#fourth age wip

[annabawritersdream]

I WILL ALWAYS PROTECT YOU

GLOSSARY (VALARIN)

Valide: Mother.

Aslanim/Aslan Parçam: My little lion cub (literal), sweetheart, my boy (any endearment you can think of. It only applies to boys though, not to little girls).

Ne olur: please.

Benim aslan oğlum: My little lion of a son (literal) see right above.

Iyi Geceler: Good night.

Emredersiniz: As you wish/as you command.

"Valide?"

Elenna turned and her lips instantly curved into a smile. "My Mírion. Aslanım. Come."

She picked him up and held him close. "You are getting so big. It is hard for me to hug you like I once did. You are too tall."

The child wrapped his arms around her neck, his cute little face partially covered by his tousled hair.

"Do not be sad, Mamma. I will always love and care for you. You are right though, I am no longer a little boy. I started my training today and Father was very impressed. He handed me a wooden dagger and taught me how to hold it." He sighed. "He was very patient with me, but I do not understand why Papa would have me practice with a wooden weapon. Everyone else practices with real swords and daggers."

"You should not question your father's decisions, aslanım."

"I did not say anything to him, Mamma," Mírion retorted. "I knew you would not approve so I refrained from making any comments. But I will not deny I was disappointed. I thought Papa would have me use a real dagger. I thought I was trustworthy enough to deserve it. I thought I would have my own sword. Anárion was gifted his very own last year, why can I not have one? Is it because I have been a bad boy?"

"No, my sunshine, of course not." Elenna kissed the top of his head. "How can you even entertain so silly a notion? You are your father's heir; you had better remember it."

"Does that mean I can do no wrong ever?"

Elenna smiled. "It means you will be a commander of Maiar one day."

Mírion frowned. "I do not think I want to be Papa's heir."

"Why would you say that, aslanım?"

"Papa has to die in order for me to become his heir. I don't want papa to die, it is not fair. He can't die."

"Worry not, my sunshine. It will not come to pass, I promise. Your father will always be by your side."

"Can you stay forever as well?"

The former lady of Ithilien gulped, her heartbeat quickening. "I am not sure it is allowed."

Mírion's eyes widened as he straightened up. "Why!?"

He kissed his forehead and sat on her armchair, rocking him gently. "Shush, aslanım, shush. Do not despair. I will never leave you. My love will never leave you, aslanim. Do you know why?

"I think so."

"Do tell me, then."

"I am bound to you. You are a part of me and you will always be in my mind and in my heart."

"That is right, benim aslan oğlum. We will never be parted, you and I."

The child nodded and yawned.

"Are you tired?"

"A little."

"Would you like me to tuck you in?"

Mírion shook his head. "Can you sing something?"

"Of course, aslanim, but...your father is usually the one who..."

"I like your singing voice very much, Mamma. Sing something for me, ne olur."

"What would you like me to sing?"

"It is up to you. You decide."

"I..."

"Mamma?"

"Yes?"

"Are you alright? If you wish to rest, I can go to my room. I can do without the singing if you don't..."

"My beautiful boy, you do know there is nothing I would deny you, do you not?"

"You said it so many times. Yet, I do not want to upset you. You look sad."

"I am not sad, Mírion."

"Am I hurting you? It has been so long since I sat on your lap and I imagine I am a lot heavier now."

"Do not be ridiculous, aslanim. You could never hurt me or upset me."

Mírion looked at her pensively. "Am I going to have another sibling?"

"What makes you think that?"

Mírion jumped off her lap, his eyes now fixed on her midsection. "Could you stand up?"

Elenna nodded.

"Turn to the side."

The former lady of Ithilien did as she was asked and stood still for a few minutes as her son stared at her, his arms folded. He truly was the spitting image of his father.

"There, I see it."

"What is it that you see, my child?"

"Your stomach looks..."

"Fat?"

"Pillowy. I do not know what the right word is, but i could tell the difference when you hugged me. It felt much...softer. Again, I do not know whether that is the right word."

Elenna smiled and took a deep breath.

"Am I right?" He insisted. "Am I going to have another sibling?"

Elenna exhaled as her hand went to her belly. "You are, aslanım."

He ran to her and hugged her. "May I touch it?"

"Go ahead."

Mírion hesitantly placed a hand on his mother's belly and retracted it almost immediately. "I do not feel anything. It is odd."

"He or she is still too small to move,but I can assure you that you will have another sibling in a few months."

"Are you hoping for another boy?"

"What about you? What do you hope for?"

"I would like to have a baby brother. Girls are a handful and want to draw all the time. I tried to talk Wyn into practicing with a sword, but she wouldn't listen to me. I had to help her fold her dresses and it was so boring. I am glad she likes the dress I gave her as a birthday present. She wears it nearly everyday, much to Esme's dismay."

"It is a way to show you how much she loves you."

Mírion pressed his lips into a thin line. "She asked me about you. She constantly asks about you, Mamma. She would like you to visit her and wonders why you never do so. Are you scared of her, perhaps?"

"No, of course not. I..."

Mírion glanced at her. "What is it?"

"Does her constant blabbering displease you? Is that why you never spend time with her?"

"That is not it, Mírion. I..."

"Mamma? What is it?"

"I think I need to lie down."

Mírion's eyes remained fixed on her. "Are you alright?"

He stiffened, his palms now clammy. "Should I send for someone?"

"No, there's no need." She attempted at a smile. "There is no need, my boy."

"What can I do?"

He held her by her arm trying to steady her. "I don't think you will able to make it to your bed without tripping. I could take you there myself, but I don't think I am strong enough yet. We would probably end up getting hurt and it would make matters worse. Is the baby fine, do you reckon?"

Elenna nodded before she lost her footing and fell forward. Mírion yelled as she held onto him, his hands instinctively reaching for her waist. He did not know what needed to be done, but he decided to trust his instincts. He wrapped his arm around her waist and allowed her to fully lean on him.

"Mamma!?"

"I am fine, my sunshine. We are both fine."

"What else can I do? What must I do?"

"Nárael should be in her room next to my chambers. Fetch her if you can."

"Will she hear me from here? I won't leave you alone." He was shaking. "Where is everybody else? Handalimë, Elenya..."

"I sent them off. They deserve some much needed rest."

"Are they not supposed to serve you though? Should they not be with you at all times?"

"They are not required to be around me every day." She breathed in. "Do not call for Nárael. I changed my mind, leave her be. I feel much better already."

"Do you? Can you stand?"

"I might as well try."

"Do you need help?"

She caressed his cheek. "No, sunshine. I can do it on my own."

"Try to sit up first. Can you do that?"

"I think so."

Mírion turned away and rushed to her desk. He filled a cup with water and ran back to his mother. She took it and gulped it down. "Thank you."

"Would you like more?"

"There is no need. I will get up now."

She slowly rose to her feet, Mírion holding her. He had her sit on her armchair until she was well enough to walk to the bed. There she sat and took several deep breaths while Mírion cleaned the now empty cup and placed it back on her desk. He turned to his mother and smiled at her. Elenna's eyes filled with unshed tears as she mentally thanked Eru for blessing her with such a caring, dutiful son.

"You did not have to do that, aslanim. I was going to have the maids tidy the room tomorrow."

"It really is no bother. Papa has all his soldiers wash their own tabards and polish their own armors. I suppose I will have to learn as well and cleaning a cup is a menial task. To this regard, I would like to be in charge of my own chambers from now on. I meant to speak to you about before..."

He lowered his gaze. "Does it happen often?"

"It occurs on occasion, that is all."

"Why does it happen, Mamma?"

"It is nothing worth losing sleep over, my sweet boy. I simply get tired."

"I get tired too, but I have never fallen that way. It looks scary."

"It is not scary at all, aslan parçam."

He sat next to her. "It might be dangerous for you and the baby."

"You sound exactly like your father."

"I am certain he would agree with me. Does he know about the baby?"

"I have not told him yet."

"How come?"

Elenna bit her inner cheek. "I..."

Mírion took her hand. "Are you afraid?"

Elenna pursed her lips and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "Don't concern yourself with such matters." She ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. "You are still so young..."

"I will help you if I can."

He noticed a lonely tear rolling down her cheek. "Are you crying, Mamma?"

"No, my boy."

"I saw you..."

"Shush, oğlum. I am fine."

"Is the baby alright?"

"Of course. Would you like to say goodnight? You look exhausted, aslanım."

"I think I will go to sleep. I have my training tomorrow. Papa says we will we practice every day." He pulled his mother close and kissed her stomach. "Sleep well, baby brother...or sister." He paused. "Please be a brother. I will teach you swordfighting and we will have fun."

He smiled. "İyi geceler, Valide."

"Good night to you, my boy. I will rest a little as well. Would you still like me to sing to you?"

Mírion nodded. "Mamma?"

"Yes?"

"Will you visit Wyn? She really wants to see you."

"I..."

"I will come with you. We can visit her together sometime this week."

"I suppose it could be arranged."

"She will be very happy."

"I know," she clung to him. "I know."

"Thank you, Mamma." He yawned. "Could you sing that lullaby Papa used to hum all the time? The one Wyn liked."

"I cannot seem to remember how it goes. I do recall the melody, but the words do elude me at the moment."

"Oh, it is something along the lines of..."

He focused, his gray eyes glinting. "Nenni Desem Uyurm'ola..."

Elenna raised an eyebrow. "I do not know this lullaby."

"Papa sang it every night when we couldn't sleep."

"I do not think I know the words to it. I am sorry, aslanim."

"I can sing it to you, Mamma, don't worry," he readily quipped before he lightly tapped on her belly. "And to you, too."

He cleared his throat. "Nenni Desem Uyurm'ola... Üstüne Güller Gelir M'ola..."

He sighed. "I can't sing like Papa. It's so frustrating."

"Don't force it. Lie down and get some sleep."

"Papa's singing is excellent even when he's tired."

Elenna rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek. "My beautiful boy, get some sleep now."

"Emredersiniz, Mamma."

She glanced at him as he hugged his pillow and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep. She ran her hand through his hair once more as she placed his little hand on her belly. She noticed how his lips curved into an understated, yet visibly noticeable smile and her eyes filled with tears. No one would take that boy from her. They would never be parted. Her beautiful son, his father's heir. Her pride and joy. The best part of her. No, no one would ever be able to part them. Not even Gorthaur, not even Morgoth. No one.

She glanced at him fondly before she too closed her eyes and drifted into sleep, her hand on his. Despite all that she had suffered, she knew she was lucky. Mírion was a testament that Eru had not yet forsaken. Her little boy, her light in her dark, dark world.

She suddenly stirred. Someone was talking to her.

"I love you, Mamma. I will always protect you, I promise. I won't ever let you go."

She sighed and hugged him tightly. Life could still be meaningful, after all. Life could be beautiful. Life was beautiful.

Just a little snippet I thought of as I was editing the image of Enna and baby Mírion. I think it's my best edit yet. Look how cute they both are. They have my whole heart.

By the song I kind of included in the snippet is an actual Turkish lullaby called "Nenni" Desem Uyurm'ola?

This is the original version sang by actress Selma Ergeç, which is included in the official Muhteşem Yüzyıl (Magnificent Century) soundtrack album.

This is the same song sung by (I think) Halit Ergenç and it's how imagine Eönwë to sound when singing Valarin lullabies to his children. I personally love both versions, but I love Halit's a tiny bit more.

Anyway, I hope this snippet found you well and I hope you enjoyed it!

Other OCs that were mentioned (check character profiles for more details):

ESME

Half-Elven/Half-Human nanny to the Eönwë and Elenna's children. Actress: Caitlin Stasey.

NÁRAEL

Maiarin lady-in-waiting to Elenna, Maia of Aulë. Actress: Sophie Turner

HANDALIMË

Elenna's Lady of the Chamber and main lady-in-waiting. Maia of Vána. Actress: Gülcan Arslan

ELENYA

Lady-in-waiting to Elenna. Maia of Varda. Actress: Yasemin Allen.

