughed at how quickly he buried himself within you after that if the force of it hadn’t punched the air from your lungs. His pace was brutal, and the sound of his hips slapping against the plush of your thighs with each rough thrust made sheepishness settle warm in your chest.

“You act like— fuck— like you don’t want me, but I don’t think this pussy got that memo.” A smirk played at his lips as he railed into you, soft grunts punctuating each thrust in. You wrapped your legs around him, pressing with your heels to encourage him deeper. 

He was such a self-assured asshole, but, fuck, if that didn’t turn you on. He had one of your hands pinned to the bed, fingers tangled with yours. 

“Go ahead and touch yourself,” Gator instructed. 

He didn’t have to tell you twice. As soon as the words passed his lips, you moved your free hand between your thighs to circle your clit. The feeling was damn near euphoric. Breathy moans fell from your lips as your head fell back against the pillows.

And Gator was fucking eating it up. 

“That feel good, huh?” His voice was breathy; his words were punctuated with moans and fucked-out pants. “Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, sweetheart. You’re really lovin’ this, huh? Bet you wanna be stuffed full of this cock every day. Coulda had this again a lot sooner if ya weren’t such a bitch all of the time.”

You could feel yourself reaching your finish, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him. Each moan slipping past your lips was even more debauched than the last as he buried himself inside your needy cunt. 

“It’s too much, huh?” He asked, fucking you with a relentless need to cum. With each thrust his cock kissed your cervix. “You can take it, can’t you? Made just to take this cock inside your needy little pussy.”

Your eyes rolled back as your walls clamped around him, your finish so close you could have sobbed with relief. You came with a cry of his name, which would have been mortifying, had you been in a mindset to retain your pride. 

“F-Fuck—“ He cried out, his hips stuttering. “Holy fuckin’ shit— gonna cum— fuck—“ He buried himself in you with one final, rough thrust before he went still, collapsing atop you with his full body weight. 

He laid there, panting hot breath against your neck until he came back to his senses. He gave one final wet kiss to your throat before rolling over with a pleased sigh.

“You finally know what it feels like,” you mused, staring up at the ceiling. 

Gator furrowed his brows as he turned to look at you. “I’ve fucked you before, it’s nothin’ special this time.” 

Gee, thanks. “I meant you finally know what it feels like for a girl to cum while you’re inside her.” You grinned as you watched annoyance twist his features. He rolled his eyes with a huff, but didn’t seem too pissed off at your jab. 

It was contentedly quiet until you remembered the pregnancy tests sitting on the counter just one room over. Your stomach twisted with guilt as you looked over at him, his hair a little messy, cheeks flushed from exertion.

It would’ve been nice if things were different.

“I’m moving,” you said finally. “Back to Texas, I think. Maybe even somewhere new. As soon as I’ve saved enough for a down payment.”

Gator turned quickly, anger making his brows furrow. “Leaving?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m getting out of Lehigh, and I think you should too. This place is poison. You know that.”

You watched him swallow, jaw ticking as he stayed quiet. You let the quiet linger in the air, nearly choking on it before he finally spoke. “This is where I belong.”

You nodded and said nothing else. When you woke up in the morning, his arms were around you, and he was drooling into the junction of your shoulder. His hand, flat on your tummy, almost made you yearn for that picture-perfect Tillman family, the one he thought he wanted so badly.

You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up. When he left, he didn’t say a thing. It felt definite.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Bleed my aching heart

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 3 Prompts: Backseat & Bruise Words: 1,359 Rated: E Tags: Mafia AU; Mob boss Dick Harrington; Hitman Eddie Munson; Car sex; Rough sex; Possessive sex; Humiliation; Dirty talk; Knifeplay; Mild painplay; Top Eddie; Bratty bottom Steve

Notes: "Kiss that ring" verse, Steve POV? You bet! Can't give me those prompts and expect me to not think of these two unhinged little fuckers. This continues right where "Heaven's in the backseat" leaves off.

When Steve was twelve, his father took him on a trip to Sicily. He said Steve was old enough to learn about the family business he was supposed to inherit. And so Steve spent a dreadfully boring two weeks being paraded around in expensive suits, locked away in stuffy meeting rooms, listening to negotiations he didn’t understand, while the sun sparkled on the sea outside.

On the second-to-last day, he used an unsupervised minute to sneak away. The water always held a weird fascination for him, even then. He wanted to feel it on his skin at least once while he was here. 

On his way back, his feet slipped on the cliffs and he plummeted nine feet. They found him stumbling around by the shoreline hours later, disoriented and heavily concussed. His father took one look at him and slapped him hard across his bleeding face. 

“What part of stay at the house didn't you understand? Do you have a death wish or are you honestly too dumb to listen?” 

Steve thought about that question a lot over the past six years.

He's not ashamed to admit that he isn't smart - a lot less smart than Richard Harrington expected his son and heir to be. Still, he doesn't think it's the reason why he keeps going against his father's orders at every opportunity.

The pain felt good. He suspected even then that he must be a little fucked in the head, but that didn't change the fact that, nauseated and bleeding and dizzy, he felt more alive than he had in weeks. 

Maybe that's why he is the way he is. Why he keeps chasing the risk, the danger, the pain. 

Maybe that's why, when he noticed Eddie Munson lurking in the flower bushes by his father's pool, he didn't shy away but beckoned him closer. Maybe that's why the hungry look in those dark eyes makes him shiver in pleasure rather than fear. Why he can't stop provoking the man, why the thought of making that mask of indifference crack fills him with a perverse sense of anticipation. 

Maybe that's why, when Eddie hits the brakes and pulls the car over to the side of the road, Steve is fully hard before he even finds himself pinned into the backseat. Why, when Eddie pulls out his knife and trails the tip of the blade over his skin and talks about claiming him, about stuffing him full of his cock, about cutting his initials into his flesh, he can't help the needy little whimper that falls from his lips. 

“Do it then,” he breathes, hips bucking to chase the tantalizing weight of Eddie’s leg between his thighs, wrists straining in Eddie’s grip. “Make me yours.” 

For a second, Eddie actually pauses, eyes going round with surprise. Then, his pupils blow fuzzy and large. His lips peel back, and Steve catches a glimpse of sharp canines glinting in the blue light of the dashboard. And then all he knows is that he's being kissed with a force that is unlike anything he's ever experienced before, a force that punches the breath right out of him and makes the needy little thing low in his abdomen thrum and quiver. 

He struggles, clenching his jaw shut and trying to jerk out of Eddie’s hold, because what can he say? It's fun, playing hard to get, seeing just how much of a rise he can get out of him. Eddie growls against his lips and presses his thumb into the bruised flesh of his lip, just where his father hit him earlier. Steve gasps in pain and surprise, and Eddie uses the opportunity to lick right past his teeth and into the warmth of his mouth. His hand never lets go of the knife, and when Steve tries to twist out of the kiss, the blade tickles his cheek like a dangerous promise. He goes very still, Eddie’s teeth grazing his lip as he grins and deepens the kiss. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Eddie allows them to part for air. His head is dizzy and all of his sensations have narrowed down to the tingly needlepoint feeling in his limbs, the delicious pain where Eddie’s fingers are still pressing down on the bruise. 

“Make you mine?” Eddie repeats, and his voice is a husky whisper. His eyes look black in the dark car, like two bottomless pits, ready to swallow him whole. His lips gleam with their mingled spit. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking for, little nymph. I don’t think you know what that means.” “Show me then,” Steve hisses. It’s only when his nails dig into Eddie’s shoulders, drawing a sharp intake of breath from those sinfully plump lips, that he realizes Eddie no longer has his wrists pinned. Instead, his hand has traveled down, undoing both of their belts and flies with quick, deft fingers. 

Steve’s cock springs free, hitting Eddie’s thigh with an obscene little slap. Eddie coos, almost tenderly, but there is nothing tender to his touch as he takes him in hand. His fingers are long and warm and calloused, the edges of his rings deliciously sharp against Steve’s sensitive tip. Eddie squeezes, tight, and the zap of pain sizzles all the way up his spine, like tiny, bright sparks in the dark. He moans, low and wrecked, and Eddie laughs against his pulse. 

“Why, sweetheart, are you enjoying this? If I had known what a fucked-up little slut you are, I would've done this sooner.” 

“Don't call me-” Steve starts to say. Eddie pinches him, just where his aching balls connect to his cock, and the words trail off into a hoarse wheeze. 

“Don't call you what?” Eddie asks. “Sweetheart? Or my little slut? Well, I've got news for you, baby.” 

He slips the knife back into the holster under his suit jacket in one swift motion, then shoves three fingers into Steve’s mouth, so hard and fast he nearly chokes on them. 

“I'm gonna call you whatever I want,” Eddie purrs, one hand fucking into his mouth, the other pumping his throbbing cock. “I'm gonna call you whatever the fuck I want, and you're gonna be glad for it. Everything I give you, you're gonna take, and when I'm done, you're gonna thank me for it. Do you know why that is?” 

He slides his fingers out, patting Steve's cheek encouragingly. They leave a thin, cool sheen of spit, just next to the bruise. 

“Because I'm yours,” Steve rasps. 

“That's right honey.” Eddie’s smile is sharp and pretty and hurts in all the best ways. “Go ahead now, give me what's mine.” 

