#Trying to salvage what they could but their homes don’t even exist anymore

[stuckinapril]

Incredibly alarming that talks of “peace” in Gaza seem to extend no further than a ceasefire. How do you think they’re gonna start off where they left off themselves? Their houses are destroyed, so many have lost mothers and fathers and brothers and children, they still have no clean water and no food. Any area Israel withdraws out of is an area it already knows has been rendered inhospitable. There was even a direct quote by some IOF soldier gleefully stating how he “wasn’t sure Palestinians could go back to their homes.” So what happens when the US “succeeds at negotiating a ceasefire”? Who will be responsible for helping the Palestinians rebuild all that they’ve lost?

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

after his battle with obi wan, anakin is spared & is instead banished to a remote farm world. there is no darth vader, no suit, no extensive injuries. only inner turmoil. he must find peace & healing. but what he didn't expect, was to find a kind lady there who just wants to be loved & help him.

part two

a choose your own outcome story ! weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter ! hope you enjoy ! 💌

Sunflowers, part one

It is an unusual time of day.

The sky has already become a softened shade of violet, the wind whispering quietly as it passes by - the suns, still felt to be the warmest right before setting.

Anakin looks up towards the haze. It is the later part of Summer on this planet. A forgotten place with no name that he calls home now. His farm, still needing tending to, even though things are sparse and the people are few here. 

He keeps to himself often because he likes it that way, burying himself in his work, trying to forget things on repeat. Striking thoughts and vivid memories appearing to him in his headspace, never seeming just to go away. 

anakin, this isn't you...

you're going down a path I can not follow...

It’s as if he doesn’t truly want them to disappear. As though he needs to remember, just to keep going in some sick and twisted way. 

this isn’t living.

I’m only just existing…

Closing his eyes for a moment, Anakin lets out a calming exhale of breath, standing solemnly amongst the grass, as he becomes lost inside their gentle stream of swaying. It is the only thing he can allow of himself now. Something simple to ground himself in so that he can not feel anymore pain. Those insufferable feelings will happen later. At night, when sleeping is a luxury for him and he isn’t so busy. He doesn’t get much rest these days, consumed by every ounce of remembering. Wishing he could just turn everything off if only he had willed it to be so. To truly be emotionless. A thread of left behind humanity, constantly reeling him back in again. 

goodbye, old friend…

may the force be with you…

Anakin scoffs, adjusting his tunic before kneeling down into one of the plant beds, examining the delicate leaves taking shape on his now flowering vegetables. They’ll be ready to harvest very soon - he thinks. Which means, he’ll get to be proud of something for a change. Happy to have watched something grow, even if it had been on the outskirts of nowhere, in the middle of this strange and quiet town...

But then, he starts to think of his unborn children. Feeling as though he’d blown his only chance in life of watching them live, breathe, and thrive in the world. Considering the possibility of being a good father, teaching them what it means to be…

intelligent.

brave.

resourceful.

or even … good.

“I’m none of those things. Not anymore…” he says.

This time, not completely realizing that he’s said something to himself out loud, looking away from his dirt ridden hands to make sure that no one else had been there to notice.

But you had.

You always did. Even when you'd tried not to.

So beautiful, and smiling at him in the last remains of daylight.

Holding a freshly picked bunch of sunflowers in your arms, struggling a bit to hold onto all the stems.

“Here. Let me…”

He begins, brushing the palms of his hands onto the front of his pants, before making his way over to your small patch of land. 

I better help her before she loses them all…

don’t need anyone laughing at her.

no one. laughs. at. her…

“Oh…thank you so much Lars, you didn’t have to do that…”

Taking the flowers from her slightly shaken hands, he carefully begins to place them one by one into one of his garden baskets. Forgetting for a moment that he is no longer Vader, and no longer Anakin, either. That Lars is the only name now that he can go by. However misguided. It’s the only thing salvaged from his old life that he can have again. 

“Yes I did…better in here than on the ground. Don’t you have one of these things?” he says gruffly, focused on the task at hand. 

“I did…”

“What do you mean, you did?”

“Another farmer stole my only basket from me…among other things…they were upset, it was my fault anyway, and…”

“Upset? No matter of disagreement should ever warrant thievery.”

they don’t know the meaning of upset.

stealing from a lady…

really?

“They were angry when I didn’t return their affections. Now he’s trying to sabotage my business. Breaking things, poisoning my rose bushes... Spreading falsehoods about me and my family around the village…”

“Who. Is. He.?”

Anakin pauses deliberately between words, feeling a familiar heat inside himself rising to the surface.

Pointing to a house on the farthest side of town, he recognizes it immediately. 

Right opposite the lake.

The man is no farmer.

He's a vagrant fisherman.

Doing his own stretch of time on this desolate unlikely safe haven.

He must have escaped from someplace...

Avoiding a bounty...perhaps.

She's silent now. Perhaps he's frightened her with all of his wordless brooding.

Or...maybe it had something to do with the tightened closing of his fists.

I'm going to kill him.

“Go home. This will all be settled in the morning.”

“Settled…?”

He nods, having a hard time with being gentle. Trying his best to be reassuring.

But then, she smiles, her shoulders falling - relieved, before taking his hand. A metallic wonder resting in the palm of her own. She wishes that he can feel her, but somehow - strangely, she can almost sense that he does there.

“Thank you. I've been so afraid.”

Anakin hums, nodding in understanding.

If only she knew who was standing before her…

would she be in fear of me too here…?

doesn't matter…

But then...

Completely surprising him, she presses a kiss to his cheek.

Waves of unruly hair, almost getting in the way of it...

Leaving him standing there, contemplating a fight to be had in her honor at sunrise the next morning.

…❤️

a/n - thanks so much for reading ! 💫 I've been inspired to write a story again, & what better way to do it than to get everyone involved in the writing process too 😊 this idea has been swirling around in my mind (& drafts folder) for a while now, so it's been really exciting to see it come back to life in a whole new way. each part of the story will be cross posted to ao3, & will be tagged on tumblr with 'sky lady story time 💌' hope you enjoyed this first installment ! I'm excited to see what you guys want to see happen next 🌼☕📖 xo A

[laurenairay]

I loved and I loved and I lost you - J. Hughes

Summary: Sometimes, relationships just end.

Warnings: Pure angst

Words: 1.7k

A/N: I don’t know even know what this is or where it came from, but here it is. Needed to get some angst off my chest in the healthiest way I could think of, and I feel so much better for it. Hopefully I’ll write something for Jack that’s not so angsty another time!

Title from Hurts Like Hell, by Fleurie

*

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

You didn’t know when the end had started. There wasn’t anything in particular that had triggered this downfall, this spiral that you’d been floating on for as long as you could remember. Parties had lost their shimmer, all the laughter and conversations feeling stilted and fake. Nights out clubbing had lost all their energy, the loud music and bright lights grating like they never had before. Date nights were rare, as were the random romantic surprises he’d dotted around in the first year or so. Watching him play hockey felt like you were just going through the motions, barely able to feel anything when you would once scream with pride. Even nights in together were lacklustre, as infrequent as they were, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa like the two of you were flatmates rather than lovers.

Somewhere along the line, your relationship with Jack Hughes had drifted into nothingness, and you didn’t know how to salvage it. You longed for his laughter, his love, his touch, but you weren’t sure you knew how to ask anymore. Gone were the days where you felt cherished and adored, all replaced with brief kisses in passing and half-hearted words that felt rehearsed. Everything inside you that used to bubble over with excitement and joy and wonder felt like an aching chasm, empty and depleted, nothing left to recover. Like you were trying to grab at frayed strings to hold onto, but it all just flickered out into smoke between your fingers. You wondered if it was the same for Jack too, although he’d never said a word about the obvious diminishing of the passion between you two. It felt like you were a ghost, drifting along at his side, just simply existing in a world that used to make you feel like you were on fire.

It was almost a relief when Luke signed to the team, moving in with the two of you.

And it helped you see that it wasn’t all just in your head – Jack had changed. The apathy he’d been showing you for longer than you cared to admit was nowhere to be seen when he interacted with his brother. That laughter you fell in love with years ago filled your apartment where it had been so quiet before. The rapid conversation, filled with energy and jokes, once again lit up Jack’s body like a livewire, the two brothers making the apartment feel like a home once more. Even the smile that had made you weak at the knees when you first met him had made its way back – and you couldn’t remember when he had stopped smiling like that at you to begin with. You had no doubt that you held blame in this crumbling relationship too. In a way, the fact you hadn’t noticed how bad everything had gotten was damning in itself. Your own blindsided realisations had to have come from somewhere, and you knew in your heart that Jack wasn’t the only one at fault for letting things get to how they are. It felt like you were just moving along in a fog, the public kissing and hand-holding some kind of act, and you knew you shouldn’t feel so empty, not like this. But you couldn’t stop any of it, couldn’t vocalise any of it, thoughts feeling like they were in slow motion while the rest of the world raced by. How had things gone from so good to so bad so quietly?

There was no anger, no burning need to confront him, no reason to hate him to any degree. He’d never cheated, couldn’t even fathom the thought, and neither had you. There were no lingering arguments, no irritations, no hurtful reasons for you to leave, not really. There was just…nothing. Nothing left inside that held any meaning, not like it used to. You felt nothing when you once felt on top of the world, consumed with joy and love and laughter, and knowing the difference? Knowing how much you felt before compared to how little you felt now? That cut you deep most of all.

It was all of this that made your decision easier than you thought.

When you thought about a future with him, all you could picture was an endless tunnel, taking steps forward each day with an interminable road in front of you. No journey, no destination, just emptiness. A void, if you will, and if nothing else that scared you. What was there to stay for, if there was no future you could envision with him?

Why stay?

It was only once that thought passed your mind that you felt a clarity for the first time in a long time. A beacon of hope out of the darkness that had taken over you so completely. Leaving Jack was your answer.

Leaving Jack.

Leaving Jack?

A different kind of ache filled your chest as your decision settled into your bones, the deep unnerving sadness of a life together that could’ve been wonderful if it hadn’t fallen apart. A swirling pool of missed opportunities, a life you could’ve had, all washing away down the drain like it meant nothing at all when it had once meant everything to you. Because it had been your everything, once upon a time. You’d loved Jack with your whole heart, body, and soul…but those feelings were gone, that love was nowhere to be found. It had all left you – and now you had to leave too.

While Jack was away with the team, you packed your bags. Years together had accumulated a lot of shared belongings, and in what felt like a haze you picked up only the things that you knew Jack wouldn’t claim as his own. Years together melted down into a few bags, a couple of suitcases, and half a dozen boxes. Everything that had once symbolised your life together, reduced to essentially nothing. Nothing. Staring at the pile by the front door only made you feel even more hollow, like you were cracked open without anything holding back the aching in your chest, and it was all you could do to retreat back to the bedroom you’d once shared, tearing a page out of a notepad Jack always left on his nightstand.

It didn’t feel enough, writing him a goodbye letter. It didn’t feel enough and yet there was nothing more you could do in this moment. You couldn’t call him – you knew he would be too busy to answer. And if he did answer, what good would that do with him down in California with the team? He couldn’t come back and you couldn’t bear the thought of him asking you to stay. Or not asking you to stay at all. Texting him felt too bland, even if it would be as impassionate as you felt right now. A sentence typed out on a phone felt too impersonal for all the memories you had together, the ones that you’d been clinging to longer than you could remember. Not saying anything at all would just be cruel, and as much as your relationship had reduced to wisps of air, he deserved more than that.

That didn’t mean it hurt any less to write down your thoughts on the page. As you struggled to write out the words that’ll end everything, all the missing emotions slammed into your chest, both stabbing and twisting in sharp agony, and overwhelming you like a tidal wave, leaving you stranded in shock as you struggled to breathe. A high keening noise filled your ears, and it wasn’t until you gasped for a jagged breath that you realised the noise was clawing out from your own throat. Tears trailed down your cheeks, obscuring your vision as your writing continued on, shaky in this final act to sever what remained between the two of you. Tears. These tears were the first you’d shed, and they felt like a river cascading down your face, dripping off your chin, stinging your eyes. An unending river draining your emotions from your body for what felt like hours, until you were left gasping for breath with a red puffy face, washed out and dried out like a husk.

But it was done. With your final words to him, you let your heart start to let him go, head swimming with the dull throb of losing the boy that had been your rock for so long, your safe space. Where were you supposed to go from here? What were you supposed to do without him? It was overwhelming, finally knowing what it was like to be alone, having nothing to hold onto. But you’d been alone for a while, in truth, and it took the last of your willpower to leave the note on your pillow for him to find, for whenever he returned home. With one last look at the bed the two of you shared, the ache in your heart almost too much to bear, you left, walking away from the life you once shared with Jack into a future that you had no idea what to do with.

But it was for the best. It had to be.

~

Dear Jack,

If you’re reading this, I’m already gone. I’ve loved you, and I’ve lost you. I don’t know when but it hurts like hell. What we had has been over for a while and I don’t think either of us knew how to change that. So I’m changing that for us. Someone has to, before we wind up hating each other and I can’t bear the thought of poisoning the happy memories we shared. I know you must hate me right now, but in time you’ll thank me for walking away when both of us should’ve left a long time ago I hope you find someone who makes you as happy as we once were.

Take care of yourself x

~

Tagging a few who might like this: @wyattjohnston @starshine-hockey-girl @senditcolton​ @fallinallincurls​ @thebookofmags​ @sorryjustafangirl @jostyriggslover96​ 

[allthesmutl0vers]

The Fate Of Us: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Y/n

The moment my feet touch the ground, it’s as if I’ve been through a whirlwind. The world around me spins, and I struggle to find my balance.

Chuck, a familiar face, is quick to react as I stumble. His hand wraps around my arm, steadying me. “Woah, easy there,” he chuckles softly. “Here, let me help,” I hear him say before his fingers land gently on my forehead. A warm feeling courses through my body, taking away the dizzy feeling and replacing it with calmness. “There, is that better?” He asks kindly.

I look up at him, the sun shining against his brown hair, and he smiles down at me. “Yeah, loads,” I say as I take in my surroundings.

The scent of motor oil and rusted metal fills my nostrils as I take in the grounds of the Singer Auto Salvage yard. The lived-in house that I know holds the start of my journey, whether that journey is to save Chuck or kill him. One way or another, I’m not writing the story anymore.

I’m living it.

“I can’t believe it,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m actually here.”

Chuck moves to stand beside me. “You are y/n, and I have one more surprise for you,” he says, looking at me from my side. I turn to face him. “You know how dangerous this world is, and even though I know you know how to kill everything, you’re not a hunter,” he says softly. “And as I’m sure you can imagine, I don’t have a chance if you die. When I touched your forehead, I made you immortal.”

I take a step back, trying to understand. “What— what do you mean immortal?” I ask, trying to take in everything that has happened to me in the last two hours. “Like, I can’t be killed?

Chuck nods his head slowly. “Yes, exactly like that. Nothing in this world can kill you. You can still be hurt,” he clarifies. “But you can’t be killed. Not by any weapons that exist in this world. You can’t be smited or possessed by angels or demons either.”

“Does that mean I’ll live forever? Like longer than anyone here?” I ask nervously.

I didn’t ask for that.

Chuck pulls a small vial from his pocket, a silver chain connected to it to make a necklace. “As long as you wish to live,” he hands the vial necklace to me. The small vial contains a shimmery, white liquid that feels warm to the touch. “In this vial is a very small amount of my grace, my power. It’s only good for one wish. Whatever that wish may be, anything you could ever want or dream of. Whether it is to be mortal again, or to go back home, or to save a life,” he raises a single finger.

“But only once. The amount inside is just enough for one wish. Hold it close, y/n. You won’t get a second one,” he says sternly.

I put the necklace over my head, tucking the small vial inside of my shirt. “Why are you being so nice?” I ask him curiously, hoping I don’t offend him.

Chuck places a hand on my shoulder. “I told you. I want to be better this time around. I want to be a kind and loving God, and I want people to trust me. I want you to trust me.”

I nod my head slowly. “As long as you hold up your end of the deal, I’ll hold up mine,” I say, watching his kind expression falter for just a second before he smiles again and nods his head.

Chuck turns towards the house. “One last thing, y/n,” he says. In this world, I wanted to make it easier for you to adjust and easier for you to be welcomed,” he sighs. While you’re here, I made it so Bobby is expecting you.”

My eyes scrunch in confusion as I wait for him to explain. “As far as anyone here is concerned, yes, you are from your world. However, he knows that you’re the daughter of the man who plays him in your world.”

“What?!” I hiss in disbelief. “Why would you do that?!”

“Like I said. To make it easier for them to accept you. You know they wouldn’t trust you if you just knocked on the door and said God sent you to change the fate of their entire universe, with absolutely no real connection to them besides watching them on TV,” Chuck explains. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. I’m just worried they’ll find out the kind of man my dad was.

Chuck nods towards the house. “It’s time, y/n, it’s time for you to start your journey. If you ever need me, just pray, and I’ll come,” he smiles before disappearing before my very eyes.

I take a deep breath, pinching my arm to make sure I’m not dreaming. Pulling the bag up my shoulder, I walk up the gravel driveway to Bobby’s front door.

How will he react when he meets me? Will he trust me?

Why would he? He has no reason to. I’m a stranger to him.

He’ll probably kill me. Or, at least, try to. Chuck said I can’t die, but isn’t that suspicious?

I step up onto the porch, my shaky hand clenching as I knock on the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

The seconds that pass as I wait for an answer feel like hours. And in those seconds, I contemplate just turning around and running away.

Isn’t just being in this universe enough? I could start over, write my novels from scratch, and republish them. Dark romance isn’t really a big thing yet. I could be one of the firsts.

That option starts to sound like a really good idea. But as I turn around to walk back down the porch steps, the door opens behind me. All of the air feels sucked out of my lungs as I hear a gruff voice behind me speak.

“Can I help you?” Bobby’s gruff voice sounding confused but kind.

I slowly turn around to face him. Taking in the fact that he’s actually right in front of me, that he’s alive.

His furrowed brows relax before raising his forehead, and he sucks in a breath of his own, opening the door wider. “My God,” he says softly. “Y/n?” He asks.

I clutch the strap of my duffle bag tightly, nodding my head slowly. “That’s me,” I respond, trying to take in the fact he’s saying my name.

Bobby steps out onto the porch, taking a few steps closer to me before he smiles and wraps his arms around me tightly. The scent of old books and motor oil fills my nose before he pulls back and puts his rough hands on my shoulders. “Sorry, it’s just so crazy to me that you’re actually here in front of me. My flesh and blood,” he says proudly.

My stomach feels tied in knots. This man is the complete opposite of the man my father is. Where Jim is cold and off-putting, Bobby is warm and inviting. I still remember the day my birth father left me in the dust to my own devices.

Three Years Ago

“Hey, Dad, do you have a minute?” I asked cautiously as I knocked on the door to his office in the den.

My father cleared his throat. “What do you want?” He asked in an annoyed tone.

I pushed open the door and walked inside, clutching the finished copy of my first novel to my chest. I walk slowly to the end of his desk. “I finished my novel,” I say softly. He groans and rolls his eyes before meeting mine, holding out his hand for me to hand it to him without a word.

My father flips through the pages, barely spending five minutes to look through all three hundred pages of it before he closes it and places it on his desk. My hands shake as I wait for his opinion. It shouldn’t matter to me as much as it does. My father is the hardest person to please.

“It could be better,” he says flatly before opening his laptop again. I try to control the rage that floods through my veins and the disappointment that stabs into my heart like an icicle. “How long did it take you to write it?”

I clench my fists at my sides, willing the tears of frustration I want to cry to stay back. “Six months,” I say through gritted teeth.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “A little slow for someone who claims to love to write. The writers on set write that many pages, more than three episodes in a month,” he chastises. “Honestly y/n. You’re wasting your time wanting to be behind the screen when your mother and I worked so hard so you could get in front of it. Ridiculous.

“I don’t want to be on the screen, though. I’m more comfortable writing. I like expressing myself on the page,” I shoot back defensively.

He slams his hand on the desk, making me jump. He’s never hit me before, but I don’t like it when he does it. “You are so damn ungrateful. Do you know how many young women would kill to have the opportunities you have?! Your mother and I provided a good life for you. Gave you everything you ever asked for and everything you could ever want, and you want to squander it. For what? A few shitty pages of a novel that will never see the light of day?!” He throws the pages of my book over the desk, the papers scattering across the floor.

I can’t contain my anger anymore. I’m fed up with his narcissism. “Then I’ll publish it on my own! I don’t need you or your publisher or even your damn name on the acknowledgments! I’m done!” I yell back, finally standing my ground.

My father pushes back his chair, rising to his feet. “Then get out! Get out of my house until you find some sense!” He yells, pointing to the door. “I mean it! Out!”

I run out of his office, leaving behind the scattered pages of my book as I run upstairs and pack a suitcase. I pack only what I can fit inside of it, leaving everything else behind. I open my safe, grab the ten thousand dollars in cash that I keep there for emergencies, and stuff it into my purse.

After I left, I got a job working as a waitress in a small town. With the cash I took from my safe, I was able to rent a small one-bed, one-bath cottage home and get an old beater from a used car lot. I never touched my inheritance account, never even checked it. I meant what I said about doing it on my own. Screw him.

Present

“Y/n? Y/n? Are you okay?” Bobby asks me, his brows furrowed with a worried expression on his face.

I nod my head, pushing back the memories of my old life. I don’t want to re-live them anymore. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. It’s really nice to meet you, too,” I say softly, giving him a small smile. “Sorry, it’s just still hard for me to believe I’m actually here.”

Bobby laughs and nods his head. “The feeling is mutual kiddo. You want to come inside?” He asks, pointing to the front door with his thumb.

I nod my head once. “Sure, I’d like that. Thank you,” I say softly, clutching my duffle nervously.

Bobby leads the way, opening the door and holding it open for me. I look around, feeling like I already know the house. It’s exactly like the way it looked on TV; part of me feels like I’m simply walking around a set.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Bobby says, rubbing his head before putting his trucker hat back on his head.

“I love it,” I say, turning to smile at him.

Bobby smiles and nods his head. “I set up a room for you. I’ll let you get settled in, and then I figured I could fire up the grill. You like burgers?” He asks, leading me up the stairs.

“I love burgers. That’d be really nice. Thank you for welcoming me into your home,” I say politely as he opens the door to a spare bedroom.

Bobby chuckles. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s your home to now,” he says as he steps into the room with me as I set my bag down on the bed. “Listen, kiddo, I know I wasn’t the best dad in the other universe to you, but… I hope I can be a better one in this one. But if you don’t want to have another dad or a dad, or Christ, I don’t know. I’m sorry this is all just so strange.”

I smile softly. “Listen, um… Bobby… Is it okay if I call you Bobby?” I ask nervously. He nods, and I continue. “To me, you and Jim are two entirely different people, in the best way possible. It’s just hard for me because he threw me out at nineteen… Kind of like John did to Sam. Actually, exactly like that,” I explain. “I know you and Jim are entirely different people, so I feel like it’d be best if we just start slow. Try to figure out what it is that’s going on first.”

Bobby sighs in relief. “That sounds great. ’Cause I gotta level with you. I have no idea how to be a dad,” he chuckles.

“So let’s just start with dinner,” I say with a smile.

Bobby nods and smiles back. “Sounds good, kiddo. I’ll be out back when you’re ready.” He says before exiting my new bedroom.

I sigh in relief, examining my new room as I put my things away. Wondering what Sam and Dean are up to. Wondering if Lucifer is still in Cas. If I should call Cas ‘Cas,’ or if he’d prefer Castiel. Wondering if Jack’s been born yet.

But one thing is certain: I won’t let Chuck almost ruin the entire world again.

That’s for damn sure.

Chapter Three

[lost-in-time-marie]

How Do You Know When It’s All Over?

I don’t know how to tell when things are over anymore.

This relationship doesn’t have a printed expiration date.

And I wish it did,

God do I wish it did.

Even if it was in black and white print,

Staring me down in the face,

Telling me straight out that’s it’s over,

It’s all over,

No going back,

Nothing to salvage,

I think I could finally live with that.

It’s the not knowing right now that kills me.

What could my life look like?

All on my own,

Somewhere new,

A different place to call home.

Would I love it?

Would I fill every corner with my things and me?

Would it feel as empty as it once did?

Full of longing for days past and romanticisms that never existed?

Does the fact that I can’t stop thinking about the end mean it should be over anyways?

Sometimes I think

Maybe I should just try,

See what happens

And come back to start all over again if I don’t like it.

How do you know if it’s a mistake?

How do you know if staying is the mistake or leaving?

Is it just familiarity, comfort,

That keeps me here?

Or is it because I actually love the dirt roads and green grass and letting the dogs out in the fields?

Do I still love you?

Can I?

Do the things I love about here really have little to do with you?