[elronds-library]

sisyphus, unhappy [WIP]

by clovis_unleashed (@tobermoriansass)

Part 3 of Sisyphus, Unhappy: Chronology

An account of various events, both political and personal in nature, leading up to the abdication of the Crown Prince of the Noldor and the end of the Fourth Age in Valinor. Or, Curufin finally lives up to his father’s legacy, Maglor surpasses the Noldolante, Finrod invents existentialism from first principles and the Noldor do the Enlightenment. AKA: Finrod and Curufin get accidentally married in Beleriand. Many ages later, this causes a political crisis.

Mature, No Archive Warnings

Words: 150,626

[annabawritersdream]

I love her so much and she'd be perfect as second governess for the kids. Esme is the chaotic nanny and she is the responsible/Mary Poppins-like one. Enna is usually unreasonably jealous of her children's nannies, but she actually likes her.

She might be a Maia of Vána or Estë. Now I only need to think of a name.

Drew Barrymore's "Just Breathe" look in Ever After: A Cinderella Story (1998)

costume design by Jenny Beavan

[taeslarityy]

outage ༄ joel miller one shot (18+)

-> pairing: no-outbreak joel miller au x female curvy reader

-> word count: 4.3k

-> summary: after a citywide power outage, you're left to deal with the scorching texas heat. until, the well-respected neighborhood dilf — joel miller — lends you a more than generous hand.

-> warnings/tags: sarah is 10/11 so joel had her a bit older, power outage, texas heat, yes this is a warning because its not a joke, reader has a cat!!!, age gap (reader is 24, joel is late 40s), curvy/mid/plus size reader, brief fatphobia, reader has self-image/parent issues + is a lonely gal, fluff, SMUT (18+), unprotected piv, creampie, oral + fingering (f!recieving), squirting, body worship, brief ass play, daddy kink, big ole tits, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, a bit of belly bulge, cockwarming, pet names galore (darlin, sweetheart, baby, _ girl), joel has a huge dick (not canon!)

-> a/n: hi hi! i have been so anxious to begin writing again and currently have some wips that i am just not confident with. so when i saw the lovely @hellishjoel post her #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i was positive i wanted to join in! such a pleasure to be involved in this — thank you kylee for creating such a fun way for this community to get involved! as a curvier woman, i wanted reader to reflect that. because... joel miller is a handsy mf and loves to just grab himself some wide hips, thick thighs and phat tits <3 but ofc, this is can be for various body types. please please please, leave your thoughts and even constructive criticism! <3 DILF NEIGHBOR JOEL, YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS!!!!

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

You release a groan of annoyance as the visual of your TV, coffee table lamp and humming of the refrigerator all flicker off into silence. The frills on your throw-blanket settle, as the ceiling fan no longer produces the small gusts of wind that have caused you to be rather chilly on this hot, humid and rainy summer night. 

When you made the courageous decision of moving across the country for a new teaching opportunity in Austin — you were never informed on the true brutality summertime unleashed onto Texas residents. More-so, you really had nothing to do but be caged up in the comfortable AC of your home. You’ve been here for roughly 14 months and the only "friends" you’ve made have been the 28 fourth graders you had the pleasure of teaching last school year. Tragic. 

Your coworkers, did not handle your arrival pleasantly. Young, beautiful, freshly-educated and determined. That’s what your grandmother referred to you as when you called her sobbing after your first week. Informing her that the seasoned teachers won’t even bat an eye at you, and when they do it’s a look of disgust. Whispering amongst one another. Like you were in middle school again, trying to befriend the popular girls. 

“I was foolish to think things could be different for me down here, so stupid of me.”

“Now listen to me, you are the most intelligent woman I know. More than anyone in this family. Bullies like that, it stems from an unknown jealousy and overbearing insecurity. Don’t let a few sour grapes ruin this outstanding career for you. Your students adore you already, and so do I. Just continue to be yourself and if that isn’t enough for them, so be it.”

Your grandmother always knew how to make you feel better. She had been instilling your own sense of confidence since you were a little girl. The only adult in your life to do so. If only her words were enough. Your coworkers just never let up. After overhearing them gossip about you during lunch break, you gave up your attempts indefinitely. 

“She really thinks she deserves a place here?”

“Look at her back rolls in that shirt…”

“She really needs to put that sandwich down.”

“Why is she so quiet? It’s freaky, honestly. No wonder she’s always alone.”

You’re not a stranger to being alone. You practically have been your entire life. Your parents never really bothered to form a genuine relationship with you, always so focused on your younger sister. She was the prettier, thinner, more impressive version of you. You have only had one best friend throughout your long 24 years on this earth. She was smarter than you and moved away from the timid small town you shared in Northern Maine, choosing an out-of-state university. So, being alone was a familiarity. You have made peace with it. But being lonely — that’s a whole other ball-park. 

The booming thwack of thunder startles you from your thoughts. Your sweet calico boy leaps from your warm lap and scurries under the dining table — tail puffed in fear. “Milo... it’s okay,” you whisper. He just gleams at you with his jet-black saucer eyes. Even you don’t believe your own words. You are not used to storms like this, and you didn’t really prepare. You read some articles online about stocking up: having plently of batteries, candles, non-perishable foods. Yet, you didn’t do any of that. 

Rubbing away the moisture from your damp upper lip — the heat inside your home already becoming unbearable. Deciding on a whim, you can head to a nearby hotel for the night. Unsure how long you will be without power and don’t wish to succumb yourself or your cat to the searing temperatures of the night. 

The rain has slowed down, as you feel the soft patter on your umbrella. Throwing your purse and water bottle in the front seat, you begin to dread unpacking all this stuff when you get to the hotel. Bags, cat litter, cage — scrutinizing yourself mentally and deciding you better fucking prepare for the next storm. 

“Where ya headin’ sweetheart?”

Your heart jumps at the deep smooth Southern voice that fills your thoughts at night. When your hands would find their way in between your quivering legs. Throughout the day. Pretty much all the time.

Joel Miller is the only person in this town that has ever filled the lonely void you can never seem to fill. When you moved to the quiet suburban street, he was the first to come greet you as you struggled to pull your mattress out of the U-Haul. Immediately lending a hand, and proceeding to lug all of your remaining boxes, furniture, miscellaneous items into your new home. 

“Pretty lady like you, shouldn’t have to lift a single finger.” He remarked when you blushed and assured him you could handle the rest, not wanting to be a burden. Even though the sweat dripping down your back was apparent and 5 minutes prior you had no idea how you’d be able to unpack the remainder of the truck. He then assured you — there was no way in hell you were being a burden. Words that were a rarity. 

Later that afternoon, he invited you for dinner at his home. You met his lovely daughter, Sarah. Where everyone learned that you were her new school teacher. What were the odds? 

Following that, seeing Joel was frequent. From parent-teacher conferences, backyard barbecues for the neighborhood, or even small intimate dinners with Sarah at each others homes. Sarah would even spend the night at yours on occasion. When Joel had a late night at the construction site, or when she just needed some girl time. You adored that little girl, and vice versa. 

You also adored the fuck out of Joel. 

So when you looked up at his porch, finding him in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants.. your throat went dry. His tanned skin gleamed softly from the street light — little speckled freckles adorned his waist in various spots. And that darkish grey hair on his chest and fat of his lower tummy that flowed underneath his pants. Your brain fuzzy at the thought of your face pressed against it as you swallow his cock. 

But you were not a fool. Joel would never express an attraction towards you. A man like that? He deserved the perfect woman. 

“Darlin’?” He speaks again, a bit louder. Disturbing your wandering thoughts. 

“I- I was gonna head to a hotel for the night, my house is too hot already. And I don’t want Milo to be uncomfortable.” 

Joel’s eyes wander down your body as you explain — the plush jiggle of your tits in that small tank. Nearly spilling out. Slightly damp from the rain or humidity. The chub of your tummy spills slightly from your leggings. A sight that makes his cock swell unbearingly. An act that occurs more often than not when he sees you or even thinks of you for the countless minutes of his day. 

“No way. Not gonna let ya drive in this weather. Plus, most hotels nearby are gonna be overbooked. I got the generator up n’ working, got the spare room too. You’re stayin’ over.” 

“No! No, Joel. I can’t.”

“N’ why not?” His hands have found his way to his hips, popping a knee out and giving you that classic dad glare. Not angry, but confused as to why you’re even protesting when he’s already decided. 

“I don’t want to intrude and I have Milo. You and Sarah are allergic.”

“Sarah left yesterday to stay with her mom in California for the rest of the summer. Besides, Milo loves me. I can handle a runny nose as long as I know the two of ya are safe.” 

To this, your stomach nearly flips inward on itself. You’ve never been alone with Joel in his home. Not for this long. The few times you’ve come over to help him with dinner before Sarah got home from soccer practice, have always been excruciating. Staring at him without worry. Watching his muscles flex through his t-shirts. Big hands chopping vegetables and plating food. His hand lightly touching your waist when scooting by. 

There’s no possible way you can survive a night in Joel’s home. 

But, he’s already grabbing his umbrella and walking over to you. He grabs your stuff from the car and tells you to go grab Milo. So, you do.

Joel slips on a t-shirt after he put your stuff in the spare room, disappointedly enough. You nearly told him to keep it off, but held your tongue. You made yourself comfortable at the island barstool as you typed up some early lesson plans, Milo at your feet. 

He patters over to Joel who is now leaning against the counter, brushing against his leg. He then leaps onto the granite and purrs against Joel’s arm. 

“Psst! Milo get do-“ you beg, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. 

“S’ okay, sweetheart. He’s not botherin’ me,” Joel attempts to settle your nerves. Petting Milo’s soft fur and scratching under his chin, that special spot all cats love. “Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” He nods towards the coffee he’s brewing. 

“Coffee would be nice, thank you.” You beam at him. Joel’s heart skips a beat every time your cheeks puff up ever so slightly when you smile at him. It’s something he swears is the most endearing thing about you. Of course, he’s only ever shared that with his daughter. Who begs her father to just take her favorite teacher on a date already. 

Joel grabs some sugar and oat milk from the fridge, your favorite. He learned from the few breakfasts you guys had shared. A bit of sugar and a nice gulp of milk softens the dark roast color in the mug, he slides it over to you as he grabs his plain black coffee. 

“You remembered!” You giggle slightly at the Number 1 Dad title that adorns the mug, taking a sip. You moan at the taste, exactly how you like it. 

“Of course I did, darlin’.” You almost hate how easily those pet names roll of his tongue. You summed it up as his southern hospitality, figured he calls any woman those special names. “So, you ready for this new school year?”

An icky feeling settles in your stomach. The thought of returning to the painful and toxic work environment you can only escape when you’re with your students.

“Not without my Sarah girl,” you swiftly change the subject towards the one person he can talk hours about.

He smiles proudly at her name. 

“Ya know, she still all mad that you wouldn’t flunk her so she could have another year with ya.” Both your laughs quickly fill the empty house. 

“Well, even if I tried to, that girl is too smart for her own good. She should skip a grade in my opinion.” You state, and you’re truthful at that. Sarah Miller is as intelligent as she is quick-witted. 

“Yeah, she gets it from me.” At that you roll your eyes playfully. Typing something up before closing your computer and taking another sip of coffee. “Although I love boastin’ over her, I guess I meant are you excited to go back? They treat ya good there?” 

Joel watches the color drain from your soft skin. Realizing he touched somewhere that might be too personal. Too raw. “M’ sorry sweetheart, shouldn’t have asked.”

“No- no uh, you’re fine. Um, honestly? No. I’m not excited. The staff there aren’t exactly the kindest bunch.” You confess, slight unease crawling over you. 

Joel’s eyes scrunch in confusion. Mind blank on how the kindest soul he knows, could be surrounded by complete opposite. “Whatcha mean?”

You sigh letting the anxiousness settle a bit before speaking again, “they hate me. I don’t even know why, really? I have tried my hardest to get them to accept me but nothing seems to work. Whether it’s jabs at my appearance, teaching style, they’re never satisfied.” Your eyes are burning slightly, haven’t confessed this burden you constantly carry to anyone. “If it wasn’t for your daughter and my class, and… you.. well, I think I wouldn’t have made it through. I try to be strong, I try to be everything that people expect from me but it’s just so hard, Joel.” At that, the fat tears begin to stream down your face.

Joel was frozen in shock. Or maybe anger. Protectiveness. He wanted to hurt the people who made you feel like this. The least deserving of any pain. He sets his mug down and snatches you in his embrace. Holding your head with his hand, stroking your back with the other. He lets you sob almost uncontrollably into his firm chest. 