Steve's climax hits him with a violence that forces the air from his lungs in a startled scream. Eddie licks the sound from his lips like it's the sweetest nectar while Steve spills all over his hand and his own stomach, staining both of their expensive suits. It feels like being consumed whole. It feels like being pulled apart at the seams, like being shattered into a million tiny pieces. 

Eddie keeps kissing him until his lips feel puffy and swollen, keeps stroking him until his spent cock is sensitive and raw, until all that falls from his lips are high-pitched whines and a nonsensical string of Eddie, Eddie, please, so good, thank you, Eddie. 

“Aw, baby,” Eddie murmurs, sharp teeth nipping at the edge of his jaw. “Don't thank me just yet. You don't think I'm done with you already, do you?”

If coming undone under Eddie’s hands was like shattering apart, the feeling of Eddie opening him up on come-slicked fingers feels like being put together again. The burn of Eddie replacing those fingers with his cock, fucking him hard and fast into the backseat, feels like a rebirth. 

The pain when he comes for a second time, dry and untouched, and with Eddie’s name on his lips, feels like the beginning of a new life. 

He's made into a new kind of person that night in the car, one that belongs to Eddie Munson, heart, body and soul. He never once looks back. 

More Smutty September

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101 - 01: let's make it interesting

wc: 1.3k

synopsis: harvard is a good friend (and petty on your behalf)

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: hi friends! hope you're all doing well, have some more top gun maverick athena plot.

You got lucky on the first pairing.

“Athena! Harvard and Yale! You're up!”

“Let's go boys, we got a fossil to take down,” you smirk.

Harvard rolls his eyes, throwing an arm over your shoulder, and quietly to you he whispers, “that fossil raised you.”

“Exactly why I get to say it,” you tease, leaning into your friend for a moment.

Harvard shakes his head and pulls you out on to the tarmac. You pause briefly, looking out as Payback and Fanboy pass by, tapping at your shoulders, wishing you luck. Your eyes focus on Bradley though, doing push ups as Hondo counts them. You know the tarmac is blazing, you can feel it through your gear, you can imagine having to do push-ups right now would be miserable. You can even see the strain on his face.

“You remember the rules?” Yale asks as he catches up to the two of you, but you know both of the men caught where your gaze was focused. Harvard’s arm is still tight around your shoulders, and he gives you a squeeze.

“I remember, do you?” you ask, swallowing your thoughts and turning back to the pair.

“Well there was this pilot at Top Gun with us, she gave us so much shit, but hand to God if she isn't the best pilot I’ve ever flown with. She had these rules up in the air, how to focus in, what we leave on the ground, she drilled them into us, really. But, she made us better aviators, hands down,” he teases and you shake your head, happy that these two were your partners for the first go. Brigham turns you with a smile, pushing you toward your jet.

“I think you give me too much credit, Logan,” you muse as you stop beside your jet, grabbing a hold of the ladder.

“Not possible. Show ‘em what this nepo-baby’s made of,” Harvard negates with a teasing tone, tapping your shoulders.

“Yes, sir,” you muse rolling your eyes before climbing up into your jet.

You spot Harvard and Yale as they walk past Rooster. You see the tap Harvard does, stopping Yale, and you watch as he pulls his phone out. The two stopping to snap a photo, undoubtedly teasing him in the process. Yale shakes his head as they walk, and as if feeling your gaze, Harvard turns back meeting your eyes. You know he can see your frown, but all he does is tap at his chest and point at you.

FLASHBACK: TOP GUN

“Why haven’t you emailed him back?”

Brigham’s question catches you off guard, you’d been sat in the Naval Aviator’s lounge at Top Gun. Your laptop open as you switched between Bradley’s most recent email, and a text chain you had running with Amelia about going sailing on your day off over the weekend.

”What?” you ask, turning to look at Brigham.

You liked Brigham, and Logan. They were a good team, and smart aviators. Talented and clever, its makes sense why they got invited to Top Gun. They were also the only two of your class that you actually enjoyed spending time with. They were the only two who didn’t make nepotism jokes as soon as someone realized you were a legacy, that your old man was a Top Gun graduate. They were a solid team, solid aviators, and solid people, you were quickly starting to consider them friends.

”You’ve had that email open on and off the last few days,” he notes casually as he sits down across you.

”You’re a snoop, Lennox,” you deflect with a flat look.

”Guilty, I got two older sisters, snooping was a part of the job, and you make for an easy target, Mitchell,” he shrugs in response. “But it doesn’t answer my question.”

”Not that it’s any of your business, but I never email him back,” you admit honestly.

”Bradshaw, I recognize the name, he’s an aviator too, came through Top Gun last year? Or was it the year before?”

”Yeah something like that, goes by Rooster,” you confirm.

”So what’s the story?” Harvard’s pokes.

”Doesn’t matter,” you shrug off.

”Oh, I get it,” he decides smirking, leaning back as your eyes narrow. “Hook up gone wrong.”

You choke on that, an incredulous look taking over your features. “Ew, no! God,” you scoff.

”Then what?” there’s a challenging smirk still on his lips and you decide that making friends might have been overrated.

”We grew up together. Something happened when he was 18, set him back, made him mad. He blames my dad,” you nutshell.

”So he blames you too?”

“He did. Said some fucked shit, and I decided distance was for the best.”

“That bad?”

“I was raised by a naval aviator for a dad, Harvard. I spent deployments in the PACFLEET Commander’s home. And in every other moment until what happened, I spent with Brad and his mom. What he said, it wasn’t something he gets to walk back by trying to email me life updates,” you bite back, venom in your voice.

Harvard’s hands go up in a second, surrender, he mimes. Your shoulders drop and you look at the roof before taking a breath. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I… I try not to be mad, it was a long time ago.”

“Respectfully, I’ve only known you since we got here, but, if you’re still mad, if it still hurts, then I think it’s justified,” Harvard offers.

“Like I said, it was a long time ago,” you repeat, shaking your head.

“Maybe, but you don’t seem like one to hold grudges, Athena. Whatever he did and said, and you don’t have to tell me, it’s enough for me to know that I don’t think I like him very much.”

You smile softly despite yourself. Just a little quirk of the lip from the blind support you’re being offered. It was so different than the ‘maybe you should reach out’ and ‘hasn’t it been long enough?’ that Sarah, Ice, and Viper would drop, and it’s not their fault you never told them what Bradley said, but you weren’t ready for that, not truly. Brigham in one conversation, had reaffirmed your belief, had brought a comfort that you never realized you needed.

“Thanks, Brig, really,” you say softly.

“Anytime, Athena. You practically kept Yale and I from being booted day one, what ever you need, we got your back, girl, always,” he promises.

You nod softly, willing yourself not to get emotional from the support.

“C’mon, Yale was looking for you earlier, I think he want’s to try that taco place we passed by on the way to the beach the other day,” Harvard offers, effectively ending the previous conversation.

He stands, gently shutting your laptop with a pointed look before offering a hand to pull you up.

You take it gratefully, and pause once you’re on your feet, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, “you’re a very good friend, Brigham Lennox, and I am very grateful,” you tell him.

“Let’s go, we gotta get out of here for a bit,” he says dismissively, cheeks pinking slightly.

You nod, and walk in front, he follows after you, handing your laptop back with a smile.

...

You’re brought back from the past as your name is called, giving you the 'all clear' to start take-off protocols. You take a breath and remember the rule, leave it on the ground, a clear head for clear skies and soon enough the three of you were in the sky over the training range.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291

[zepskies]

Hey! I was wondering if the requests are still open? I’m so obsessed with BMD💗✨ I was wonder how Ben would react to his gf having cramps during her moon cycle✨

Tysm for sharing these awesome stories with us hun🫂💗✨Hope you’re healthy and happy💃🏻❤️

Hey there!

I'm so glad you love BMD. 🥰 I’m slowly but surely working through my inbox of requests! And because I’m currently on my “moon cycle” as I’m writing this [last week. I was suffering for four days], I just had to do this prompt. So thank you for it, lovely!

And you're so very welcome. It's my pleasure. I hope you're healthy and happy as well!! ❤️❤️

AN: This one is set in the Break Me Down-verse, but can be read as a stand-alone. Considering where we're going next in "Strong as Blood," I thought it'd be good to release this first lol.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Word Count: 2,700 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, of course. Hurt/comfort, fluff, grumpy Ben.

Imagine: How Ben reacts to his girlfriend having cramps during her period.

You really were going to die this time.

The thought was both a conviction and a deranged mantra as you stood hunched over the bathroom sink. Nausea and pain warred for dominance as you pressed a clammy hand over your forehead.

Jesus Christ, end me please. I beg of you.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend was in the bedroom getting ready for work. Both you and Ben worked at Supe Affairs now, with Butcher and the rest of the team.

You were one of the top agents in the Surveillance department, while Ben was considered a “contractor,” catching rogue supes and dealing with the remnants of Vought.

He was just about to undress from his shirt and sweatpants and start getting his supe suit on, when he heard the toilet flush in the bathroom…for the third time now. He realized then just how long you’d been in there.

He went over and knocked on the closed door.

“Hey, you planning on going to work today?” he said, with a teasing note to his voice. “Or making breakfast, for that matter?”

“Not now, Ben,” you replied, barely stifling a groan.

A frown tugged at his lips. “What’s wrong?”

“Debating if I’m gonna start my day by throwing up last night’s pot roast,” you replied sourly.

Ben’s brows crunched when he heard the strain in your voice. But at the same time, he couldn’t help smiling.