I don’t have any of the answers anymore.

I don’t want to go through this life alone,

And I don’t want to stay because I’m afraid to be alone.

Im scared and I want a straight, easy answer,

But there is none,

There is only this quiet and my thoughts that race in circles.

~K.

[basilf1res]

I wanted to write. So I wrote. 😔

Wooooo! Screw you writers block! >:DDD

——————————

The Justice League stared through the tinted green glass, it thrummed with strange otherworldly energy pulsing through it. On the other side sat their eldritch enigma.

He had snow white hair that gently moved in a non-existent breeze, his reinforced hazmat suit was a midnight black with off-white boots and gloves, and he had a fair skin tone with electric green eyes.

Danny Phantom, that’s what he was called. He was the town hero according to the Amity Park teenagers, but a menace to the resident ghost hunters. The weatherman, Lance Thunder, did a few reports on his fights, even getting a three minute interview before the Fenton’s showed up after a ghost fight.

Everything Batman uncovered pointed to him being a teen hero, a guy who stepped up once the sad little town realized nobody was coming to help. The crushing guilt the JL team felt after the origins of the monster were revealed. How could they have missed an entire town being beaten into the ground by inter-dimensional creatures called ‘ghosts’.

The Fenton’s research was useful to an extent, however the papers published were extremely biased.

And now the JL are faced with a different threat, or a new ally depending on how the upcoming conversation goes.

Superman put his hand on the glass, staring at the creature on the other side. Clark was conflicted on how to handle the situation, these so called ‘ghosts’ were starting to spread out from the remnants of Amity Park.

Phantom wasn’t sharing much information. But the Justice League needed to know more other than the fact that they failed seventy thousand people- more if they counted the casualties outside of the obliterated city.

“Phantom.” Batman spoke up, there was a short pause before the ghost had a response.

“What do you want.” A voice echoed from the other side of the glass. “To harvest my core? End my existence? Pick me apart? Send me to the GIW so they can see what makes me tick? All of the above?”

“No. We’re not going to hurt you-“

Phantom began to laugh, it was hoarse and dry, like glaciers cracking and falling off into the sea, there was no humor in his shaking shoulders.

“Really?!” He turned around to face the group beyond the glass, tears poured down his cheeks while a smile with too many teeth stretched across his face. “Because according to American Law I don’t feel hurt- I don’t feel pain. All my emotions are fake. Everything I supposedly feel is fake. So by law, you can’t hurt me, because I can’t feel it.” He hiccuped as more laughter shook his glowing body.

The JL stepped back as they turned to Constantine, the guy was overworked and a pain in the ass, but his pitying gaze was locked on the ghost before looking at the group of heroes.

They didn’t know if they could be called that anymore.

John to a breath before quieting his voice to give and explanation, “He’s a protector spirit. His haunt and the people he fought tooth and nail for were just obliterated, if you want to try and salvage the remains of his already-shattering core, go ahead.” He threw his hands up in surrender before walking off, “Don’t give him a reason to see you as a threat and he won’t feel the need to perceive you as one…” Constantine turned around the corner, and his footsteps faded as he went to grab chalk to teleport himself home.

Batman frowned and turned back to the containment cell. He needed to know more…

“Hn.”

All heads turned to The Bat.

“Phantom.”

The ghost in question looked over to Batman.

“Ghosts are running around different parts of America-“ Batman began.

“Sounds like a you problem.”

A sigh. “Ghosts are running around America and we need your help to round them up before the Ghost Investigation Ward gets to them first.” He spoke carefully. “We cannot protect you or others of your kind without your help.”

The silence was deafening, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife.

“I don’t care.” Phantom bit out.

“We cannot effectively shut down the GIW without intel. Please Phantom, we need your help.” Superman tried to be the middleman and keep it peaceful.

The ghost scoffed. “Help? You want me to help you? After everything? All the ignored distress calls and emails from my people? My friends? My still living family?” The bafflement in his voice was clear. “You have the audacity to ignore us, call us a fake, and then come begging for help once your in over your heads?”

The ghost glared at the group of heroes from the other side of the glass. “Pathetic.”

“Now hold on just a minute-” Flash spoke up.

“No. No,” Phantom started, “you hold on for a minute. I didn’t ask to protect my city, I had to go through all the learning curves on the job.”

“I was fourteen.” He snarled. “I died and picked up the responsibility of keeping people alive so there wouldn’t be more like me.”

“You’re all adults. You can figure it out.” Phantom spoke through gritted teeth as he turned around and laid down on his right side, facing the wall.

They’d… have to come back to this conversation it seems.

After being ignored by the Justice League for years and thought of as a scam Phantom finally faces an opponent he didn't win against and his city is destroyed, killing everyone. The monster is heavily wounded by Phantom however as it was a brutal fight for both of them

Danny is heartbroken and in shock while the Justice League face off against this threat and also lose. Eventually they get thier second wind and rematch it and kill the thing, but just barely.

Later a small memorial was held for Amity Park and Phantom was enraged at how small it was. 70,000 people died and this was it? Most of the people hear weren't even mourners. They were press and fake ghost enthusiasts trying to catch internet points for thier viewer count. He hears some redhead say that the people of Amity were scammers and this whole ghost thing was fake. With tears in his eyes he screams, not as Fenton but as Phantom, "I'm fake?!" He grabbed the man by his throat and flew a few feet into the air, "You think I'm fake?! Here! Let's see how fake I am!" His words were dripping venom as he possessed the man and laughed as he used him as a puppet, attacking the people around him with ectoblasts and sending them running away screaming.

Bruce Wayne watched on as some unknown Elderich entity possessed Wally West and began attacking people. So Amity Parks pleas for help as well as the pleas from thier supposedly fake superhero were not just part of an elaborate tourist trap.

Green lantern had some explaining to do. Hopefully it wasn't too late to salvage the situation and save this child.

It was.

[danddymaro]

Asking For More | Daryl Dixon x Reader

set in the early days of Alexandria, so alil after arrival I suppose.

(lets pretend they had spent a nice time there from the start and things were semi good.)

Kinda fluffy towards the end

Ok, I really think this is cute as heckkk !!!

Word Count : 1899

Asking For More

The brunette male sat at the edge of the bed, his spine curved as he hunched over with a head bowed in humility as he finally found his way back home after he'd stormed out about four days prior.

His usually squared shoulders were momentarily settled down in terribly low fashion, all of which was more indication of his existing, and unsettled, inner turmoil, but much more his shame.

His grim, and tired face was turned away from the sleeping woman for the silent moment as he lived through a stillness that was only disrupted by the occasional snore she unknowingly emitted throughout the hours of darkness.

He'd been gone for all that time, and while at first, he'd left in a frustrated storm, he'd quickly regretted it all and decided to keep walking to give her space.

But he regretted it as he sat there on the edge of the bed because what he should have done was walk right back in and just told her what she already knows, and that's that he's an idiot. 

- And, that, most of the time, he acts before he thinks.

'...That I'm scared, ‘ he then inwardly added, ' That I should shut my big mouth and think about shit before I start cussin' about it.' he continued on. 

'- Goin' off on you for doin' nothin' wrong.' he then added with guilt.

Quietly, his face turned over to her, his blue eyes drawn down to the slumbering woman with all the attention in the world, capturing even the smallest twitches her body would perform during her calm.

Instinctively, a smile graced him, the sweet upturn existing just as his eyes grazed her sight, adoring her even while she was turned from him and nothing more than a little, curled ball beneath a mass of blankets.

And it all felt so perfect, so real...so lasting. 

It was only after a long pause of enchantment that he skimmed his eyes over the entire room, looking at the four walls of their bedroom.

They were surrounded by delicately hung pictures of them that she'd taken with a polaroid she found, as well as paintings (f/n) had drawn on salvaged canvasses that had been kindly gifted to her once Jessie got word that one of the new arrivals had a creative touch.

His trip then came full circle, and again, he found himself eyeing the young woman as she nestled more into the flowery, decorated pillow, blissfully unaware of just how much he really admired her, because no amount of silent staring over the day could even begin to satisfy him.

It had never been enough for him. 

It hadn't been enough when they'd been nothing but strangers, and it still wasn't enough when he had her right by him. 

"I've been thinkin' alot lately…" he started, knowing she couldn't hear him, but continuing to speak with a calm, tender voice that was meant only for her, meant just for when they were alone, and when he could truly be bare.

" About shit…" He then added with a low breath. "Mostly about you," he went on, saying so as though there wasn't any need to mention it.

"- It's always about you," Daryl continued, because just about everything he felt was because of her.

" And I've been feelin' anxious...So damn much, that I don't even know anymore," he murmured with a shaky chuckle because he felt that it was too good to be true.

" I'm not sure if this is right or not," he said while looking around the room again, in his heart, feeling that there was just one thing missing, one thing he suddenly longed for but felt he was unworthy of.

It was then that his eyes traveled to the doorway of their shared bedroom, " -But ever since you've come into my life, I feel like maybe…" he trailed off, pursing his lips as he closed his eyes, imagining the sight of little ones bursting through the door, disrupting their quiet peace.

" Maybe…" he said softly before shaking his head, trying to forget just how beautiful a child that resembled her most would look, because he'd dreamed about it. 

And throughout the day, he fantasized about it more and more.

Gradually, his sight began to blur, and it wasn't until he released the first tear that he shut his eyes tight, pathetically sniffling at the overbearing, raw emotion that struck him. 

'I never thought I'd get any of this,' he thought to himself, thinking that before everything had gone downhill in the world, he was just some asshole moving from town to town, taking things that didn't belong to him, existing without any real purpose.

He hadn't been the best person, and had done much more bad than good, so how would he have ever guessed that he'd end up in a home? 

Happy.

Warm.

Loved.

Accepted. 

How could he have ever guessed that one day, he'd sit there and think about asking for more, thinking that somehow, he actually earned it?

'You're already giving me so much,' he thought with a touch of sadness as he realized just how miserable he'd been in the past, and much more how much he probably didn't deserve all of the wonderful things now in his hand to be asking for more.

Because his (f/n) was too good. 

His home was too good.

Their life was too perfect, so much so that he dreamed of an actual future. 

All to a point, that it felt like it could last forever, and that it wasn’t some stupid , unachievable dream anymore.

"(f/n)" he murmured longingly, almost like he'd missed her from a year-round absence.

He then settled himself behind her, snuggling to her dearly, 

' I didn't think this was meant for me,' he added while affectionately nuzzling her neck, his face burrowed in (h/c) colored hair that smelled so...(F/n).

There was a chance she'd shove him away, but even then he'd missed her, and desperately craved her warmth.

"Daryl...?" she groggily murmured.

"Yeah?" he softly murmured.

"You're back," she added, not sounding too surprised, but still holding a touch of wonder to it as though there had been a part of her that had actually thought she'd never see him again.

"Of course," he said with a soft breath that came before he decided to just  apologize, 

"I'm...Uh...I'm so-"

"I'm not..." she started, interrupting him, and he could hear her swallow down thickly before she decided to continue, " So you don't have to worry about me being... a-about..." stumbling, he could only imagine how dejected her features had twisted, and he let out a soft breath of sorrow that matched hers.

"I'm not pregnant," she finally muttered, and at that, he felt a little pain in his chest when she told him. 

The relief he thought he'd feel wasn't there, and instead, he bit his lip. 

"Oh..." he finally breathed after a minute-long pause.

' Oh,' because while he'd went off about how it was stupid to have a kid when they'd just found a place to breathe, he'd already thought of having one the very second he'd seen her hold Judith close to her chest. 

When they were still back at the prison, it had just been little teases here and there between them, and yet, he'd stared at her like she was an angel touching ground as she carried around the little cherub in her arms.

'Oh,' because he'd just been talking out of his ass when he said he didn't want a child, and had, in fact secretly yearned for one with her far before they’d even been a thing.

"I'd never thought of having one. Even before all this," he started. "Never had anyone...and even if I had... I didn't wanna end up like my shit dad either, so I never figured I should have one," he explained lowly. 

"I get it," she said back, understanding where he came from, though still sounding soft and blue. 

" But I-I'd always wanted to be a mom," she then admitted. "I don't know what it is," she murmured, her eyes warming up as tears welled in them.

 "I can't explain it," she said while brimming with emotion, having already loved the child that hadn't even existed in the first place. 

She'd been late for a couple of days, but her body let her know that very morning that it'd been a false alarm.

"Now being with you... I don't know," (f/n) then went on, " I just...I want one even more," she confessed. 

"I know it's wrong," she said with understanding, well aware that it wasn't ideal to have a child when every other day of peace was a miracle to come by.

"I know it's selfish," (f/n) then decided to add, "But I can't help it," she shakily smiled.

"When you left, I felt my heart break, " she said to him, making his lips purse because he felt like shit for putting her through that pain. 

"But I thought that...well, if I had my little you, I could still keep going. 

- I'd still have someone to love.

I figured I'd still had part of you even if- " 

"Just shut up," he huffed, squeezing her close, "Even if nothin," he said firmly, having an idea to where she was headed with the thought, and despising it. 

"You think I'd put a kid in you and just leave?" he asked her, A great part of him hurt because he hoped she didn't see him as some scumbag.

"I'm not leavin' you," he promised her. "Sorry little lady, You're stuck with me, remember that," Dixon added, making sure to give her another strong squeeze.

"I'd never wanted one before," he started, repeating the line again, " before you... at least," he finally admitted. 

"Before I...I fucked up." he started. " I had said what came to mind first, thinkin' about all the shit that could go wrong...because I don't wanna lose you," he said while thinking of Lori, and what pregnancy did to her. 

"What if I lose you?" he asked her, " ...And what if I lose... What if they don't make it either?" he asked her almost unable to put the thought out into the world in fear of somehow breathing it into life.

"The part of me that knows I can't always guard you talked first."

It was then that she turned towards him, her (e/c) colored eyes looking up at him with a wide-eyed gaze as she listened on.

"But then right here," he said while taking one of her hands and pressing her palm to his chest, 

"This part of me (f/n), This stupid part of me... It wants it more than anything," he finally admitted. 

"I wanna stay here forever and just get old together, and yeah... I want a couple of kids...

A dog or two...

I wanna live the dream.

 I want that with you." he said while making sure to watch the way her (e/c) colored eyes shined so beautifully at his little confessions.

 Silence fell between them, and during then his heart's beat became wildly strong, anxiousness settling in,

"(F/n)..?" he then murmured as, tenderly, his fingers grazed her cheek and the words that followed stole her breath away. 

"- Would you marry me?"

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 12) - Not So Sweet Home

Summary: Jensen is fed up with his parents ignoring Y/N all day and when he gets a moment alone, blows up on them like never before. The reader sees how upset Jensen is over what’s happening and does her best to defend him while still trying to salvage a relationship with them...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language, major family angst, mention of a dead parent

A/N: Eek! If you like angst this part is for you! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

It was late, the kids asleep in the guest bedroom, Jensen’s siblings and their families gone home for the evening aside from his brother. He made some half ass excuse about wanting to hang out with Jensen more but you knew he could sense what you did. Jensen was getting close to popping after a whole day of politeness on his part and his parents ignoring you on theirs.

Jensen was bouncing his knee like crazy as he sipped on his beer around a gas fire pit, suddenly stopping when you shifted in your seat.

“Maybe you ought to cool it with the alcohol tonight,” said his dad. Jensen set his empty bottle down on the grass and breathed deeply through his nose. “Your legs been-”

“Y/N, would you get me another beer please?” asked Jensen. You took the opportunity to get out of there, surprised when the back door opened quickly after you, his brother closing it behind him.

“I don’t think your parents like me very much,” you said, going to the fridge and pulling out a drink. 

“I know,” he said, glancing out the dark window. “Jensen asked me to make sure you don’t come back out there.”

“He’s gonna go off on them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m guessing,” he said with a sigh. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to go well. You guys can crash at my place if you want. We don’t have a guest room but we have an air mattress we can put in the family room.”

“You think it’ll be that bad?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“Then why are we in here talking about this when we should be out there making sure he doesn’t say something he regrets in the morning.”

“You might hear things you can’t unhear,” he said. 

“Right now my concern isn’t if my feelings get hurt. He’s really upset and I need him to be okay.”

“You know that’s why the rest of us like you, don’t you? You care about him, the kids. You’re in love with him.”

“Yes I am,” you said as he nodded.

“You call me if either of you ever need anything,” he said, going back to the door. You nodded and took a deep breath, following him outside and already hearing raised voices.

“She’s half your age, Jensen,” said his mom. “She was your nanny. Sweetie you have to know what’s going on here.”

“You’re getting played,” said his father, catching you walking out with Josh.

“She is not half my age. She’s thirty fucking years old! She’s a goddamn adult and been through more shit then both of you put together! She’s not after fucking money,” snapped Jensen who was already out of his seat.

“You’re engaged to the girl after five months!” said his father. “It took you years to propose the first time around!”

“Because I was a nervous kid that was away working constantly. I didn’t want to make Dee stay if it was gonna make her unhappy. I’m not afraid of how I feel anymore because I feel the same about her as I do Dee and I’m not wasting my time so I can stick to your socially acceptable schedule,” said Jensen. “I love her and she’s gonna be part of this family whether you like it or not. Deal with it.”

“You need a prenup,” said his dad.

“No I don’t!”

“Yes you do! You’ve known the girl for not even six months!”

“She’s not up to anything!” shouted Jensen.

“Son-”

“Have you ever lost your wife? Have you ever been in the car and almost die yourself while you watch her breathe for the last time? Where she’s hurt and you can’t do a thing to fix it? Have you ever had to tell your children their mother is dead and she’s not coming back? You have no idea, no idea, what that does to you, how much it hurts and how much it hurts when you’re still so fucked up and your parents start making comments behind closed doors about you and you have to pretend you’re better when you’re really not. When you don’t even care about yourself anymore, when you pretend for everyone’s sake so they stop treating you like a child, when you don’t know how to tell your kids it’s okay because it’s not. It’s not. Until you go through that, until you know how bad it hurts, don’t assume a damn thing about her. She’s my best friend and she makes me feel like my old self again. I laugh and smile and have fun and when I get scared or feel guilty or freak out she makes me feel better. I don’t give a fuck how old she is or what her job was. She’s kind and good and she deserves better than you two. Danneel’s parents like her. Jared’s parents like her. Her old foster dad’s family likes her. Our family likes her except for you two. Get your heads out of your asses or you can not even bother letting me know you exist anymore. I’m done with things hurting the women I care about. I couldn’t stop what happened to Dee but I can sure as hell keep Y/N away from the two of you,” said Jensen. He huffed and walked off, Josh running off after him. 

“Well congratulations. You got your hooks in him deep, don’t you,” said his father. You rolled your eyes and his mother scoffed.

“You can take care of someone without treating them like a child you know. He’s an incredibly strong person. If you don’t like me fine. But don’t call him stupid or easily manipulated or imply that it’s wrong to know you love someone after only a certain amount of time. I love your son.”

“You love his money,” said his mom.

“I do just fine on my own,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “He’s staying at Josh’s house tonight. We’ll pick up the kids in the morning.”

“He’s overreacting. He’ll be fine in the morning,” said his dad. You crossed your arms and leaned your head back. “He’ll be fine.”

“You two don’t know a thing about me and you assume I want money because of my age and my former career. Don’t assume your son will be fine and get over it.”

“We’ve known him a lot longer than you have. He’ll get over it after a night’s rest.”

“You may have known him longer and I’m sure in some regards you do know him better but not the ones that matter. If you did, you would have seen how much he would have loved for the two of you to like me. I would have taken some respect and been happy because trust me, I get how this looks to everyone else. I understand you have fears and I’m not mad you have them. I’m mad you assume those are facts when all they are is a story you made up in your head you don’t want to change. He’s right, I’m not going anywhere. The difference between him and me though is that I’ll stay out here all damn night with the two of you until you get it through your heads that I’m not here to fuck him over. I love him. I don’t have family, not really. Things have always been screwed up for me pretty much until I met him and he didn’t have to say it for me to know that he was hoping he could share the two of you with me. Maybe I was hoping for that too. But right now I’ll take some goddamn respect and an apology to your son to start and we can go from there.”

“You’re gonna curse at us and expect an apology?” said his mom. “We know you took him when he was at his low and tricked him into trusting you so you could get exactly what you wanted.”

“You know what I want? What I’ve always wanted and somehow always seems to get ripped away? A family. A stupid fucking family. Being a nanny? That let me feel like part of the family. I could pretend I was like all of those people I worked for. Nice and normal and like people gave a shit. Some kindness and a family is all I’ve ever wanted. You two...you wouldn’t have survived a day in my childhood. In my adulthood with the shitty ex boyfriend and the crappy friends and I picked myself over all of them because my mom told me to stand up for myself. Even when she couldn’t be there and I wanted her to. So I stand up for myself and now I stand up for him and those three kids to anyone and I mean anyone, that hurts them. He’s my family and those kids are my family. I don’t know what you think I’m gonna do but I guarantee the only thing I will do is tell you two where to shove it and to leave him the hell alone.”

“Why would we believe anything you say? At all?” his dad asked. “It’s probably the same sad story you told him to get him on the line. I don’t buy it.”

“I have a million dollar book deal. I’ve worked rent free for a lot of rich people since I was eighteen years old. Do I sound like someone who needs his money?” you said. You put your hands on your hips and shook your head. “What is it? You want me to sign a prenup? I would but he doesn’t want one. He trusts me and for a guy that lost his wife and had to work through falling in love with another person, I respect that. He knows what he wants and he’s not wasting time. This is scary for him. It’s scary for me. But when Dee’s parents gave me open arms and kindness and their blessing, the last people I ever expected to disapprove were you two. If you’re going to stand there and keeping calling me a liar, I’m going to find your sons and I’m going take care of Jensen instead of wasting my time here.”

“We don’t disapprove of him moving on and marrying again,” said his mom as you turned to walk away.

“Could have fooled me,” you said. 

“He’s going too fast and he doesn’t know you either, not well enough to make a decision like that,” said his dad. You turned around and smiled.

“He knows my favorite color. He knows what my favorite flavor of ice cream is. He knows why I have nightmares and he knows how to make me forget them in the first place. I’m sorry we aren’t doing things on your schedule but it’s his life. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with it, whether that’s me or somebody else. For the record, he knows me just fine. Oh and if this is how you plan on speaking to him again in the morning, I’ll pick up the kids myself.”

“We’re looking out for his best interest,” said his dad.

“No, you think you’re looking at his wallet for him. See money? People think that’s important and it is but best interest? It ain’t that shit,” you said as you started to leave.

“Well what do you assume his best interest is then?” said his mom. 

“Treating him like an adult. He is smart and strong and the most emotionally healthy man I’ve ever met which considering all the fucked up shit he’s been through and felt the past year is really saying something. He’s your child but he’s not a child. He found someone he loves and all he wanted to do was share me with you. This was his worst nightmare and I couldn’t stop it. So if you’re not gonna even try with me, then I’m gonna protect him from you.”

“He doesn’t need protecting from us,” he said.

“You call him stupid and that he can’t take care of himself, that he can be fooled and that the person he thinks is his best friend really only wants him for his money. He knows none of those things are true but it’s what you said to him when you said that about me. For a man who went through what he did, it wasn’t mean. It was cruel. I’m gonna go fix what I can of your relationship with him because despite all that, I know you guys love each other and I’m not letting that get fucked up because you think whatever the hell you think about me.”

You stormed off around the house and found Josh’s truck still there but neither man in sight. You looked around and heard a sniffle, your head going up to the roof. You saw the lattice work on the side and climbed up, peeking your head up to spot the two of them sat on the roof.

“Hey,” you said quietly. Jensen wouldn’t look at you, Josh rubbing his back. 

“Careful,” he said as you climbed up and slowly walked over. You took a seat on your bottom, spotting the window behind them. “That was my room. Jensen used to sneak out this way. I was always too nervous of getting caught to try myself. You landed the bad boy of the family.”

“Oh yeah, such a bad boy,” you said. You scooted closer on your butt to him, Jensen resting his head on his knees. “Hey. Before you even think about it don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I know,” he said. He took a deep breath but looked up, looking fairly normal aside from a slightly pink nose. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Nobody was,” said Josh. “I’ll give you guys a minute. I’ll be in my car when you’re ready.”

“You should go home,” said Jensen. “Staying in a different house won’t change anything.”

“That was kinda fucked up what they said.” Jensen raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “I don’t always agree with them. If you guys want to stay, that’s your choice but I’m not going home without telling them what a mistake they’re making.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re my little brother and I like her. Even if I didn’t, they’re being assholes and she doesn’t deserve that. You don’t. Alright?”

Jensen nodded and Josh walked off to the lattice and climbed down while you scooted next to Jensen. 

“You thought your siblings weren’t gonna like me,” you said.