“I just hate being so alone.” You whisper, clutching onto him. You can’t even be embarrassed anymore, you’re so overthrown by his scent, his comfort. Comfort you’ve not felt in so so long. 

Joel kisses your temple softly, "promise you're not alone, sweet girl." He nudges your head to look up at his own sorrowful expression. His thumb running over your full lips, a bit swollen from your teeth biting down on them in an attempt to muffle your sobs. "So beautiful." He murmurs as he leans down to place a kiss on your left cheek, his lips skim over yours before he places another on your right.

Joel just barely hears the whimper from the back of your throat when that feather light skim happened. He leans back half an inch, staring into your glossy eyes. "Tell me not to, and I'll let you go upstairs and get some rest. Tell me, sweetheart."

It feels like a whole minute passes by. The soft patter of the rain, the smell of coffee beans from each others breath, the same slow breathing that overwhelms the little space between you both.

Desperation.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, "don't let me go upstairs, Joel."

Joel smashes his mouth into yours, his guttural groan flying into your soft whimpers. The softness Joel expressed a moment ago is long gone. This kiss is messy, teeth-clanking, tongue inside your mouth. Like he wants to devour you from the outside in. He releases your lip with a pop.

He threads his thick fingers through the base of your hair and yanks it back gently, tongue on your neck. Biting the skin there. "You're so soft, baby. Just need me to mark ya up, is that right?"

You nod as hard as you can despite his harsh grip on your locks.

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl. Let me know what you're thinkin'."

"Everything you do is okay. I want more. I need it all. Please."

"Oh baby, cm'ere," he wraps your lavish thighs around his waist and hoists you into his arms. Easily. Like you're just the most delicate thing he's ever held.

As he walks to his bedroom, you smile into his neck. Arms wrapped over his shoulders, hand rubbing ever so softly at his greying curls. You bite at the skin under his ear and he gives your ass a huge squeeze. Groaning at how his big hands barely hold all the meat there. He couldn't wait to touch and gnaw at this body he loved.

At the foot of his bed, he taps your leg as if telling you to get down. You stand in front of his massive overbearing figure, staring up at him lustfully. You grab the bottom of your compression tank top and pull it over your head, revealing your unsupported chest. Your heavy tits fall a bit.

"My god," Joel falls to his knees in front of you, face nearly level with your pebbled nipples. Both his hands grab a fistful of each, rolling them in his palm. Your sweet noises fill the room and he swears he might've just came in his pajama pants right there. He takes his teeth and bite at the fat above your leggings, licking and sucking at a sensitive part of you. Literally and figuratively.

Joel abandons your chest to yank your leggings and panties down in one move, coming face-to-face with your prickly oozing pussy. He can't restrain himself much longer, spinning you around he pushes you down into his mattress.

He spreads your ass open with both hands, the chub of your lips open ever so slightly as the slick between them strings together.

"Perfect cunt." That's when you feel the chill of liquid spat right onto your puckered hole, dripping down to your clit. He leans in, tongue catching the tangy mixture of your slick and his saliva, right on your throbbing clit.

You screech into the sheets, so turned on from his actions. As he licks up to dip his tongue into your hole, one hand that's holding you open sneaks up your back, to your neck and yanks your head up.

"Nu-uh, let me hear you, baby girl." He demands as he pauses to throw his shirt off as fast as possible — not wanting to leave your cunt for too long without the warmth of his mouth.

He sloppily makes out with your cunt as it clenches and unclenches under his tongue, his beard prickling at your skin. Like he wants your scent all over him for as long as possible.

"Ohh daddy, more more," you whisper hazily, hand reaching back to grab his head desperate to have him as deep as possible.

Joel stops as he processes your choice of title. "What was that, darlin'?"

You freeze at his serious tone. Just now realizing what you've called the man. "Oh my god, I'm s-" Joel grabs your wrist and pins it against your lower back — thick middle and ring finger hooking into you with no warning. Your wetness aiding in the rapid slide of them.

He spits on your puckered hole again and abandons your wrist to land a harsh smack against your ass.

"Only dirty girls say that word, baby. Are you daddy's dirty girl?" He edges you on as he spanks you again on the opposite side. Hard. Unsparing. A side of Joel you've never seen. And oh, does it make you feel that coil tightening within you.

"Mmmm yes yes 'm your dirty girl, daddy!" You groan loudly, eyes swelling with fresh tears. But not tears of pain from earlier, pleasure.

Joel's fingers fuck into you harder, thumb now rubbing at your clit as he leans forward to prod his tongue at your asshole. "Cum for me, my nasty sweet girl. Drench my face. Let me taste you even more." He halts his fingers knuckle deep, hooked inside your cunt as he presses into that spot on repeat. Like he's stroking it out of you.

That's all it takes for you to silently scream as you squirt all over his lower beard covered face and your thick inner thighs, that nearly squish his head from how hard you're coming. Joel just keeps himself situated, never letting up. Allowing you to completely let go and rut back into him, telling him you need more.

"Thaaat's it, my good fuckin' girl.” He praises as he kisses your cunt and ass, he leans over your face capturing your lips in a kiss so messy and depraved. “Open that mouth.” Spitting roughly onto your tongue with a groan as you taste your sweetness that he knows he will forever be addicted to. No chance of recovery.

He ruts his thick bulge into your ass as you whine needly.

"Really want you to fuck my face, now." You beg, hand reaching down to grope him through his loose pjs.

"Mmmmm," he murmurs as his hips keep rutting into you. "Tonight is about you, baby. M' gonna stuff your tight cunt so fuckin' deep you'll feel it in your throat, don't worry." And with that promise, he releases himself, throbbing cock slapping against his lower tummy. You flip onto your back just to see it and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

You always knew it was huge just from perception, but god. It's thicker than your wrist, and looks like it would prod into your cervix. Painful even. Joel senses the worry on your face as he pushes your legs back against your chest. Admiring the way your stomach folds into itself, soft roll after roll. And the thickness of your inner thighs lays heavy. He just wants to get down and feast on you again but he might die if he doesn't feel you wrapped around him.

"You're in charge here, sweetheart. Understood?" He explains as he rubs his fat cock head up and down your swollen slit — notching on your opening with every downward stroke.

You nod slowly, peeking down at the monster between your legs once more. He squeezes your ankle, subtly reminding you to vocalize.

"Yes daddy, I understand."

"Good." And with that, he pushes into your fluttering hole. Your eyes roll back immediately, head thumping onto the soft duvet. He pushes in deeper, barely halfway in and he sees your feet and eyes scrunch a bit. It almost feels like he could rip you apart. Maybe it's because you haven't been fucked in a hot minute — or maybe it's just that Joel is so fucking hung. More than any guy you've slept with.

“Deep breath for me, sweetheart.” He soothes you, as soon as he sees your chest fall — he slams the rest of the way in. Hips flush with the back of your thighs. Cock fully sheathed in your warm soaked cunt. Heavy brimming balls pressed against your little puckered hole. “You feel so damn good. Dripping for me.” Joel’s eyes close at the feeling of you hugging him so tight. He suddenly forgets the feeling of any other woman he’s pleased. Utterly devoted to you from here on out.

When he pulls out all the way to his fat tip — it notches on your opening. Like he has to put in that extra effort to fully remove himself from you. But he doesn’t, and starts fucking into you fully. Never half way, never pulling completely out.. but always making sure he reaches the end of you.

“Da- daddy oh, harder please.” You plead, squeezing his forearm at the overwhelming feel of him nudging your cervix with every thrust.

That confirmation of pleasure is all Joel needs to push your legs back even more — ankles by your head — and began a brutal relentless pace. Grabbing a fistful of your jiggling tit and messy hair, he pulls your head up so you can watch how he ruins you for anyone else.

“Ya see that, see how swollen your gettin’ already?” Joel questions as he holds your head perfectly to observe the slight lifted pudge on your tummy. Paired with the way his coarse hair rubs against your swelled clit — it’s a drool worthy sight.

“Cus’ your so big, Joel.” You sigh, eyes fluttering from the primal force he’s using on your body.

A smug grin flicks across his face at the view. Mind consumed by the most perfect woman. Eyebrows turning inward, the little lines between them deepening as you try to comprehend all the emotions in this moment. Removing his hand from your head, he finds your clit and swipes it upward. Over and over. Leaning down, he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as humanely possible. Tongue flicking the pebbled area, coercing your orgasm from you. “Cum with me, baby.” His muffled command shoots straight to your filled core.

As he feels you spasm around his thickness, he stills balls deep. “There it is, baby…” Spilling his cum inside your warmth. Plugging you, keeping you full of him. Joel relaxes his body against yours, finding your mouth to kiss you gently. Sweaty foreheads against one another. Joel goes to push off of you, his comforting body heat about to be ripped away.

"No! Wanna feel you longer, please."

Your protest makes Joel's heart surge. "Of course, sweet girl." Wrapping his large arms around you, he flips you both so that your soft plush body lays above him. The new angle makes his spent cock nudge a bit deeper, you both moan at the faint squelch of his cum overflowing your cunt. "You're so perfect," he mutters.

Smiling into his full chest, you leave a swift kiss. "So are you. Thank you for this. For.. everything."

Joel's hands finds your back as he begins gentle strokes onto your supple skin, his head resting atop your own. "Thank you, darlin'. I want you to understand something, you might just be the finest thing that ever happened to Sarah and I. Y'know, she didn't really want to see her mom. Never had the best relationship with her. She just wanted to spend the remainder of the summer havin' ya over everyday to swim and all. That girl admires you more than anyone."

Eyes foggy, you shift to gaze up at him. "And what does her father think?"

Joel pauses briefly, rich brown orbs beaming into yours. "Think she's damn right. She didn't want me to tell you this, but she left so I could have some alone time with you — take ya out. Scolded me sayin' by the time she's back, we better be together." He laughs at the thought, you join him. Picturing that 4'9 ball of fire lecturing her father on the rules of dating.

"So, you're asking me out Miller?" You question with a heavy hopeful heart.

"Should've done it forever ago, darlin'." He confesses, placing a delicate kiss on your temple.

And with that, you place your head back onto the warm chest of the man you've craved your entire life. Realizing, ever since that day where he first greeted you with that sultry gentleman voice — you were never truly alone.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[cvnntagious]

ও ⋮ fuckboy!matt headcanons ⸝⸝

all my fuckboy!matt blurbs, fics, and wips : here

fratboy!chris ver. here

⇢ SFW

❒ fuckboy!matt who, like his title entails, is a fuckboy. much unlike (fratboy!)chris, he's quick to entertain girls who throw themselves at him

❒ fuckboy!matt who 'isnt afraid of commitment'

" c'mon, y'think i'm scared of that shit? what's to be scared of? trust me, if i wanted to, i could keep 'er by m'side forever. "

" so... what? you wanna keep playing? "

" playin'? nah, m'jus havin' my fun. why settle down now? "

❒ fuckboy!matt who spends most of his time at the frat with chris

❒ fuckboy!matt who, despite his brother's constant begging, refuses to commit to chris' fraternity

❒ fuckboy!matt who mostly meets girls through chris, whether they're a client of chris' who happened to run into him, or chris sent them his way

❒ fuckboy!matt who is surprisingly top of his classes, taking homework and studying very seriously

❒ fuckboy!matt who does chris' homework

❒ fuckboy!matt who's dormmate is nick

❒ fuckboy!matt who doesn't deal, and actually happens to constantly be on chris' ass about being reckless

" gonna get fuckin' caught with that, " he said, snatching the little baggie from his brothers hand

" don't be a pussy matt, i got people feinin' for that shit—s'good money. "

" nothin' pussy about this, s'for your own good. you ain't heard twelve's out here really searchin' for this shit right now? i'm not bailing y'out, dickhead. "

❒ fuckboy!matt who only really has his brothers at the end of the day, so he allows himself to only care for them and no one else

❒ fuckboy!matt who noticed you in one of his classes on the very first day, but only got the guts to actually talk to you when chris told him to keep you occupied so he could head off with your friend

" we got hella booze, if y'drink, kid... I'll be taking her, and, um- " chris reached over to slap matt's chest as a gesture, " oh, perfect. this's my brother, matt. "