“What, are you pregnant?” he asked.

He heard your dry huff from the other side of the bathroom door.

“Most definitely not,” you said. “But at this point, I’d much rather be knocked up.”

Ben didn’t like the sound of that. He twisted the doorknob and let himself in, just to see his girlfriend locked up with pain. He read the misery written across your face. You were still in your pajamas (one of his old shirts that hung almost to your knees).

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeated gruffly. He rested a heavy hand on your back, between your shoulders. You let out a breath.

“Move that hand lower?” you requested. “My period came early this month. Hit me out of nowhere with a vengeance.”

His brows crunched a bit, but he obliged you, moving to your lower back. His hand was warm, as usual, and the weight of it was a small relief as he rubbed back and forth into your aching muscles.

You let out a deep breath and briefly closed your eyes. Finally, the nausea was starting to pass. And if you dawdled any longer, you were going to be late for work.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I need to get ready.”

You tried to straighten up, even though what felt like your entire lower body protested.

“You can barely move,” Ben said. “How’re you gonna work like that?”

“The way all women have managed to do for centuries,” you tartly pointed out. “With a buttload of painkillers and a heating pad under my desk…speaking of, where is that thing?”

You moved past him to look for said object. You knew you put it somewhere…

Ah! You found it in the top drawer of your nightstand. You plugged it in just to make sure it was working, but to your frowning suspicion, it didn’t turn on.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said. You pressed the “on” button several times, but it didn’t light up. You touched the fluffy heating pad on both sides, but it was still cold. “Damn it. Don’t tell me this thing’s broken!”

You were about ready to tear the thing apart with your bare hands, when a sudden cramp spasmed in your lower belly. You inhaled sharply and held a hand there with a wince. Your back bent forward on reflex, and you grabbed onto the nightstand to steady yourself.

“All right,” Ben said. He took the defunct heating pad out of your hand and guided you to sit down on the edge of the bed. He went over to his side to grab his cell phone where it sat on his nightstand.

When you twisted to see what he was up to, you raised a suspicious brow. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not going to work,” he said. His tone was matter of fact, and your brows rose even higher.

“What? Ben—”

He ignored you when whoever he was calling finally answered the phone.

“Yes?” came Grace Mallory’s steady, but slightly incredulous voice. Ben never called her, nor did he want to. But he didn’t have your manager’s number and didn’t feel like scrolling through your phone to find it.

“She’s not coming in today,” Ben said, without preamble.

"Ben," you tried. Again, he ignored you.

In his ear, Grace spoke your name, both a question and a clarification.

“Yeah, she’s sick. Get someone else to fill in,” he said.

Grace sighed. “…All right, but just so you know—”  

Ben hung up the phone before she could finish. He then tossed it onto the bed. You shot him a wry, questioning look.

“What did she say?” you asked.

“It’s fine. You’ve got the day off,” he said. “Just relax.”

You sighed. Going above your manager to call Grace wasn’t the protocol for taking PTO in the slightest, but you couldn’t help but smile.

You beckoned him over with a hand. "Come 'ere."

A smirk tugging at his lips, Ben came back around to your side of the bed. You pulled him down by his shirt until he sat next to you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck in a hug. Maybe it was a small thing, but sometimes your boyfriend surprised you with the ways he showed that he cared.

“Thanks, baby,” you said softly. You carded your fingers through his hair, rested them at the back of his neck.

“Mhmm,” Ben nodded, rubbing your back again. “I gotta get going.”

“If you must,” you sighed. You pulled away enough to see his face, and something occurred to you. “Oh, can you get me some more feminine pads on the way home? And some Midol, and a new heating pad?”

Ben raised a brow at you. This was where he drew the line. He wasn’t about to be caught dead browsing through pads and tampons in some pharmacy aisle. God for-fucking-bid, some kid would be there with a camera phone. He’d learned about the internet, and it was worse than the tabloids used to be.

But you read the pullback in his face. You implored him with your eyes, and your gentle fingers in his hair.

“Please?” you asked. “I’d do it for you.”

Ben’s frown deepened.

“I’m not the one with the…” He gestured at you vaguely. “Monthly problem.”

You grinned a little. The way he reluctantly phrased it amused you. Despite his deplorable sense of humor, and often vulgar language, not to mention his blatant love of pussy, you supposed his fragile male disposition wouldn’t allow him to say the words.

Period.

Menstrual cycle.

Bleeding from the vagina.

“Exactly,” you countered, and you leaned up to once again snuggle your face into his neck. “Please, baby. You don’t know how much it hurts right now. You really want me to go to the store like this?”

Ben held you back with a terse sigh. You were somehow ready to go to work a minute ago, yet you couldn’t drive around the corner to the drug store?

“Fine,” he groused. His voice was nearly a growl, but you still smiled behind his back. You laid small, sweet kisses into his neck. When you leaned back, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” you said between kisses. Ben just shook his head when you were done bribing him with affection.

“Yeah,” he dully replied. The things I fucking do for you, said his tone.

He finally withdrew from you to continue getting dressed, leaving you to crawl back under the covers and try to find a comfortable angle to lay down. You used all the pillows on the bed, even dragging his toward you. That one you rested your head on, as it still smelled like him.

Ben watched you settle in out of the corner of his eye, like a cat curling up in her bed. A smile tugged at his lips when you sighed in relief and turned on the TV.

He didn’t see so much pain in your features anymore. You seemed in a better mood, relaxed as you held his pillow like an anchor.

So that’s how he left you. However, it wasn’t until he got to the Supe Affairs building that he saw your text pop up on his phone:

Here’s a picture of the pads I like. If you don’t see them, call me and I’ll help you. And don’t forget the heating pad! 😘

He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

By the time he got home that evening with takeout and a plastic bag (filled with the things you'd asked for), he spotted an empty cup of yogurt in the kitchen.

It meant you’d gotten out of bed at some point, at least. He set down the takeout bags on the kitchen counter and made his way up the stairs.

He found you in the same place he left you: in bed, in your pajamas. And you were crying while watching a movie.

Ben frowned. He stood in the doorway in his supe suit with the pharmacy bag.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. You looked up and finally noticed him.

“Oh, hey.” You paused the movie. “I’m okay. It’s just…Marley & Me.”

“What?”

“It’s this true story about a dog…just, don’t ask. It’s ridiculously sad,” you sniffed and wiped your eyes.

He raised a brow at you.

“Sure it’s not just your uh…situation, making you all weepy?” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You did not just say that.”

Was he really calling you hormonal right now?  

His lips pursed, but he held up the bag.

“Before you start blowing your top, I got your female shit.” He ventured into the bedroom and laid the bag in your lap.

Giving him some annoyed side-eye, you peered into the bag. You nodded in approval at the correct brand and size of the pads you wanted, and a new pack of Midol. You then had to smile, as he even got you a couple of Twix bars. Your favorite chocolate covered candy.

“Admit it, I did good,” Ben said with a smirk. Your side-eye was begrudgingly amused this time.

“Color me surprised,” you replied, but you still treated him with a genuine smile. “Thanks, baby. This is perfect…”

Though you realized something was missing. Ben’s smirk started to fade as he caught on.

“Wait.” You sorted through the bag. “Where’s the heating pad?”

Fuck, Ben thought. He forgot.

His expression slackened, making you sigh in disappointment.

“Okay, it’s fine,” you said, ripping open the box of Midol. This would have to be enough to relieve your pain (but it never was). Even now, your cramps were starting back up again.

Ben nodded in response. You were no longer looking at him though.

He let out a sigh. Didn’t he get credit for fucking trying here?

Without another word, he started unzipping his supe suit and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.

By the time he returned, you were nearly in full fetal position. The Midol had only put a dent in your pain. The First Wives Club movie from the '90s was playing on the TV, but not even that could make you laugh, let alone relax right now.

You were truly miserable, and Ben saw it as he got dressed in a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt.

“Hey, you hungry?” he asked. He wasn’t sure about the last time you’d eaten anything.

You paused the movie and moved your head enough to meet his eyes.

“Not really,” you admitted. “You go ahead and eat.”

Oh, he was starving. After the day he’d had, rounding up another telekinetic that tried to trash Midtown to evade capture, Ben could go for about five burgers. But there was a part of him that…didn’t feel right, leaving you like this.

Still, he needed to eat. He went downstairs and grabbed his meatball sub out of the takeout bag. He also took your sandwich along too, just in case the sight of food managed to make you hungry. He brought it all upstairs and sat next to you in bed. Though he was also kind of behind you, the way you were curled up.

You'd felt when his body dipped on his side of the bed. His presence both soothed and annoyed you. The former, because you did love your man. The latter, because he forgot the most important thing you'd reminded him not to forget.

You reached back blindly, eventually finding his hand that wasn't occupied with holding his sandwich. You placed that hand on your lower back.

"Massage, please," you grunted into your pillow. (Well, his pillow, but semantics.)

He sighed through his nose and a mouthful of meatball.

"I'm eating," he replied.

"What, you can't multitask?" you quipped.

Ben's gaze hardened with annoyance at the back of your head.

Still, he found himself reaching over and rubbing across your lower back. He applied gentle, but firm pressure with the heel of his hand. You sighed in appreciation.

“Thanks,” you murmured. Ben nodded and continued to polish off his sub while watching the movie. He usually wasn’t into chick flicks, but Bette Midler was hilarious, and Goldie Hawn was hot as fuck.