“He’s a good person. He’s never told off our parents before so...I don’t know if I’m happy about that or not.”

“He’s a good big brother,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “I don’t love you for your family though. I don’t care if your parents don’t like me. I’ll deal with it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” he said.

“I still like your dad so much better than mine,” you said.

“Yours is a monster to be fair.”

“Yeah, he is. Yours love you and I don’t agree with them but in their minds, they’re protecting you and I don’t have a problem with anyone trying to do that.”

“How are you so fucking kind to them after they basically said you’re with their dumbass son because of money?”

“Like you said, I know monsters. I know toxic and bad. They aren’t it. They raised you and I really, really like you. Good people can be stupid and still be good. In the morning we’ll try again.”

“What if I can’t get them to change their minds?” he said quietly. 

“Jensen,” you said, moving to squat down in front of him. You grabbed his cheeks and he stared at you. “You don’t have to pick anybody over anybody. Maybe I won’t be close with them but that’s okay. It’s so okay. We’ll respect each other or just won’t talk to each other and we’ll figure it out but we don’t have to do it all tonight.”

“I think what bothers me the most is they’ve already made up their minds about you based on your age when they don’t even realize who you are. They don’t see that this is the kind of person you are, kind and supportive and I heard you not taking their bullshit. You’re a stronger person than I am and I wish they could see that the reason I’m not freaking out over this is cause I know you’re my partner and you got my back like I got yours. I’m just having a hard time understanding why they won’t even listen to us.”

“I don’t know,” you said, eyes darting to the window when you caught some movement inside. You narrowed them and glanced down, spotting the crack between the windowsill and frame. “I’m a little cool. I’m gonna get my sweatshirt if that’s okay.”

“Careful climbing in,” he said, turning on his bottom and pushing the window up. You kissed his cheek and climbed inside, the room empty as far as you could tell. You stepped out to the hall and into his old room, getting your hoodie, his old hoodie. You pulled it on but went downstairs, catching his parents in the kitchen with Josh.

“Josh may I speak to your parents in private,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m done here. I’ll be over for brunch, okay?” he said. He walked past you and caught your arm. “Call me if you need me back.” You nodded and he kissed your temple before he went out. 

“Were you eavesdropping on us?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“We went to tell him to get off the roof. We could see him from the backyard up there,” said his mom, putting her back to you as she mixed up something in a mug. “But we heard the three of you talking and then the two of you. We didn’t mean-”

“We are all on the same side. His side. We should get along. It shouldn’t be this difficult and I don’t appreciate private conversations being listened in on. But I hope you understand that you hurt your son. I know you didn’t mean to and it’s the last thing you’d ever want to do to him. But you did. So please try to help me fix this. This isn’t easy for me to accept that you don’t like me either but you’re gonna respect me. If we can respect each other, then he’s not going to worry as much at least. Please promise that we can agree to that,” you said. His parents looked at each other and you sighed. “You have to be kidding me. What do you want me to do? Go away? I can’t do that. I won’t do that.”

“That’s not...Jensen called your father a monster up there,” he said. 

“I thought it was a sob story according to you ten minutes ago.”

“You said you don’t have parents. He said your father is alive.”

“What’s your point, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Please enlighten me.”

“It doesn’t make much sense to tell different stories,” he said. 

“You can’t even give me the benefit of the doubt that I love your son. Why the fuck would I tell you things only he knows, things so few people know about. Why would I trust you with the worst parts of my life when you don’t accept the best ones. For your information, my birth mother is dead. My adoptive mother is dead. I wish my son of a bitch father was dead. The only glimmer of a parent I have maybe, maybe was my foster father. That was until last weekend. I met some parents. I met Dee’s. I met Jared’s. I got the same message from all of them. Let us know if you ever need anything. Oh the way he looks at you. You must be pretty special. Anything at all, you give us a call. People that don’t even have an obligation to look in my direction treated me like I was their kid. So maybe he and I both got our hopes up with you two and that was on us. If you want to pick apart what I’ve said and call me a liar…” you said, putting your hands on your hips. Your shut your eyes and breathed deeply, turning around. “I don’t care if you have to pretend to respect me. Just do it for his sake and the kids sakes, alright?”

A tissue appeared over your shoulder and you took it, blowing your nose and stepping away. 

“When did your mother’s pass?” you heard behind you. You threw your head back and took a deep breath.

“When I was born and when I was sixteen,” you said, turning around and swallowing. “Why does that matter?”

“When were you adopted?” he asked.

“Why do you care?”

“Please.”

“I was eight,” you said.

“So you only had your mother for eight years then,” he said. 

“Yeah. She got sick when I was fourteen. I stayed with her boyfriend until I moved out for my first nanny job at eighteen. It was all very sad and angsty,” you said.

“Who made the first move?” 

“I’m done with this interrogation,” you said. You started to leave but he stepped in front of you. “What do you want from me?”

“I just want to know who made the first move, you or Jensen.”

“I don’t…” you trailed off. “We had a fight. I told him I didn’t want him to be my friend anymore, he was just my boss and that was it. We couldn’t hang out at night and stuff anymore.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want him to hurt me,” you said quietly. “I didn’t fit with his life. I’m not a pretty actress. I’m not smart. I’m the younger nanny and that’s all I was gonna be until I became an older nanny and that was supposed to be my life. I didn’t ask for…”

“For what?” asked his mother, carrying over her mug and setting it down on the end table.

“I didn’t ask for him to love me. But he did and I don’t know why but I trusted him not to hurt me. It’s not fairytales and roses all day every day but I like having a best friend and I never would have submitted those books to a publisher without him encouraging me and I need him to feel better. He can’t catch a break lately and I hate seeing him upset. It makes me sick to my stomach and I really, really need him to be okay so please stop doing this. Just stop. Please. I don’t care if we have to pretend the rest of our lives but please, I can’t keep seeing him take hit after hit anymore and not being able to stop it.”

You weren’t expecting the hug from his father or to bury your face in his chest for a brief moment. His mom guided you to sit on the couch, pulling a blanket around you. She handed you the mug and you saw it was hot chocolate, your eyes darting back and forth between them.

“This isn’t about to be like a lifetime movie where you murder me, right?” you said. 

“No,” said his mom as she sat next to you. “We hurt you quite deeply today, didn’t we.”

You stared at the mug, holding it in your hands. 

“You were looking forward to meeting us,” said his dad as he sat down on your other side.

“It doesn’t matter. All I care about is him.”

“I don’t think he’d be very happy with you laying down for a semblance of normalcy for him,” he said.

“Just spit out whatever the fuck you want,” you said. You gripped the mug and shut your eyes.

“I’d like you to stop swearing please,” he said. “In exchange, maybe we can have a second chance.”

“Second chance at what?” you said dryly.

“At meeting our son’s fiance.” You lifted your head and stared at him, catching a bashful look you saw in Jensen every so often. “We understand, as well as we can, he was hurt after Danneel. We can’t fix those problems like when he would scrape his knees. We knew he was in a vulnerable position and things between the two of you seemed so fast for how in pain he was. We thought of the worst of you before knowing you and that wasn’t right of us. We were trying to protect him. But like you said, we all try to do that. So if you’ll let us, give us a second chance.”

“For him, I will give you both a second chance,” you said. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this but this sort of thing isn’t going to go away just like that, for him or for me.”

“Is there anything…” said his mom as you shook your head. “We are sorry for before. Truly.”

“I know. Trust is difficult for me on a normal day. You guys kinda tore through the safety nets I thought I had with you. I need to build them up again is all.”

“That was you that said that, people have safety nets,” she said. You raised and eyebrow and she sighed. “Jensen, months back, he told us his therapist told him that, put things in perspective.”

“I guess couple’s are kinda each other’s therapists,” you said. “Sometimes they just need to vent to each other too.”

“Before you said...has he ever been to one?” asked his dad.

“Last weekend was...intense. I went to one as a child and he talked to him for a little while, helped him put things in perspective,” you said.

“Intense? Did you fight?” she asked.

“He and JJ got stung by a scorpion. It was a little serious. We went out the next night and I made a comment and he took it a different way and he got upset thinking I thought of myself as being less in his eyes than Dee was. I know it’s not true, it’s just different. He’s been having a really great week aside from today.”

You took a sip of the hot chocolate and went back for more, drinking half the mug down. 

“We screwed up,” said his dad with a sigh, sitting back against the couch. 

“Yeah but he’ll forgive you,” you said. “This is really good Mrs. Ackles.”

“Thank you sweetie and call me Donna. I made it for Jensen. He’s always liked it when he was living here and having a bad day.”

“Why do you think he’ll forgive us?” asked his dad as Donna got up.

“Because he’s Jensen. He’s not an angry man. Angry in moments but he doesn’t hold onto anger. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him. So I know he’ll forgive you. When I’m not sure of but it won’t be forever.”

“Have you two ever fought badly?” he asked.

“We’ve had a few fights. Mostly small and when we’re both tired or hungry. We had a big one a few weeks ago when he got home but we talked about why it happened and how to make sure it doesn’t again,” you said. Donna carried over a kettle and poured more hot chocolate in your mug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Don't ask about fights Alan. It’s not our business. We should let them tell us what they want,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

“They probably should have had a big fight at least once to know if they can work through those things and it sounds like they have,” he said when he turned to you. “I know you’re probably love struck but marriage? That’s a lifetime of putting in the work.”

“Alan if I didn’t care about putting in the work I wouldn’t be down here right now. I know I don’t know everything I’m signing up for and no one really does but I know him and the kids and that’s worth the parts I have to work at.”

“You sound older than you look.”

“Age doesn’t always equal life experience,” you said.

“I suppose not,” he said. He stood and took a deep breath. “I do apologize for thinking the worst of you and not giving you a fair chance upfront.”

“Thank you,” you said. “I’m going to bring this up and check on him.”

“Can I ask one last thing?” asked his dad. You nodded and he looked over to Donna who gave him a short nod. “Josh said you really love him.”

“I do.”

“Do you think he loves you the same way?”

“I know he does,” you said.

“How are you so sure?”

“How are you so sure your wife loves you?” you said. “Goodnight Alan.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his mom catching up with you in the foyer where the stairs were. You gave her a tired smile and she nodded.

“If I told you something, would you keep it a secret from Jensen?” she asked.

“No,” you said with a smile. 

“I had to try,” she said. “We’re not like this by nature. Something happened he doesn’t know about when he was recovering that put us off to you. A woman. A young woman at his physical therapy.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly. She took a seat on a step and you sat beside her. “If someone tried to take advantage of him, you should have told me and him. He thinks you guys have gone nuts, no offense.”

“You’ll find with time you’d rather have your child safe and upset at you than the other way around,” she said. 

“What happened?”

“We moved down to the house for a few months to help Jensen. He went to physical therapy. A very good place. A family friend works there and got him in and he regained a lot of strength in his leg quickly because of it. There were nurses that often helped and he worked with a few regularly and they develop a relationship and all that. It’s good for morale and healing we were told. One of these girls was about your age and our family friend overheard her gossiping to a friend on the phone during a lunch break.”

“Gossiping about…” you said. “Jensen?”

“They saw an opportunity to manipulate him. He is smart, smarter than the both of us together, but he was going through the motions that first month. She made him smile a bit. She flirted with him. Our friend told us what she’d said and we realized, he could be hurt again. Taken advantage of for what he has, what he can offer. His sudden shift in mood this year, introducing you as a fiance, made us think we’d failed to protect him this time.”

“Why not tell him that?” you asked.

“And tell him he was being manipulated back then? He’s so adamant that it can’t happen to him but we know different.”

“I think you should tell him, Donna. It makes your reaction today seem not so…” you said, her head shaking.

“Ma,” you both heard. You looked over your shoulders, Jensen sat against the wall at the top of the landing. “Mom. Jerry told me why I got a new nurse when it happened. She was nice, or was pretending to be, I don’t know. But I didn’t like her. I never got manipulated and I was never going to.”

“How long-” you said, Jensen rubbing the back of his neck. “You heard everything.”

“Yup,” he said, popping his p, his dad coming over to the bottom of the stairs and staring up. “I don’t want to talk to either of you right now. Y/N, I’d like to go to bed, please.”

“Accept their apology Jensen. You can hash out the rest of this in the morning but accept that they know they were in the wrong,” you said. 

“Why should I?” he asked, cocking his head.

“We both got hurt out of their love for you. They are not monsters and I know the difference,” you said. “You know too.”

“Will you two ever look at me the same again,” said Jensen, staring at the landing. 

“Honey it was a fight. It’ll be alright,” said his mom, his head shaking.

“Ever since I woke up in the hospital, you two look at me like I’m a kid. Like I’m weak and defenseless. But I’m not. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been and this whole day could have been avoided if you treated me like your adult son, not the kid who fell off his bike and cries over a cut. I needed you two to take over, I did, I honestly did after the accident. I couldn’t take care of myself let alone the kids. But you haven’t stopped thinking I can take care of me again. I can. I do. I know I’m your kid but let me be an adult again. Trust me. Please.”

“Come here,” you said, holding out your hand. He slid down the steps and you stood up and aside, letting him get a hug from his mom and then dad. 

“We’re sorry,” said his dad.

“I know,” said Jensen quietly. “Never do something like that again. Ever.”

“We won’t,” he said. You leaned against the wall and sipped on the hot chocolate, Jensen’s nose twitching.

“That’s my cocoa,” he said, turning his head up at you.

“I just Jerry Springer’ed ya’ll. I get the cocoa. Get your own,” you said. He smiled and you gave it right back, his parents pulling off and bringing him to his feet. 

“Come here,” said his dad as his mom dragged him off towards the kitchen with the promise of hot chocolate. You stepped down until you were about his height and took a drink, licking your lips when you finished. “How do you just let that go? You were so angry before.”

“I’ve been to therapy. I have good diffusing skills,” you said. 

“Is that a joke?”

“Not really,” you said with a smile. “You made a mistake because you love him. I’m gonna make mistakes because I love him. So when I screw up, now you owe me one, deal?”

“I know it’s getting late but would you be willing to stay up a while longer, maybe find out that favorite color?” he asked. You smiled and nodded, stepping down.

“Depends on the day,” said Jensen, stepping out with a mug of his own.

“He’s right,” you said. “You okay to stay up a bit?”

He nodded and walked back to the family room, taking your hand. 

“Better?” you whispered to him.

“Yeah. Not all the way but definitely better honey.”

It was warm when you woke up the next morning. You peeled open an eye and caught Jensen laying awake, staring at his ceiling. You kicked off the blankets and he reached an arm out, pulling you to lay on his chest.

“It’s hot in here,” you mumbled, eyes shutting again.

“There’s a box covering the vent,” he said, dancing his fingers lazily over your bare arm. “It’s almost noon.”

“Seriously?” you said into his chest, nuzzling against his soft skin.

“Yeah. Sounds like they’re out back with the kids,” he said. You nodded and felt him move his fingers all over you, soft and light, absentmindedly tracing patterns every so often.

“Still upset?” you asked, his head nodding. “They’re human. They fuck up.”

“Are you angry?”

“I was. Not anymore. I kinda like ‘em actually.”

“Why would you give them a second chance?” he asked. 

“When I got adopted I didn’t like, instantly love my mom. I was scared of her at first. I don’t know, I get that you can not like someone at first and then love them unconditionally, you know? It’s weird but your opinions can change once you get to know someone.”

“I don’t do a very good job of protecting you from things,” he said, tilting his head, moving a few hairs behind your ear. You looked up at him, his fingers playing in your hair behind you. 

“Honey you went off on your parents last night. I bet you’ve never done that to them. You were trying to protect me and you did. No one has ever protected me the way you do,” you said. “Today is a new day and I’d like to get to know my new family some more.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll follow your lead.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 13 here!

[tenthgrove]

Soft Yandere Tizano and squalo

Yandere La Unita

Content Warnings: yandere behaviour, manipulation, abduction, forced dependency, violence, unhealthy relationships, the general existence of Dolcio Cioccolata.

Squalo and Tiziano

It isn't common for Squalo and Tiziano to interact with civilians. Or anyone really, since the pair are largely content with each other's company and nothing more. The sole exception to this is the necessary interactions that result from their frequent shopping trips, from which you, the cashier of their favourite boutique, came into play.

The pair observed you innocuously for many months, slowly learning practically everything that could be known about you simply from overheard conversations with colleagues. You dare say you liked them, even, as they were friendlier than your average customer and a familiar face to look forward too.

One day, Squalo sits Tiziano down and admits his attraction to you. It was meant to be an honourable confession, an honest admittance of wrongdoing to ensure no harm comes to the relationship. To Squalo's shock, Tiziano chuckles and announces he feels the same way. It's time the couple started to pursue you actively.

The defining feature of how Squalo and Tiziano obtain you is that it's calculated and smart. Squalo's happy to just walk up to you and ask for you to be together (or barring that, just abduct you), but it is Tiziano who convinces him otherwise. Not only would conventional methods of wooing you be unlikely to work, but they have practical concerns to worry about as well, being high-ranking members of the mafia. They're going to have to plan something a little more nuanced.

During a visit to your store, Squalo slips a little bit of paper into your pocket. You open it at home that evening to find your own address, along with several belonging to your closest friends and family listed out, above a message instructing you to come to a location of their choice the next day or they'll start paying these people visits. It's an outdoor restaurant in the middle of the city, where there's bound to be a lot of people. They don't want to scare you too much after all.

You arrive at the restaurant the next day on weak knees. Squalo and Tiziano thank you for coming, before introducing themselves in no uncertain terms as mafiosos who have taken an interest in you, and would like to start dating. You read between the lines that you don't have an option to say no.

However, the pair make clear the incentives to accept their offer are just as profound as the threats against refusing it. Are you in education? They're happy to support you in continuing it. Do you work? They have more than enough money to support you in reducing your hours or, if it's something you genuinely enjoy, bribing the right people to advance your career. Ultimately, Squalo and Tiziano know the carrot is just as important as the stick.

Thought you aren't forced to go home with them there and then, it soon becomes clear you're expected to sort your affairs quickly and move in within the next couple of months. From that point on, the couple will treat you as though you've been together for years, expecting you to address them as your partners as well.

Both Squalo and Tiziano are very touchy in their own ways, and while they would never force themselves on you, are more than happy to trail their hands up and down your arms early on. They are also both incredibly teasing, and will pick up on all your reactions.

The good news is that the level of freedom afforded to you is high from the get-go. Even from the beginning, you're allowed to maintain control of your finances and go out by yourself provided you tell them. Just be warned they'll occasionally check in on you by surprise to make sure you're actually where you said you would go. The one thing they do quite heavily police is social visits. The possibility of you revealing to someone they forced you to be with them is very acute, not that you would get very far if you did try to run away. It's not that you can't have friends, you just need to be very honest about who you're meeting and why.

Cioccolata and Secco

If Dolcio Cioccolata has taken an interest in you and his intentions aren't torture or murder, it can only mean one thing- you are someone very dear to him, and have been so for a long time. Chances are, you probably trust him a lot back. Cioccolata's gotten very good at acting normal around his respectable friends, after all.

The two main possibilities are that you know him as a family friend and became close through parties, or you're a chronically ill patient who found yourself in his care, and were lucky enough to avoid his scalpel long enough for a genuine mutual bond to form. It could be both. You could have fallen ill after knowing him for a long time. He could have made you ill.

As for Secco, Cioccolata will only pursue you as a lover with his consent. Cioccolata would never want his darling pet to feel neglected, after all, and for that reason it's only when Secco confesses a fondness for you that Cioccolata decides its time to make you his own. Secco is immediately very excited at the thought of you joining them, and for a while Cioccolata's main concern is actually stopping him from giving their plans away.

As much as Cioccolata would love to pluck you from your home, he knows that would only get him caught. The police are already after a serial killer with surgical knowledge, and taking you like that would just make him a suspect. So he does something more covert, he invites you over. You enjoy a lovely night gorging snacks and watching TV with your two friends, until Cioccolata invites you to the basement. As you go down, he snatches your phone and sends out the first of many messages designed to trick your family into thinking you've run away.

Waiting for you there in the basement, to your horror, is a functional operating theatre, complete with spatter after spatter of blood. You'll probably try to run, but the door is already locked. But don't worry, your blood won't be joining that on the table tonight. As Cioccolata explains to you as you cower in the corner, he treasures your bond very much, the tender feeling of what they call 'romance' that fills his heart whenever you look at him, the obscure sense of care for another human being. He won't be subjecting you to his operations.

That is, until your inevitable first attempt at escape. Although he'll still stop short of outright torturing you (providing a generous dose of general anaesthetic and subsequent painkillers) his 'alterations' to your limbs will lead you unable to walk or carry out fine motor skills. You'll be entirely dependent on his and Secco's care. As he assures you frequently, the changes are entirely reversible and you can have all your old mobility back with another operation and a little physical therapy, but for Cioccolata to give that to you, you're going to have to earn it.

Cioccolata keeps his promise to reverse the damage he did to you, but by the time that happens a lot has changed. He hasn't conditioned you to become like Secco as that would involve removing everything that first endeared him to you, but you're still going to have to become a lot more warmed up to him to trust you with your limbs back. At least you'll be treated like royalty in the meantime, even if you are still a prisoner. Cioccolata will remind you every day you're his darling pet, just like Secco.

Doppio

Doppio was never allowed to have lovers when the Boss was around. He found it a little hypocritical since the boss once told him he had a girlfriend, but he guessed he understood his reasoning and, either way, he would never question his boss. The boss is gone now, and Doppio has nobody to guide him anymore. He's alone and doesn't know what to do; even the old hideouts the new boss never found feel cold and empty, and Doppio can't bring himself to enter them. Then he met you.

You weren't quite sure what you were looking at, seeing a fine-dressed, disoriented boy stumbling around in the rain outside your window. Nonetheless, you knew he was in no state to be alone so you went out and approached him. When it was clear he had nobody to call, you invited him in.

As you leave him alone in the sitting room to make coffee, Doppio's mind is going in cartwheels. You've been so kind to him, and deep down in his heart something tells him the two of you were meant for each other. This could be his new start! Someone to rely on, to depend upon to give him purpose! But wait- if he leaves tonight he might never see you again! As he panics, Doppio decides he can't let that happen. He needs to have you tonight.

The second you return to the sitting room, Doppio pounces on you. As he frantically assures you that everything's going to be okay, you pass out from shock. You wake up in a strange house, tied to an extravagant bed. Your screams bring Doppio to your room. He quickly reassures you he isn't going to hurt you and is doing this so you can be together.

Doppio has some (i.e, a few million quid) money he was able to salvage from before the boss' fall, and he's going to use it however possible to please you. He will buy you anything and everything you desire short of freedom, making his own guesses about what you'd like if you refuse to talk.

His initial plan is to keep you locked up in that room (or at very least the wider house) forever, since it's safest for you and his old boss never went out much, but eventually he relents at your distress. He'll let you out eventually, if that's what it takes to make you smile.

On that note, the best thing about being Doppio's darling is how easy it is to turn the tables on him. Once you've behaved yourself for a while, having learned what keeps Doppio satisfied, it's very easy to become the dominant one in the relationship and make him let you do whatever you want. His sole desire is to serve you, after all.

[lovesick-feelin]

i might just keep sending these cos theres so many wonderful ones

willex, 34?

Oh my lord this got away from me I am SO sorry. (I'm not sorry, though, because I had so much fun writing this. Like, wow.) I will get to the other prompts as soon as possible but in the meantime enjoy almost 3k of literally just fluff.

This started as a cute scene in the studio and turned into a study on Willie's obsession with Alex's hands and then suddenly it was a love confession. Oops.

Prompt me! | Read on AO3

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The first time it happens, Willie chalks it up to nerves.

Alex is new to the whole ghost thing, Willie reasons. He might not still be super comfortable phasing through doors like it’s nothing. It’s been forty years since Willie had any sort of pulse, but he knows it would be pounding right now as he puts on a casual front, swinging his arm forward and then back to grab Alex’s hand.

Alex jumps like he’s been shocked with static electricity, eyes flying down to their joined hands and then back up to Willie’s face. He doesn’t pull away, though, and the tension that appeared in his shoulders is gone as quick as it arrived, and then he smiles, so Willie knows he’s good.

They’ve hung out three or four times since they first met on Sunset Boulevard, and Willie has decided he’s starting a catalogue of Alex’s smiles; this one is new. It’s shyer than the “Grateful You’re Answering My Questions” smile Willie got on the bench, not touched with laughter like the “Oh, This One Time” smile Alex uses when he tells stories about his bandmates. This one is startled, a little awkward, but soft and open, and Willie has a good feeling in his chest that Alex doesn’t share this smile with a lot of people.

Willie knows that if he lets himself keep staring at it, though, it’ll become the “Kissed Right Off My Face” smile, so he tears his eyes away from Alex and tugs them both into the museum, never letting go of his hand.