❒ fuckboy!matt who's an asshole and he knows it, not caring how his words or actions affect others (unless you're nick and chris, of course)

⇢ NSFW

❒ fuckboy!matt who was never one to go back for more until he met you

❒ fuckboy!matt who, though he'd never admit it, hasn't so much as touched another girl since he'd gotten you in his bed

" you're seeing other people? "

" na— well, would it be a problem if i were? y'think we're together or sum'n "

" i guess not... "

" s'what i thought. "

❒ fuckboy!matt who's sex drive is crazy, sometimes making you wonder if he ever gets tired

" one more time. just one more, c'mon, i know you can take it, " meanwhile you're spent beneath him, sopping wet and trembling as you struggle to form words from your fourth orgasm

❒ fuckboy!matt who could eat it till he's blue in the face, if you'd let him

❒ fuckboy!matt who always ends up taking control when you ride him

❒ fuckboy!matt who loves when you scratch him, overstimulating you til you can't do any thing but scratch at his biceps or back

❒ fuckboy!matt who refuses to do anything without a condom... until he's drunk and needy, hands wandering as he 'forgets' all about the rubbers sitting in the drawer of his nightstand

❒ fuckboy!matt who'll say things just to upset/piss you off, just so he can fuck all those harsh emotions away

" aww, hurt y'feelings? won't - do - it - again, sweets, promise. "

❒ fuckboy!matt who's always down for a quickie—any time, any place

❒ fuckboy!matt who has no problem trying new positions, but usually sticks to speed bump, missionary, or any version of cowgirl

❒ fuckboy!matt who isn't embarrassed about being loud, not caring who could be hearing him

" fuckkk, sweetheart, keep backin' that into me. "

" ah- shit, oh, y'gonna make me cum. mm-mhm, do that shit again. "

a/n : pretend this didn't take years to get out cs i said i was gonna make headcanons for all my au's ages ago and basically stopped at fratboy!chris...

-love, grandma cvnty ☆!

[acaciusbride]

Jealousy, Jealousy [ Joel Miller x Reader / Tommy Miller x Reader ]

Summary: you walk in on Joel & Tess, despite your building chemistry with him. Hurt, you turn to his brother for comfort. Joel finds out, and he isn’t happy.

CWs: derogatory language / unsafe sex / age gap implied / oral sex (m!receiving) / cum play / cum eating / choking / alcohol usage / use of pet names / very little plot it’s just a spicy mess

Tag List: @joelsgirl @loquaciousferret @dreamingofdaddydin @funnygirlthatgab

Notes: like always, this is for the girls, the gays and the theys. I wanted to finish my other WIP but this took over. Have fun.

Buy Me A Coffee?

Part Two / Alt Version

The whiskey burns your throat on the way down. You’re on maybe your third or fourth, but it’s still not enough to burn away the sight and sound you came across earlier.

You don’t have any claim on Joel, not really. Nothing has ever happened between you, even though there’s been a few close calls, but you were almost certain that he felt the same way about you as you do about him.

Until you walked in on him and Tess. Now you can’t get the image out of your head, the sight of her beneath him, the sounds…

You slam your empty glass down on the bar. It’s a shitty dive of a place in the QZ, one you all know well enough.

“Whoa there.”

You turn your head to find yourself face to face with Joel’s brother, Tommy, concern etched into his face. He’s not bad looking, not really, but you’ve never really been interested in him. Until now. Now, he’s looking pretty fucking good. Or maybe you’re just noticing him. Who cares.

“Come on, let’s get you home before curfew.” He holds out his hand to you. You don’t need it, not really, you aren’t drunk enough, but you take it anyway, let him lead you out of the bar and onto the streets.

“Why’d you come looking?” You ask as you let him walk you home.

“You didn’t show up to drop off this afternoon. Figured something was wrong, figured I’d find you here.”

“Didn’t think anyone would notice. Joel and Tess seemed too busy to care.” You can’t help the bitterness that creeps into your voice as you mention it.

“Ah.” Tommy shrugs, “try not to worry about it. My brother’s an idiot.”

Normally you’d argue. Jump to his defence. Tonight you just don’t feel like it, too hurt by what you saw to argue. Reaching your apartment block, you turn to him.

“You gonna come in for a drink? Least I can do after you walked me home.”

You know what you’re implying, don’t mind if he takes the hint that you’re offering more than a drink. You almost don’t expect him to follow you, but he does, up the stairs and into your apartment, shutting the door behind you both while you fish out two glasses and a bottle.

“Make yourself at home.”

You pour the liquor while he drops himself down onto your couch, spread out and lazy. Really, he’s quite attractive. You’ve never really noticed before, and maybe it’s the fact that you’re so angry and hurt that’s making you see him in this light, but still.

You hand him one of the glasses, down your own before you sit yourself down on the floor by his feet. You’re being forward as hell and you know it, but you’re tipsy and hurt and you just want to forget for a short while.

He looks down at you, surveys you with dark eyes so similar to Joel’s. The thought makes your heart hurt, so you push it away.

“What are you doing, hon?” His hand comes down to catch your cheek, tilting your head up to look at him.

Tommy doesn’t know what’s going on between you and his brother. Knows that Joel’s an idiot if he doesn’t realise that you’re interested. If he was a better man, he’d push you away, but, well…

It’s been a while since he’s gotten anything, and if his older brother is too stupid to realise you’re right there, dumb enough to fuck around with your feelings and Tess? Well, he doesn’t mind being the collateral.

“Trying to decide whether or not to suck your cock.” You admit, not bothering to be coy as you look up at him.

“Oh, yeah? What’s holding you back?”

“You haven’t said that I can.” You shrug, fingers creeping up his thighs.

“There’s a pretty girl on her knees for me askin’ to suck my dick, you think I’m gonna say no?” Amusement colours his tone.

“Well… I wanted to be polite and ask.” You smirk as your fingers find the zip of his pants, tug it out the way, your small hand reaching in and wrapping around his cock, stroking lazily.

He just leans back into the couch, watches you as you rub your thumb over the head of his cock, brushing across beads of precum, collecting them on your fingers to lick them up.

“Christ…” his eyes darken as he watches you, your eyes on his as you lean in and press feather light kisses to the tip of his cock. He’s nice and big, thick, slightly curved, and you love the slightly salty taste of him.

You don’t like to brag, but you know you’re good at this, enjoy it even, pressing little kisses along the length of him, tiny kitten licks to the slit in the tip, teasing until he fists a hand into your hair and yanks your head down onto his cock, almost making you choke.

You recover quickly, sucking his cock like he’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted, moving your head up and down, guided by the heavy hand in your hair.

“Fuck…” he rocks his hips up into your mouth, getting deeper into your throat, “such a sweet little mouth…”

You hum around him, urged on by the praise, eager to keep pleasing him, so desperate to be wanted…

You know full well this is messy and sloppy, your drool coating his cock, eyes watering slightly as you look up at him. You can’t see it, of course, but you’re a vision to behold, on your knees for him, mascara running down your face as your cheeks hollow out for him, his cock disappearing into your throat like you were made to take him.

God, he’s impressed, both by how well you worship his cock, and by how quickly you’ve worked him up.

“Gonna make me cum, pretty thing…” his hand releases your head, strokes your cheek lazily.

You pull away from him for a moment, wrap your hand around his cock and stroke slowly.

“Cum on my face.” You tell him, hazy with lust and drink. “On my tongue.”

He groans, moves to guide your mouth back to him, but you move faster, wrap your lips around him and let him rut up into your throat, moaning around him. Fuck, he tastes so good, exactly what you needed.

You can feel him becoming more erratic, groaning softly before he pulls out of your mouth, wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it roughly as your lips part, tongue flicking out to catch the hot ropes that spurt from his cock as he groans.

Fuck, you’re a sight to behold, on your knees, makeup a mess, lips parted with his cum on your tongue and your face. You lean in and lick him clean, swallow every drop you can get.

His fingers reach out, swipe through the mess he’s left on your lips, press them into your mouth.

“Suck ‘em, that’s a good girl.”

You do exactly as he says, swirl your tongue around his fingers until you’re satisfied they’re clean.

“You want me to -?”

You shake your head. You’re exhausted, your throat hurts, and while the offer is nice, you don’t think you can stay awake for it.

“Nah, ‘s okay. I just wanted to give you something.” You offer him a small smile as you get to your feet, watch him tuck himself back into his pants.

To his credit, he’s not a jerk. He makes sure you’re safely in your bed with a glass of water beside you before he heads off into the night, leaving you almost wishing you’d taken up his offer.

——

A week later, you’re sitting in the same bar with one of your friends, pointedly ignoring Joel a few seats away.

Once again, you’ve had a few too many to drink, and it’s loosening your tongue.

“So, what’s the deal with you and that guy anyway? The mystery man you were telling me about the other day?” Your friend knows exactly the right questions to ask, and while normally you’re not the bragging type, seeing Joel again has sent that spike of bitter resentment and jealousy through you.

Sure, it’s not like he’d ever promised you anything, but he’d damn well seemingly made it clear he was interested. Only for you to walk in on him fucking Tess like he loved her.

You hate him for it. Hate him for hurting you. More than that, though, you hate yourself for not being brave enough to confront your feelings.

But right now, you’re feeling spiteful, and you know damn well he can hear every word you say.

“Oh, it wasn’t really anything, just a one night thing.” You shrug.

“What did you say his name was again? Jimmy?”

“Tommy.” You run your finger around the rim of your glass.

“As in Miller?”

“Mmhmm.” You can feel Joel’s gaze burning into you as you speak. “He walked me home, one thing led to another…”

“Fuck, he’s so hot though…” your friend sighs, “I bet he has a great dick.”

“I mean… I liked it.”

You giggle, a very uncharacteristic sound, but still. You don’t regret what happened, not at all. You like giving head, and it wasn’t like he had an unpleasant dick. If anything, you kind of wish you’d let him fuck you. Maybe another time, seeing as Joel is clearly no longer interested.

“Are you gonna give me any details, or?”

You’re about to open your mouth when a hand clamps down on your shoulder.

“Outside. Now.”

You don’t need to look to know Joel’s pissed; you do anyway, are met with his stormy glare.

“Nice to see you too, Joel.”

“I mean it. Outside, now, or I’ll drag your ass out.” One look at him tells you he’s not kidding.

Sighing, you excuse yourself from your friend. Follow Joel out of the bar into the street, or rather, let him tow you out. Let him drag you by the wrist back to your apartment. Nobody wants to be caught in the streets at this hour.

“What the fuck, Joel?” You demand as soon as he’s slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t you what the fuck me.” He growls, crossing his arms over his chest as he backs you into the small room.

“I absolutely will, what’s your goddamn problem?” You hiss at him, furious. Furious and still hurt, because the last time you saw him he was fucking another woman, and no matter what you do you can’t get rid of that image.

“You! You’re my goddamn problem, running your mouth in that bar where anyone could hear you.”

You roll your eyes at him, your own temper flaring.

“How is what I was talking about any of your business?” You demand, glaring at him. “How is what I do any of your business?”

Admittedly you’re not very intimidating in comparison, but still.

“You were making a damn fool of yourself. Do you ever know when to keep your fucking mouth shut?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your brother? He seemed to know how to shut me up.” The words come out before you can stop them.

Joel exhales slowly, pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“Is there a reason you’re being such a goddamn bitch? Fucking my brother included.” He’s so damn frustrated right now, not understanding what’s gotten into you.

Usually you’re so sweet to him, the pair of you dancing around the mutual attraction you share. He’s not going to push it if you don’t, but maybe he’s misread things?

You stare at him.

“Are you fucking serious right now? You don’t know why I’m mad at you?”

He just stares at you.

“I heard you and Tess, you asshole. So yeah. I know that for all your sweet words and the way we’ve been dancing around the subject? That’s just how you are, right? Anything to get laid, I guess.” You spit the words.

Something in his gaze snaps as he crosses to you, backs you against the wall, slams one hand into the cracked plaster beside your shoulder, the other settling on your throat.

You’re too angry to be scared, even though you know he’s dangerous, know you’ve pushed him too far, like poking a goddamn angry bear.

“First, don’t fucking assume that you know any goddamn thing about what happened that day.” He’s leaning right down to you, you can smell the whiskey on him, but still you aren’t afraid.