“I got you turkey and provolone,” he said. You nodded.

“Thanks. I’m still not hungry though.”

“Are you nauseous?”

“No…just in pain.”

Ben frowned…until he got an idea. He crumpled up his trash and tossed it onto the nightstand for now, along with brushing off the crumbs from his chest. He grabbed a couple of your pillows and propped them up behind him, against the headboard.

You shot him an annoyed look. “Hey!”

“You’re like a little dragon with her hoard a’ gold,” he remarked, smirking. Before you could start getting all huffy, he reached for your arm. “Come ‘ere.”

“What?”

“For once, just do what I'm telling you," he said. His lips twitched at your narrowing eyes. "I’ve got an idea."

With a loud sigh, you reluctantly (and slowly) uncurled and turned towards him. Ben laid back against the headboard, and he guided you to lay on top of him. You often complained that his skin was too hot at night for summer. Sometimes you woke up sweating.

It was a result of the power that emanated from his chest. Ben couldn’t exactly control the heat; at least, not when he was sleeping. But he was sure you were going to appreciate it more when winter came.

Not to mention, right now.

He positioned you just right, with your knee curling around his hip and your head resting against his chest. His large hand once again soothed against your lower back, underneath your shirt, and his fingers massaged into your skin.

You smiled as you realized what he was doing. You felt the warmth emanating from his body as it seeped into yours. Along with his calming touch, it slowly managed to relieve your pain.

After a few minutes, you let out a deep sigh and pressed a soft kiss to his chest, before you went back to resting on him fully. You couldn’t see it, but Ben smiled.

“Better?” he asked.

You closed your eyes with a soft smile. “Yeah. My new heating pad’s working wonders.”

Ben huffed a bit at that.

Just then, your stomach growled fiercely. Your eyes popped open.

You met your boyfriend's wry look, biting your lip. He smirked and reached down into the bag that still laid beside the bed. He retrieved your foil-wrapped sandwich and handed to you. You took it and happily began breaking through the foil.

Ben looked down at you, both fond and resigned. You clearly had no intention of getting off him. Which meant you were about to try and use him like some kind of makeshift man table.

You eventually took a bite of your sandwich, your eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation. You glanced up at his raised brow with a happy little smile.

“So good!” you said, still with your mouth full.

Ben restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he thumbed at a bit of crumb on the corner of your mouth.

“Just don’t get mustard on my shirt,” he said.

AN: Lol I hope you liked this! I had fun with it, even though I don't have a body heater for my cramps. 😭

(It's fine. I bought a new heating pad online. ❤️‍🔥)

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[kechiwrites]

mirror image

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 7/8

synopsis: two weeks into your uneasy truce, simon gets introspective.

wc: 811

cw: afab!reader, angst, banter that becomes arguing, hurt and the tiniest bit of comfort, language, trust issues, simon's pov, no gendered language. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: well, we back at it, the second last installment of this verse. i'll still take requests/thots for it of course, but soon we'll get closure for these two. for now, simon's thoughts on their situation.

new to baby blue? start here.

It’s disarming. 

And Simon Riley doesn’t like being disarmed. He doesn’t like being caught off guard, off kilter, unstable. 

It’s been happening more and more often though.

When you and Tommy look at him in perfect unison, he is struck stupid by your eyes, like you copy and pasted them onto your son. His son. His kid. His perfect, funny kid. Unmuddied by everything bad in the world. His life is pancakes and dinosaurs and that horrible fucking tv show that he’s sure rots his little mind. His life is you. Your smiles, your laugh, your cooking, your hugs. Things Simon cheated himself of when he walked out on you, choked with fear and bleeding misery.

Simon is disarmed, totally fucking helpless, a veritable babe in the woods when you let him hold you. When for the first time, in a long ass time, he gets to watch your lids flutter closed and slip into unconsciousness, in that quick, carefree way he’s always envied. 

He barely sleeps, even less so lately. 

After all, no sleeping meant no nightmares. No cloying, choking smoke-like fears reaching for the frayed edges of his subconscious. No sleeping meant he couldn’t play on your kindness, your goodness, and guilt you into holding him back when he woke up screaming, sweating, no matter how bad he wanted it.

It’s two weeks later. Two weeks after sleeping together but not sleeping together. After breakfast and an uneasy truce. Two weeks after kissing you and touching you and holding you like you both had all the time in the world. 

You’re not in a good mood. And he knows that. But he pushes you anyway, pokes and prods you even as you slam through your kitchen, noisily pulling out a pot and a huge bag of pasta shells.

“Let’s talk.” He approaches, arms crossed, full kit traded in for a skull emblazoned cloth mask, jeans and a threadbare black t-shirt, one he’d found in your bedroom days ago, stashed in the back your drawer, crumpled in a wrinkled ball, like you didn’t want to see it, but you didn’t want to trash it either. He’s been doing that lately, staying over for days and rifling through your shit, finding old relics and artifacts from a time neither of you can let go of. An old mask, a hat, t-shirts.

So many goddamn t-shirts.

“Talk?” you snort derisively, filling the pot with water. He watches you test the water with your fingertips and curse under your breath, mumbling something about shit pipes. When the pot is full, you turn to face him, lips curled, sneering. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of that. Thought you just communicated in grunts.”

“You’re funny. That's new.” He jabs, advancing in the conversation much faster than he should have, comforted in familiar territory, finding solace in what used to be commonplace for you, banter, barbs, teasing. The tense set of your shoulders should’ve warned him off it, should’ve told him you’d take it as well as a bullet in the back. But God help him, he’ll take whatever you give.

“Mm.” Your tone is casual but your answering nod is jerky, too fast, “Yeah, I developed a sense of humour when I realized our relationship had been a joke.” You slam the pot onto a burner, giving him your back. 

The air is suddenly devoid of mirth, utterly obliterated where it had been floating between you before. Now the living room and kitchen are a smoking crater, an oil rig on fire, a disaster site. 

He’s never been more grateful for his son’s propensity to nap like he’s dead.

Neither of you say anything. Simon is waiting for you to say something, to dress him down, but when you lower your head and sigh, heavy and deep with pain and exhaustion he planted within you, Simon withers. He slinks back to the living room and drops himself onto your couch. 

You wait, he’s not sure what for. He used to be so good at preempting your actions, your thoughts, your words, now he handles you like you’re a venomous reptile, looking for exposed, vulnerable flesh to strike, to bite.

You set down the glass you’d been drinking from hard. And he’s surprised you didn’t crack it.

“What do you want, Simon?” Question of the goddamn century, it is. And you’ve asked it of him plenty of times. But he never has an answer, can never really deduce just what the fuck he’s doing here, with you. With Tommy. Playing a game? Playing a role? Punishing you? Himself? All of it could be true, but none of it seems right. 

“I want to try.”

All he knows is that before this, four years seemed like a short time, nothing really. But now?

It’s an eternity. Reflected back to him in broken glass, in half full drawers, in his son’s eyes. 

In yours.

comments + tags + reblogs are so appreciated

oh simon...what do you want?

series masterlist here

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Cute Spider Society Headcanons:

[a long post of random headcanons about the fun stuff at Spider Society HQ - all cool things for your Spidersona to do]

There's absolutely regular talent shows and battles of the band every quarter or so.

Spider-people usually aren't the most popular back home on their Earth's, so Miguel permits having shows and activities like this so Spider-people can bond and relieve stress between Canon Events

Hobie has won multiple times - His and Gwen's band won last quarter, BUT they don't always win. MetroSpider is another past winner.

The rule is Spider-members only. But if your powers help your music, you can use them (ie, Hobie can play guitar without an amp-)

Training is a HUGE thing.

And it's mandatory even between missions. Time trails, Web strength testing, problem resolution training, weekly classes - It's a lot.

Your training schedule isn't always the same, and your classes are determined by your skill, specific powers, and universe

Money isn't used on campus. It's banned actually, and mostly useless when everyone is from a universe with a different exchange rate, political climate, tender etc.

Instead, The main currency is based on a points system connected to training/missions.

The more missions you do, or the more you train (therefore making you a better hero to your universe), the more points you earn

Things like the cafeteria and dorms are completely free. But points can be used to earn perks like suit upgrades, or things from the commissary

The Commissary is a store on campus where you can buy authorized items from other Earth's.

They have everything from training materials like mechanical webbing - with different properties/effects - to leisure things like cool video games from Margo's world or music from other time eras, vintage things from old universes, etc

Points can also be used for a number of other stuff such as:

Extra jumps on your watch. The more missions you do, the more jumps you can buy, allowing you to go to other universes on your off time (to hang with friends)

Suit Upgrades. Your suit is surveyed and upgraded for free at joining, and it gets upgraded with every class you gain (C Class -> B Class -> A Class -> etc.)

However, you can use points to upgrade or even just redesign your suit. There is a Suit Center where fashionable and genius Spider-people will help you design and adjust your suit based on your universe and villains

There's support groups, a lot centered around Canon Events.

For teens and young Spider-people there's an Educational Program

It can be done part-time with active mission work or full-time on campus

You train in multiversal research, Spider genetics, and other technology such as Doc Ock technology and Green Goblin biology

You can be offered a job on campus after completion - Margo is a graduate of this

If your participate in Educational Program, Lyla will be your mentor and you'll report to her

Educational students live in separate dorms, and the program is kinda intense, but VERY fun

There are different focuses in the program

Spider-Geneticists have a short residency after, they help take Spider vitals and oversee Training

You can also specialise in Spider-medicine - in which you work in the Infirmary

There are some CRAZY (secret) Parties all over the Spider-verse.