Somehow they’ve moved from palms clasped to fingers interlocked in the five seconds before they jumped through the doors, and Willie can feel the rough drumstick calluses on Alex’s palms and fingers, some edged with torn skin and others worn to permanence with the passage of time, all now permanently affixed in whatever state they were in when Alex died. There’s a large one right on the pad of Alex’s thumb that keeps brushing over the back of Willie’s hand, smaller ones tucked into the insides of his knuckles, and Willie wants to memorize all of them, all these little reminders that Alex bled and breathed and played music and was alive.

Willie kind of wants to never let go of Alex’s hand ever, but he didn’t drag Alex to this empty museum just to be weird and hold his hand, and Willie’s already caught sight of three different potential jumps that look just sick enough to impress the cute boy to his left, so it’s with some reluctance that he releases his grip on Alex to put his helmet on and cruise the gallery.

Willie finds himself tracing the smooth lines of his own palm later, after Alex leaves, remembering how the calluses felt against his palms and the way Alex gripped his hand, hesitant at first but then with intention, like even if Willie hadn’t grabbed his hand, Alex would have wanted him to.

=

When Willie grabs Alex’s hand at the Hollywood Ghost Club to help launch him over the tables and onto the dance floor, there’s that same initial shock that flies through Alex’s body, but it’s gone too fast for Willie to even be conscious of it, swept away by the adrenaline of the music and the way Alex is smiling at him, looking alive. This is the closest Willie has to any sort of home turf in the afterlife, and Alex is here, eyes lit up under the glow of the stage lights. Willie wants to take the memory of Alex’s face when he got up to dance and etch it frame for frame in stone: Alex’s tongue pressed against the side of his cheek, the way his bandmates cheered and jostled his shoulders but Alex’s eyes stayed on Willie the entire time. Willie didn’t know his cheeks could flush anymore, doesn’t know how it’s possible, but Alex sends him reeling that way, pink and warm and like he’s glowing.

Willie squeezes their hands together briefly, finding the callus on Alex’s thumb and sweeping his touch over it quickly enough to make it seem like an accident, and he swears he hears Alex’s breath catch above the roar of the music, their eyes meeting like an electric charge.

Luke and Reggie find themselves swept away by dance partners right away, and Willie’s just summoning up the courage to grab Alex and show him all the partner dances he knows when a lifer in a steel gray ball gown asks him for directions, and Willie has to show her to the stairs. He ducks and weaves his way through the crowd, laughing with delight as he watches Maya shred on the piano, and then Caleb catches his eye with a flashing grin and jerks his thumb towards the dance floor.

And there’s Alex, being twirled around by Dante, feet flying, and his smile is wide and startled and Willie wants to be the recipient of it so bad it aches. Fuego appears out of nowhere to catch Alex by his other hand, and Willie finds himself bowled over by a wave of ice cold envy, that anyone else should be granted the privilege of Alex’s touch without earning it.

Alex catches his eye and brightens like a fucking sun, beckoning Willie onto the dance floor, but the dancers twirl everywhere and everyone wants to touch Alex and Willie is in stupid, hopeless, maybe-love after knowing this boy for two weeks and it’s all too much, threatening to knock him over, so Willie tries to salvage what’s left of his crumbling foundations and bolts.

=

Willie doesn’t get to hold his hand again until suddenly it might be for the last time ever.

Everything is too fast, too sudden, and Willie doesn’t even get the chance to stop Alex from backing away before suddenly he’s sweeping forward and clutching onto Willie’s shoulders like he’s a buoy in a violent storm. Willie’s brain catches up after a moment. He buries his face in Alex’s neck and Alex smells like springtime, peony and cucumber and rainwater, like things waking up and coming back to life. Willie holds him like a lifeline, like hope of resurrection, and tries not to think about going back to the way things were before, trying to exist around the gaping maw Alex created when he crashed into Willie’s afterlife.

When they pull apart, it's out of some kind of necessity that Willie twines their fingers together. Alex tenses but doesn’t flinch, and Willie wants to ask about it, would ask about it if they had the time they deserved, but they don’t, because the universe is cruel and Willie is selfish and unthinking and so, so in love, and so he doesn’t ask and he settles for squeezing Alex’s hand one more time, memorizing every callus as if the phantom sensation of their hands intertwined might lead him to some sort of healing.

“I’ll see you around, Hot Dog,” Willie says just to watch the blush of indignance color Alex’s cheeks one more time before he forces himself to drop Alex’s hand and skate down the block out of sight. I would have still followed you, Alex had told him on the back of that couch in the Orpheum, face open and vulnerable, the closest he’ll ever come to a confession of what lay between them, and Willie has to force himself not to look back. If Alex could take Willie’s hand and tug him to the other side of whatever limbo this is the way Willie tugged him through those museum doors, Willie would follow him too, because he’d follow Alex anywhere. It just seems like fate has other plans.

=

It turns out, Willie thinks later, standing in the late night dark of the museum with Alex’s callused hands cradling his jaw and their foreheads pressed together, bathed in an impossible golden glow, that fate might just know what she’s doing.

=

“Why do you always do that?”

“Huh?” Alex looks up from the sheet music he’s studying, something Luke had shoved into his hands as he sprinted out of the garage that was just too good for Alex not to read right now. Julie is at school and Luke is with Reggie scoping out new venues for the afternoon, so they’ve got the studio to themselves, the concrete floors bathed in sunlight that turns Alex’s floppy hair to gold. He’s wearing Willie’s favorite shirt, the olive green Bowie one, and his jacket has been abandoned to the back of a chair. Willie is definitely not ogling his arms.

Willie holds up their joined hands before letting them fall again to rest between them on the couch. “Whenever I grab your hand. You, uh, you always flinch a little.”

Alex blinks, setting the sheet music down and suddenly looking self conscious enough that Willie almost regrets saying anything. “Oh. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“I didn’t think you did,” Willie says easily, shifting his body to face Alex fully and tucking his feet up underneath him. “Everything okay? We don’t, um,” he continues, fumbling over his words, “if you don’t, like, like holding hands, we don’t have to --”

“No, no, no!” Alex cuts him off quickly. “I like it. Like, a lot. We don’t have to stop.”

“Oh.” Willie knows his face is as pink as Alex’s hoodie. “Good. That’s - that’s good.”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know why I flinch. Just embarrassed, I guess.”

Here Willie has to pause. “Embarrassed?”

“I guess.”

“About what?”

Alex shrugs awkwardly, bringing his socked feet up onto the couch to hug his knees, their joined hands still tucked between them. “I’ve just always been weird about my hands,” he says, staring at his free hand, Luke’s sheet music forgotten. “I have all those ugly calluses. You know, from my drumsticks. Never liked them.”

Willie can’t help the giggle that bursts out of him, and Alex’s eyes fly to his face. “What?” he asks, mouth quirking up in what Willie’s now categorized as his “I Don’t Know What’s Going On But You’re Cute” smile, and Willie hums.

“Just ironic,” he muses, bringing Alex’s hand up to hold in both of his. “I’ve always loved your calluses.”

It’s Alex’s turn to blush. Willie earns himself a “Museum Date” smile and high-fives himself internally. “Really?” Alex asks, and Willie nods earnestly, turning Alex’s hand over to rest palm up in the cradle of his hands.

“Honestly, man? I’m, like, kind of obsessed with them.” He skims the lightest of touches over the small calluses tucked in the creases of Alex’s fingers and revels in the soft gasp Alex lets out. “Like, you loved something so much,” Willie murmurs, smoothing his thumb over a large one on Alex’s palm below his pointer finger, “that it tethered itself to your soul. Calluses are, like, proof of that passion. You were alive, and you loved this.” Willie reaches with his other hand and traces the edges of the callus on Alex’s thumb. “Even when it hurt you.”

He looks up and Alex is so still in the afternoon sunlight, like he’s suspended in amber. He’s so gorgeous it hurts. “I never thought of it like that,” Alex manages, voice hoarse, and Willie nods, suddenly finding that he can’t speak at all. He brings Alex’s hand up and presses his lips to the pad of his thumb, the seam of his mouth meeting the center of the time-hardened scar. Alex looks like he might faint.

“You really like them,” he breathes, and Willie nods again, not breaking eye contact as he moves, pressing feather-light kisses to the calluses on Alex’s fingers and palm.

“I really like you,” he answers, pulling Alex closer still to kiss the nonexistent pulse on the soft inside of Alex’s wrist. If Willie’s heart still beat it would be pounding out of his chest. Alex goes so easily, like clay in Willie’s hands, and it’s so easy for Willie to take his other hand and draw Alex’s legs out flat on the couch, all guardedness abandoned. Willie slides into his lap, knowing full well that he isn’t fooling anyone, that Alex can feel the way Willie’s breath stutters as he trails kisses to the crook of Alex’s elbow. Alex’s hand falls to the dip of Willie’s waist, the hem of the tie-dye crop slipping up so that Alex’s palm is pressed fully against the bare skin there, and it’s a crime how well it fits, like it was supposed to rest there, like nature intended it.

“I like your hands,” Willie murmurs, and he knows he couldn’t control the words spilling out of his mouth right now even if he wanted to. “I like holding them. I like the way the calluses feel on my palms.” He presses a kiss to Alex’s upper arm where the sleeve of his shirt meets skin, and when he drops it Alex’s other hand flies automatically to the small of Willie’s back, anchoring him like a magnet. Willie meets his gaze and Alex’s pupils are blown wide, eyes so blue Willie could drown in them, and his hands. Willie feels like he’s on fire everywhere Alex is touching him and somehow it isn’t enough.

“I like how steady they get when you play the drums,” Willie hums, steadying himself with two hands on Alex’s chest and dropping a kiss to his shoulder. “I like watching. I love,” and here he kisses Alex’s exposed collarbone, revels in the catch of his breath, “when you twirl your drumsticks. So easy, like you’re not even trying.”

Willie noses up and kisses the curve of Alex’s neck. Alex’s grip tightens on Willie’s waist, head tilting pliantly to the side to give him easier access. “Willie,” he breathes, but he doesn’t need to say anything else. Willie knows.

“I love it when you hold me,” he murmurs, still trailing kisses up Alex’s neck. “I love your hands on my waist, and my back, and my shoulders.” He mouths at Alex’s stupidly perfect jawline, kissing the corner. “I love your hands on my face when you kiss me.” Another kiss pressed to Alex’s cheekbone, just by his ear. “I love when they’re in my hair.”

Alex inhales sharply and then the hand on Willie’s back is skating up to thread itself in his hair, always so careful and gentle and intentional, even now, when Willie’s got him completely undone. Their foreheads are pressed together, breath mingling in the space between them, and Willie kisses Alex’s cheek again, each corner of his mouth, the lightest touch to his cupid’s bow, and the words that have sat inside of him since that day on Sunset Boulevard and maybe since the universe was created, well, they don’t seem so heavy anymore.

“I love your hands,” Willie breathes, everything around them impossibly still, “because I love you. If you can believe it.”

The shaky sigh that Alex lets out is audible, almost a cry, and then he’s kissing Willie, using the hand in his hair to guide the tilt of their heads and slotting their lips together so perfectly that Willie kind of wants to cry. He steadies himself with an arm on the back of the couch and reaches with his other hand for Alex’s arm. Without breaking the kiss Willie guides Alex’s other hand to cup his face, wrapping his own hand around Alex’s wrist and losing himself in the easy give and take of kissing this boy. This boy, who loved Willie so fiercely that he saved his soul, whose touch unravels him like spun sugar, who Willie could spend an eternity with. He will, if Alex will let him, and Willie just thinks he might.

They separate just enough to breathe, eyes closed and foreheads touching. Willie blinks his eyes open first, slowly, and the sight of Alex right there, flushed and radiant and gorgeous, is enough to knock the wind out of Willie’s lungs. He drops his hand from Alex’s wrist to reach up and brush some of the hair off of his forehead, pressing a kiss to his hairline. Alex hums, leaning into the touch, skating his thumb over Willie’s cheekbone before dropping his hand back to the dip of his waist.

“Wow,” Willie says quietly, the first to really break the silence, and Alex huffs out a quiet laugh. He runs his fingers gently through Willie’s hair all the way to the ends, lets his head flop back on the arm of the couch, blue eyes warm and his smile easy and open, and he’s the most beautiful, devastating thing Willie has ever seen.

“I love you too,” Alex says hoarsely, and then clears his throat. “By the way,” he adds, and there’s the rest of the Alex that Willie knows, always a little anxious but never unsure. Willie’s helpless to do anything but lean in and kiss him again, because he loves him. Golden, gentle, awkward, beautiful Alex, who loves Willie so intentionally, who guarded his heart so carefully even when it had already given itself away, who sees Willie for all his mistakes and jagged edges and broken parts and loves him for all of it, on purpose, but still worried over the calluses on his palms as if they made him anything less than perfect.

Alex kisses him back and Willie’s heart sings, and it feels just a little bit like forever.

[lunar-jimin]

life goes on, it gets so heavy; the wheel breaks the butterfly

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reading

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut, angst, fluffy ending, ceo!jungkook, secretary!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: cheating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, using pulling out as a protective method (don’t do this kids), dom!jungkook, sub!reader, cumming in pants, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation, lovey-dovey sex, impreg kink

Summary: Despite being the golden heir of a wealthy empire, Jungkook is incredibly unhappy with life he’s been handed. When you show up in his office one morning, you change his life in the way he least expected, but in the way he needed the most. 

a/n: This is an anonymous commission for my BLM fundraiser!! If you would like to request something yourself, you can find the link to my official post here! I would also like to thank the lovely @nightowls388​ for beta reading!!

| masterlist | moodboard | playlist |

The air was too hot. Uncomfortable. Sticky. Jungkook loosened the tie around his neck in a desperate attempt to free himself from the confines of his suit. He hated August. It was always too warm, too sunny. He preferred the dark winter days where the snow silenced the universal white noise. Black suits weren’t as suffocating on forty degree days.

He glanced out the window of the Rolls Royce, taking in the pedestrians struggling not to melt in the intense gaze of the sun. He sympathized with their struggle. Even the blast of freezing draft from the air conditioner did little to spare him from the heat. He enjoyed watching people. He was fascinated by the little idiosyncrasies that formed them into unique individuals, each essential to making the world work. Besides, everyone’s life seemed more interesting to him than his own.

There was a point in his life when he was content with the plan his parents had laid out for him before he was in diapers. He looked forward to one day taking over his father’s company, marrying a nice girl, and starting a family. It was a simple plan and one that gained the approval of the adults in his life: something he was constantly vying for as an adolescent. It was what he was raised with. When he went to college, everything changed. For the first time in his existence, he wasn’t being inundated with his parent’s doctrine and found that there was more to life than running Fortune 500 companies. His parents were less than pleased to discover that he had accompanied his business major with a minor in photography. 

But despite the longing that had bloomed in him for something more intriguing than sterile offices and mundane board meetings, he still found himself back home where his parents once again instilled in him the desire to be the golden heir. A year after his return as the prodigal son, his parents set him with the woman who was now his wife. Three years after that, his father decided that he would rather spend his days on the golfing green rather than in sky-high conference rooms, so he handed off the company to Jungkook. Ever since Jungkook had been locked inside stuffy black suits and boring ties. And he absolutely hated it. 

He squirmed in his seat, his desire to escape increasing with each second he was locked in the back of the car. God, why was it so hot? He felt like crying- a feeling that had become increasingly common during the past six months. His brain felt like a bubbling volcano waiting patiently to explode. Sometimes, Jungkook imagined what would happen when it did. He would divorce his wife, leave his job, and move to some island in the Caribbean where he would spend the rest of his days taking pictures. It was a nice dream, but it was only that, a dream. 

He shook his head, trying to contain his runaway emotions. As the car came to a halt in front of the office building, Jungkook tightened his tie and grabbed his briefcase before exiting out into the scalding heat. If inside the car was bad, outside was absolute hell. It was so hot, Jungkook swore he was on fire. He frowned, rushing into the safety of the air-conditioned skyscraper in front of him before he broke out in a sweat. 

He sighed in relief the second he made it through the rotating doors. He had never been so grateful for the large air conditioning bill in all his life. His relief was so immense that it took a full minute to realize something was wrong. Normally, the second he walked through the door, his secretary greeted him with an iced coffee and a pastry, but as he looked around, his secretary was nowhere to be found. Yet another sigh escaped his mouth as he stepped into the elevator. Why of all days did today have to be the day his secretary magically disappeared? He shook his head. 

He noticed her the minute he arrived at his office floor. She was bent over a box, all her attention focused on searching for whatever object was eluding her. It took her a moment to notice his presence, but when she did, she bolted upright before scurrying in front of the desk, hands behind her back. Jungkook looked her up and down, transfixed by the beautiful stranger.

“Can I help you?”

His voice came out harsher than he meant it to and he cringed when you tried to disguise a wince. 

“Um, yes, I’m your new secretary, Mr. Jeon.”

His brows furrowed. 

“New secretary? What happened to the old one? He was perfectly fine.”

He didn’t remember any emails about his secretary leaving, although to be fair, he hadn’t been paying attention to much these days. He might physically be at work, but more often than not, his mind had drifted to far off places. Mostly island paradises. 

“He moved away.”

“Ah,” he gave you a once over, “and what is your name, new secretary?”

You answered him. He nodded as if you had given him the right answer on a quiz.

“And I don’t suppose anyone has told you how things work around here.”

“No sir.”

His hands clenched at the name, a picture of you on your knees before him (with much less clothing) popped into his head. He shook it off, trying to stay the least bit professional. He had a wife for god’s sake. 

“I see. Well, for future reference, I expect you to meet me each day in the lobby with an iced americano and a pastry,” he paused when he realized how demanding he sounded before softly adding, “No cherries though, I hate cherries.”

You nodded, grabbing a sticky note and jotting down his instructions.

“For now, just get settled in. Do you happen to know if I have any meetings today?”

You nodded again, “You have a lunch meeting with the Samsung marketing director at one, sir.”

There it was again. That damn formality. It was really going to get the better of him. 

“You will accompany me. I expect you to take notes, but don’t contribute to the conversation. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jungkook nodded before making a beeline to his office before he got a boner. He let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. His heart pounded in his chest and despite his desperate attempts, he’s chubbed up a bit in his pants. 

He didn’t want to admit that it’s because you might be the most attractive woman he has ever seen. He didn’t want to admit that he hasn’t been this turned on in months. Instead, he passed it off on the fact that he hadn’t had sex with his wife in three months which left behind quite a bit of built-up tension. 

The hours ticked by and Jungkook attempted to bury himself with the neverending stack of paperwork. He remembered there was a time when he loved to show off his signature (there was a reason fifteen-year-old him never had a girlfriend), but now he wanted to chop off his hands so that he could never sign a contract again. He was thankful when the clock struck eleven, releasing him from his office, even if it meant being stuck talking shop for an hour while eating expensive but flavorless food. 

He stepped out to find you arranging photos on the wall beside your desk. You glanced up when you heard the door open and flashed him a blinding smile. 

“Ready, sir?”

He nodded. The title was really going to be a problem. 

The meeting was the beginning of Jungkook’s personal purgatory. Every day you would greet him with a smile and the best pastries he had ever tasted. (He was surprised when you admitted to him that you had baked them yourself. If you weren't proving to be an amazing secretary, he would suggest that you open a bakery, but he’s selfish.) You were a good listener and caught onto his routines without a struggle. But every day you would show up dressed as pure temptation. It wasn’t even that your outfits were scandalous, just simple pencil skirts and pastel blouses, but you made them look like sin incarnate. It didn’t help that every night he went home to his wife who he barely noticed existed anymore.

There had been a point when he and his wife were, er, passionate. For the first couple of years, Jungkook even managed to convince himself that he was in love with her. But a couple of months ago, weekly dinners turned into once a month before they disappeared altogether. To make the situation worse, his mother was starting to complain about her lack of children, but he didn’t know how to break it to her that he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed his wife, much less had sex with her. There were no bitter feelings or resentment, just indifference. He had briefly considered couples therapy before deciding against it. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to attempt to salvage the crumbs of his marriage. 

You had only added fuel to the fire. Jungkook found himself just as infatuated with your mind as he was with your body. Not only did you laugh at his dumb jokes and listen to his whining, but you had witty contributions and easily found out-of-the-box solutions. He swore this quarter’s numbers would be higher just from you alone. And you flirted. He wasn’t sure at first, incredibly hesitant to respond in fear of a scandalous HR report. But when he caught your gaze on him when you thought he wasn’t looking one too many times, he realized there was a good chance that you liked him just as much as he liked you. 

Between you, his wife, and his desperate need to escape this world of offices, limos, and quid pro quo, his life was unraveling right in front of him. Still, he tried to hold onto all the pieces before they landed in a disappointed heap in his lap. He wasn’t quite ready to let it all go to shit. He definitely was not ready to meet his parents’ disapproving faces when he lost everything they had worked so hard to ensure he had. 

Two months after you began working, he found himself at an overcrowded party praying he was anywhere but there. Sadly, being a CEO meant that he wasn’t allowed to drink away his woes, lest he make a fool of himself in front of all the investors. Instead, he was forced to stay exhaustingly sober as he watched everyone around him devolve into debauchery. He found his wife pleasantly drunk near the bar talking to one of her friends whose face he recognized but couldn’t remember her name for the life of him.

“Having fun darling?”

He grinned, trying to play the role of loving husband. A role that had become increasingly difficult to mimic. 

“It’s your birthday party, I should be asking you. Have you even had a drink? Probably not,” she turned back to her friend, “He never drinks at these things, something about keeping up appearances. I think it’s dumb. It’s his own birthday for fuck’s sake.”

He rolled his eyes. There she went again, putting him down. It wasn’t the first time she had commented on his festive sobriety. She wasn’t a fan. Maybe it was because he only fucked her after he drank. Still, he conceded to her teasing, figuring one drink wouldn’t hurt. He waved down a bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please,” he turned back to his wife, “satisfied?”

She grinned at him before resuming ignoring him in favor of whatever fascinating conversation her friend was providing. He sighed before grabbing his drink and making his way out to the balcony. The air inside the penthouse was stuffy and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He was surprised to find you already out there, nursing your own drink in your hand. It wasn't unusual for people from the office to be at his personal parties. His father had taught him a long time ago that inviting your employees into your personal life was key to inspiring loyalty. It made them feel like they knew you and that they were important to you. But seeing as you were a relatively new addition, he had never seen you outside of the office and if you were sexy in skirts and blouses, the dress you had on should be illegal. He gulped before leaning next to you on the rail.

"Parties not your thing?"

You jumped, spilling a bit of your drink onto the dark street below. 

"Um, no, parties are fine. Rich people parties are just a whole new animal."

He chuckled.

"That's fair I suppose. Even I get sick of those fuckers. They do realize that they aren’t at the office anymore right? No need to brag about how well your stock is doing"

You smiled at him before looking back out at the city skyline. Despite having grown up with views like this, Jungkook still found it breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as he found you. He took a sip of his drink, trying to drown his thoughts in alcohol. When he looked at you again, he felt his stomach churn. You were so beautiful that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A sigh escaped him. You broke out of your trance and turned to look at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Not really."

You raised your eyebrow.

"I just- I know this sounds stupid and pretentious- but I really just don't want to do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"This job. This lifestyle. This life. I was raised to be the perfect CEO with the perfect family, a copy of my father really, but that's not what I want. All my family has ever seen me as is the golden heir and honestly, I don’t know if I can be that anymore."

"Who do you want to be?"

"I don't know. A photographer I guess. And marry somebody I actually choose to fall in love with. And live away from the stress of trying to please every person in my life at the cost of my own happiness."

"You don't love your wife?"

"No, I do. Kinda. I just... My parents picked her out and at some point, I was smitten with her, but we're so different and she wants success and money and, well, I don't care about that as much. She’s not a bad person, she’s just obsessed with her books and her writing, and well, that doesn’t leave much room for family. I’m not much better though."

"Oh."

"And we haven't been too hot lately."

"How so?"

"Um, well, we're really distant, and, um, we haven't had sex in two months."

You snorted and he blanched. He usually never shared that kind of thing with anyone and here he was confessing his personal problems to you, his secretary. The alcohol must be affecting him more than he thought. This is why he didn't drink at parties.

"How? Has she seen you? I would be all over you if I was your wife.”

You realized what you had said a moment too late and you looked at him with wide eyes, a faint blush covering your face. He let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Would you now?”

You nodded before downing the rest of your drink. Jungkook felt something akin to butterflies begin to flutter in his stomach. He had known that he was fairly attractive, but something about hearing someone as ethereal as you admit it made his heart do flips. 

“Yeah, well, it’s really on me I guess. I haven’t really wanted to.”

“You don’t want to have sex?”

Relief washed over your face when you realized that he wasn’t going to linger on your slip up. 

“Yeah. Well no. I do want to have sex. Just not with her.”