“Second, don’t presume that I’m that sort of bastard. You really think I’d do that to you?”

You glare at him.

“You already have.” You hate that your voice shakes as you say it.

Joel sighs as he looks at you.

“I’ve known her almost as long as you’ve been alive. Almost but not quite. There’s a difference between me fucking her when it means nothing, and what you’ve done.”

You glare at him again, because you don’t see any difference.

“It may not mean anything to you, but it definitely does to her.”

“And that’s her fucking problem, I’ve made it goddamn clear to her that I don’t see her that way, that that would be the last time. Then you go and fuck my brother?”

Somehow, suddenly, it becomes important to clarify. As if somehow it will make him less angry.

“Technically, I didn’t fuck him.”

“You-“ Joel stops mid sentence and looks at you. “You didn’t?”

“No. I mean, I sucked his dick, but… I was angry, I was so fucking angry and I just wanted to feel something. I just wanted to feel wanted.”

Joel stares at you like he’s never seen you before. Like he’s trying to understand you.

“And I don’t make you feel wanted?”

“Not when I walk in on you fucking someone who hates me, no. Not particularly.” You look away from him, before you do something stupid, like cry, which is a very real possibility whenever you think about what you saw, what you heard.

“Guess I need to change that.”

His hand drops from the wall, the other one releasing your throat as he leans in and devours your unsuspecting lips in a kiss. It’s desperate and angry and hungry, but you cling to him, your fury and your need pouring into it as he lifts you up, carries you across the room and into your room.

You pull him down on top of you, not letting go when he sets you down on the mattress, kisses still full of fury and rage but of something else, too, something you’ve been holding back for far too long.

“Still can’t believe you let my goddamn brother touch you.” Joel growls it into the soft skin of your throat, grinding his cock against you, your clothes still in the way.

You shove your skirt up, hands finding his belt. He catches your wrists in one hand.

“Were you this fucking eager for him, too?”

There’s that dark glint in his eyes again, possessive and jealous, even though he started this, even though he knows that really, he has no right to be angry. It doesn’t stop him.

“Does it matter, Joel? You really think I’d have done it if you’d just fucking…”

“Just what, sweetheart?” He releases your wrists, only because he needs his hand to tear your panties down, cup your bare cunt in his rough hand.

“Just fucking admitted you wanted me first!” You snap at him, grinding yourself against his hand in spite of your temper.

“Yeah, well. We all make mistakes, don’t we?” He plunges two fingers knuckle deep into your cunt, effectively stopping you from answering with anything but a strangled moan.

Your hands tear at his belt, yank his jeans down, your hand wrapping around the length of him. Fuck, he’s big, bigger than his brother, thick and hard and dripping pre cum, all for you, all because of you, because in spite of how angry he is, he still wants you.

Just as you want him, your cunt aching and dripping onto his fingers as he fucks you with them, hard and fast and punishing.

“I should make you suck my cock, refuse to touch you; but if I do that, what’s to say you won’t go and whore yourself out to someone else?”

His words are dark, gaze feral as he looks down, watches his fingers disappear inside you.

“Better I just take you, ruin you for anyone else. You won’t want anyone else when I’m done with you, it’ll be nothing in comparison.” He leans in and bites your throat, right above your collarbone.

“Is that right?” Your hand strokes him roughly; you can feel how needy you are for him, feel yourself tightening around his fingers but it’s not enough, you need more.

“Don’t fucking push me, sweetheart.” He growls it, drags his fingers out of you, presses them to your mouth.

Automatically you part your lips, suck on his thick, rough fingers until they’re coated in your saliva rather than your slick, your eyes on him the entire time.

He groans, a sound that’s still closer to a growl than a moan.

“Fuck sake…” he’s still furious with you, that fury coming back tenfold at the lewd way you suck his fingers, as if they were his cock.

“This how you sucked him off?”

“I don’t know,” you challenge, “are you gonna fuck me like you fucked her?”

He glares at you, and for a moment you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that you’ve pushed him too far.

He does the opposite, moves so fast you can’t keep up, lines himself up and slams into you, every inch of his cock pressing deep. You scream out for him, half in pleasure, half in surprise.

Fuck, he’s so big it hurts, you feel so full you’re not certain you can take him, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t give you any time to adjust, one hand bracing himself on the mattress, the other gripping your waist to pull you onto his cock, over and over until your back arches off the bed.

“No,” he growls in answer to your question, “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

He’s relentless, pounding into you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, rough and hard, growling against your skin the entire time, covering every bit of exposed skin with bite marks and bruises.

“Joel…” it comes out half squeal, half moan as he hitches your leg higher around his waist, gets deeper inside you.

“That’s it, sweetheart, can feel how needy you are for me. Don’t think you’ll ever want anyone else, huh?”

You shake your head, mute except for mewls and sighs of pleasure, your nails digging into his arms, trying to hold on, but unable to think straight, barely able to see or focus.

“That’s what I thought, baby, gonna get you so fuckin’ addicted to my cock you’ll forget all about anyone else. This sweet pussy is all mine.”

Fuck, he wishes he’d done this sooner, wishes he’d avoided this entire fucking debacle, because he’s afraid it’ll always hang between you now, unless he fucks you so hard you forget.

“Already was, Joel, always been yours…” you moan it out for him, fingers finding the sweat damp curls of his hair and tugging, hard.

He moans, a deep, guttural sound that you immediately commit to memory, the sound alone making your cunt throb around him.

“Oh, you like that, baby? You like hearing what you do to me?” He shakes his head, grinds into you slowly before resuming his relentless pace.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna…”

Oh, he knows. He can feel you fluttering around him, tight little hole becoming even tighter as he fucks you, leans down and presses a searing kiss to your mouth before he pulls out of you.

You whine at the loss, but before you can say anything else he has you flipped onto your front, face buried in the mattress, ass in the air as he slams back into you, both hands on your waist as he fucks you so hard you see stars.

There’s no holding back, not anymore, your hands clawing at the mattress as your eyes roll back slightly from the pleasure, feeling yourself tighten painfully around him before your climax hits, hard and fast, washing over your entire body, leaving you shaking beneath him, screaming his name loud enough that the entire goddamn building can hear.

“That’s fucking right baby, you scream for me. You tell everyone that you’re mine.” He yanks your hair back, holds you upright as he ruts into you, thrusts becoming more and more sloppy and erratic with each movement.

“Every fuckin’ inch of you is mine, you hear me?”

“Yours, Joel, all yours…” you moan it for him, still on the high of your climax, entire body over stimulated.

“That’s goddamn right.” He slams in deep once more, one final time, grinds against you as he cums, fills your tight little pussy with hot ropes of his spend, groaning the entire time.

He stays there for a moment, catches his breath before he pulls out of you, flops down beside you.

There’s a moment’s pause, where you aren’t sure whether you’ll still see rage in his eyes if you look at him. Aren’t sure whether he’ll see it in you, either.

He saves you having to look, answers the unasked question by pulling you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest.

“I’m so-“

“Don’t.” You reach up to touch your hand to his lips. “Don’t be. I should be the one apologising.”

“I think we both owed each other an apology, to be honest.” Joel says finally, “though, uh… maybe that was a good start?”

You laugh, lean into him.

“Skip the apology and go straight for the makeup sex, huh?”

Joel smirks, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Oh, darling. That wasn’t the makeup sex. That was the I’m fucking furious sex. You’ll like the makeup sex a whole lot more.”

Smirking yourself, you roll on top of him, lean down so you can press a kiss to his mouth.

“I like the sound of that. How do I sign up for it?”

“You promise we won’t touch anyone else. Ever.”

You press a long, heated kiss to his parted lips.

“Easy enough for me.”

“Good.” Another smirk before he rolls you, pinning your smaller frame beneath him. “I fucked you like I hated you. Now you’re gonna find out how I fuck when I love you.”

You just whimper, wrap your fingers into his curls and drag him into another kiss. It’s going to be a long night.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: I'm tryna rotate as much as possible.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Her name is Margot. She’s talkative but kind. She guides you through everything with patience. Tells you when to close your eyes and look up, how to hold your head, when to pucker your lips. She even explains exactly what she’s doing and why she’s doing it. Despite her demeanour, you still feel utterly stupid. Rather, you feel inadequate. 

Another woman shows up shortly after, as a brush traces the line of your cheek. She introduces herself as Darla, she has a whole rack of dresses lined up for you. Another inward cringe threatens to compress your lungs. 

As Darla presents you with options, you find it hard to breathe. It’s all so overwhelming, especially as a third woman, Erica, appears to do your hair, and a fourth, Nia, to tend to your nails. You could faint as you’re pushed, pulled, and prodded from all sides. 

“I like the red,” Margot suggests as you hem and haw.  

The dresses are all nice but you don’t even know what you’re picking it for. Honestly, none of them suit you. Too much skin for your liking. Not that that stays much; your comfort is jeans and baggy tees.  

Erika hums, “what about the teal, lovey? I do think you’d look marvelous with those cutouts.” 

“Yes, it is a pretty colour. You have the complexion for it,” Darla remarks. 

They’re all so nice but there’s something pitying in their voices. You feel like a child. You don’t belong here. You especially don’t belong with Bucky, apparently, he knows that too. Why else would he have these women plucking and picking at you? 

Margot finishes and brings you a mirror. As you see yourself, you blanch. It’s not bad. In fact, she’s done better than you could ever manage but you don’t look like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. If he wants you to be someone else, you don’t think you can do that. 

You feel yourself shrinking. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, stuttering but unable to say a word. Margot touches your shoulder. 

“What is it? Hon, have I done something wrong?” 

“No, no,” you croak and bring your hands to your throat, “it’s nice. Really nice but... I need some air.” 

“Of course, Darl, Nia,” she shoos away the stylist pinning your hair, “let her up.” 

The women back off and the fourth watches you from the rack, still holding a sparkly black get-up. You search the room and swiftly head for the door. You let yourself into the hall, fanning yourself with your half-done acrylics. You’re happy at least they aren’t long. 

You pace back and forth, watching your feet pass over the pattern of the hotel carpet. You can run. You could just leave right now. The thought only makes your stomach hurt. No, you can’t. Not after he’s gone to all this trouble. You’d hate to seem ungrateful. 

You continue your incessant laps back and forth outside the door. You hear footfalls from around the corner and pause. You should go back in before someone sees you. You grab the handle. Shoot, it’s locked. You wiggle it as a shadow appears at the end of the hall. You gulp and peer down. 

It’s him. You lean on the door and face Bucky. He wears a dark blue jacket over a black shirt and black pants. There’s patterning sewn into his jacket, subtle spirals all around. His dark hair his combed back to the ends flip out behind his ears and his dark beard glints with silver strands, a patch more obvious on his chin. He’s strikingly handsome. So much so, you can’t understand why you’re there. 

His brows form a vee as he nears and he tilts his head, a tick in his cheek, “what’s going on, doll?” 

“Um, just... locked out,” you turn the handle again to emphasize your point. 

“No, what’s....” he looks at you and gestures up and down with his hand, “no, this won’t do.” 

You blink and pout. After all that and you’re not good enough. He raps on the door with his knuckles and there’s some scuffing from inside before Margot opens it. She steps back to let you in and greets Bucky by name. 

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he urges you ahead of him, his hand firmly around your arm, “it’s too much. She doesn’t need all this. I told you, just a little enhancement. I don’t want her looking like a Barbie.” 

“Sorry, sir, it’s... standard.” 

“Doll,” he stops you with him as he plants himself near the racks of dresses. The women watch him anxiously. “What do you think? The make up; you like it?” 

You peer around and stare at Margot. She worked so hard and it isn’t that it’s bad work. She made you look gorgeous but you just don’t like all the layers. You slant your mouth one way then the other. 

“Be honest,” he insists. 

“I... It’s pretty but a bit... heavy?” You eke out. 

“I agree,” he lets you go, “I appreciate the hard work, Marg, but I want to see her natural beauty shining. And these dresses...” he turns, “these aren’t right. I said light. I said... Mm, no. Doll, what’s your favourite colour?” 

He faces you as you stand in shock. You feel horrible that he’s reproaching them like this. They’ve done all this for you and he’s just going down a list of everything wrong. 