Disco-Spider loves a good party. Her and Pavi through insane ragers, a new one in a different universe everytime

Miguel has no idea

But partying on the walls and ceiling while Spider-people play super-human live shows in the world's craziest mosh-pit -

Spider-parties hit different.

It's one of the only time everyone is unmasked around each other

There's a really loose dress code

You DO NOT have to wear your suit 24/7. What is someone gonna do, rat you out in your universe?

Everyone is in their suit for ATSV cause Miguel asked them to be completely professional that day (as an intimidation tactic)

That's why Jess, Gwen, Peter, and Hobie are all fine showing their faces as soon as they get to campus.

If anything it's usually seen as weird to be wearing your mask all the time

Casual clothing is allowed. Skirts and dresses without anything underneath aren't allowed (you'll be upsidedown.)

You're expected to have two suits (one main, one spare - you get these at joining) for missions and a separate training outfit for your classes

There's super sports teams

Spidey Football (European not American) expands the rules to all four walls with a ball engineered to stick like Spidey-people do

Track & Swing Team - which Pavitr is a star member of

A small swim-and-dive team for the swimmers, and a small Roller Derby league for the skaters

Pavitr is also a star on the gymnastics team

There's also things like ballet groups, though Gwen doesn't take part

There's a REALLY GOOD Glee club. Spider-strength gives some crazy lung-capacity.

Disco is on the Glee club, and they take it very seriously

Living on campus doesn't threaten your home verse - you'll still be on call!

Lyla monitors all universes for anamolies - sending Anamoly Teams of 2-6

However if your universe experiences a non-anamoly, your watch will be pinged for a mandatory report, and you'll be sent to your universe to handle it

As such, your watch is like a doctor's pager. You can be called for anamolies or your universe at any time (If you're an active member in your universe, living on Society Campus, or have a contact negotiated for that. Class S members like Hobie can negotiate to be Selective Active members)

There's a little underground Spider-market

If you ask Hobie, he can definitely hack your watch for you.

If your Electro has been beating your ass, you can get your hands on electro-resistant webbing without spending points.

The Society has a small group of people willing to trade you for anything you've got, or even just help you out for the hell of it.

You just have to know where and who to ask

There's a couple Spideys that don't pay electric because someone hooked them up with a super clean Futuristic generator

MJ's, Black Cats, Osborns, and Deadpools are allowed on campus with clearance, a daypass, and a chaperone (their Spidey)

Only for short periods, or if they're super injured. An MJ might pop in when Peter forgets his lunch.

Aunt Mays are not.

It's considered very rude to call them by their 'base names' - ie. calling MJs 'Mary-Janes' or calling Black Cats 'Felicias'

Not all MJs are Mary-Janes

Though, using the term 'a Parker' is common on campus to refer to large Peter Parker population

Roughly 45-50% of the people on campus are named Peter.

There's other 'groups' - such as 'Not-Parkers' (Non-Peter iterations like Pavitr), and 'Duplicates' (Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, MJs, Felicia Hardy NightSpider etc)

Though calling them these things are way less common or accepted than calling someone a Parker ('Not-Parker'is neutral. 'Duplicate' is offensive)

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

July 10th

~*~

1. thanks in advance :) i hope you don't mind a nsfw itmf req. can you/the community recommend any good fics with bimboification vibes? specifically with wwx as the one undergoing it. i've read several fics like this, but i'm hoping there are more i haven't found

Baby, You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet by TriviasFolly (E, 177k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Omega LSZ, Mafia, Crime, Sects are Clans, Feral WWX, Feral Omegas, Nurse WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Possessive LWJ, feminine WWX, wwx’s cannon desire to be a sugar baby/trophy wife, Breeding Kink, Mpreg) A/B/O dynamics, long fic, modern AU mafia setting, really great

~*~

2. Hi for the next itmf I was wondering if anyone had some time travel gone wrong? Like, maybe wwx tries to go to the past but instead he only sends resentment and it ends up haunting the wwx of the past or sometimes. Thanks!

Grief and Blame, Interwoven by donutsweeper (T, 2k, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Character Death, Dark, discipline whip, Time Travel) LXC uses time travel and changes something to fix things but it doesn't work remotely as he'd thought it would

🔒❤️ the thing with feathers by RoseThorne  (G, 43k,wangxian, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Fear, Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect) link in #12

❤️ A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, time travel, not Jiang friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, happy ending of sorts, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, fix-it, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, except JC, He can suffer, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, not YZY friendly) has time travel that was fueled by resentful energy so more monsters are encountered in the new timeline.

Lan Yuan's War by BurningTea (G, 196k, LSZ & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, WangXian, LWJ & WQ, WIP, Time Travel, Dad LWJ, Sunshot Campaign, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Rumours, Lots of rumours about LWJ, several people worry about LWJ, CQL Verse, Mental Health Issues, LWJ is very much not okay, Time travel has consequences, Sick LWJ) has time travel that affects the golden cores and health of those who traveled through time.

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3. Hi, for the next itmf, can you suggest some fics where A-yuan and Lan Jingyi are twins

🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

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4. thank you for your work !! itmf any fic where either yl!wwx gets transported to the future, or he comes back to life after his death, and his name has been cleared/he’s been missed/basically he isn’t met with hatred and killing intent. thanks again!

🧡 The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 363k, WangXian, Ridiculously Long Notes, History, Canon Divergence, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX)

Until The End by abCEE (M, 365k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, war changes people, resulting to OOC, no pinning, Established Relationship, Mpreg, Good Uncle LQR, a little grey LWJ, a bit of JC bashing from LWJ, BAMF JYL, 16 years of yearning, mainly CQL verse but has scenes from the novel as well, LSZ is WangXian’s Child, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Canon Rewrite, Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts) might work. It isn’t time travel, rather a canon rewrite, but circumstances happen and in the years WWX is absent his name is cleared.

🔒 不忘 | Don't Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Reincarnation, Fix-It of Sorts, Identity Porn, Social Media, Devotion, Reunions, Feelings, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Bondage, Names, References to Canon, Modern Era, Artist WWX, Sexual Content, Pining, POV Multiple, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

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5. Hi! This is for ITMF where WWX works as medical examiner or a coroner or he works in lab like in "i really want to know (who are you)" by Stratisphyre

Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

Slaughter House by Duochanfan (M, 24k, future WangXian, LXC/NMJ, NHS/JC, Light Angst, Drama, Crime Scenes, Crime Drama, Psychometric WWX, Coroner WWX, detective LWJ, Detective JC, slight romance, Amnesia, Past Kidnapping, Murder Mystery, Reference to Autopsies, dead bodies, Single Parent WWX, Modern)

Post Mortem by Cataclysmic_Calamity (E, 178k, WangXian, Psychological Horror, Modern, friends with benefits, they’re both fucked up but they love each other so much, Slow Burn Mystery, Unnegotiated Kink, Dom/sub, Anal Sex, Consensual Non-Consent, Stalking, Drug Addiction, Serial Killers, in WWX’s desire to critique the ‘final girl’ trope he accidentally becomes one, Angst with a Happy Ending, meta commentary on the horror and true crime genres) medical examiner WWX, thriller/horror, stalking but not between Wangxian, extremely good writing, very worth the read

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6. sorry if this has been asked before but for im ITMF a fic where lan wangji is very overprotective of wei wuxian. preferably because wwx's death traumatized him, but id also take any other overprotective fics. thank you!!!! @stgroversfire

So Full Of Love (Wouldn’t Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 63k, WIP, WangXian, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Blood and Violence, Idiots in Love, Humor, Mafia AU, Modern AU, Flirting, shameless WWX, Confident WWX, Explicit Language, Mutual Sexual Tension, dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Exhibitionism Sex, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings) modern AU mafia, dark Wangxian, like they're both really fucked up

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7. hello hardworking mods! i can see that you're working on a backlog, so no rush, and thanks for your hard work!! i would love to see a fic where any member of the cast is trans, and learning how to deal with second puberty - preferably ftm, and not treated like a crack fic. bonus points if its wwx and he gets totally railed, bonus bonus points if there are lovely family dynamics centred around someone being lovingly accepted.