“I see. Well, who do you want to have sex with?”

It was a small glimpse, almost imperceptible, but he saw the recognition in your face as you watched his eyes glance over you.

“Me?”

Jungkook gulped. What was he doing? What was he getting himself into? He had a life to protect. Expectations to uphold. And yet, here he was, considering risking it all for a secretary who was making him feel something for the first time in months. 

When he gathered enough courage to look at you, he found you staring at his lips. One second he’s waging a war with himself and the next your mouth is on his. Your lips are just as warm and soft as he thought they would be and for a moment he lets himself be absorbed by them. But reality rapidly floods back, and he pushes you away. You looked at him, obviously hurt by the rejection. 

“I’m sorry.”

He’s being honest. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he was a coward who was afraid of what people thought of him. And the things people would think about him if they knew he kissed his secretary were not pretty.

“It’s fine.”

You failed to cover up the disappointment in your voice. 

“It’s not you. It’s just I have a wife, and a family with expectations and-”

He sighs.

“Look, it’s fine. Really. I’m just gonna get going, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”

With that, you leave him to his own devices. He watches your figure go, before turning back to face the city. 

“Fuck.”

If work was hell before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Every day, he found himself torn between wanting to take you on his desk and wanting to never see you again. Ever since the party, the memory of your lips pressed on his had haunted him like an orphaned Victorian ghost with a thirst for revenge.  It was on replay in his mind to the point he couldn’t properly sleep anymore. He felt like shit, and he was pretty sure he looked it too, but if anyone noticed they neglected to say anything. 

You, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine. You hadn’t so much as mentioned the party. You performed your duties with your usual pep and continued to bring him your heavenly pastries. He resented you a little bit for being able to move on so easily. Here he was hung up on a moment he had fucked up, and there you were acting like nothing had happened. He wanted to scream. 

So he pulled back. He only talked to you if it was absolutely necessary. He never looked your way. He threw himself into his job. But you were still there, just as tempting as the first day he had seen you. His mind was being forced to choose between you alongside the island paradise he dreamed of, and keeping up appearances while pleasing his elders. A week passed and he was miserable. He was exhausted and all his will power had been depleted. 

That’s why he ended up doing what he did. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Friday rolled around and Jungkook was at his wit’s end. And then there you were, fifteen feet away from him flirting with some random guy from IT. (Namjoon, maybe?) It was harmless, but it didn’t stop Jungkook’s gut from twisting about inside of him. Why didn’t you flirt with him? Why didn’t you show him any signs of affection? He reminds himself that he rejected you, but it’s no help. Jealousy overwhelms him as he squirms in his leather chair. He barely noticed his hands clamped into fists or the way his jaw had clenched to the point of pain. When Namjoon leans over to whisper into your ear, Jungkook loses the small tidbits of control he had left. 

He pushes himself out of his chair and storms out, not bothering to say anything as he grabs your arm and pulls you away from a stunned Namjoon and back to his office, slamming the door behind him. 

“Can I help you?”

Your tone is curt and your face was twitching with displeasure. Jungkook realized that once he had you, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with you. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He would certainly like to bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t walk, but he was fairly certain that wouldn’t go over well with you right now. 

“Umm…” 

He felt a blush cross his face as he realized he was still holding onto your wrist. He released it before turning to pace back and forth across the marble floor. 

“Well?”

You folded your arms across your chest, your eyes were alight with something dangerous. Something that Jungkook found incredibly sexy. Before his brain could register with what he was doing, he found himself marching over to you, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. 

You stiffened against him, but before you had a chance to respond, he had pulled away from you. The guilt was almost immediate, drowning him in regret and confusion. You too looked confused, as you stood stock still, surprise plastered all over your face. Jungkook turned and walked back to his chair. 

“You can go.”

You seemed to barely register the words as you nodded before absent-mindedly wandering out of his office. Jungkook relaxed in his seat as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He knew he had feelings for you, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he couldn’t control. But he had lost control and now he wasn’t able to trust himself. And he didn’t know if he wanted to.

After that, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. He gathered the courage to interact with you again. But now instead of friendly glances and gestures, there were secret looks and subtle touches. Jungkook knew he was a wind-up toy one twist away from snapping, but he couldn’t help but indulge in your flirty gestures. 

He found himself growing bolder as the consequences he had once worried about seemed to be a world away. What started with the brush of a hand across the hip, grew to a hand on your thigh in the back of the car. Dark stares and lip bites plagued his day. At night, he would go home and lock himself in his private office where he would wrap his hand around his cock while conjuring up images of you in a variety of wanton states, all for him. 

He should’ve known that staying at work late with you would be a bad idea. Usually, you had the rest of the employees to keep you in check. With them gone, he found himself finding little reason to hold himself back.

“And so that’s why I think it’s a good idea to start engaging with younger consumers.”

You had been discussing ways to boost sales for the quarter, but he had stopped listening long ago, instead focusing on how your shirt was opened a button lower than usual.

“Mr. Jeon?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you listening?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course. Younger consumers. Got it.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Maybe if you spent less time staring at my chest and more time focusing on these market studies, we would already have higher sales.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

The drop of his voice surprised even him. You looked at him with an unreadable look from your perch on the edge of his desk.

“And what is so enticing about my chest?”

Jungkook gulped. Your eyes had darkened and he felt himself start to stir in his pants. 

“It’s a part of you. And you are so sexy I can barely control myself.”

You smirked, before sauntering over to him and lowering yourself into his lap. The scent of your perfume overwhelmed him as you leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

“Then don’t.”

Somewhere inside him, a cord snapped. The control he had been trying to reign in had broken free and he was left to his own primal devices. He pulled your lips to his, finally relishing in getting to properly kiss you. You responded instantly, lips moving against his as your hands buried themselves in his hair. You tugged on the strands and Jungkook moaned into your mouth, hips bucking up into you as his hand grabbed your ass. You returned his moans and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

His brain was a mess of emotions and hormones. He was overwhelmingly hard in his pants and your lips felt too good against his. You rolled your hips on top of him and he let a growl, the need to take you battling with his need to preserve the few remaining shreds of his dignity. 

He didn’t have the chance to make a decision though when the office door swung open and the head of a very confused janitor popped in. 

“Uh…I thought you were gone,” he stuttered, “...I’ll just leave.”

The janitor blushed before shutting the door. Jungkook turned back to look at you to find a similar rosy hue had graced your cheeks. 

“Um...I should probably get going too.”

Your voice was meek and the embarrassment of getting caught was plastered all over your face. He can’t blame you though, he isn’t doing too well himself. The fear of getting caught had left him deflated in more ways than one. 

“Yeah, sure, that’s probably good.”

You moved off his lap, readjusting your skirt as you do so. You grab your purse and jacket before walking to the door. Just as you were about to open it, you turn back to look at him. 

“Good night, Jungkook.”

He looked up surprised. It was the first time you had called him by his first name. It sounded heavenly coming from your lips. 

“Goodnight.”

Before he left for the night, he made sure to track down the janitor and offer him a healthy sum of money to stay quiet. He took it happily and continued on his way.

The weekend passed slowly for Jungkook. You plagued his thoughts with images of your rumpled skirt and the feeling of your hands in his hair. His wife was out of town for yet another business trip. He didn’t care. It just gave him more time with the thought of you while his hand was around his cock.

When Monday finally rolled around, Jungkook found himself the happiest he’d ever been to go to work. As he walked into the lobby, the sight of you washed over him like the cold water of a lake on the hottest day of summer. Something about your smile seemed to relieve him of all the heavy stress he was carrying on his shoulders. 

He almost made it through the day without losing control of himself. Despite all the glances he gave you, or the way you brushed your hand against his while you leaned over next to him to explain a chart, he managed to keep it together. But when you bent over in front of his desk to pick up a pen he dropped, he lost all control. The next thing he knew, he was slamming you against his office door, lips attacking yours, while his hips rutted into you. 

Your initial shock wore off almost instantly and you groaned as you melted into him. You wrapped a leg around his waist, dragging him closer to your core. The kiss was messy and he was sure your lipstick was ruined. A fervent need overwhelmed him as he humped you like a desperate teenager. You pulled away to catch your breath, dark eyes looking staring back at his own. 

“Fuck, you turn me on so much, baby,” he growled into your ear, hips moving faster. 

Words seemed to fail you as you whined back at him, pleasure contorting in your face. You suddenly let go of him, before dropping down to your knees. Instead of going to undo his pants like he expected, you simply gave a long lick over his bulge. Jungkook’s legs immediately turned to jello and he had to brace himself on the door to keep himself upright. 

“Oh fuck, what are you doing baby?”

“I’m getting you off. Do you want me to make you feel good sir?”

For once he was happy to hear the name. He didn’t get a chance to respond before you grabbed him through his pants. He threw his head back with a moan. It briefly occurred to him that people might hear through the thin walls, but your hand on his hard cock soon relieved him of all thought. It didn’t take much to get him to the point of no return. Even with all the nights spent with his fist and a bottle of lube he still felt like a rubber band getting stretched to its limit. You were barely touching him, but there he was, on the precipice of cumming in his own damn pants. He barely had time to warn you before spurts of hot cum filled his boxer briefs with white. “Oh, fuck.”

You giggled as he let out soft groans, cock twitching in its confines. The high of pleasure was quickly wiped away as the sensation of sticky underwear rose to his attention. 

“You’re a bad, bad girl, baby. You made me cum in my pants. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

“No, sir.” 

“They get punished.”

“And how are you going to punish me, sir?”

Jungkook had to stifle a groan. You were still on your knees in front of him, calling him ‘sir’. Despite having just had one of the better orgasms in his life, his dick twitched with interest. 

“Stand up.”

You quickly obey, rising to your full height, but keeping eye contact the entire time. 

“Take off your panties.”

Your eyes grew wide at his demand, but you obeyed him nonetheless. The second you grasped the pink lace in your hand, he snatched them from you, immediately bringing them up his nose. He inhaled, letting himself get lost in the musky aroma.

“Shit, baby, you smell so good. I can’t wait to eat your wet pussy. But not today. You were bad today and only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You let out a whimper but kept your mouth shut, body frozen in place. He stuffed your panties into his pant pocket before walking over to his desk and taking a seat. 

“You may go.”

You looked like you wanted to say something, probably about your lack of undergarments, but you held your tongue and turned to leave. 

“Oh, and one last thing.”

You turned back to him.

“I’m going to need a new suit. It seems I’ve spilled some coffee on this one.”

He smirked and you nodded, before stepping out the door. 

He didn’t try to hold himself back after that. He would take you whenever the opportunity arose. It didn’t take long for him to fulfill his promise to eat you out. He would forever remember the way you whined his name while his mouth pulled not one, but two orgasms from your dripping pussy. And when he finally got to feel your mouth around his cock, he was fairly sure he had found nirvana. 

He wouldn’t fuck you though. He knew it was silly as if he would be betraying his wife any more than he already was by having sex with you, but for some reason, he felt the need to draw a line. To separate the boundary between the fantasy land he had created with you and the cold reality that he returned home to. His wife had become all but a ghost in his life, and as a result, Jungkook found you providing his only emotional support in addition to sexual release. He didn’t want to admit that somehow, in a few short months, you had grown from being just his secretary to his closest companion. 

He didn’t want to admit it because he was too afraid of where it would lead. He was already teetering on the edge to give it all up, even before you had shown up in his office looking like a gift from heaven, but now, now he was fairly certain that even the tiniest breeze would push him over. And he didn’t know if you would be there to catch him if he fell. 

But that didn’t stop him from starting to dream of a future with you. The island paradise in his mind expanded to include you. Flashes of laughing children, nights under the stars, and soft kisses danced through his mind. You would have your own bakery, he would take pictures, and together you would create your own little family. One that was far removed from the hassle and the stress of his painful existence.  

Jungkook was over the moon to discover that you would be accompanying him on a work trip to Japan. For one whole week, you would be one door away. Even if it was a ruse, Jungkook would be allowed to pretend, for one whole week, that you were his and he was yours alone. On the plane ride alone, he made you cum three times in the cramped bathroom. During the day, you would both try to hold it together. Merger meetings were laced with subtle glances and hidden touches. At night, you would become a whole other animal. 

You tested his limits. Dared him to give in and finally give you what you both wanted: him inside you. Every night you would knock on his door in translucent nighties that highlighted the fact you had discarded your bra. After the second night of showing up in see-through clothes, Jungkook decided to return the favor, opening the door with his shirt unbuttoned, leaving his abs out for anyone to see. While you were both visibly affected by each other’s teasing, neither of you gave in until the last moment, each of you leaping into each other's arms and making a mess of the hotel furniture. But he still didn’t fuck you. It was his line. His final frontier. 

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook suggested that they finally test out the jacuzzi on his balcony. Bad idea. When you showed up in a tiny red bikini that did little to protect your dignity, Jungkook felt himself spiraling out of control. Instead of greeting you like he usually did, he thrust a cocktail in your hand while trying to will his dick into submission. He made it through about ten minutes in the hot tub, trying to participate in regular conversation with you. But he couldn’t, not when your tits were sitting right there. He was no longer sure if the sweat dripping down his forehead was from the warm water or the pent up tension. 

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I can’t take this anymore,” he groaned.

“Can’t take what?”

Your eyes gleamed, daring him to admit to what they both knew he so desperately needed. 

“There is nothing more I want then to sink into your pretty pink pussy right now.” 

“So why don’t you?”

It was the first time you had questioned why he refused to have sex with you, and now that you were finally confronting him about it, he found himself at a loss for a reasonable explanation. The line that he thought he was creating by refusing to have sex with you had long ago been blurred to the point of no longer existing. And here you were, with your warm body inches from him, wanting him just as much as he wanted to you and he knew that he was done for. 

“Fuck it.”

With that, he pulled you onto his lap, attaching his lips to yours for the three millionth time. He would never tire of your kisses, the way they comforted his soul, and quenched his constant need for your touch. You eagerly responded to him, tongue licking the seam of his lips. As the two of you began to explore each other’s mouths, his hands came up to the string keeping your bikini top together and gave it a quick jerk, letting the scarlet cloth fall from your body. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of your perfect tits, the water around you swishing as he rolled his hips up into yours.

You whined out, “Fuck, baby. Just like that. God, I can’t wait for you to be inside me.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was low with lust, “Me neither, baby. You’re gonna be such a good slut for me aren’t you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Even after months of you calling him ‘sir’ in less than professional situations, Jungkook still hadn’t gotten used to it. He felt every inch of his skin tingle with sheer pleasure every time the word fell from your shameless mouth. You whined, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you pressed down on top of him, just as desperate as he was. He moved from your mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone, where he stopped to take the time to leave a rosy mark that signified you were his and his alone. Once he was satisfied with it, he continued down your chest, taking one of your pretty pink nipples in his mouth, sucking on the hardened bud. You moaned out his name, hips stuttering against his. God, he loved your breasts. 

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling on them to the point of pain. Jungkook didn’t care though. He loved when you showed him just how good he could make you feel. It made him feral. Sure, receiving pleasure was gratifying, but there was nothing quite like watching you squirm from his ministrations.

He reluctantly pulled away from your tits to pull the ties keeping your bikini bottoms intact before discarding the garment in the same manner as your top, leaving you naked on top of him. He took a moment to pull back and admire how beautiful you looked. You sat there as he looked you over, a blush rising to your cheeks. You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to make yourself less vulnerable to him.

“Oh no baby, don’t hide yourself from me,” he gently pulls your arms away, “you’re too beautiful to stay covered up.”

Your blush intensified. He smiled at you, wrapping his large arms around your body and carrying you out of the hot tub. Your lips reconnected with his as he stumbled his way into the hotel room, tossing you on the king-sized bed. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

His voice was as dark as his eyes. You nodded in response, voice escaping you. 

“That’s my baby.”

He pulled off his wet swim trunks before joining you on the bed, where your wet body had begun to soak the sheets. If he had his way, they would be much wetter by the time the night was over. He wasted no time diving into your pussy, lips attaching to your clit, drawing out your sweet moans. His fingers found your entrance, circling it a few times to collecting your slick, before slipping one in. Your back arched at the sensation and Jungkook let out a chuckled against your clit. 

Your whines grew higher and he could tell that you were getting close to finishing. After months of exploring your body, he was well acquainted with how to play your pussy like an instrument, conducting your symphony of pleasure. He slipped in a second finger, crooking them upwards in search of the spot he knew would make you scream. When you cried out he knew that he had found it and not five seconds later, you were coming all over his digits. 

“Fuck, Kook.”

“I hope you don’t think that we’re done yet,” he growled as his fingers slowed before leaving your sopping cunt, “when I’m through with you, you won’t be able to walk for days. I'll have to carry you to every meeting and explain to them that I fucked you too hard for you to function.”

You clenched around nothing at his words and he mindlessly took his cock in his hands, giving it a few quick strokes. 

“You like that don’t you? You would love for the entire world to know how much of a whore you are for my cock.”

“I would. I’m a whore for your cock, please give it to me. I’ve been a good girl.”

Without bothering to warn you, he lined himself up before sinking into you. You both groaned at  the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his cock. After months of dreaming of what your pink walls would feel like around him, he could confirm that the sensation was much better than anything his imagination had conjured. 

He started with slow thrusts, trying to give himself time to come off the edge he had already been worked up to. Your legs came to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you. As soon as you had adjusted to his girth, you began to roll your hips up to meet his.

“Go faster.”

“Uh uh, if you want Daddy to go faster, you have to beg like a proper slut.”

It just slipped out. Jungkook knew he had a daddy kink, but it generally stayed repressed deep within after his wife had shamed him for it. But you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you squeezed him even tighter.

“Please Daddy, please go faster. Fuck my tight pussy.”

He conceded to your wishes, pulling all the way out, before thrusting back in. He set a tireless pace, pounding into you so hard the bed began to shake. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your teeth clacked together, but Jungkook didn’t care. He just wanted to be as close to you as possible. 

He pulled away from your lips and his cock twitched at the visual of the string of saliva connecting your mouths. Without him to silence you, your moans mingling with the sound of skin slapping creating a beautiful symphony for Jungkook’s ears. 

He felt himself approach the edge, honing in on his release. Luckily for him, your pussy was tightening around him, signaling that you were close too. 

“Fuck, are you gonna cum for me, baby? Are you gonna come around Daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

“Yes Daddy, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your voice broke off into a high pitched moan as you clenched around him. You threw your head back, hands clawing into his skin. The mix of pain and pleasure sent him over the edge with you. He quickly pulled out before covering your pussy and stomach in white strands. As soon as the waves of ecstasy rescinded, he collapsed on top of you, exhaust claiming his muscles. 

He laid there for a minute before hopping up and heading to the bathroom. When he came back out, warm towel in hand, he found you passed out on the soaked sheets. His heart skipped a beat at your blissed-out face and for a moment he wished he could feel as peaceful as you looked. After making sure you were thoroughly clean, he collapsed on the bed next to you. Sleep was quick to come to him, but not before he took you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

A dam had burst. The two of you went at it like rabbits, he would take you any and every way could, whenever he could. He couldn’t get enough of you. He would take you in the back of the limo, in the elevator, empty conference rooms. It was to the point he was sure the entire company knew of your amorous relations, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he thought about was you. Even the fear of disappointing his parents was beginning to diminish. As his feelings for you grew and blossomed, his desire to please anyone else faded into a faint buzz in the background of his mind. You had him whipped. 

He knew things were bad when his five year anniversary with his wife rolled around and he didn’t feel a thing when she told him that she wouldn’t be able to be there due to some book tour. Sure, a little part of him was upset that she didn’t care enough to even try to change the tour dates, but he knew that he didn't have a leg to stand on. In fact, he was rather grateful he wouldn’t have to plan some dinner to celebrate a love that had died long ago.  

When you heard that he was spending his anniversary alone, you had offered him some company. He felt a twinge of guilt about the idea of having sex with a woman that wasn’t his wife on their anniversary, but not enough to stop him from inviting you over. So there you were, in his foyer, with an overnight bag, a bottle of wine, and a smile that could light up the heavens. He grinned back at you, taking the bottle and leading you into the living room. 

“I’ll get us some glasses, yeah?”

“Sure. Do you mind if I change? Work clothes aren’t the most comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead. There’s a bathroom down the hall to your left.”

When he returned to the living room with two glasses and a bottle opener, you were curled up on the couch in a tank and shorts. You were flipping through the photography book that he kept on the coffee table. You were so immersed in the pictures that you didn’t notice his presence.

“So whatcha want to do?”

You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. 

“It’s your anniversary, you should decide.”

He placed the opener and the glasses on the table next to the bottle before taking a seat next to you. 

“I don’t know. How about we just drink and talk for a bit?” he paused, “Maybe that’s stupid.”

“Nope. Nothing about you is stupid.”

There was your damn smile again. Jungkook hated the way his heart pounded faster because of it. He smiled back at you. It only took a few sips of the merlot before Jungkook had begun to relax. He had been drunk around you plenty of times, but there was something about wine that made him want to pour his entire heart out to you. 

He watched as you laughed at your own joke, strands of hair that had fallen loose from your tight ponytail danced on your cheek. The world seemed to slow down a little, time coming to a halt, making the room for him to exist with just you and no one else. It was somewhere in that warm, fuzzy space that the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“I think I love you.”

Even the air in the room stilled. You stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

“What?”

You looked like a deer in headlights. Jungkook felt like one.

“Nothing. I was just running my mouth. Don’t mind me. Go back to telling me about this dream bakery of yours.”

Much to his chagrin, you didn’t budge, eyes still fixed on his rigid body. Your surprise had evaporated and you were now looking him up and down as if you were trying to analyze his inner thoughts. You both sat frozen for what felt like ages before you moved to kneel in front of him, taking his shaky hands in yours. When you opened your mouth, your voice was soft, caressing his soul.

“I love you too.”

The world stopped in its tracks. Jungkook swore his heart stopped beating in his chest. And then your lips were on his and even though he had kissed you more times than he could count, this felt different. This felt like the collision of two planets, the implosion of a star. Fireworks weren’t enough to describe the cascade of emotions pouring through him. His hands grasped your cheeks, gently caressing the soft skin. You hummed against his mouth as he pushed you back to lie on the couch, while your legs spread to make room for him between your thighs. 

Jungkook swore he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but he couldn’t tell if it was from you or him. He honestly didn’t care. The woman he had grown to love loved him back. He now knew that you would catch him if he fell. And so he let himself tumble over the precipice he had once been so terrified of.  He could finally admit that your embrace was home and that your arms eyes were the safety he never felt. He loved you. You loved him. The stars had aligned. 

He trailed his kisses away from your lips and to the crook of your neck where he inhaled. You smelled of the remnants of your perfume mixed with your own personal scent. He swore if he breathed it in enough, he would get high off it. Instead, he placed soft kisses on the delicate skin, before taking it in between his teeth, shamelessly marking you. The whole world would know that you belonged to him, almost as much as he belonged to you. 

You moaned as he sucked the bruised skin into his mouth before shifting lower so that his face was right between your breasts. Your flimsy tank top did nothing to stop him from tearing it in two. 

“Jesus, Kook,” you groaned as he took in the sight of your braless chest, bare before him. 

“What? I can buy you all the tank tops you want. I would buy you the whole world.”

And it was true. If that’s what it would take to make you happy, that’s what he would do. Tears glinted in your eyes at his words before Jungkook ripped a moan out of your mouth when he took a nipple in his. He sucked on it before releasing it with a pop. 

“These are the best tits in the world. I love them almost as much as I love you.”

He dove back in taking the neglected breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. Your hips bucked up into him, desperate for more concrete pleasure than the little he was teasing you with. 

“Slow, baby, I’ll get there. Slow.”

You whined in response, head thrown back against the arm of the couch while Jungkook swirled his tongue over you. Even though he was unbelievably hard in his sweats, he found no motivation to do anything about it, his sole focus on you and your pleasure. 

He moved to kiss down your stomach. When he reached the hem of your shorts, he pulled them off, before moving to kiss over your lace panties. An obvious wet patch marked the center and Jungkook once again took the time to stop and smell you. The aroma overwhelmed him, driving him mad with carnal lust. 

“Fuck baby, your dripping, and I’ve barely touched you yet.” 

“That’s ‘cause you’re taking forever. Please baby, I need you.”

And how could he deny you when you were so sweet and all fucked out, just for him. He pulled your soaked panties to the side, groaning at your soaked, pink lips. He dove in, licking one long striped from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit. You bucked against him desperate for more. 

In response, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place. His tongue found your clit, eliciting angelic moans from you while he drew abstract shapes on your bundle of nerves. Your thighs began to quiver in his grip and he smiled against you. The thought of you coming from just his mouth had his dick twitching in excitement. 

“Fuck, Kookie, I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s right baby, cum all over tongue.”