“Erm, purple, I guess but--” 

“Darla, get her something purple. Lavender? Lilac?” He looks at you for confirmation and you just nod. You won’t correct him. “Erica, finish her hair, something a bit less... stuffy. Margot, clean her face up. Nia, the nails are looking good.” He turns to you and takes you by the shoulders, “and you, all you gotta do is be your cute little self, alright?” 

You gulp and nod. You don’t know what to say. He saves you from a response as he brings his hand up under your chin. He leans in to kiss you and your cheeks flame at the awareness of your audience. He pulls back and caresses your cheek before parts completely. 

He checks his watch, “don’t got all night.” 

He marches off, leaving you dumbfounded. He’s like a hurricane, coming in and blowing everything out of sorts. You look around guiltily. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Margot assures with a smile, “come, let’s get you fixed up, dahling.” 

She beckons you over and sits you back down. You give your hand back to Nia to finish the manicure as Erica once more goes to work on your hair. You stare at the wall and let out a nervous sigh. 

“That’s cute,” Margot says, “the way he looks at you.” 

“Hm, yeah,” Erica agrees, “he definitely has the eyes for ya.” 

You close your eyes as Margot gently wipes away the make up with a cool cloth from a package. You shrug, trying not to move too much, “he’s nice. He... did all this. Just for me. I... I didn’t ask for it. I’m sorry he didn’t like it.” 

“No, baby,” Nia says, “this isn’t about us. It’s about you. What do you like?” 

You open your eyes again and frown. That’s a good question. You lower your gaze to your lap and exhale heavily. 

“I’m figuring it out,” you murmur, “I don’t... I don’t get out much.” 

“Oh, this must be so exciting for you,” Erica trills, “oh, how fun.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” Nia adds, “don’t be nervous. Just enjoy yourself.” 

“Can’t be that hard,” Margot clucks, “on a handsome man’s arm, pretty as a bow,” she cleans her brushes as she talks, “it’ll be a great night. I’m thinking...” she peruses her chest of makeup, “natural tones. A dewy look. Natural, subtle.” 

“Okay, uh, yeah,” you agree, “that sounds nice.” 

“Hmmph,” Erica hums, “she’s a sweetie, isn’t she, ladies?” 

“Nicer than the last one,” Nia cackles. 

You stiffen and shift in the chair. You look at the nail tech then Margot as she compares a tube to your face and shakes her head. You push your lip against your teeth and let it flick out. 

“Last one?” You whisper. 

The women share a look and smile, “well, Mr. Barnes is notorious. Surely, you know.” 

“Oh,” you think of the headlines you scrolled through online, “well, yes, I know. I guess... I didn’t catch what you meant.” 

“Enjoy it. I’m sure you’ll get a few pretty baubles out of it,” Nia says, “and some memories to long for when you’re old like us.” 

“Old,” Margot scoffs, “speak for yourself.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I know. I’m just... another girl.” 

“Oh, dahling,” Margot intones, “but he seems really fond of you, doesn’t he? Maybe he’ll keep ya around a bit longer, eh?” 

You just sit there. You knew better than to believe it was anything but the obvious but it’s still a hard pill to swallow. You stare blindly ahead as Margot remoisturizes your skin. 

“Didn’t mean to upset you,” Margot says. 

“I’m not, I just...” you swallow, “I’m nervous.” 

“Mm, nervous? Well, I think that’s what the bar is for. Erica, fetch some of that rose. She needs a glass, Stat.” 

Your mouth opens to protest but you think better of it. You’ve already caused them enough trouble. You thank them instead and try not to let your shame burn through. They know why you’re there and they’ve left no doubt in you of the same. 

“Make sure to pour me some too,” Margot chirps. 

🃏

You stop after one glass. It makes your inside bubbly and eases the tension just enough that you’re not jittering. You feel better but still not certain. 

The women confirm your fears. This isn’t going to last. It’s not like you didn’t expect as much but hearing it is all the more real. You’re going to have to come up with yet another lie to tell. This one will hurt the most because it will be at least halfway true; you’re still a loser. 

You’ll try to take their advice. You’ll enjoy this night; this once in a lifetime experience. You don’t think you’ll ever be in a casino again in your life. They’re not for you. All of this is just above you. It’s better suited to someone like your sister. You can’t help but wonder why it isn’t Roxie here. 

The clock ticks. Well, not truly. The digital numbers count down the minutes as you linger in the suite alone. The gaggle of women left only a few minutes ago but not without a promise that you’re happy. You are, at least with all they did for you. 

You approach the mirror, almost shying away from your own reflection. You look nice. You might even call yourself pretty. Your eyes look more brilliant with the subtle lining and the precisely coated lashes; not too heavy. And your lips, shiny but natural, your cheeks dewy with a hint of colour to them.  

And the dress. Lavender satin with crystals embedded in the fabric, lines of smaller ones interconnecting the larger stones. You turn and check your figure. You look grown up. It’s ridiculous to think but you do. The heels help, not too high but enough to define your legs. 

You turn and tear your gaze away from the mirror. You don’t want to be vain. Besides, you probably don’t look that good. You just look better than usual. The comparison is enough to skew your perception. 

As you teeter on the heels, waiting, for what, you don’t exactly know. You can surmise what it will all lead to. What he intends. You can’t deny it any longer. A man doesn’t do all this for altruistic mean and even you aren’t that pitiful. Well, you hope not. 

A knock at the door trips you up. Your heart lurches. You’re not ready. But it’s getting late and you know it’s inevitable. You can’t move or speak. You just stare towards the door. 

You hear it open. You blink a Bucky’s shadow appears on the carpet and he strides into your sight. Your eyes meet his and his blue irises sparkle as he sees you. He stops and put his hand to his chest. His forehead lines and he bites his lip. 

“Wow, doll,” he rasps breathily and slowly steps forward, “you look...” 

You press your hands to your sides and give a toothy expression, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. Sweat speckles along your neck as his gaze bores into you. You’re even more self-conscious as he closes in. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“What don’t you know?” He asks as he reaches for you and takes your hand. He draws you near, “huh? Look at you, doll.” He purrs, “you look spectacular.” His other hand grazes down your side and he squeezes your hip as he holds you at arm’s length and ogles you, “mm, damn. You wanna know what I know?” 

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes, “what?” 

“That you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I’m a lucky man to have you walking the floor with me tonight,” he drops your hand and frames your other hip, drawing you to him, “I have half a mind to keep you up in this room.” 

You choke. Your lower lip trembles and you shake your head, “that’s nice but...” you look away. 

“But? You don’t believe me, doll? You think I’d lie?” He challenges. 

“N-no, I didn’t say—but--- before---” you sputter and put your hands on his forearms, “there were others and they were prettier.” 

“Doll, don’t worry about before. This is now. You aren’t them and I’m telling you, you are beautiful,” he trails his hand up and nudges your chin. You look at him again, your cheeks shaking as you try to smile. “Here.” 

He takes your hand, his eyes clinging to yours as he watches you. You can’t look away. Not this time. He leads your hand up his jacket and slips it beneath. He presses it to his chest. You feel the taut muscle beneath and something else. 

“You got my heart racing, doll,” he growls. “That ain’t a lie.” 

[youunravelme]

it's nice to have a friend

author's note: this is a little all over the place, but i saw a tiktok edit of seven by taylor swfit and then thought to myself, what if i ignore all my wips and wrote childhood friends to lovers with a hint of childhood trauma? and this was born. and if the timeline isn't perfect with reality, oh well. i'm but a human girl. also!! if you have ever experienced or currently experiencing abuse, please know that it was never your fault. you don't deserve to be treated that way.

pairing: mat barzal x reader

summary: wherever mat went, you were never too far behind or the one where you are childhood besties

warnings: cursing (as always), mentions of parental abuse and alcholism, tumultuous childhood, drinking, mentions of sex

there was a saying that floated around in your elementary, middle, and high school days, surrounding you like a warm oversized cardigan.

wherever mat went, you were never too far behind.

the saying could also be flipped, the two of you stuck to each other like glue.

mat, despite not being one for fights, had a bad habit of running his mouth whenever you were concerned. in fourth grade, he used newly learned vocabulary words to berate a girl who made fun of your beat up shoes and nearly got detention for it.

and you had a nasty habit of squaring up with anyone who looked at mat wrong, even if they towered over you.

your friendship worked well because of it.

age eight

you could remember summer days swimming in the pool with mat and liana, laughing as you and mat teamed up against his little sister until his mother scolded the two of you when she started crying.

but there was always a darkness that sat in the corners of your memories like fingerprints that had damaged an old photograph.

you didn't have to try to remember your parents' screaming and yelling at each other, just like you didn't have to try to recall the smell of alcohol on your father's breath. it didn't take any effort to remember the way your hands shook when you locked your room at night and climbed out of a second story window to go to mat's.

you could feel the splinters digging into your fingertips as you climbed the trellis up to his window. you could still feel the way your stomach dropped when you slipped and fell halfway up in the pouring rain, nearly breaking your arm in the process. you could still hear nadia come out and usher you inside moments before mat's eight year old feet came pattering down the stairs.

he didn't even give you time to explain, he just wrapped you up in a hug.

it took you that long to understand it was never raining, it was just tears.

the next week, you found yourselves at the park laying on your backs in the grass.

"what would you do if a genie gave you one wish?" mat asked out of the blue.

the summer sun kept you warm as the breeze kept sweeping in and blowing strands of hair into your face.

"get far away from here."

"would you bring me?" mat asked.

you turned your head to look at him only to find him already staring. "i wouldn't go anywhere without you." and you meant every word, spoke them with as much conviction as an eight year old could have.

mat reached out and squeezed your hand in his own.

"what would you wish for?"

he shrugged. "to be bigger."

you furrowed your brow. "why bigger?"

"so i could protect you better."

age nine

at nine, you and mat were playing cards in your room when the front door slammed. it was like you were on autopilot. of all the times that had happened, mat was never home with you. immediately, you were locking your door and shoving things in your backpack, pulling mat towards the window and climbing out as quickly as you could. the two of you ran to your bikes and biked all the way to an empty field where you collapsed in the tall grass and cried.

mat immediately brought you into his arms, hushing you and running his hand down your braids.

"what if--" he started stopped abruptly to clear his throat. "what if you stayed with me and liana and mom and dad? we could get bunk beds and a night light, if you want, and you wouldn't have to lock the door."

you just sobbed harder into his chest and shook your head.

it's not that simple, you wanted to tell him. but i wish it was.

age thirteen

you never moved in with mat, never got to get the bunk beds, but by middle school, your mom moved the two of you out of your old house. it was then that he started packing two lunches, one for you and another for himself.

things hadn't changed much since leaving your dad in that shitty house full of demons. you still spent most of your time at mat's house (your mom was working). still spent your saturdays going to his tournaments and games. you still cheered him on and let him cheat off your homework on sunday nights.

things shifted though, regardless if you wanted them to change or not. time, you found, never gave a shit about your opinion, thoughts, or desires.

because it felt like just yesterday, you were riding your bikes down the street, racing each other back home.

now, you were helping mat draft msn messages to a girl he had a crush on in your biology class. there was an uncomfortable sensation in your stomach that was comparable to the time you got food poisoning, but you couldn't place a reason for it.

you could paint the pink on his cheeks as the girl replied.

and you would've given anything to be the reason for it.

maybe it was silly, a small crush for the sheer convenience of it all. maybe it was the fact that he'd saved you so many times from the darkness that always seemed to follow you. maybe it was because he was a tether for you, pulling you back when you went too far in your head.

so when he laughed at something she said (which wasn't even really funny), you wanted to go back to the times the two of you would cloud gaze in the middle of the day just so you wouldn't have to be home.

age fifteen

you knew mat was a kind person, knew he was handsome and a good hockey player, that was never in question.

you just didn't realize other girls realized it too.

mat always walked in front of you in the hallways because he could make way through the crowds in ways you couldn't. (he grew like a weed over the summer and while you hated how you couldn't reach things when he held them above his head, you appreciated the way crowds moved out of the way for him).

you were used to him being in front, his grip light on your wrist as he tugged you behind him. you weren't used to walking behind his new girlfriend, chloe, who had the honor of walking beside him.

mat used to tell you how much it irritated him that people would take up so much space in the hallway and make it impossible to move around them.

but there you were, an awkward moving triangle of your best friend, his girlfriend, and you trailing pathetically behind.

chloe was cool. she never felt threatened by your friendship with mat, which might've hurt your feelings if you were delusional. you knew you had no chance with mat, so you'd take him in whatever form you could get him.

lately, that looked like spending time with liana in the stands at mat's tournaments. you would both do your homework before dissolving into gossip sessions while you braided her hair.

chloe even showed up for some games, smiling and cheering as he played. at one game, he scored and came up and tapped the glass in front of you, pointing at you and smiling.

they broke up two weeks later.

age sixteen

you openly cried when mat left for seattle. you were used to times when mat had hockey camps and would be gone for two weeks, a month at a time. but he would be gone indefinitely now.

and leading up to the day he was leaving, you thought it would be harder on you, considering mat hadn't shown anything but excitement. but when it came time for him to leave, he wouldn't let you go.

both of your moms had to pry you apart with promises that he would call and text as soon as he got to seattle.

and he did.

he hadn't even gotten into his new home when he was facetiming you.

you did your best to smile as he showed you around his new place, but your eyes were watering still. he was indefinitely two and a half hours away from you.