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8. Hello good! This fandom is so big that I was wondering if fanfics were written with Lan Wangji condemned to live the same fate as his mother. Mama Lan was always a compelling mystery to me, canon LWJ was more in line with making her father's mistake, but then I thought about Mama Lan and went wild thinking "What if?" It would be a delicious avalanche of mixed feelings and strange curveballs for Wangxian to end up like this, considering their dynamic and how they are as people. I don't know what tag to use to find something like this (if it exists), so I would really appreciate your help! Thanks for your time in advance @makolashida

I haven't read any fanfics of that type but maybe dark!Wei Wuxian + bottom Lan Wangji could give some results? Maybe just bottom Lan Wangji + gusu lan sect bashing

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9. I m new to this... I don't really know how this works but... Are there any fics where Wei Ying goes to therapy and just processes his trauma? @ishipwenqingwithmyself

Better By Change by NebulusCharlie (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Therapy, Not JC Friendly, gaslighting JYL, Happy Wangxian, Fluffy wangxian, Boundaries, healthy mindspace) it's a modern AU, involves JC + JYL bashing, doesn't deal with canon WWX trauma like losing his core/various family deaths/war trauma

redemption lies plainly in truth by kaseyskat (T, 5k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JL & WWX, WQ & WWX, WWX & JYL, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Character Study, WWX is allowed to mourn, that's it that's the fic, Reconciliation, mentions of WWXs past) set in canon so no therapy in the modern sense but WWX gets time to process some of his grief

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Found Family, Modern AU, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Musicals, POV Alternating, Baking, Yunmeng reconciliation (eventually), Friend Zoning, Literal Sleeping Together, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks) modern AU, WWX gets a therapist in this one, no canon trauma processing but deals with modern trauma

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10. Are there any fics, where wangxian end up talking about LXC calling WWX LWJ's one mistake? Or where LWJ finds out his brother said that. Thank you for all your amazing work. I adore this blog. @winxhelina

🔒💖 When has silence saved anyone?by Vrishchika (T, 6k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, post-canon, LXC  critical, family feels, angry LWJ & LSZ, LXC gets scolded) really wonderful writing, takes a critical look at LXC

Wei Ying Was Not A “MISTAKE” by Jeeny271196 (Not rated, 6k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, BAMF LWJ, confrontation, hurt/comfort, protective LWJ, not LXC friendly) LWJ snaps back at LXC

Enough! by Jeeny271196 (Not Rated, 12k, WangXian, WIP, Gusu Lan Sect Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, JC Bashing, LXC Bashing, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics) WWX is the one who snaps back at LXC

break by justdoityoufucker (T, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LXC Critical, JC Critical, Canonical Character Death, Guānyīn Temple Scene, BAMF WN, Protective WN) Wen Ning is the one who snaps back at LXC

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11. ITMF fics (non modern au) that explore WWX’s time on the street and the consequences of it please and thank you @dynmo13

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12. for itmf any fics about wei wuxians childhood in yunmeng jiang sect mostly canon but they save yunmeng jiang sect/not everyone dies and madame yu is not written as an antagonist or she has redemption arc something like that

tysm @r3n-vy

🔒❤️ the thing with feathers by RoseThorne  (G, 43k,wangxian, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Fear, Recovery, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect)

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13. Itmf wwx having a daughter

Jiang Xiaolian's Guide to Motherhood and Gardening by bumbledees (T, 14k, WangXian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, Crack Taken Mostly Seriously, like many of WWX's best ideas it starts as a joke!, and then i write it, canon is sad bitch let's get you some fun, purposeful baby aquisition, john mulaney voice: you know those days when you're like 'this might as well happen', that's this fic, WWX when will you learn that there are consequences to your actions, have a melon baby) sort of but not really mpreg? there's no actual pregnancy, just some WWX-typical cultivation shenanigans

sweet lotus petals, unfolding in the sun by stiltonbasket (G, 33k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, JC & WWX, Unplanned Pregnancy, Married WangXian, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Curtain Fic, wangxian are dads and it hurts so good, Medical Inaccuracies, heaps of them, Mpreg, lxc is best bro, someone save JC, wangxian dual cultivation baby, except not how you think, the radish method gets an upgrade, Reincarnation) mpreg WWX

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending)

🔒 Little Stars by Aki_no_hikari (G, 4k, WangXian, Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

The Trouble with Talismans: a Treatise on Time-Travel by Young Master Lan Xiaohui (Age 6) by stiltonbasket (G, 26k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, LXC/NMJ, Time Travel, wangxian get smacked in the face with their future children, Parenthood, Developing Relationship, Getting Together, a-yuan is the best big brother, xiao-yu has a, Very bad day, baby just wants his a-niang, and for his parents to GET IT TOGETHER already, Happy Ending, Confused WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, lwj is panicking)

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14. Hi! I'm in the mood for any good recommendations for fanfics that aren't on AO3. Any favorite Tumblr posts, or anything on other sites. Smut or Fluff very welcome! But anything goes. @hikato-chan

Shattered Mirrors Master Post by @besanii

rebuttable presumption masterpost by @sarah-yyy

The requester for 14 should be sure to check out the non-AO3 fic compilations: Non-AO3 Part 1 (Twitter) | Pt.2

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15. Hey! Not sure if my prev. ask got sent so if this is a duplicate please delete. For ITMF - do you know of any fics that challenge the practice of seclusion? It's just the more I think about it the more it seems like the in-universe version of celebrities going to "rehab" at upscale resorts to avoid taking responsibility for their behavior. So I'd like to see a character (possibly lxc?) dragged back out again to clean up their own mess.

Scattered ashes and dispersed smoke series by AshayaTReldai (E, 50k, Past LXC/WWX, WangXian, SL/XXC, Past Mpreg, LXC in Seclusion, Post-LXC in Seclusion, Angst, Family systems theory and differentiation, Broken LXC, but we're going to give him the opportunity to heal, Daoism, PTSD, Abuse, Mental Coercion, Mental Abuse, JGY has a lot to answer for, Dark WWX, Dark LXC, WWX's Birthday, Angry rant, the raw truth) This is a 2 part series, canon divergence AU. Changes are big but don't actually shift the overall plot. (Changes are WWX and LXC have an arranged marriage at first, golden core goes to LXC, WWX and LXC are A-Yuan's birth parents.) That stuff isn't really important and is kind of just mentioned, the focus is on LXC facing his mistakes and actually growing as a person. Wangxian happy ending.

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16. Is there wangxian fics where the gusu classroom sees wangxian's future and shamelessness? what led to deaths framing wwx? Whodunnit and why? @tjrc18

💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, First Love, Love Confessions, Fluff and Humor, accidental time travel due to one husband malfunctioning array, teen wangxian meet adult wangxian, Happy Ending, adding extra chapter, in this household we hate JGS, in which WWX love library pavilion, (in a way) Yiling Laozu x Hanguang Jun, Denial, Mutual Pining)

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17. fics where wwx has wings. or a fic where wwx only has a (raven?) wing and lwj saw it and fell in love if I'm not mistaken @quwieiidkd

you'll love me at once (the way you did once upon a dream) by sweetlolixo (T, 18k, WangXian, Dark Fairytale, Inspired by Maleficent (2014), Wingfic, Sleeping Beauty with a twist, Maleficent WWX, Prince LWJ, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, young prince lwj flirts with MILF wwx that's it that's the fic, just kidding there is also, Angst with a Happy Ending, True Love's Kiss, Three Chaotic Fairies NHS NMJ and JGY, A Fairytale Iteration of "Lan Zhan you like Mian Mian?!") maleficent AU WWX

the sleeper's gift by iliacquer (T, 6k, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Torture, Disability, A curse within a curse within a curse, Wingfic, Sleeping Beauty Retelling, Maleficent WWX, Reincarnation, Sometimes love lasts multiple lifetimes I guess, True Love's Kiss) another maleficent AU but more intricate, cursed LWJ and WWX

Two is a Pair, Three is a Murder by cosmicworry14 (E, 6k, WangXian, Wingfic, winged!wwx, demonic bird wwx, Bird/Human Hybrids, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Possessive WWX, Animal Instincts, Courting Rituals, Blood and Gore, Dark) winged WWX due to burial mounds

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[xmalereader]

Five Hargreeves x Chef! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

SUMMARY: After the events of TUA S3, Fives is left without his powers and can finally try to have a normal life without relying on his abilities. Trapped in a his teenage body at the age of fifty he can finally retire at a nice little town, getting himself a job as a waiter in the towns famous ‘Daybreak Diner’ where he befriends the owner and chef of the place. Not only that, but Fives has competition with the bakery across the street.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: Pure fluff, mature language, crossovers between characters, and bakery verse, reader is a chef and an adult, fives is around 15-16 years old, platonic parent, found family, fives and Alex are enemies to lovers, mentions of Simon Riley and his baker husband, cooking, fives hates customers, love sick teenagers.

WC: 1.5K

NOTES: Hello everyone! It’s a new year, meaning new format and new characters and ideas! I’ve actually been thinking about this idea for awhile now and decided to create my own little baker or cooking verse between one of my favorite series of Simon Riley and perhaps a new one starting with Five Hargreeves! Please, feel free to leave some feedback and if you wish to read some more of this cooking verse then I’ll be more than happy to make more!

Daybreaks Diner was a simple restaurant that served grilled and raw sea food dishes. It was one of the popular places in town that many people went to eat after leaving work either to relax with some alcohol in their system or perhaps a nice shrimp cocktail that many people enjoyed. The place had only been standing for a few years, owned by one single person who did all of the cooking and cleaning before and after closing for the day, everyone in town knew who the chef was and how passionate he is when it comes towards his menu and various food choices.

Some would say that he was in competition with the bakery across the street due to both owners always getting caught conversing with each other, only for the rumor to be shut down after it became clear the the two were simply friends and helped each other out when it comes towards new ideas for their own places.

It wasn’t until their time together slowly decreased going from days to only a few hours. Only to find out that his good friend had recently found someone that helped him in the bakery which later resulted in them getting married and getting the family he always wanted and keeping himself busy in the bakery. The two still talked, but they were both moving on with their lives and busy with their own dreams.