Seconds later, you're soaking his mouth while you writhed in pleasure. But Jungkook didn’t stop. He was too blissed out with his face in your cunt. He would stay like this forever if he could. He pulled one hand away from your thigh, to sneak around to your entrance, a finger slipping inside.

“Oh god, Kook, it’s too much.”

“You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

You looked like you were about to protest before he curled his finger up, hitting your g-spot. You cried out, more slick pouring out of you, if that was possible. He knew that there was a large wet spot staining his ten-thousand-dollar couch, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Slipping another finger in you, he began to flick with his tongue, daring you to come again. It didn’t take long.

“Oh shit, Kook, shit, shit, gonna cum, shit, shit-”

He’s never heard you scream so loud in all the months he’s had the privilege of giving you orgasms. Before he could properly register what was happening, you were squirting all over him. Your hips bucked out of your control as you painted his face with your orgasm. Jungkook swore that if he had any less self-control, he would’ve come all over in his pants. 

As you came down from your high, Jungkook scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, giving you a few moments to recover as he stripped himself of his own clothes. You sat up, watching him closely as he slowly revealed himself to you. He was well built, he knew that, but you often told him how much you appreciated his muscles, as if the way you kissed and bit his abs weren’t enough of a clue. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t started working out more just to please you. 

But he also knew that he could never step foot in a gym again and you would still love him just as much. That was the difference between you and his wife. You loved him without condition, without the need for him to be someone he wasn’t. His wife had fallen in love with only one version of him, a version that no longer existed. 

He joined you on the bed, crawling up between your legs, giving you a soft kiss when he reached your lips. You fell back on the pillows letting him take in your face, your body, you. He bucked up against you, tip rubbing your clit and you let out simultaneous moans. 

Just when he was about to slip into you, his phone rang on the bedside table. He groaned, lifting himself up to see who dared to call him when he was about to have sex with the love of his life. A flash of guilt rushed through him when he saw his wife’s name light up the screen. Of course it was her. Despite everything, this was a woman who would keep up appearances until her dying breath. And here he was, about to have sex with another woman in their shared bed. He sighed, swiping to ignore the call, before tossing it back on the table. 

This time, he didn’t wait to enter you, thrusting in immediately. He groaned at the feeling of your soft walls encapsulating him. Ever since the first time you had had sex, he had always made sure to use a condom, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that he wasn’t using one now. Being inside you without the extra barrier felt so intrinsically right. In fact, part of him was excited about the idea of going raw and risking getting you pregnant. 

“You wanna get me pregnant?”

Your voice was soft and curious. He stilled inside of you, 

“Umm…?”

His voice trailed off as he tried to come up with a reasonable response. His brain failed him. 

“It’s okay if you do. It’s kinda hot actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind having your kid.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the moan that fell out of his mouth. He thrust softly in you. So many hormones were flooding his brain that he could barely focus on what was happening. 

“Well, then I guess it’s my duty to make sure you’re nice and pregnant for me by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, Kookie,” you whined, “give it to me. Want you to cum in me. Want your baby.”

The two of you met in a messy kiss as Jungkook pounded into you, balls slapping your ass. Desperation flooded him, determination to knock you up with his child overriding every other need. He’d never had the desire to get someone pregnant like this before. There was something about you that pulled at all his primal instincts. 

You were tightening again, your moans drowning out the sound of skin slapping accentuated by Jungkook’s own grunts. Jungkook himself wasn’t too far from finishing himself, having been on edge since you squirted all over him. 

“Fuck baby,” you moaned, “you fuck me so well.”

“Yeah. Are you gonna cum for me? Are you gonna cum so that I can get you pregnant?”

“Yes, fuck, I love yo-” 

Your voice faded into a scream as tears rolled down your cheeks as you came for the third time that night. The look on your face triggered Jungkook’s own orgasm. He roared as jets of white cum covered your inner walls. His hips stuttered as he chanted your name. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him deep within you. 

He rolled over without pulling out, keeping you tight in his arms.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “hope that did the trick.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he smiled. 

You grinned back.

“Are you not gonna pull out?”

“We gotta keep my cum in you so we make sure it does the trick.”

“Okay,” you chuckled.

“What?”

He pouted.

“You’re just cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Sure...”

He giggled when you rolled your eyes, pressing a peck on your lips. The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, talking until sleep carried you off into dreamland. 

Jungkook woke the next morning before you. He took a moment to admire your face, not believing that you were really all his. He softly kissed your forehead before wiggling his way out of your embrace. 

He quietly slipped on a tee and some sweats before making his way to the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. While he waited, he checked his phone, expecting to find a voicemail from his wife. He was surprised to find none. He opened the phone app and his stomach dropped. There at the top of his recent calls was a twenty-minute call with her. He must have accidentally answered it. She must have heard everything. Anxiety crept up on him as he began to pace the white kitchen floor. Before he knew what he was doing, the phone was dialing. 

“Hello?”

Her voice was groggy.

“Hi.”

His voice quivered. 

“What do you want Jungkook?”

“Oh, umm, I’m sorry I guess,” his voice is quiet, “For what you heard.”

“You mean listening to you moan about how you wanted to get your secretary pregnant?”

He cringed at her dripping sarcasm. 

“Yeah. That.”

“Don’t be.”

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Jungkook,” she sighed, “I think we both knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t mean that it was okay for me to cheat on you.”

“That’s true.”

They both stay silent for a minute, letting it all sink in. 

“I suppose that means this is the end of the road for us then, huh?”

“Yeah, it is. But it’s okay. We weren’t meant to be. All things being said, you sound like you really love her.”

“I do, I really do.”

“And if I’m being honest, I’ve kinda had a thing for my editor for a while.”

“Seokjin?”

He was honestly surprised that he remembered his name.

“Yeah.”

They both laughed. 

“We’ll talk when you get back, yeah?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye.”

He hung up before leaning against the counter, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. A breath of relief escaped as all the weight he had been carrying for so long fell from his shoulders. It was over. His dead marriage was finished and now he had the rest of his life to love you. He laughed giddily before running to wake you up and tell you the news. 

Six months later, he’s on a beach in Jamaica, trying to take a picture of you without you noticing. He’s almost successful, your nose is buried too deep in a paperback you had propped up on your pregnant stomach, but you looked up when you heard the shutter click.

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “I told you not to take pictures of me.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t help it. You're too sexy carrying my baby.”

You rolled your eyes behind your shades.

“Whatever. As long as no one else sees them.”

“Of course, baby. I’m keeping you all to myself.”

You grinned before turning back to your book.

A month after his conversation with his now ex-wife, their divorce had been finalized. He’d simultaneously quit his job as CEO, unafraid of disappointing anyone else at the expense of his happiness. He had made more than enough money to support the two, soon to be three, of you for the rest of your life. Together, you had moved to Jamaica, where you were working on opening a bakery and he had begun a fairly successful photography business. And in three months, the two of you would welcome a beautiful baby girl into the world.

He sighed, overly content with his life. He glanced down to your hand to spot the sparkling diamond on your ring finger. A month ago, he had taken you out on a boat ride where he had asked you to be his wife. You had eagerly accepted. 

Now he was blissed out in that island paradise he had dreamed about all those months ago. His stress levels were an all-time low. And, sure, maybe his parents weren’t that happy with him, (all though his mother was over the moon when he announced the impending arrival of a grandchild, finally), but whenever he woke in the morning with you by his side, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. You were his whole world, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything. 

masterlist

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stone Triplets Fic (Chapter 2)

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise

Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF

Summary: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2: Double Trouble

The last time Eliot saw Alex was when they were 16 years old. Alex had been living with Uncle Danny for 6 years at that point, so the brothers didn't have much of a relationship even then, and the reunion had been awkward and tense. Jake was the one who tried to keep them together, who talked their father into hosting Christmas that year. He was the one who'd called Alex and begged him to come home for a week. Just a week.

They'd lasted three days.

At the time Eliot had blamed Alex—immature, bull-headed Alex, whose verbal and then physical fights with their father had led to his living with Uncle Danny in the first place. If he could have just learned to keep his mouth shut, most of the fights wouldn't have happened. Eliot and Jake had learned that lesson—why couldn't Alex? He always had to have the last word, no matter what the cost.

That last visit was what finally convinced Eliot to leave home. He thought about college, but eventually decided to enlist as soon as he turned 18 (without telling their father). Jake was supposed to go with him, but he'd wanted to see Alex one more time before they left. When months went by and Alex didn't come back, Eliot left both his brothers behind.

Age had given Eliot perspective, but by the time he was ready to apologize, Jake wouldn't take his calls. Alex had already joined the DEA, and a series of undercover assignments for both of them made it impossible for Eliot to reach out. And then he got involved with Moreau, and getting in touch was no longer an option. It would have put them in too much danger, and that was one thing Eliot would never do. But after a while, even that became an excuse. After he escaped Moreau, after Nate created a team and a family for him, he let the silence continue. He'd made that choice on his own.

And now apparently Alex was in the Philippines. Permanently, according to the detective who introduced herself as Kai Mendoza. That was all she would tell him (through gritted teeth, as though Eliot had committed some unforgivable sin by asking). "We have to take care of this mess," she'd grumbled. "Then we'll take you to see Alex."

She hadn't asked if Eliot wanted to see Alex, and part of him was glad for that. If he'd been given the option, he wasn't sure he'd have said yes. It would have been easy to say that he was too busy, that he couldn't stay, that it was better for them not to meet. But now that the offer was there, Eliot couldn't turn it down. One way or another, he was going to see his brother today.

Kai and her partner Ernesto drove him and the two men they'd arrested to the police station, where Eliot was firmly told to stay in the car. Kai paused after giving the order as if waiting for him to argue, even after he nodded and promised to stay put. Apparently Alex hadn't changed much since they were kids.

While the others were inside, Eliot took a few minutes to call Hardison and update him on the job. It was just the two of them on this one, with Hardison pulling the strings from somewhere in Vietnam while Eliot worked on the ground in Cebu.

Hardison picked up on the first ring. "All done? I booked you a flight back to New Orleans on—"

"I ran into a little snag," Eliot interrupted.

"What kind of snag?"

Eliot explained most of his encounter with Kai and Ernesto, but he couldn't bring himself to include the fact that he'd been mistaken for one of his long-lost triplet brothers. Hardison knew he had siblings, but Eliot hadn't ever gone into details about them. He wasn't sure what he'd say now, and he knew Hardison would have questions. Best to leave it be. He'd give Hardison a more in-depth explanation later.

"So now what?" Hardison asked.

"Now we wait and see if they can salvage the sting. If they arrest Flores, our work is done."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll let you know."

There was a pause, as if Hardison was trying to decide whether or not to voice his next thought. "Is there something else?"

Eliot sighed. He tried not to lie to Hardison or Parker, but he didn't want to have this conversation now. "Not about the job," he answered. "I'll explain later."

To his credit, Hardison didn't argue, even though he had to be burning with curiosity. "Okay. Call back when you have more to share."

"Yeah."

It was another twenty minutes before Kai and Ernesto emerged from the police station, both wearing grim expressions. They were talking as they approached the car, and Eliot caught the tail end of their conversation through the open windows.

"I didn't want to bring him in on this," Kai was saying.

Ernesto shrugged. "We don't really have a choice anymore."

"Things get messy when his family is involved. It'll only complicate things."

Interesting. Which of his relatives had already come to the island? Evidently Eliot's family had a knack for disrupting the locals.

"Ocampo's orders," Ernesto said. He opened the passenger door and slid into the car, turning to look over his shoulder at Eliot. "We'll take you to see Alex, but you're going to have to come back to the station and explain what you were doing with Flores."

Eliot crossed his arms. "Figured you'd want to know that first."

"We do," Kai said, with a frown at her partner. "You owe the delay to Alex. He's helped us out in the past, and Ernesto thinks we should tell him you're here before he finds out from someone else."

"The surprise could kill him," Ernesto said mildly.

"You just want to see his face when we show up with his doppelganger."

"Don't you?" Ernesto asked. Kai huffed and dropped into the driver's seat.

They lapsed into silence during the drive, which Eliot appreciated. His stomach had begun an uneasy churn, though he told himself it was just because of the heat. There was nothing to be nervous about. Sure Eliot hadn't reached out, but neither had Alex. Neither had Jake, for that matter. Eliot had gone home once, just after he got out of the service, and found Jake had taken over the oil company. Their neighbors said that Jake was turning things around, digging out of debt and even managing a profit, and Eliot accepted the blessing and drove out of town without stopping by the house. It was enough that Jake was happy. He didn't need Eliot coming back and ruining things for him.

Kai pulled into the parking lot of another hotel, dodging groups of brightly dressed tourists as she went. "He owns the gift shop here at the resort," Ernesto explained, flashing a friendly smile over his shoulder. Kai didn't look at him as she got out of the car, but Eliot was happy to keep his silence. He trailed behind her as she led the way through the resort, winding around pools and umbrella-covered tables, slowing every few moments so Ernesto could greet someone. Apparently the friendliness wasn't an act—or else it was a very good one. But something about the man felt genuine, as if he couldn't be bothered to put up a front.

Kai, on the other hand... she was harder to read. Especially now that she wasn't giving Eliot anything to work with except the occasional glare.

Before long the bustle of the resort faded as concrete transitioned to sand beneath their feet. A small building rose ahead of them, still against the backdrop of gentle waves and lazy clouds. A soft breeze ruffled Eliot's hair, filling his lungs with salt and sunshine. He wanted to stop, to look out at the water and breathe in the sea spray and the silence, but the others kept walking.

No wonder Alex had picked this spot. If retirement was in Eliot's future, he could see himself in a place like this.

Ernesto reached the door, and Eliot took one last windswept breath to brace himself.

"You look nervous," Kai murmured.

No he didn't. He knew he didn't, because the only emotions he gave away were the ones he wanted people to see. And he was most definitely not nervous. But her eyes lingered on his, and something softened in her expression.

"Don't worry," she said, giving him a small, hesitant smile. "It'll be fine."

"Alex," Ernesto called, and Eliot's stomach gave another roll. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He tried to back away, but Kai put her hand on his arm and cut off his retreat, guiding him inside.

The gift shop was empty besides one man restocking a rack of post cards. He stood with his back to them, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He had the same build as Eliot, the same brown hair he'd have to fight to keep straight in this humidity, the same scarred hands from years of work and fighting.

"Hey!" Alex said without turning around. "Check it out, I got new cards."

Ernesto started across the room, gesturing for Eliot to follow. "How come you didn't tell us you had a twin?"

Alex looked at him. "A twin? I don't have a tw—"

His eyes fell on Eliot, and his words died. Eliot could feel Kai watching them, waiting for a reaction, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Hey, how've you been the last 30 years? Oh, me? Well, first I was an international assassin, and now I work with a group of thieves who steal from the rich and give to the poor. I still punch people for a living though. How about you?

Something started beeping. Eliot started—no, not started, just looked around for the source—but Alex slapped his hand to his wrist and the sound stopped.

"Everything okay?" Ernesto asked. Alex made a noncommittal sound, glancing at him before returning his attention to Eliot. His eyes seemed bluer than Eliot remembered. It was probably just the lighting, but since it was the only thought that didn't spiral out of control, it was the one Eliot clung to. Blue eyes like their mother's, like the pond water in the back yard. Blue eyes that had been red with anger and hurt the last time he'd seen them.

"Which one are you?" Alex asked.

Behind him, Kai made a choking sound. Ernesto shushed her.

"But—" she sputtered. "Are there more of them?"

Eliot refocused on his brother. "You don't recognize me?"

"You both look the same," Alex deadpanned.

"Well, we're in the Philippines and I'm speaking English."

For a long moment Alex simply stared at him as if trying to read the details of their separation in his face. Then he reached out, and Eliot braced himself for the punch. He wouldn't fight back—not at first, not unless things got out of hand. He could take a hit or two, let Alex burn off some of his anger, and then try talking. They weren't 16 anymore. They could handle this like adults.

But Alex didn't hit him. His arms flashed out past Eliot's head, wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "Eliot," he murmured, crushing him in a hug that drove the breath from Eliot's lungs. He didn't care. He grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's shirt and squeezed, pressing everything he couldn't voice into the embrace.

"It's good to see you," Alex said at last, gruffly. He pulled away without taking his hands from Eliot's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh... work."

Alex frowned at the hesitation. "What kind of work?"

Eliot sent a look over his shoulder, where Kai and Ernesto still waited. They clearly had some kind of relationship with Alex, but how far did that extend? Likely not far enough to keep from arresting Eliot for the half-dozen laws he'd broken to secure his meeting with Flores. "I'll tell you later."

"Now's as good a time as any," Kai said. "You can tell us now or at the station, whichever you prefer."

"We can give them a little longer," Ernesto argued.

"Flores is still out there. The longer we wait, the more time he has to act."

"Who's Flores?" Alex asked. He let his hands slide from Eliot's shoulders, a frown settling over his face.

Kai gave him a pointed look. "I'll tell you later."

"I think you should tell me now."

"I don't care what—"

Ernesto held his hands up, putting himself between the two of them. "Kai, we can give them a few more minutes to catch up. We'll be outside, Alex. Ten minutes." He looked at Eliot. "Then you come to the station with us. Understand?"

"Fine," Alex said. "Ten minutes. I got it."

Though Kai looked like she wanted to argue, she allowed Ernesto to guide her toward the door. "Nice friends you've got," Eliot muttered.

He'd meant it as a joke, but Alex gave a serious nod. "Yeah. They are. They're closer than some of my family."

Apparently they were going to fight after all. "I didn't know how to contact you," Eliot said.

"You're smart. You couldn't figure something out?"

"Couldn't you?" Eliot countered. "The last I heard you were undercover. Reaching out would have put you in danger."

"I'm retired now," Alex said.

"So I hear."

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "I did try to find you. There was a rumor going around that you'd died."

"I didn't. Well, I did once, but it didn't stick."

"How long ago was that?"

"While you were still undercover."

Alex gave a frustrated growl. "Fine. We both could have done more, alright? Just... fill me in on the case."

The case was a safe topic, so Eliot embraced the change without complaint. He gave his brother the basics as he knew them: Robert Flores was looking to set up a base to smuggle drugs to the United States. Hardison had been tracking him throughout Asia, but when business kept him in Vietnam he'd contacted Eliot about finishing the job. "Should have been simple enough," Eliot said. "Set up a meeting, figure out his weakness, take him down."

"But you weren't the only one after him," Alex said. He heaved a sigh. "How mad was Kai when you showed up?"

An involuntary smile pulled at Eliot's lips. "She thought I was you. I think she wanted to kill me more than Flores's men did."

Alex chuckled, sobering a moment later. "So this is what you do? You go after international criminals?"

"More or less."

"With who? I mean—CIA? Interpol?"

"It's kind of a freelance operation."

Alex shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's a lot to explain," Eliot said. "And I will, I promise. Soon as we have the time."

"Right." Alex gave him another long look, and a small grin appeared on his face. "It's good to see you, man. It's been too long."

Eliot didn't try to stop his answering grin. "You go by Walker now?"

"You'd already taken Mom's name. Didn't leave me with much of a choice."

"Yeah, but... Walker? As in Texas Ranger?"

Alex hissed and shot a look toward the door. "Don't say it out loud, man. I've got a reputation to keep up here."

Eliot laughed, but Ernesto chose that moment to knock and peek into the gift shop, effectively ending the conversation. "You two finished?" he called.

"For now," Alex answered. "Where's Kai?"

"She went to get some coffee. She'll be back any minute."

Alex nodded. "Good. I wanna be back before the afternoon rush."

"You're not coming," Ernesto said. "I don't think Kai can handle two of you."

Eliot folded his arms. "For the record, I'm not Alex's double. If anything he's my double. I'm older."

"By eight minutes," Alex snapped.

"That's older."

Alex huffed a wordless reply, and Eliot felt a glow of something familiar in his chest. This was an argument they'd had hundreds of times—Eliot, being the oldest, started it most often when they were kids. Jake had come next, and then Alex—Baby Alex, they called him, whenever he was being annoying. Eliot was pleased to find the joke still funny.

Even better, Alex seemed to still find it annoying. Eliot couldn't say why that felt so comforting. Maybe it was just that he was thankful to see a glimpse of the old Alex, the one he'd known before they let their father and their pride get in the way of their relationship. Maybe it was the fact that Alex was relaxed enough to have this conversation in front of Ernesto. Maybe Alex had found a team the way Eliot had.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd come here after all.

[texanstarslove]

gotten

A/N: Ah, yes. The first ever fic I posted on this site has received a bit of a face lift. I found myself reading this and thinking I could add more to it so...viola! I hope y’all enjoy this version as much as the first go round!

Song Inspo: “Gotten”- Slash ft. Adam Levine

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: angst, language, feelings of self doubt, mentions of anxiety, smut

Tagging: @kmblue, @laurenairay, @jacquelinechajton (Y’all are so sweet and I love all of you)

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Evelyn’s words hung in the air for a moment. It was like time stood still.

They had just returned to his house after a night out with the team. It had been a fun night, or so Tyler thought, so those eight words each like a punch in the gut, catching him off guard. He turned to look at her, watching as she hunched over, her hands against the kitchen island facing away from him. Her head was hung low, her shoulders sagged. He knew that posture. 

“What are you talking about, Ev?” He inquired, moving closer to her.

Her eyes were still downcast, a hand coming up and waving between the two of them. “This. Us. I can’t....”

Tyler placed his hands on her shoulders, gently turning her to face him. He tried to look her in the eyes, tried to figure out what could possibly be going through her brain.

“What do you mean you can’t do this, Evelyn?”

Evelyn turned out of his embrace, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. As she walked away, she knew Tyler would follow. He always did. He was always so quick to know that she was in her head, so quick to try and get to the bottom of whatever it was that was triggering her anxiety. This time though, she couldn’t even look at him. He didn’t even do anything wrong but Evelyn just couldn’t bear to look at him. Feeling so low and so down on herself, she just wanted to run away, escape the feelings of inadequacy.

It had been a fun night. Evelyn was having a great time with Tyler and their friends. It wasn’t until she had excused herself to use the restroom that her mood had completely shifted. She was freshening up at the sink, checking her makeup in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair to fix any stray flyaways, when she heard them. Two women talking to each other from their respective stalls. Evelyn knew instantly what they were talking about, or rather who they were talking about instantly. The alcohol flowing through them no doubt made their thoughts flow more freely.

“I can’t believe almost the entire team is here!” One of the women squealed.

“God, I know,” The other replied, “Lucky for me, number 91 is here and the boy is looking good tonight.”

Evelyn stiffened at her words. She wasn’t one to get jealous by any means. She got insecure, nervous that these women were much more beautiful than she could ever be.

“Didn’t he show up with his girlfriend?” The first woman asked.

“Has that stopped me before?” 

Both women cackled wildly as both toilets flushed. When they emerged from their stalls, Evelyn’s thoughts were confirmed. They were both stunning, tall, blonde, thin, their makeup and outfits flawless. She made brief eye contact with who she assumed was the girl who had her sights on Tyler. The woman smirked proudly, obviously knowing who Evelyn was, and Evelyn shrunk under her gaze.

“Excuse me,” Evelyn whispered, hurried in her escape back to the table.

That’s how she ended up in her head the rest of the night. That’s how the thoughts of never being enough for Tyler flooded her mind. He was such a fun, lively person. Truly the epitome of living life to the fullest, balls to the wall, unapologetically himself in every way yet he was tied down with someone like her? Evelyn had always thought she wasn’t enough for him but he reassured her at every turn, insisting she was more than enough for him. But hearing and seeing those women in that bar restroom really did a number on her self esteem. She was plain, stick straight brown hair, brown eyes and full figured. Nothing like the supermodel types most of the guys went for, including Tyler in the past.

That’s how they ended up in this current situation, Evelyn standing before Tyler in his kitchen breaking both his and her heart into a million pieces.

“I think it’d be best if we just end things now,” Evelyn whispered, still not making eye contact with him, “You can do so much better than me, Ty.”

“No, I can’t, Evelyn!” Tyler cried, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration, “You are what I want. I don’t want anyone else!”

Evelyn didn’t respond. She turned on her heel and tried to leave but Tyler was quick to grab her arm and turn her to face him. It was then that Evelyn looked him directly in the eyes for the first time since they got back to his house, and she instantly regretted it. Tyler looked at her with desperation, pleading with her wordlessly to stay. Her vision blurred, tears stinging her eyes as she looked away.

“Please,” She whispered, “Please, just let me go.”

Tyler shook his head and brought his hands up to cup Evelyn’s face. “I can’t, Ev. I love you too much to just let you go.”

A choked sob fell from Evelyn’s lips as she spoke. “Don’t make this any harder for us, Tyler. Just...please.”