"you okay?" he asked when you stopped responding.

you gave him your best smile, but knew he wouldn't buy it. "just miss you is all."

he nodded, eyes going blank for a second before you saw water appear in them. mat wasn't as emotional as you were, and he for sure wasn't as teary eyed as he used to be when you still lived with your dad, but his eyes were watering all the same. "let's just treat it like summer camp," he said. "i'll be back before you know it, and if you need something, you can always call me."

you had no intentions of calling him with your problems, but then your dad showed up at your house screaming and beating the door and calling for your mother while she was at work. the doors were locked, he had no way in, and the police were on the way, but your hands were still shaking.

you couldn't run to his house to hug him anymore.

so you called him sobbing.

he picked up on the second ring.

he was lounging in bed, playing call of duty or something like it. "hey--" he cut himself off and paused his game, jumping out of bed. "what's wrong?"

"my dad," you sobbed.

mat was back in coquitlam in three hours, holding you tight to his chest and rocking you back and forth. you were openly weeping into his shirt, clinging to him. you weren't gonna let him go, and mat wasn't willing to give you up either.

you and your mom spent the night at the barzal's, with her taking the guest room while nadia brought a twin mattress into mat's room under the pretense that you would sleep on it.

you didn't.

everyone knew that you got into mat's queen sized bed and clung to him all night long.

just like everyone pretended that mat wouldn't have to leave in two days to go back to seattle.

just like you pretended like you wouldn't absolutely shatter on impact the second he left your sight.

age nineteen

when mat was drafted to the islanders, you stopped breathing. sure, it was dramatic, but you only moved into vancouver for school.

mat was moving across the fucking continent.

but he came back to seattle, and for a moment, the world was right again.

until he went to new york full time.

and the full weight of his absence hit you like a damn eighteen wheeler.

you'd watch him on the tv, when you used to watch him live in much smaller stands. you used to use puff paint to make t-shirts with his name on it, now they were selling his jersey in the arena he played in.

he didn't pick up the phone as much as he used to. he would respond to your texts days later until you stopped texting him altogether.

you should've seen it coming, especially when you saw him hanging out with instagram models and going out to bars. were you really expecting him to sit at home and wait for you to call him with a panic attack?

you had to get a grip.

so you did.

you threw yourself into your studies, pretending you didn't know his game schedule or stats. and when a cute boy named thomas came along and took interest, you allowed him to get to know you better.

you told him you grew up in coquitlam, that you were an only child, and your favorite school subject growing up was english.

(you never told him that your favorite color was the shade of mat's eyes, that you haven't spoken to your dad since the night your mom left him, or that every night, you fall asleep to career highlights of the best friend you haven't spoken to in months).

you learned he was a business major, something that should've been a red flag, but you were so focused on proving to yourself that you could be loved, that you overlooked it.

you went on dates, had sex, made plans for the future, met each other's families.

but he never met the barzals, despite the fact that you could drive to their house blindfolded.

no, they felt like a precious secret. the world could have number 13, they could have the calder memorial trophy winner, but you would not allow them to have the little sister whose hair you braided, the mother who brought you inside after you wrecked her trellis, the father who covered your scraped knees with bandaids and neosporin when your biological one was drunk at 2pm.

you might have lost mat to the awful curse called distance, but you would not lose his family.

you couldn't afford to lose them too.

now thomas, you lost a month after you turned twenty when you found him balls deep in your freshman roommate.

you went back to your apartment and cried, because it hurt, but mainly because you realized how alone you were. you had no one to call other than your mom or liana. but liana didn't even know about thomas, and your mom was dating a new guy now.

your thumb hovered over mat's contact for five minutes before you locked your phone and just went to bed.

age twenty-three

you were single for a whole year before you met dawson. his brown eyes and salt and pepper hair captivated you.

you were hooked, despite the seven year age gap.

he gave you the number to a good psychologist to help you work through your past and was willing to listen to you talk about it or sit in silence when your therapy session was emotionally exhausting.

he remembered your favorite flowers and brought a bouquet of them to your college graduation and kissed you in front of your mom and the barzals (minus mat, but that was a given at that point).

and on your twenty-third birthday, he proposed.

you said yes while actively trying to forget the dreams you and mat had when you were six.

you were building a fort in his bedroom with thumbtacks and blankets and sheets you'd stolen from around his house. when the project was complete, the two of you found yourselves laying in it, staring up at the blanket canopy shoddily held up by thumbtacks pushed into the wall.

"do you wanna get married?" mat had asked randomly.

"only if i get to marry you," you replied.

mat smiled a toothy grin, it was the only time you remembered him having imperfect teeth, given that he'd just lost his two front teeth. "i thought the same thing!"

and it was the most honest you had ever been. though, that wasn't a strange concept, most people were the most honest when they were either children or drunk. and considering you stayed far away from alcohol (guided by the anxiety in your stomach and the advice of your therapist), your childhood memories held the most truth.

despite not having seen him in years, you still thought of him often. you tried to see if you could remember the sound of his laugh without looking up an interview. you tried to recall the way his hair felt through your fingers.

but you couldn't.

it was crazy how much he meant to you as a child, how you still remembered the order in which he ate his breakfast, but you hadn't spoken to him in years.

you found yourself sobbing at the kitchen table one night as you poured over who to invite to the wedding. liana was a bridesmaid, mike and nadia had to be invited.

but what about mat?

you felt sick to your stomach at not inviting him. when you were in high school, when you'd gotten a grip on reality, you believed he'd walk you down the aisle in lieu of your piece of shit father.

but you hadn't spoken to him in so long.

though you couldn't imagine which would suck worse, not inviting him, or mat rejecting the invitation.

that was how dawson found you, sobbing over photos from your childhood that you wouldn't let him see. and when you tried to talk to him about it, he suggested talking to your therapist.

he broke off the engagement two weeks later. he said he didn't feel "the spark" anymore.

age twenty-four

you'd been out of college for two years now and all you had to show for it was debt and a stupid piece of paper. you were working in a coffee shop ten minutes from your mom's house and wishing you could've gotten out of coquitlam like mat did.

maybe this was your cursed existence, going to the grocery store wondering if you were going to ever run into your father again.

you'd just gotten off your shift at the coffee shop when you stopped by your local grocery store to pick some things up for dinner. it was supposed to be a normal day, but you turned the corner out of an aisle and damn near ran into someone.

"sorry, my bad--"

you looked up and suddenly the earth stopped in its rotation. you hadn't seen in him years but you'd know him blind.

his hands were around your elbows, keeping you upright. his touch almost burned you. it was an uncomfortable feeling, like putting on jeans you loved and realizing they don't fit anymore.

you pulled away, ducked your head, and started walking the opposite direction without another word.

but you should've known he would follow you, like a moth to a flame. or maybe that wasn't the right analogy, you were used to being the bug while mat was the light of your life.

but he followed you like there was a string attached to your wrists and he wasn't used to you pulling in an opposite direction.

he managed to catch up to you in the self care aisle right in front of the menstrual products. any other man you'd known would've shied away from standing in front of the tampons and pads as you deliberated which products to get, but mat's eyes wouldn't even leave your face.

you should've known he was going to come back eventually. you'd avoided seeing him in the offseason pretty well considering you were off doing internships and working out of town in the summer.

but now you were stuck in a dead end job with no passion for anything anymore, feeling more alone than you had ever felt before.

and because nature or god or the universe hated you, naturally, that was when mat showed back up.

when you had nothing to show for the years you didn't speak.

you could see the wheels turning in mat's head as he tried to think of something to say. it was an interesting turn of events that simultaneously sent an ache straight through your heart. when you were kids, he never hesitated to say exactly what was on his mind. now, he was deliberating.

"you wanna come over for dinner?" he asked. "mom's making tomato soup and grilled cheese."

you wished you could've denied him, it would've been smarter in the long run. mathew michael paul barzal could get you to do anything, and you hated that even after all those years, he still could.

you found yourself sitting at his old kitchen table surrounded by his family, dipping your grilled cheese into the soup like you were six years old again.

except the difference now was you were laughing with liana, sitting next to liana, instead of mat.

you'd occasionally meet his eyes from across the table, but it wasn't the same.

when you were kids, you sat next to each other at every opportunity. when you were kids, mat pretended to steal food off your plate. when you were kids, you knew everything about each other.

but you were adults now. and he was effectively a stranger you knew too much about.

after dinner, everyone scattered. you tried to leave, but mat caught up with you.

"what're you doing tomorrow?" he asked.

"working," you replied.

he nodded and looked around. "can i see you?"

you wanted so badly to say no, that you were busy, but as much as you wanted to pretend that he didn't, mat knew you better than anyone else, even if he had been absent for five years.

you ended up going for a walk in the park the next day, deciding that getting dinner wasn't worth the headache of mat getting recognized.

his hands were shoved in his pockets with a baseball cap pulled down low over his face. if you were brave enough to look over, you could still see his eyes taking glances at you.

"how's your mom?" mat asked, immediately jumping into topics you'd planned on ignoring.

you shrugged. "fine."

he nodded and scuffed his feet along the sidewalk. "how have you been?"

"fine." you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. you didn't mean to be cold, you meant it even less when you looked over and saw mat desperate for connection with you again.

in the end, you could never really deny him anything he wanted.

"life sucks right now," you admitted. "feel like i've wasted my life away here."

mat nodded along. "didn't you say your genie wish would be to leave?"

"i think my words were to 'get far away from here.'"

"you know," he started. "new york is far from here."

you couldn't help yourself. you looked up at him and saw the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "are you being serious?"

he nodded. "as a heart attack."

could this be the moment? the moment your life suddenly comes back into color? things haven't felt right since mat left for new york, and maybe moving, being with him all the time, would fix whatever existential crisis you were currently having.

the two of you were packing up your childhood room a month later .

you were on a flight to new york city two days after that.

mat was bouncing on his toes when he picked you up from the airport, having come home a few days early to get his apartment set up.

"you have to meet tito," he said as soon as the both of you got in his car. "you'll get along just fine. my childhood best friend meeting my other best friend? things couldn't be more perfect!"

you smiled though you felt like dying inside. no wonder you two lost touch, you were too ashamed to message him and he was too busy befriending his entire hockey team.

the apartment itself was large. larger than you could've ever afforded, even in coquitlam. mat brought your bags to your room and gently placed them on the floor.