It wasn’t until a year later that he hired a sixteen year old teenager to work in his diner. He was hesitant about the kid at first only to find out that he no place nor a job and was easily persuaded into hiring the kid and evening letting the kid rent out his extra room upstairs. It took some adjusting for him, waking up in the mornings to find the teenager with messy bed hair and drinking black coffee on the small table that he had in his dining room, silent as always only to get a bit chatty when the two head downstairs to prep for the day.

The other strange thing that he hasn’t gotten used to yet was the kids name, Fives.

Did this kids parents hate him so much that they gave him a number for a name?

Fives never spoke about his past nor about his family and kept to himself. That wasn’t until he caught the kid having a nightmare late one night, jolting him awake when hearing the kids scream which caused him to spend the night sleeping on the floor after the kid asked him to stay with him even though his words sounded forced as if he didn’t want him there at all. Y/n didn’t know shit about kids nor did he consider himself a parent since he’s been alone for majority of his adult life to the point where his main focus became his restaurant and now this kid too.

After having Fives live with him for almost six months now, the teenager had grown on him and enjoyed his presence even though the kid himself can be a little sarcastic bastard whenever they were alone.

It was the weekend and the restaurant usually opens late, giving Y/n the time to get everything prepped without any problems as he stood on the other side of the counter, cutting up various vegetables while glancing over to Five who had his face pressed against the glass window, staring across the street with a frown on his face.

“If you keep staring they’ll notice.” He speaks up but Fives doesn’t budge from his spot, glaring down at Alex from across the street at the other teenager worked on writing out todays specials for his fathers bakery. “He thinks some piece of bread with white crap on top is better than my specials?” Fives hissed out, earning an eye roll from Y/n.

When Y/n first introduced Fives to his friend he expected his friends son, Alex to get along only to get the total opposite. Fives loathed the guy and Alex felt the same way towards him. Their hatred started over who’s food was better either the bakery or the diner and neither saw eye to eye and the boys always turned everything into a competition.

“There chocolate filled croissants are good—“

Fives whips his head to glare at Y/n when hearing his comment. He can’t help but laugh at his expression and shake his head, he used to find the kid so intimidating at times and now his looks never phase him anymore. “You two are always fighting.” He mumbled to himself and focused on the fish next and moves around the counter and placed the different ingredients out in order to get lunch ready.

“Come on Fives, clean the tables and set down the chairs the lunch rush is gonna hit soon.” He orders the kid around who does as he’s told, walking around the counter to put on his own apron and tying it around his waist and grabbing a table cloth. It became a regular routine for the two, Y/n prepping the food while Fives cleans the place and gets the tables set for any customer that are to come even though Fives was the only waiter he did the work fast and wasn’t afraid of taking back to customers who talked badly about the food or complained about the smallest things, remembering him threatening a family who couldn’t control their kids running around the place and ruining other people’s nights.

Fives didn’t hesitate to approach the table, slamming the bill on their counter while giving them a wide grin. “If you don’t control your kids I am more than happy to do it for you and believe me it ain’t gonna be a pretty sight.” The parents thought he was joking around and laughed at Fives words only for Y/n to wince at the couples response, knowing damn well that he wasn’t joking.

Fives sighed through his nose before slamming his hand on the table, startling not just the couple but the other customers around them while speaking out loud to them. “Listen here ass, I have spent the last five minutes dealing with your kids running around this place while serving food to everyone else and I am caring around hot and cold plates and if one of your kids bumps into me and gets that food on them, do not complain about your little mistake getting burned.”

Safe to say the parents listened to him and were able to control their kids.

Y/n relied on Fives with situations like that which rarely happened after that day, no one wanted to deal with the teens wrath.

As the two got ready, Fives was the one to turn on the ‘open’ sign on and step outside to wipe down the windows, using a rag to wipe them clean only to stop when he noticed Alex approaching him, making him glare as he focused on his task.

“I’d ask what you’re up to Fives, but then it occurred to me. I don’t care.” Said Alex while entering the resturant, leaving Fives outside who glared at Alex when entering the place, getting Y/n’s attention from over the counter and smiling at the other teen. “Alex! The usual today?” He questions as he began to get the food ready as Alex sits at the bar.

“The usual for dad and for Simon he actually wanted to try one of your specials.” Alex points towards the menu behind Y/n and let him know that Simon wishes to try the third special on the menu.

Y/n works on getting the food ready. “Why do you call him Simon? Why not dad too?” He knows that his friend and his husband have been married for awhile which lead up to Simon finally adopting Alex as his own kid too. “I guess I’m used to it yet?” Alex shrugs his shoulders while leaning his elbows on the counter top and reaching over to steal one of the juice boxes only to get his hand smacked with a towel making him yelp in surprise.

“Hey, thats for customers only.” Fives cuts in, tossing his dirty towel into the sink while Alex grumbled. “I’m a valuable customer here.”

“To me you ain’t, so if you want the juice box you gotta pay.” The two boys glare at each other and Y/n is quick to cut the tension between the two. “Alright that’s enough you two.” He sets a bag of food in front of Alex, “Here you go, also tell your dad to send me some those specials too.”

“I will,” Alex responds while taking the bag with him, shooting Fives a smirk when Y/n slips the juice box in the bag which makes Fives groan as the two watch him leave the restaurant. It was normal for both owners to try each others specials without charge due to them being close friends after so many years together.

Y/n watched Alex, making sure that he got back to the bakery without any accidents, sighing in relief once the teen makes it inside only to turn around to face Fives who had his arms crossed over his chest while frowning. “Do you want me to kill him?”

[stormxpadme]

There's a bit of fanfiction negativity in the tags :(. Looking for something to cheer me up, what's your personal scogan fanfic favorites?

Yeah, I saw that, both in the scogan and scogean tag, with posts even including the character name tags. Like. Not cool, people. Way to make authors feel shitty who have been guarding the ship lighthouse for the last 20 years. Claiming in the most popular tags, there's only like 1 good fic among more than 1500? Wow, okay. So I was very happy to receive your ask. Let's counter that negativity with some awesome scogan reads!

Damaged by scottxlogan

Can't do any scogan rec list without including the leading authority on the subject. @scottxlogan is the author who pulled me into this ship years ago, not to mention they're a great friend, unbelievably talented writer and artist, and they deserve all the love. Damaged is surely one of their most ambitious projects and deserves every single view, kudos and review out there. Set in the DOFP finale verse that is no doubt the author's specialty, the story comes with an alluring, intricated plot that leaves you on the edge of your seat along with all the feels.

Submission by scottxlogan

I'm also including a newer work by the same author in case you just want to get a feel for how wonderfully she writes these guys, not to mention the shameless steamy goodness that are the author's smut scenes. scottxlogan is an expert at reversing common fandom tropes believably, and this will leave you longing for more of these power exchanges easily.

he carries the reminders by Wolfsheart

@mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea is another great friend and author I would trust even with my biggest squicks (not that she writes those anyway :D). She's not only technically brillant and very well-versed in the lore which makes every pairing she writes a great read (check out her Tony/Emma, too!), but she'll also never fail to make you laugh or put those hearts in your eyes. And don't miss all those pop culture references that even put Peter Parker to shame! She also gives us scogan fans exactly what we need with stories like this one, combining our fav hurt/comfort tropes with a healthy dose of canon fix it.

I loved you since I knew you by strangenewwords

@strangenewwords is a fairly new and dearly beloved addition to our group at @scoganbingo events, but she's already made a huge impact with her delicious smut and angst stories that hit you right in the feels. Technically also brillant, the linked story is definitely one you don't want to get spoilered for beforehand because the ending will leave you in absolute awe and tears. The author doesn't shy away from including the darkest sides of Scott's past but handles every subject with the necessary care and respect, and as I said ... You don't want to miss out on all that delicious smut!

The Day Before the Soldiers Came by Cerylid

Cery is offering a much-needed fixit for the team dynamics between the X-Men and Logan before X2 with this story. It comes with a lot of humor but also far more feels than you expect. The texting is hilarious but it's the quiet tones that get to you.

*****

Speaking of fix-its, since that negativity in the tags kinda got to me, too, I might just throw in one of my own works here too since I also got lots of Scogan stuff out there.

My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

is basically my go-to X3 fix-it. You look for something to make that movie right, you got it all right there. Along with a bit of horror (we are talking about resurrection, after all) comes a dramatic rescue mission in a mental limbo, and you get an Avenger and Emma Frost guest-starring. There's a couple of follow up chapters that explore both scogan and Tony/Emma a bit further, and we even get a Laura version in old movieverse along the line, and of course all the nasty nasty smut you guys are here for.

########

So, that's it from the top of my hat. All these accounts have even more great stories to check out, and there's lots of other scogan authors out there with great stories to enjoy. So don't let anyone tell you, there's no quality scogan stuff on AO3.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Hii there love <3 I hope you’re doing well!

Would you mind please writing a drabble in the Elementary-verse where Reader surprises Joel and Sarah (and even Tommy as well, if you’d like!) with a homemade meal for dinner one night? Now that Reader was assured by Joel that it was more than okay for her to do something like this, I feel like she definitely would and it’d be super sweet 🥺💞 Thank you for being so amazing <3

Winter Break

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: F (just more fluff, alcohol consumption i guess, maybe some suggestive stuff but nothing explicit at all) as always, not proofread and written on an edible :)

wc: 2k (this got away from me)

series masterlist | joel masterlist

The winter had gotten to all of you, the school year wearing you down along with Sarah as she finished her first semester as a high schooler. Joel and Tommy had it just as bad—having to work outside in the wettest Texas winter you’d ever seen since moving here. More often than not, Joel would come hobbling into the house after he got off work well past dark, only having the energy to call in some take-out for the three of you. He usually ended up falling asleep on the sofa before the food ever arrived.