He knew there wasn’t any way he could change her mind in that moment. He knew once she had her mind made up about something, once she spoke it into existence, that was it. All he could do was silently plead with her, staring into her eyes to find any sign of her changing her mind. He decided to try one last thing, one last attempt to salvage any piece of broken heart he could. With his hands still gently holding her face, he leaned down to press his lips firmly to hers. He kissed her with everything he had, everything he wanted. They kissed until their lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, both of them pulling away with a gasp.

“Is this really what you want?” Tyler breathed, his forehead resting on hers.

Evelyn looked up at him once more. Her eyes were telling him no, absolutely not, but her mouth said “Yes.”

Tyler dropped his hands from her face, stepping back from her with a sigh. “Okay.”

 ~

It had been almost four months since Evelyn last saw Tyler in person. But there was no escaping him.

He consumed her every thought.

She kept up with how the season was going, mostly due to the fact that a majority of her circle of friends were a part of his, but even still managed to keep her distance from him. The anxiety of dating someone with such notoriety had proven to be too much for her to handle. The thought of the countless amount of beautiful women practically throwing themselves at him was overwhelming. She missed him so much it made her heart ache, but she couldn’t bring herself to face him after their last encounter.

The look of absolute devastation on his face haunted her every day. The way his eyes pleaded with her to stay, to let him make her feel loved and wanted consumed her. She was convinced that she wasn’t worthy of his love and thought leaving him to let him find someone better than she ever could be was the right thing to do. In her warped mind, she believed that with her entire being. She could never be good enough for him so why make him suffer through the ordinary when he could find extraordinary?

She sat in her living room on a Thursday night, watching his team play, and eventually win, on her television. She smiled, knowing all the guys would be so excited going into their extended weekend with a win. Those were the days she lived for. Going out as a big group, celebrating even the regular season wins. Or just the two of them, celebrating in a more intimate, personal way. 

Even when she thought she was done thinking about it, she found those same thoughts creeping back into her brain. No matter how hard she tried, that same face and those same memories invaded her mind without fail. There truly was no escaping him. 

After turning off her television for the night, she made her way to her bedroom and curled into her bed with a book, one of her favorite ways to wind down her mind. She had just started to doze off when she heard a soft but firm knock on her front door.

Getting up confused, she quietly made her way through her apartment before taking a look through the peephole on her door. Her heart rate spiked and her stomach dropped when she saw who was there. Her hands moved quicker than her head and before she knew what was happening, she had the door unlocked and opened, words failing her as she stood face to face with the man she thought would never be back.

“Tyler…” she breathed. It was all she could manage to say.

“Hey, Evelyn.” He looked shocked that she had even opened her door. “I had this whole thing planned with what I was going to say but…I mean…” He stops, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, trying to collect his thoughts. “Could I come in for a minute? I won’t stay long, I know it’s late…”

“Of course,” Evelyn replies instantly, opening the door further and stepping out of the way. He smiled softly at her as he walked inside, admiring the small apartment that had once been his second home. Evelyn shut the door and turned back to Tyler. “Come sit with me.”

He just nodded, sitting beside her on the couch. They just sat there for a moment, Evelyn sitting cross-legged, picking at her nails while Tyler nervously fiddled with his fingers in the front pocket of his hoodie.

“Ev, I just-”

“Look, Tyler I-”

They spoke at the same time, both of them chuckling at the awkwardness of the moment. Evelyn motioned her hand toward Tyler, “You first.”

“Okay,” He turned to face her, his arm coming up to the back of the couch, resting his head on his hand. He had waited four long months to finally see this woman face to face and he was at a loss. Everything he had planned to say to her flew out the window the second she opened that door. All he could muster up was “I miss you.”

“Tyler, I’m-”

“I’m serious, Ev,” His nickname for her coming out in a firm voice. “I’m serious about all of this. Me and you,” He gestures between the two of them, “I miss us. I miss seeing you behind the glass during the games here, or talking to you on the phone for hours after my games on the road.” He runs a hand through his disheveled curls. “Fuck, I just miss hearing your voice some nights. Seeing your face in the mornings.”

Evelyn’s vision was starting to get blurry from tears she was trying to hold back. She had never seen Tyler this way before, trying to contain his emotions the way he was. She could tell that he was hurting and she knew she was the reason why.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, wiping away tears that had managed to fall. “I thought it would be better for the both of us if I left.”

“Why would you think that, Evelyn?” Tyler asked, his voice pleading for any kind of answer, “Why?”

Evelyn scoffed, not at his question but at her own thoughts of herself. “Because you could have any girl you want, Ty.” She wiped her tear soaked hand on her pajama shorts. “Why would you settle for someone like me?” 

Tyler moved closer to Evelyn on the couch, bringing his hand to her cheek and gently wiping away more tears with his thumb. “Because you’re it for me, Ev. You just get me. I don’t want anyone else. Only you. You put up with all my bullshit with no judgement, you laugh at all my stupid jokes. You are everything I could ever want, Evelyn. I will spend every day of my life showing you just how much I want you and how much I need you.”

Evelyn brought her hand to the one he had on her cheek and held it there, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch, listening to him speak. When she opened her eyes again, she could tell from the way he was looking at her with his beautiful brown eyes that he meant every single word. His voice lowered to a soft whisper as he spoke once more. “I haven’t stopped loving you. I don’t think I ever will.”

She smiled then, moving to straddle his legs and place her hands on his strong chest. “I’ve never stopped loving you, either.”

Tyler leaned his head back onto the couch, beaming up at the woman in his lap and rubbing her sides with his large hands. Evelyn moved her hands from his chest to cup his face in her hands, her thumbs rubbing gently on his cheekbones. Tyler moved his head up, capturing her lips with his, beginning a kiss that sparked a million butterflies in her stomach. Tyler’s hands moved slowly from her waist to her hips, squeezing gently, causing her to gasp into the kiss, allowing his tongue to quickly take over hers. After a few moments, Evelyn pulled away, leaning her forehead onto his. 

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, “For everything.”

Tyler kissed the tip of her nose before returning his lips to hers. “Don’t be,” He mumbled against her lips, “Ever.” They continued kissing for a few more moments before Tyler’s hands moved from her hips to her butt, squeezing it before standing up with her in his arms, walking down the hall to her bedroom. He pressed her against the wall beside the door, looking directly into her eyes, searching for any sign of doubt. “You’re okay with this?”

Evelyn nodded immediately. “Yes.” She reached down behind her for the doorknob, opening the door. “Take me to bed.”

He kicked open the door, carrying her through the threshold before nudging it shut once they were inside. Together they tumbled down to the bed, kissing deeply again. Clothes were tugged and pulled at until they lay naked, and pressed together. Tyler broke away from the kiss, looking over her body, moaning softly in appreciation. “You’re gorgeous, Evelyn.” He gently took one of her breasts in his hand, kneading it and gently pinching her nipple. “Fucking perfection.”

“Ty…” She murmured, then licked her lips and said it again, this time as a throaty purr causing Tyler to thrust up between her legs. He trailed his tongue up her throat until he found her mouth and slid past her sweet lips to taste her tongue.

Evelyn kissed him deeply, stroking her fingers through his dark hair. She could feel his length pressed up against her wet folds and rocked her hips slightly, trying to somehow maneuver him inside of her. He seemed too distracted by kissing her and touching her breasts, so she rolled him onto his back and sat up, looking down at him. 

“Do we need..?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I’m still on the pill,” She replied. “And there hasn’t been anyone since you.”

“Fuck,” He groaned, the thought making him shudder, “Same, baby. No one since you.”

“Seriously?” Evelyn was genuinely shocked. She hadn’t expected that at all from him.

He tweaked her nipple at her reaction causing her to squeal. “I’m not some whore, you know.”

“I know,” Evelyn giggled, “I’m just surprised is all. I wouldn’t have judged you if you’d slept with someone since me.”

“Like I said, only you.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. He had an amazing smile. She leaned down to kiss him again while she slipped her hand down and wrapped it around the base of his cock, leading it to her heat. Biting down on her lip she moaned as she felt him fill her up. No one else compared to him.

Moaning his name quietly she started to rock her hips against his, slowly slipping up and down his length, while his hands held her hips, guiding her. The movements started slowly and deep, taking their time to explore one another’s body. Her back arched, moaning loudly as he hit her sweet spot deep inside her. The urgency of the moment grew. Evelyn’s body rocked over his, her fingers gripping his shoulders, her head still arched back, loud moans pouring from her mouth.

“Baby,” She whined, feeling her orgasm approaching like a freight train, “Shit, I’m so fucking close.”

“I got you, baby.” Tyler slid his hand between them and found her clit instantly. His fingers tweaked it gently, rubbing quick circles out of sync with the thrusts of their hips causing Evelyn to scream out his name and buck her hips violently as she came. Her nails dug harder into his shoulders and he hissed, thrusting up as he spilled inside of her, growling out her name. 

Her body collapsed on top of his, harsh fast breaths came out against his neck and her body shuddered occasionally as she tried to steady her breathing. His fingers danced along her spine, laying with her until she was breathing normally before gently rolling her to the bed on her side, gently kissing her head. She moaned softly at the loss of his touch when he left to retrieve a warm rag from her bathroom. When he returned, he gently cleaned her up and wrapped her in his arms pulling her to his side. She hummed her approval as she listened to his heartbeat and felt his fingertips on her arm.

She was almost asleep when she heard him speak. “Please don’t leave me again.”

She rolled her head so her chin was resting on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed the muscle she had been resting her head on. 

“I mean it you know,” He pulled her even closer to his side. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried.”

Evelyn looked up at him again, studying his face. Tyler looked deep in thought and when his eyes met hers once more, she could see the wheels turning in his brain. She raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking him what he was thinking. In an instant she found herself on her back, Tyler hovering above her with a look she had never seen in his eyes before. 

“And I meant what I said earlier,” He said, his voice soft but firm as he gazed down at her, “About wanting to show you every day for the rest of my life.”

“Tyler, I don’t doubt how much you love me at all, I-”

“Marry me.”

Evelyn’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Are you...Tyler, are you serious?”

He chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss her lips. “I don’t have a ring or anything yet, this is kind of off the cuff here but yes. I want you for the rest of my life. You’re it for me, Evelyn.”

She didn’t know what to say. All she could do was wrap her arms up and around his neck, pulling his body fully onto hers and crashing her lips to his in another frenzied kiss. When Tyler broke the kiss, he smiled at her still bewildered expression. “Is that a yes?”

Evelyn giggled, her fingers carding through his dark curls. “As long as you eventually get me a ring,” She teased, “That’s a yes.”

A small cheer of victory fell from Tyler’s lips, gaining a full blown laugh from Evelyn at his goofy expression. 

Her insecurities were always going to be there, it was something she would have to work on for the rest of her life. But if she had Tyler with her, encouraging her and helping her along the way, that job would be so much easier with him by her side.

[the-fourth-knower]

Diary of a Lost Doe, Part 2

Part 2 is here! Read part 1 here! Left y'all off on a cliff hanger for part 1, so hopefully this part will be worth the wait.

Part 1 is a bit longer, but the first half's length is mostly spacing. This one has more paragraph format and ideally oomph to it.

Note: All Wheatfields belong to @aquillis-main, Eggman belongs to SEGA, and so on.

Diary 2 Entry 56

Fuck my life.

-

Angelica was gone for most of yesterday, I had to go into the Eggman zone to look for her. When i finally fukin find her she had a fucking mouse with her. Red furred, tan-muzzle/ears. Also tan tuft or fur patch. And I guess a tan tail. Clothes smell a bit like weed.

Angie insists that’s it's Trevor. This time there’s no dissuading her. It might actually be the Wheatfield kid.

-

She says the kid- is he a kid, he’s not that much younger than me? Fuck it, the guy ran into robots and got screwed. Angie saved him but the dude was beaten up bad or something and has barely woken up since

Angie definitely used her power on him. Even though I told her not to use it except for emergencies, multiple fuckin times

Shit i almost went through the page.

-

Angie’s been taking care of the guy all night and today. If I can’t get her to lay down she’ll do it all night tonight too.

Why the hell does she need to have a bleedin heart

-

Also, not sure but I could’ve sworn I saw Guardian guiding me to Angelica...mabye it really is a Guardian Angel for us. maybe

-

I think we may need to move out of here, things are too hot for my liking. I gotta figure out where we could go.

-

A stock of our current supplies

217 dollars and change

Quareter of a pallet of bottled water

Eight cans of food

Two bedrolls

Spade/trowel

Water can (could leave it)

Two backpacks

Duffel bag

Three first aid kits, one partly used

Three journal diaries

Half a case of pens

Three small bags of seeds

Quiver with arrows (Angie’s)

Pa’s gift to Angie (Shortbow)

Steel glove (Mine)

Pistol (Mum’s, technically Angie’s now - no bullets)

-

Haven’t made anything in the past few days. No one wants to hire anyone right now. And I guess I don’t look like bodyguard material. Can’t get a job with that, if I wanted to.

Man I wish Angie thought to grab some of the robo parts, we could have sold them.

-

Got to get Angie to sleep.

Diary 2 Entry 57, apparently.

Been a while. Finally have time to write again. Shit’s been crazy. We’re in an actual house now, or something.

Where to start.

Well first off. The Wheatfield kid finally woke up and stayed up. Freaked out at first before Angie calmed him down. Didn’t know she had it in her - usually she’s the one freaking out over things. But if she can calm down the kid then that’s a thing I don’t have to worry bout.

Turns out the kid has something the robot army dude - Eggman or Robotnik or whatever - wanted, that’s why he got thrashed in the first place. He also seemed embarassed bout his state, that or that we gave him some of our clothes. And by that I mean Angie did.

I’d been preparing to leave when some of the robots showed up. They wanted to grab the Wheatfield, and he looked like he pissed his pants.

Then Angelica got in the way.

Next thing I know there’s vines bursting out of the ground, just like what must have happened when Angie fought the thugs when we first met Guardian. They popped the robots like balloons, and animals jumped out of them. Why the fuck are there animals in there? Who uses animals in their robots???

I broke a few of them too, the ones that Angie didn’t get. Even the mouse got one that was gonna blindside Angie. So he is good for something.

Just one problem; during the fight our house shack got trashed. Or right when it started.

Well after that we obviously couldn’t stay in our place. So Angie had to say goodbye to another garden - she watered them all before setting the water can down. Or did whatever she does.

I think I’m gonna miss that dumb shack.

Wheatfield wanted to go home. So we went with him after getting everything salvageable. Angie grabbed the water can and used it to store stuff - was pretty sure at first she’d leave it, but I forgot she’s quick to adapt.

I wanna think I helped in that.

Dodged more robots to get to the house. Got attacked by one that seemed to be hunting us. That was after we went into sewers to escape them. Or we just got unlucky. So I decided to get to the bottom of why they wanted the Wheatfield kid anyways.

Turns out it was a fucking letter. A letter. All of this mess over a fucking letter.

I wanted to just throw it away there and then. The kid wouldn’t give it to me at first, so I had to get in his face. He gave it to me then. I was gonna drop

Then Angie butted in and told me to give it back. Which. honestly shocked me I think. she didn’t like me ‘bullying Trevor’ like I did.

Didn’t even touch the guy! And I wouldn’t have done it if he just gave it to me right away. I didn’t “bully” him.

whatever. She pointed out that we couldn’t get rid of the letter and get away with it; the letter wasn’t what the animal-bots wanted but the carrier.

Which gave me the idea to change how he looked. I think they thought I was gonna get rid of the kid at first - like I'd do that, sure I get mad easy but I don't just ditch people! Not sure if he liked what I did instead, but coating the guy with mud helped. I think. At least he wasn’t a red mouse sticking out in the crowd anymore.

Things went smoother after that. We managed to avoid the robots for the most part. Had to break a few of them. Saw a green orb a few times that led the robots away - came across some smashed up robots with flowers around. Guardian Angel and all, I guess.

Finally got to where the Wheatfields were living now. Near a park. Dunno why I didn’t think bout that. Then again I didn’t know it existed until the Wheatfield kid led me there.

Took Angie aside while the kid ran off ahead; made sure that she would let me handle all the talking. I wasn’t gonna let someone know bout what happened unless I trusted them, not even mum’s and pa’s old friends. She was still mad at me I think, but she agreed. Not that she’d been talking much to me all day, she was too busy making sure the mouse was okay - I guess it made sense. He was her best friend. Is her best friend? I dunno.

If I was rude then I wish I could have captured a pic of their faces when they figured out we were there. The pa of the family, Jackson, looked like his eyes would bulge out - the mum, Emma, looked only slightly more dignified.

After fussing over their kid, they fussed over us. Asked a bunch of questions. “Where’s your parents, are you okay, were you hurt, why are your clothes filthy, when did you last bathe, why are you both so thin”

I like to think that I did a good job keeping the two of us fed and clean. As best as I could anyways without running water and unreliable income - they may have meant me more than Angie. I made sure she was fed as best I could.

I planned to tell them that we would be fine on our own, that they didn’t need to worry bout us.

Then they offered us baths. And Angie just perked up at it.

I couldn’t disappoint her by telling everyone we’d leave. So I said yes, we’d accept.

And now we’re living in their house.

Fuck me, if it doesn’t feel nice. Angie’s even willing to sit next to me again, but she’s been playing with the Wheatfield kids - there’s a second one, younger brother. Solydaster I think. Kinda cute but also a bit of a pest.

Fuck, this is the longest entry I’ve written. Gotta chill now. We’ve all just laid low. The animal bots left. Guess they had something better to do. Or just got bored watching.

Still dunno bout living with them...but Angie’s happy.

If Angie’s happy I should be happy too. So I’ll try.

I can manage it. I gotta manage it. For her.

So why don’t I feel happy

[mygalfriday]

Things you always meant to say but never got the chance

Coaxed you into paradise and left you there 

{ao3}

Despite the many interruptions, he hopes he has actually managed to salvage the first night of their honeymoon. The unwelcome reminder – in the form of their future selves – of how finite their time together is has only made him more desperate to make this evening perfect. River deserves that and more.

She’d changed despite his insistence she never needed to, exchanging her prison uniform for something flouncy and flirtatious that makes his fingertips itch. She’s close enough to touch but he doesn’t, twirling his top hat between his hands and watching out of the corner of his eye as she helps herself to some more chips. The stars are set to appear any moment now and her gaze is pinned to the sky, waiting for the impressive show he’d promised her.

It’s a marked change from the woman who had been so determined to seduce him in the TARDIS and he fidgets anxiously, secretly wanting a bit of that back but unsure how to get them there. River has always been the instigator and he’s at a loss now that she’s so terribly young and it’s his turn to lead. He grips his hat in one hand and lifts the other to straighten his bowtie, inching a bit closer where they’ve settled on a massive tree branch.

Clearly still as alert to his every move as she’d been as Mels, River glances at him out of the corner of her eye the moment he so much as twitches in her direction. When she notices him hovering, she places a protective hand over her chips and says, “I told you to get your own, sweetie.”

He frowns. “First of all, River Song,” he says, wagging a finger at her and refusing to soften at the way her eyes light up when he uses her name. “I wasn’t trying to steal your chips. And second of all, are you telling me you wouldn’t share? On our honeymoon?”

She whirls to stare at him, blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders and her eyes wide. “Honeymoon?” She laughs once, strained and nervous. “We’re not married.”

He squints at her, fearing for a moment he’d picked up the wrong River. But no, he’d gotten her on her first night in prison – she’d said so herself. So she must have already done Area 52. “Of course we’re married.” He waves a hand, gesturing between them. “There was a bowtie and a kiss-”

River interrupts him in the middle of his kissy-face impression, still eyeing him incredulously. “Yes, where you were a robot. In a timeline that no longer exists. I’ll hardly hold you to it, Doctor.” She smiles when he merely stares at her, the expression somehow unbearably sad despite the softness in her eyes. “You think I didn’t notice in all my research of you how often you get married and swan off, never to see your poor lovestruck bride again?”

“I haven’t swanned off,” he points out, wounded despite the truth of her words. River is different. Surely she knows that. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are.” She reaches out a hand, patting his bowtie fondly. “I’m the child of your best friends.”

He stares at her. “You think I married you out of guilt?”

“There are worse reasons to get married.” With a shrug, she turns back to the night sky spread out before them and her hand drops from his bowtie to reach for another chip. “But it wasn’t a real marriage, remember? You’re off the hook.”

“River,” he sighs, tugging at his hair. Why is she making him do this? Doesn’t she know he’s rubbish at this? “I don’t want to be off the hook. I want-” Blimey, what does he want? Twelve hundred years old and he still has no idea. He just knows that whatever this is – sitting here, bickering and pretending he doesn’t want any of her chips – he wants every last terrifying moment of it. With her. “I want -”

The sky lights up over their heads, brilliantly illuminated with the glow of a billion stars. It brightens their surroundings like sunlight. Ordinarily, this natural phenomenon wouldn’t be enough to distract him from the issue at hand but River tips up her face to stare at it like she’s never seen anything so wondrous. Her eyes widen and the most beautiful smile bursts to life on her face. It’s a thousand times more distracting than any star has ever been. The Doctor finds himself caught, gazing at her like a new Time Lord staring at his first planet.

Without looking away from the view above, River nudges the plate of chips toward him. A peace offering. The Doctor grins and ignores them, leaning in to press a smacking kiss to her cheek. She swats him, turning her head to seek out a proper snog. He sinks into her with a sigh, fingers finding her wild curls, and doesn’t stop to wonder why he feels like he’s forgotten to say something important.  

-

He knows what he feels. He has known what he feels for far longer than he’d ever admit to any version himself. He hasn’t said the words since he was a young man on Gallifrey, unburdened by loss and the weight of ages. He might have said them once or twice to Susan when she was a child. The point is, it has been so long that the words don’t even feel tangible anymore – nothing but brittle bones and dust taking up space at the base of his throat. He worries if he tries to say them now, nothing will escape but ash.

He isn’t stupid enough to do nothing and merely hope River understands through osmosis but those words aren’t enough. They’re imaginary and ephemeral, easily lost and forgotten in this wide, unknowable universe. So many days he and River will spend apart, separated by space and time – yearning across worlds. He wants River to remember, even when she forgets everything else. He wants River to have more than brittle words.

So he gives her memories. Big, flashy, unforgettable memories that could cast a giant neon sign across the universe in 50 foot capital letters. You. Are. Loved. Stevie Wonder sings it for her under London Bridge; mysteriously inspired poets pen her sonnets; da Vinci sketches her likeness in La Scapigliata. Sunflowers remind him of her and he scatters seeds all over the fields of Spain so every summer people flock there to admire her beauty; he goes back in time and leaves notes throughout history for her to find during her excavations; he takes lessons with Julia Child and Fernand Point so he can make all her favorite dishes. He makes love to her at the start of the universe and the end of it so their love is a bookend to the beginning and the end of everything.

He never asks her if she understands what he isn’t saying. Instead he smiles when she finds another of his surprises and drinks in her laugh when he spins her around another ballroom, hoping she sees it for what it is. Not a showy distraction from a magician, but the last precious coin from a penniless man. All he has to offer. Someday, he might dust off those meagre words humans so love to abuse and see if he can make them shine again – make them pretty enough to deserve her – but for now, surely all this is enough? It must be.

-

Despite her hesitance around them, children gravitate naturally towards River. He thinks it must be the hair. There is no other possible explanation for why they’re all gathered around her when he’s the one sitting by the bonfire introducing these people to the roasted marshmallow about ten thousand years too early. Considering himself a bit of an expert on the subject, he appoints himself the overseer of their technique, teaching the locals how to get the outside nice and crisp without making the insides a gooey mess.

Most of them are understandably fascinated but every time the Doctor looks up in search of his wife, he finds her sitting just to the left of all the excitement and surrounded by a group of tiny humans. A few of them sit at her feet, two sit on either side of her, one stands behind her poking curiously at her hair, and another seems to have made himself a nice comfy home on her lap. To her credit, River isn’t as horrified by all the attention as she used to be when she was younger.

She seems to be telling them all a story, judging by enraptured looks on their faces and the way River keeps leaning in close like she always does when imparting a secret. Unable to conceal his grin, the Doctor puts the nearest villager in charge of marshmallow roasting and slips away to investigate. As he gets closer, the soft murmur of River’s voice becomes clearer until he can make out exactly which story she’s regaling her audience with.

“And of course, because he’s a man he thinks he always knows exactly where he’s going but he never does. None of them do.” She offers them all an exasperated look, as though inviting them to commiserate with her on the hopelessness of men. Every single little girl in the group nods sagely. “Now, who do you think actually found the gemstone and restored the High Chancellor to his natural form?”

One of them ventures confidently, “You did!”

River beams. “And don’t you forget it.”

Shaking his head and biting back a smile, the Doctor folds his arms over his chest and attempts to look cross. “Just so we’re clear, I did know exactly where I was going, River Song. I was… testing you.”