But tonight marked the start of winter break, and the start of Joel’s vacation days he was in desperate need of. You wanted to celebrate getting through such a rough month with a home cooked meal—not the first you ever made, but certainly the first in a while.

When Sarah got out of school, the two of you drove over to the supermarket to do some shopping. You didn’t want any of you to have to leave the house this winter break, so on top of the usual snacks and frozen junk food Joel kept his fridge stocked with, you also carefully planned dinner for tonight.

“Ooo, vegetables. Been a while since I had those,” Sarah joked, forcing a laugh out of you as you knew it was sadly true.

“Gonna make a roast tonight,” you informed with a smile. “Figured we should probably eat something other than takeout and frozen pizza.”

“Dad’s gonna be excited…long as he can manage to stay awake through dinner. Dad fell asleep on the way to school this morning.” You gasped and watched her nod. “Yeah, good thing Uncle Tommy was driving. Otherwise—“

“Jesus,” you sighed and shook your head. “I’m gonna lock your father up and force him to sleep for like two days straight starting tomorrow.”

“I don’t need sleep like y’all,” Sarah impersonated her father, pulling another laugh out of you. “I’m a big, strong, man. I don’t need sleep or water or vegetables or anythin’ else most humans need to survive. All I need’s a cup of black coffee and I’ll be alright.”

“That was so good, I got chills.”

Back at home, you got to work on dinner. Sarah attempted to help you out, but you lovingly forced her to relax, instructing her to turn on the TV, kick her feet up and just chill while you handled things. But, the fifteen-year old was stubborn like her father and refused, instead choosing to sit at the kitchen table and finish her upcoming project due the week after school recommenced. As a teacher, you wanted to applaud her for her work ethic, but as her future step-mother, you wanted to pluck her pen from her hand and break it, forcing her to do what every other teenager in the world was doing tonight—nothing.

When it was clear she was going to spend her break her own way, you left her to it, focusing on chopping the potatoes, onions, and carrots—omitting celery as Sarah hated it and reminded you of that fact as you reached for a stalk at the grocery store. As you slid the potatoes in a pot to parboil, your cellphone started to ring on the counter.

“It’s dad,” Sarah announced, peeking at the caller ID.

“Can you get it?”

“Yeah,” Sarah nodded and flipped open the phone. “Hey dad.”

You continued on with dinner as they spoke, the phone call not lasting more than a couple minutes.

“Dad said Uncle Tommy is coming over tonight,” she relayed before getting back to her work.

“Good thing I bought the fattest roast in the store,” you spoke through strain as you lifted the roast from it’s packaging to sit in the middle of a metal roasting pan.

“God,” she chuckled at the size. “And you know what? I bet even with all of that, there’ll still be no leftovers by the time dad and Uncle Tommy get through with it.”

The boys entered the house the way the always did, bickering and graceless, their mud and cement covered work books kicked off by the door as they walked in through the garage.

“I’m just sayin’,” Tommy continued whatever conversation they had going on as they walked into the kitchen. Joel sidled up next to you at the stove, his hand rubbing the small of your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Yeah, but I’m tellin’ you,” Joel spoke to his brother but physically remained focused on you and your cooking. “If we can’t get the electrical guys to show up on time, we’re gonna be in some shit. And I know they’re your buddies and all, but this is my goddamn business, Tommy. I can’t keep hand in’ out favors only to get shitty, half-assed work in return.”

“I know,” he sighed and nodded. “I’ll talk to ‘em tomorrow.”

“What’s all this?” Joel mumbled against your temple as he gave you another kiss there, finally greeting you with his voice.

“Thought we were due for a real dinner,” you mumbled back, melting into his side even though he smelled of hard labor and dirt. “There’s a roast in the oven. Should be ready in about twenty minutes. Oh, and there’s beer in the fridge.”

“My god,” Joel gave your hip a squeeze and kissed your cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Damn right you don’t,” Tommy agreed as he appeared on your other side to peek at the food. “How long do I gotta sit in torture?”

“20 minutes,” you replied through a chuckle. “There’s beer in the fridge to distract yourself with in the meantime.”

“Joel, if you don’t marry her, I will.”

“Shut up and go sit down,” Joel ordered, tightening his hold on you. “Gotta keep my eye on him, might try stealin’ you away.”

“I promise you, there’s no chance of that,” you assured. “I’m happy where I’m at.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling at you. You turned your head to nod at him, your eyes naturally falling to his lips. “Me too.”

Dinner was alright. The meat could have been a bit more tender and the carrots needed longer, but you seemed to be the only one who noticed. All three Millers tore into dinner until, as Sarah predicted, there were no leftovers.

Now, Tommy laid sprawled out on the couch, his jeans unbuttoned, one hand over his full stomach, the other wrapped around a beer. Sarah sat with him on the other end of the sofa, kicking his feet away any time he tried to rest them near her. Joel looked to be in a similar condition as his brother, sitting back in a dining chair with both hands rubbing over his stomach, his eyes on you as you scraped your plate clean over the trash can.

“Don’t do the dishes,” he commanded, knowing you much too well. You shot him a smile and shook your head.

“It’ll just take fifteen minutes,” you promised, but it didn’t satisfy him. He stood, bones cracking as he walked to stand behind you at the sink. His hands moved from your hips to your hold your wrist. Slowly, he pulled up the sleeves of your sweater one arm at a time, his warmth pressing into you from behind.

“You wash, I’ll dry,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss there before backing away to stand beside you. “How was your last day before break?”

“Surprisingly very calm,” you replied, as you started on the pile of dishes in the sink. “Think everyone’s just excited to get a break. Speaking of, Sarah told me about your nap on the way to school this morning.”

“Oh, hell—just dozed off, it’s nothin. Not everybody needs ten hours of sleep a night to function—“ Your laughter cut him off. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He shot you a persistent look. “Sarah thought you’d say something like that.”

“She tried to do my voice, didn’t she?” he asked, making you laugh. “It ain’t a great impersonation.”

“I thought it was pretty good.” Joel smiled and accepted the freshly scrubbed plate from your hand with a playful tug.

“You look good tonight, baby,” he spoke quieter, just for you to hear. You felt your stomach tingle with affection at the sound of his low voice—the voice only you got to hear.

“Yeah?” you questioned with a smirk. Joel grinned and nodded in eager confirmation. “You’re just happy because you’ve got a full belly.”

“Dinner was delicious, by the way,” he continued, not detailed by your inability to receive a compliment. “Think one look at Tommy will prove it.”

Your heard turned to the other side to watch as Tommy snored on the sofa.

“Guess he’s staying the night,” you turned to Joel. “I should go get the air mattress—“

“Uh-uh,” he protested with a soft shake of his head. “He’s fine like that. You’re so worried about us relaxin’, you’ve forgotten you’re the most wound up outta all of us. Relax, baby. You are allowed to do that, ya know?”

You chuckled and nodded, looking away from his eyes and back to the dishes.

“How about you go get a fire going in the backyard and I’ll come and sit with you for a while,” you suggested, bringing a fresh smile to Joel’s face.

“I think that sounds like a slice of heaven,” he hummed against your cheek as he kissed you there. “Maybe I’ll even bring out the guitar.”

“That would be nice,” you beamed. Joel’s playing was so pretty, but also so rare. He never had the time for it, always either working or sleeping, but tonight, he had all the time in the world.

Tommy was asleep on the sofa, Sarah up in her bed doing the same thing. You and Joel remained cozied up together in the backyard, a blanket over your laps, your head leaning onto his shoulder as Joel strummed away at his guitar. It was cold out, but the fire raging in front of you did a sufficient job at keeping you toasty, not that you needed it. Joel made you feel plenty warm just by existing.

“You feelin’ sleepy?” he asked over the music. He must’ve caught your heavy eyelids attempting to close. You decided it would be best not to lie, the appeal of the bed and mountain of blankets to keep you warm responsible for keeping you honest.

“Yeah,” you croaked, nodding your head against his shoulder. Joel flattened his palm over the strings to quiet the music before standing up and walking it back into the house. You stood too, wrapping the blanket around your shoulder as you watched him return to put the fire out.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” he reminded.

“I want to,” you argued. He smiled at the dying embers, mumbling an okay.

You waited with him until the fire was completely ashed out, his arms wrapping around your waist to walk you inside. You carefully tiptoed through the house as to not wake Tommy and Sarah. The only sound in the entire house was the creak of the stairs beneath your feet as you padded up the stairs with Joel following at your heels.

“You gonna be grossed out if I don’t shower until the mornin’? I’m so tired—“

“As long as you’re okay with me being too tired for anything sexy tonight,” you replied from your side of the bed as you climbed in.

“We’ll do both in the mornin’ instead, how ‘bout that?” You smiled and nodded at him as he stripped down to his briefs and climbed into bed beside you. You guided him to turn his back to you so that you could hold him for a while, your hands rubbing and kneading at the tension in his back. “Mm, love you baby.”

“I love you,” you whispered back, continuing your massaging right up until you drifted asleep behind him, your hands hugged tight to his chest.

This was rest. This was peace.

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