She glances up, apparently unsurprised to find him eavesdropping. “And the part where you twisted your ankle in the mines and I had to carry you for five miles back to the TARDIS?” She smiles innocently. “Was that part of the test too?”

“Yes. No.” He scowls, dropping his arms to his sides. “Shut up. Dear.”

River grins and he leans in, bopping her fondly on the nose. She turns her head coyly away when he tries to kiss her, teasing, “Not in front of the children, honey.”

“Ah. Right.” He turns to their rapt audience, pasting on a nervous grin. “Oi you lot, you’re missing out on all the sweets.” He claps his hands together, watching them scramble to their feet. “Off your pop, before your parents eat them all.”

Only the little one on River’s lap refuses to budge, curled up there like he belongs. The Doctor sighs, giving up on stealing a kiss for the moment as he settles onto the log beside his wife. Elbows on his knees, he peeks at her through his fringe and confesses, “I wasn’t actually testing you.”

River spares him an exasperated glance, preoccupied with the toddler currently clinging to the front of her shirt. “I know, sweetie.”

“And the whole carrying me thing was a tiny bit…” He risks a glance at their tiny audience and whispers, “Sexy.”

She rolls her eyes. “I know, sweetie.”

“Right. Good.”

He thinks about offering to fetch her a marshmallow but the sight of her hesitantly dropping a hand to stroke the little tot’s hair from his forehead stops the Doctor in his tracks. Despite her reticence, she’s a natural with kids. She always knows what to do, even when she doesn’t seem to trust her own instincts. He’s sure her hesitance must come from her own unusual upbringing and the complete lack of parental figures who didn’t have an eyepatch and a villainous agenda but he finds himself wishing she would give herself more credit. She knows what kids need – even if only because they need the things no one ever gave her.

Elbowing her gently, he says, “You’re good with them.”

River scoffs, glancing away. “I’m really not.”

“Could have fooled me.” He shrugs, studying the boy with sleepy eyes still clinging to her. “He seems very fond of you.”

River glances down at the boy, biting her lip. “I probably just look like someone he knows.”

“Someone else with this hair?” He plucks at a curl fondly. “Impossible.”

River swats at him, adorably and uncharacteristically flushed. The Doctor chooses not to mention it, watching in silence the way she cradles the boy to her and bounces him a bit in her arms to nudge him gently to sleep. Not for the first time, he thinks she’d probably make a brilliant mother if she wanted to be. He wonders briefly if she does want it. Maybe she does and just hasn’t said anything. What if he brought it up? Would she want it, if he offered?

Could he offer?

No. Of course not. It’s a terrible idea. The universe would come after any child of the Doctor and River Song. It would hardly be fair to ask a tiny little being to carry the weight and hatred of an entire universe. Besides, their lives are hardly the right environment in which to raise a child – what with the running and the prison and the timey-wimey-ness of it all.

But… if River really wanted it he might consider it in spite of all that. He might even sort of fancy the idea. He can’t ever see himself sitting still long enough to have a proper family life but the image of a miniature version of him and River asking for bedtime stories and refusing to eat their vegetables and begging for another trip to the intergalactic zoo? With anyone else, the very notion would send him running far and fast but with River it’s… Well. He’s grown to like all sorts of things so long as River is involved.

“Matteo?”

The Doctor lifts his head, snapping back to the present just in time to watch a woman – the boy’s mother, probably – lift the sleeping tot out of River’s arms with a murmur of thanks. River nods stiffly, watching the woman cradle her baby and sway with him toward the warmth of the bonfire. The ache of her longing is clear in her eyes.

The Doctor swallows, wanting nothing but for that look to disappear. Wanting her to have everything it’s within his power to give her. “You know, we could-”

“Doctor? We’re out of marshmallows!”

He sighs. “I warned them about rationing.”

River turns to him with a smirk, oblivious to what he’d been about to offer. “I’ll fetch some more from the TARDIS.”

“Thanks, dear.” He finally steals that kiss he’d been after, smiling as she slips away. The courage to ask her what had been on his mind goes with her. He never finds the nerve to bring it up again.

-

After they lose her parents, River spends most of her time in her study writing the book that will start it all. He knows he isn’t strong enough to be of any assistance to her, far more apt to make suggestions like taking the manuscript and pitching it into a black hole, but he also knows River would likely rebuff any offers of help from him right now anyway. She’s avoiding him.

The Doctor can’t blame her. He’s hardly been desirable company in recent days. All these centuries knocking about the universe and he’s still that same selfish old man he’s always been, mourning the loss of his Ponds as though he’s the only one who has lost something. River deserves far better than a selfish mad man like him but apparently she isn’t going anywhere despite his many faults and foibles. It’s this strange, terrible combination of guilt and gratitude, contrition and devotion that finds him standing outside the door to her study holding a cup of tea and listening to the soft click of typewriter keys coming from within the room.

“River?”

Balancing the cup in the palm of one hand, he raps his knuckles softly against the door. The typing doesn’t even pause. He sighs, nudging the door open with his hip and peering inside. The hinges creak but River doesn’t glance up, typing away as though he hasn’t interrupted. Reluctant to intrude on her space without permission after all the things he has said and done recently, the Doctor hovers in the doorway and wraps his fingers around the warm ceramic of the mug he’d brought her.

“I made tea.”

Again, she doesn’t look up from her notes. Pencil between her teeth, she taps her fingers against the keys of her typewriter and says, “Thanks.”

Figuring this may well be the closest he’ll get to permission to approach, the Doctor shoves off the doorframe and picks his way across the floor – careful not to step on the crumpled wads of paper scattered everywhere that River must have tossed in various pits of pique. He settles the mug on the corner of her desk, within reach if she wants it but not so close she’ll accidentally knock it over with an elbow. His job done, he lingers beside her desk uncertainly. She hasn’t asked him to leave but she’s hardly rolled out the welcome mat either.

Squirming, the Doctor touches a fingertip to a stack of field journals and ventures hesitantly, “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” comes the short, clipped reply. “I’ll be done soon and then I’ll go.”

He lifts his head from scrutinizing the contents of her desk, frowning. “Go?”

“Hmm.”

River lifts her glasses from the top of her head, relocating them to the bridge of her nose. Usually the sight of her in them does funny things to his insides but today, he only feels a cold knot of dread beginning to tighten in the pit of his stomach. Why hadn’t he noticed how tired she looks? She isn’t dressed to impress anyone today, wearing a pair of leggings and one of Rory’s old jumpers. He thinks the fuzzy socks on her feet might have belonged to Amy once. Her wild curls are piled on top of her head but keep spilling over her forehead every time she bends to peer at her notes. There are new lines of weariness around her eyes and mouth, a dullness to her gaze he has never seen before. And she still hasn’t looked at him.

The Doctor swallows, inching closer. “Actually I wanted to ask if you were hungry. I could cook…” He brightens. “Or we could have dinner somewhere. Anywhere you like, Professor Song.”

She shakes her head. “I need to get this done.”

He scoffs. “There’s plenty of time to finish it-”

“Not if you want me out of your hair sooner rather than later.” She sighs when he goes still, staring at her in silence. Her eyes remain locked on her half-finished manuscript. “It has to be done now.”

Studying her clenched jaw and the tightly contained way she holds herself – so very still, as though the slightest wrong move might make something explode in her face – the Doctor begins to understand he might have buggered things up quite a bit more than he’d realized. “What makes you think I want you out of my hair?”

Despite her every attempt to appear unaffected, the words slip out with an incredulous huff of laughter. “You mean besides your every word and action in the last week?”

He flinches. “River, no. I didn’t mean-”

She sighs, the bitterness slipping away like it had never been. At times it alarms him how easily she forgives his transgressions. Taking off her glasses and letting them clatter to her desk, River pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes for a moment. Gathering patience, though she probably thinks he doesn’t know what she’s doing. As if he doesn’t know all of her little tells by now, even the ones he pretends he doesn’t see.

“I know you didn’t,” she says, and the sound of her voice is more familiar to him now. Soft. Warm. Forgiving. He really doesn’t deserve her. She lifts her head and finally meets his worried gaze since the first time he walked into her study. The utter lack of light in her eyes scares the hell out of him. “But it’s clear you need space. So I’ll finish the manuscript and I’ll go.”

“Stay,” he insists, bracing himself with his hands against the edge of her desk. He leans in toward her, forcing a smile. “We’ll pay Vastra and Jenny a visit. Or we’ll go to Egypt and see how the pyramids are coming along, eh? Get married again while we’re there – how’s that?”

“Doctor,” she begins, and he hates it when she says his name like that. It sounds like no. “I’m not going to stay just because you don’t want to be alone.”

He pushes off her desk with a low growl. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” The amount of resignation in her patient voice is maddening. “It’s alright, honey. We’ll go our separate ways for a while and I’ll pop round to see how you’re faring after I get back.”

“Back?” Pacing to her bookshelves across the room and preparing to pout a bit and possibly make childish comments about the amount of archeology texts she owns, the Doctor scowls and prods irritably at a scroll wedged between suspiciously authentic looking manuscripts of Macbeth and The Importance of Being Earnest – stolen, no doubt. “Back from where?”

Already sliding her glasses back on and returning her attention to her notes, River mutters absently, “I got an invitation to lead the first expedition to the Library planet. Thought I might go – get my mind off things.”

The Doctor goes cold. That slowly growing and widening knot of dread in the pit of his stomach yawns open like a black hole. He grips the edge of a bookshelf until his knuckles turn white and the wood begins to creak beneath his fingers, threatening to splinter. With his back turned to her, River doesn’t see the way the blood drains away from his face. The way his mouth can only silently form no over and over again until it doesn’t even feel like a real word anymore. It screams in his head anyway, blaring like a siren until it loses some of its power with repetition and he feels just as helpless as he had the day he watched her die.

No.

Not yet.

He just watched an ending unfold right before his eyes. He cannot – will not – do it again. He will not lose another precious person to this goddamned thief called Time. The pain of losing the Ponds is still raw and fresh in his mind, reminders of them at every turn and memories lurking like ghosts out of the corner of his eye. It hurts now; and it always will. He has lost companions before. It always feels like this; like being ripped open and left to bleed out. It heals eventually, despite all his best intentions to cling to his grief. Another scar to bear in his long, lonely life.

But this, he knows, would break him.

“Don’t pout, sweetie,” she says, mistaking his silence for something else. Still typing away like she hasn’t destroyed his whole world. “Far better we have some time to ourselves than stay together and say more things we don’t mean.”

He won’t lose her. The only solution is to change it. The Doctor lifts his head, resolve slipping down his spine like cold steel. Not one line echoes in his head but he pushes it away with a grim smile. “I meant them.”

The typing stops. “What?”

“What I said when we lost Amy.” He doesn’t turn to look at her yet, struggling to school his features into something expressionless and cold – the mighty Time Lord instead of the devastated husband. It’s easier when he can’t see the look on her face. “If you hadn’t told her to go -”

River’s voice grows brittle. “She’d be here and miserable without my father.”

“She’d be here.” Clenching his jaw, the Doctor forces himself to turn from the bookshelf and face her properly. River sits utterly still at her desk, staring at him like he’s a particularly bad dream she’s waiting to wake up from. “And that’s really what it comes down to in the end, wife. If not for you, my Amelia would still be here.”

In the silence of the room, he can hear the hitch in River’s breath.

He directs his gaze elsewhere before he can see her eyes begin to water, glaring at a spot in the carpet instead. His hands tremble and he clenches them into fists, forcing the words out around the lump in his throat. “How can you expect me to look at you, knowing you’re the reason we lost them both? If you’d been quicker or cleverer or just… more. I expected better of you.” He stops when he sees her flinch out of the corner of his eye, unable to bear hurting her for another second with such poisonous lies. His eyes begin to burn and he snaps out, “I can’t wait for you to finish the manuscript. Go now. And take your bloody book with you.”

He stalks from the room before she can say a word and he doesn’t dare look at her as he leaves, knowing the moment he sees her face he’ll drop to his knees and beg forgiveness. So he walks and he walks until his vision blurs and the TARDIS opens a door, letting him stumble into a room at the end of the corridor.

Their bedroom. Of course.

With a growl, the Doctor picks up the nearest thing to hand – one of River’s high heels – and hurls it at the wall. It cracks the plaster and he stares at the split along the wall, his chest heaving and his eyes burning. In the ensuing silence, there is only the rasp of his shaky breathing and the sound of River’s footsteps as she leaves.

-

It’s only standing in his tomb with her ghost in front of him that he understands he had certainly changed things that day in the TARDIS – just not how he’d hoped. River still went to the Library; she still died in his place and wound up trapped in the data core. The only thing he had changed was letting her die believing he blamed her. Believing he didn’t love her.

Cradling her face in his hands, he looks into her eyes and realizes this may very well be his last chance to tell her all the things he’d never had the chance to say to her before. So many of those things seem pointless now. What does it matter that he’d always considered Area 52 their wedding day or that he would have given her children if she’d only asked? What does it matter if he never once blamed her for what happened to her parents or that he loves her so much he chokes on the words every time he tries to say them? It’s too late for any of it to matter now.

She’s gone and he’s looking at an echo.

River doesn’t ask him to say any of those things anyway. She wants something far more difficult to give. A goodbye.

“Say it like you’re going to come back.”

And it’s this – the thing he wants desperately to refuse to ever say – that he doesn’t have the hearts to deny her. Mouth full of lost opportunities and a lifetime of regrets, the Doctor swallows it all back with a smile. “See around, Professor River Song.”

[amanda-glassen]

Jerena honeymoon? 😏

I know you wanted smut but this is pure fluff and I apologize hahaha. Also this was supposed to be a drabble but I think it's 3000 words. Sorryyyyy.

Serena hated lingerie. She hated the complicated straps and clasps and the way the material felt against her skin. Most importantly, she hated the way she looked in it. She felt it didn’t flatter her the way it did the curvier, well-endowed women in movies and on TV. It made her feel too skinny and like she was lacking, but it was the first night of their honeymoon and Serena wanted to wear something special for her new wife. She put on a pair of cheeky white panties with a lace ruffle trim that she special-ordered with ‘Mrs. Castillo’ printed on the front in baby blue lettering. She touched up her hair and makeup, even if she knew Jamie wouldn’t mind that a few strands of hair were out of place or that her mascara was slightly smudged, but the more she fussed over her makeup, the more she realized she was stalling.

“Babe, are you okay?” She heard Jamie ask from their bed.

“I’m fine,” Serena responded although she was feeling anything but fine. “I’ll be right out.” She’s my wife and she loves me. Everything is going to be okay. This is nothing we haven’t done dozens of times before. But it was their first time as a married couple and Serena felt she had to make everything perfect for Jamie. Or maybe I should just be myself.

It was Halloween night and Serena had packed her pair of Freddy Krueger gloves that she usually wore when she took Olivia trick-or-treating. She opened the bathroom door and stuck her hand out so she could tap on the doorframe with the fake blades on her glove.

“Serena Benson!” Jamie shouted. “You scared the hell out of me. How is it that we’ve only been married 30 hours and I already want a divorce?”

Serena tapped the doorframe one more time before peeking her head out. “I’m sorry, but Serena Benson doesn’t exist anymore. You must be mistaken.”

“Babe, come here,” Jamie urged. “I wanna lie down with my wife.” Lie down. She thinks she’s slick.

Serena stood next to their bed, her hands covering her chest. “I’m ready to...lie down.”

“I’ve never been this over you,” Jamie grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed, eliciting a squeal from Serena. “Babe, take those gloves off.”

“I was going to and then you pulled me on the bed.” Serena took off the gloves and tossed them aside.

When Jamie started to kiss her, Serena felt as if her mind was elsewhere and without realizing it, she had started to pull away. “Do you want to stop?” Jamie asked. “I know it’s our honeymoon, but I’m just as happy holding you or hanging out with you.”

Serena captured her lips in a kiss. “No, no, I want to. I just feel like my mind isn’t here. I’m thinking about Ollie. This is our favorite holiday. She’s twelve and it’s her last kid Halloween, you know? I take her trick-or-treating every year with Elliot and her other friends. I even took her last year before I went over to your house. Next Halloween, she’ll be a teenager, and I feel like I missed my last shot. I’m just glad Mr. and Mrs. Cabot let Alex stay with her in LA. My heart and my mind are both here with you and over there with her. For the past twelve years, I’ve just been a mom and now I’m a mom and a wife and I have to learn how to balance the two.”

“Serena, look at me,” Jamie cupped her face in her hands. “Being my wife doesn’t mean you ever have to take time away from being Ollie’s mom. The three of us are a family. We’re a new family, but we’re going to make it work. Like with any family, there’s going to be a lot of trial and error, but I promise to never make you feel as if you have to choose between me and Ollie. Why don’t we call her right now and see how her Halloween is going?”

Serena immediately grabbed her phone from on top of the nightstand. It rang only one time before she heard her overly excited daughter on the other end. “Hi, Mom! I miss you!”

“Hi, Olliegator. I miss you too. How’s the haul this year?”

“Not as good as Alex’s neighborhood, but Lexie and Kyle helped us salvage the night,” Olivia responded. “Your candy map is a bust, Mom. Half of the houses on there don’t know the spirit of Halloween.”

The candy map in question is a map Serena created of the houses in Beverly Hills that gave out the best candy, had the scariest haunted houses, and the best decorations. “Ollie, I made that map in 1998. It’s not really relevant anymore.”

“See, that’s what I thought at first,” Olivia responded. “But Alex and I were just too taken in by the retro ‘90s charm. So, Mom, tell me about this cabin in the woods. Don’t most people honeymoon in Hawaii or Cabo or the Bahamas?”

“Too ordinary,” Serena responded. She knew Olivia would think it was because she wanted to be out in the woods on Halloween, but the real reason Serena wanted a honeymoon in a cabin away from everyone was because she wanted an entire week of being shut-in with Jamie with nobody else around them. “I’ll give you the grand tour of the cabin and the lake tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I think that would have been ordinary, too,” she could hear her daughter smiling through the phone. “Just remember if you find a creepy cellar, don’t go in. Also, if you meet an old man at a store or gas station that looks abandoned, heed his warnings and listen to his tales of forgotten lore.”

“Of course, Olliegator,” Serena laughed. “Lexie told me she’s taking you and Alex on a Haunted Hollywood tour. Remember, after coming home from those places－”

“When in doubt, sage it out,” Olivia recited the advice she had heard countless times. “We’re gonna leave now. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Ollie Koalie.”

Serena felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders when she hung up the phone. Her Ollie was having fun with her aunt and uncle and Alex. Olivia was going to be okay, just like she was going to be okay.

“Feel better?” Jamie asked. “Is our Ollie okay?”

“She’s okay,” Serena responded. “I think I am, too.”

Serena thought back to their first time last Halloween. It was raw and animalistic, the result of six months of pent-up sexual tension between the two of them. Jamie had her against the wall, on her back, on all fours, and on her knees. But none of that felt right for their first time as a married couple.

Her wife was ready for her as was evident by the bulge in her boxer brief harness that Serena was able to feel between her legs now that Jamie was on top of her. Jamie was playfully nibbling on her neck, putting her at ease. The deeper they got into their relationship, the more loving and even playful sex had become between the two of them. The passion was there, the attraction was there, but Serena felt as if what they did was no longer performative. They could be themselves and focus on each other instead of focusing on an image.

Jamie propped herself up on her elbows, which was one of Serena’s favorite positions for her to be in so she could feel more skin-to-skin contact and nearly the full weight of Jamie’s body on her. She looked down at Serena before leaning in to kiss her. “I love you so much,” she said in a tone that Serena found reassuring. “If you ever want me to stop anything I’m doing, just tell me.” But she didn’t have to tell her. Sometimes she didn’t have the nerve to tell her and Jamie could just see it in her eyes. Her wife could read her better than anyone.

Jamie slowly kissed her way down her body, stopping when she reached her white panties with ‘Mrs. Castillo’ printed on them. “Have I ever told you that my name looks good on you?”

“Several times,” Serena responded. “And it makes me roll my eyes every time you say it.”

Serena’s legs were spread and bent at the knee, giving Jamie access to kiss her on her inner thighs. “I guess I can’t say it anymore because it’s our name now and not just mine. I’m also sorry I didn’t notice these earlier, but when your wife comes out with Freddy Krueger gloves covering her breasts, your eyes just shift to that instead.” Serena felt Jamie tug at the waistband of her undies and slide them off. “As good as they look on you, you don’t need these right now.”

When Jamie flung them to the side, Serena was reminded of an incident that happened a few weeks after their first time. “Do you remember that time you flung my underwear and we couldn’t find it?”

“And my roommate found it the next morning?” Jamie added. “Yeah, how could I forget that?”

“But it was nothing even remotely sexy like I wore the first couple of times,” Serena laughed. “They were my cotton boybriefs with Rainbow Brite and Starlite on them. In my defense, I didn’t know I was getting laid that night. When you said, ‘Serena, come hang out,’ I thought we were actually going to hang out like you hang out with the guys.”

“That explains the hoodie and jeans you wore,” Jamie quipped. “I tried to be good, kind of like I’m trying right now, but my focus is on my favorite freckle of yours.”

Serena remembered the first time Jamie discovered her favorite freckle, one located near her clit that immediately became Jamie’s favorite spot to kiss like she was in that moment. The back and forth and casual banter had eased her nervousness and, although that banter had stopped and she was open and physically vulnerable, her nervousness was still gone and she was able to enjoy every movement of her wife’s tongue.

“I bought you something,” Jamie said, picking her head up and wiping Serena’s wetness from her mouth.

“Later,” Serena insisted, feeling slightly frustrated with her wife.

“Trust me, you’ll want this now.” Her gift was a vibrator that nestled comfortably over Serena’s clit. “Just a little helper because I can’t touch you where I want to when I’m on top.” Jamie used the remote to turn it on one of the lower settings.

Serena pulled Jamie close so she could kiss her, the feeling of the vibrator on her clit and the taste of herself on Jamie’s tongue sending her into overdrive. When Jamie turned up the intensity of the vibrator, she couldn’t help moaning into her wife’s mouth.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Jamie insisted. Serena felt her wife enter her first with one finger before slowly interesting another when she felt Serena had adjusted. She was tight, she knew she was. She always clenched her muscles when Jamie first entered her, but the more she pumped her fingers in and out of her, the more relaxed she became. She could hear how wet she was and she reveled in the feeling of having Jamie inside of her －the first, last, and only woman to be so intimate with her.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Jamie told her as she increased the speed that she was pumping her fingers in and out of her. Serena knew what Jamie wanted. She wanted her cock buried deep inside her. She knew Jamie wanted to fuck her hard and rough; she wanted to claim her.

“Jay,” Serena moaned. She couldn’t get the words out but Jamie knew exactly what she needed.

Serena grabbed the warming lubricant from on top of the nightstand and rubbed it on Jamie’s clit, the feeling of Jamie’s wetness making her throb even more. The warming lubricant had been Serena’s idea the first time they went toy shopping together. It was meant to heighten the sensation for Jamie and make her feel like she was actually inside Serena when the base of the toy rubbed against her clit.

Jamie positioned herself in between Serena’s legs, teasing her entrance as she turned up the intensity of the vibrator enough to make Serena moan even louder. “Jamie, fuck…”

“Is that an order?” Jamie asked and then realized Serena was less than pleased with her question. She entered Serena with just the tip and slowly went deeper, allowing Serena to adjust to being so filled.

“Come here. I want to look into your eyes.”

When she knew Serena was ready, Jamie began to thrust deep and hard into her. She had once wanted soft and sensual but Jamie had awakened that need inside of her. “You look so hot when you’re being fucked, Ser.” She knew the deeper Jamie went, the more she could feel the base press against her clit, so Serena wrapped her legs around her wife’s waist to make her go deeper. “You feel so good.”

With Jamie now propped up on her elbows, Serena ran her fingers down her back. Her caresses were gentle until she felt her wife fuck her harder and faster. Her nails dug into the skin on Jamie’s back and she felt herself tighten around her cock. “Jamie, keep fucking me, baby. Don’t stop.”

She felt the toy rubbing against her g spot, the vibrator pulsating on her clit, and the sound of her wife moaning in her ear. One more thrust as Jamie sucked on her neck proved to be her undoing with Jamie’s orgasm following just a few seconds behind her.

“I love you,” Serena told her as Jamie nuzzled into her neck. “I’ve never felt so connected to anyone before.”

“I’m literally still inside you,” Jamie teased. “We’re very connected right now.”

Serena playfully smacked her arm. “Now it’s my turn to be done with you.”

“You can’t be,” Jamie responded. “You’re stuck with me for the next 50 or 60 years and I couldn’t be happier about that. I love you, Serena Castillo. One thing, though…”

“Hmm?”

“With the way you were clawing at my back, I’m really grateful you took off your Freddy Krueger gloves.”