"do you need any help unpacking?" he asked.

maybe a bitter part of you wanted to say no, but you'd waited for this moment for years. you nodded and mat's face lit up like a christmas tree.

while he was putting your clothes away in the dresser, he told you about his team, about his career, and all that you missed. he tried to ask about your life, but you kept up the story that nothing much had happened to you. and for the most part, you weren't lying.

you hadn't spoken to your dad, you hadn't dated anyone seriously in the last year (you conveniently left out the failed engagement. you just got into town, and couldn't afford a plane ticket to fly back to coquitlam just to bail mat out of jail).

but mat was more than content to listen to your work stories from when you were working at the coffee shop. he asked questions along the way, and momentarily, it felt like everything was headed back to normal.

you shooed him out of the room so you could shower. it was kinda incredible how a nice apartment meant that his shower was better than any other one you'd ever had growing up. when you stepped out into the nicely updated bathroom and changed into some gym shorts and a t-shirt, you felt the full weight of your insecurities hit you all at once.

your mat lived down the road from you. he had a twin bed until he was fifteen when his mom could no longer ignore the way his ankles hung off the end. he had posters of sidney crosby hanging up on the walls of his bedroom.

but this mat had expensive bathrooms and egyptian cotton sheets. you didn't get to see it yet, but you were willing to bet he had state of the art kitchen appliances that he didn't fully understand how to use outside of making eggs.

you were fully ready to walk into the living room, where you heard mat clicking through what must've been streaming services (because he could afford all of them), and tell him moving here was a mistake. too much had changed, he didn't know you anymore.

but you walked out and saw blankets and sheets strung up, pinned to the walls with pillows on the floor.

almost on cue, mat's head popped out from the makeshift fort, a bright smile on his face. "i don't have bunk beds, but i thought this would be a nice alternative."

you could've cried. you almost did.

but you sat down on a pillow and watched a movie with him instead.

two months later

mat had introduced you to anthony the second week you lived in new york. anders and matt you met the next week. the rest of the team you met over the course of the two months you'd lived with mat so far. they were all nice, and you could see why mat was so enthusiastic about his job, his passion for the sport aside.

you met his "not-girlfriend" as tito called her the day before. ashley was nice enough, but clearly not in the same tax bracket as you, who had recently gotten a job working at an indie bookstore while you worked on grad school applications.

you pretended to be too busy to notice the ache in your chest when he held her hand, remembering chloe and the nasty sensation internally of insecurity bubble up. you weren't dumb enough to not know you were jealous, insecurity was a closer friend than mat was, you'd known her longer.

and if comparison was a sport, you'd be making more money than he was at this rate.

because if it wasn't the way ashley laughed, it was her smile, or her stomach, or the gap between her thighs.

or the fact that mat looked at her with something more than a savior complex.

you stupidly agreed to go out to a bar with him, ashley, and a few islanders that night. it was dumb, you knew that going in, but you were finally with mat again, why wouldn't you spend every free moment with him?

it turned out to be a mistake.

you were left sipping a diet coke by your lonesome while he was dancing with ashley. you knew you shouldn't have done it, it was a bad idea, but you found yourself at the bar asking for a shot of literally anything the bartender would give you.

but anthony slid into the seat next to you a beat later and fixed you with a knowing look. "where's your diet coke?" he asked.

your mouth dried up when the shot was placed in front of you. your heart was pounding and for a moment, it felt like you could've thrown up.

when you didn't respond, anthony nodded and stood up. "wanna go take a breather?" and he sounded so genuine that your eyes immediately welled up with tears as you nodded.

the two of you walked outside and stood in the cool air, letting the wind hit your wet cheeks.

you looked out onto the street while anthony texted on his phone. "do you want to go home?" he asked as soon as he slipped his cellphone back into his pocket.

you shrugged. "i don't know what i want."

that was a lie. you wanted to go back to a time where mat was just your best friend, before he was number 13 for the islanders, before he won the calder memorial trophy. you wanted your best friend, the one who raced you down the neighborhood streets on bikes, who drove three hours to see you when you had a panic attack.

you wanted a childhood that wasn't tainted with the darkness of your father's mistakes. you wanted to be able to go into a room and not immediately check if you could lock the door. you wanted to be able to fall asleep in a dark room without being deathly afraid.

mat was outside a second later, huffing and puffing like he'd just run a mile. his gaze was fixed on you almost immediately, while he ignored the way ashley hung off of him. "what's wrong?" he asked. he even went as far as to pry ashley off of his body so he could frame your face in his large hands.

in the corner of you eye, you saw anthony usher ashley back inside while you and mat had a staring contest. "what happened?"

you shook your head and tried to speak, but more tears spilled out. mat nodded and pursed his lips before grabbing your hand and walking you home.

he didn't say anything else until the front door shut behind you. you had no intentions of staying in the common area, you just wanted to curl up in bed and cry yourself to sleep out of shame and pity.

"what were you doing at the bar?" mat asked before you could go anywhere. "you still had diet coke in your glass."

your throat seized up at feeling caught, but you stood your ground.

"i didn't think you drank," he continued. "mainly because--"

"because my dad's an abusive alcholic? yeah, you don't need to tell me that, mat, i already know."

"so if you know that, why did tito see you order a shot from the bartender?"

you threw your hands up in the air and shrugged. "i don't know, mathew. why do you invite me to bars when you know i don't drink?" he didn't have an answer. "you don't get to shame me for considering having a drink when a bar is the only place i get to hang out with you during the season!"

"that's not--" but he cut himself off. "what're you talking about?"

"i hardly see you! why did i move across the continent if i have to go to a scary place just to spend time with you?"

"i--"

"i mean it's not fair, you left and now i have to pay the consequences of it--"

"i'm sorry, what?"

"you left--"

"i heard you. did you forget the part where you stopped contacting me?" you rolled your eyes to keep yourself from crying even more. "uh uh, don't do that. don't blame me without taking accountability for this friendship ending."

you blinked.

but mat wasn't done. "because i always called you back when i missed your calls. you were the one who stopped texting me."

"you were too busy!"

"i'm in the nhl! did you expect me to just be laying around my apartment all day? i have practices and meetings and games at weird times, but i always made sure to get back to you."

you said nothing, the tears welling up behind your eyes, but you kept them in. the verbal lashing from mat was enough, you didn't need to further embarrass yourself by crying too.

he kept going, yelling and waving his hands around, occasionally pacing and dragging his fingers through his unruly hair.

but you zoned out.

you could hear glass bottles rattling as your father came up the stairs. you sat on your bed, hoping to god he'd just keep walking. mat was out of town for a tournament, and you were grounded.

your dad stopped at the top of the stairs and looked at you. your heart was racing in your chest and you wanted nothing more than to text mat, but your mom had your phone. "what're you lookin' at?" he slurred.

it was only 1pm.

and your mom was still at work.

but he apparently didn't feel like bothering you because he turned into his bedroom and shut the door.

you could feel the air release from your lungs before you went back to reading your book.

but the peace never lasted long. thirty minutes later you could hear him yelling and screaming obscenities before he opened his door. you launched yourself out of bed and slammed your own door shut, quickly locking it with an efficiency you'd learned at a young age. the door handle rattled and you flinched backwards, nearly tripping over clothes on the floor.

but you weren't a stranger to this situation.

you opened the window and climbed out.

but he was ready for you this time because he was at the front door screaming at you as you rode away on your bike.

you didn't stop pedaling until you got to the park where you collapsed on the grass and cried.

something in your face must've changed, because mat stopped yelling and looked at you, really looked at you.

"hey," he said, voice much quieter than before. "where'd you go?"

you shook your head, tears falling down your face uncontrollably.

"don't do that," he said. "don't shut me out." mat took a step closer to you, but you immediately stepped backwards. he breathed your name, but something in his eyes shifted, like he could read your mind. "i'm not him," he whispered. "i'm not your dad, i'm not going to hurt you. you know me, you know i wouldn't do that."

"you left," was all you could say.

mat nodded. "i did, but i didn't leave you, okay? i would never leave you." he closed the distance between you and held your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the constant flow of water from the corners of your eyes.

"but--"

he shook his head. "no, you mean too much to me to leave you, okay? you're my best friend. if you had called me and needed me? i would've been there as soon as i could."

"you would've been too busy--"

he pulled back, a bit bewildered. "when have i ever been too busy for you?"

you held your tongue, knowing that it wasn't him per se.

"what is it?" he asked, his eyes searching your own. "what aren't you telling me?"

so you told him about how you hadn't talked to your dad, and even though you were thousands of miles away, you were still scared he'd find you and ruin your life even more. you told him about thomas, about how you thought he could be the thing that fixed you, but he cheated on you.

you told him about dawson, who was older and more mature. you told mat how dawson got you going to therapy which you thought was a good sign, until you realized he never actually wanted to talk about your bad days. he proposed, you said yes, and then he broke off the engagement when he saw you sobbing over invitations.

your eyes were too blurry to see the way mat's jaw clenched, but you could feel him pull his hands away.before you could even stop yourself, you stretched out for him, but he was just out of reach.

"mat, what," you weeped. "what's wrong?"

"you were engaged?" he mumbled. "you were engaged and didn't tell me?" you expected him to look mad, but the only thing reflected in those deep brown eyes was hurt.

"that's why he broke up with me, i was crying over childhood photos while trying to figure out if i should invite you even when we hadn't talked in years." you shrugged pathetically and gave mat a watery smile. "guess he thought it was too immature of me."

mat's hands were clenching and unclenching by his side, like he couldn't decide what he wanted to do with them.

"please don't hate me," you whispered. "i don't think i could handle it if you hated me." but he didn't say anything, mat just resulted to pacing the living room. "i think my dad fucked me up beyond repair." your eyes never left his profile. if he wouldn't look at you, that was fine, you'd continue to stare at him. "i think i'm too codependent and messed up for anyone to love me." mat's head snapped up at that comment.

"i mean," you continued. "i wasn't enough for my dad to get sober, i wasn't enough to not get cheated on, i wasn't enough for someone to marry me. maybe it's not them. maybe i'm the issue."

"no," he said immediately, shaking his head in the process, crossing the room until he could pull you into his chest. "no. that's not true."

"yes it is! my dad doesn't love anything more than alcohol--"

mat cut you off. "anyone would've been proud to have you as a daughter."

"thomas wanted my freshman roommate--"

"thomas was an idiot."

"dawson couldn't handle me when i wasn't happy--"

"fuck him too. he was thirty dating a college student."

"and you left and i--"

mat pulled you back far enough to look you in the face. "and if i could do it all over again, i'd take you with me." he pressed his forehead against yours. "here's what we're gonna do, we're gonna make a fort and watch the mighty ducks. and tomorrow, we're gonna find you the best therapist money can buy and set up an appointment because i don't like you talking about yourself this way." your stomach twisted at the idea of therapy, hesitant because of dawson-- "and i wanna hear as much as you're willing to tell me, okay?"

you nodded.

"now, i need to see you smile so i know we'll be alright." you gave him a watery smile right before he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "there she is."

you held onto each other for another minute before reluctantly letting go to gather blankets and pillows.

four months later

you hadn't been able to make it to many of mat's games until tonight when they played the devils at home. you sat with sydney and grace and their kids.

earlier that night, you'd gone to your therapy session and cried your eyes out. after years of feeling like you weren't a human being worthy of love, you just started seeing value in just existing.

and mat was as supportive as ever. he gave you space after therapy sessions to process until you were ready to talk to him, if you wanted to. the two of you made plans to hang out at cafes and central park rather than at bars every weekend.

"look at your man go," grace nudged you with her elbow. "he's feeling good tonight."

"i'm sure it has everything to do with you being here," sydney commented. "i've never seen that man more in love than he is right now."

you could feel the heat crawl up your neck as you shook your head. "he's my best friend."

"a best friend who loves you so much, he's willing to keep things platonic for your sake."

almost immediately, an insecure thought popped in your head, but you stopped it in its tracks, imagining the thought on a conveyor belt, moving down the belt until it was out of sight completely.

your shoulders relaxed.

you deserved to be loved, and it if was mat, great.

if not, you'd still have him as your best friend.

a buzzer sounded through the arena and a quick glance at the ice told you all you needed to know. mat was skating into a cluster of his teammates, smiling wide before pointing up at where he knew you were sitting.

grace and sydney jostled you around a little while fans, male and female alike, screamed at the idea of the mat barzal pointing at them.

when the game ended (5-4 with the islanders win), you followed sydney and grace down to the locker rooms. you met up with the other wags and smiled when they greeted you. some chatted and passed time while others rocked babies in their arms. you however were anxiously looking through your photos on your phone, specifically the album labeled mat that you'd had since you'd first gotten an iphone. you didn't glance up until you hear the sound of doors opening.

mat was the seventh person out, not that you were counting. he wore a bright smile when he saw you standing there and immediately crossed the distance between the two of you to wrap you in a huge hug.

"how was therapy?" he asked.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. "why do we always talk about me?"

"because i care." he lightly nudged your shoulder. "so how did it go?"

"it was good, actually," you remarked. "figured out and accepted that i deserve love."

if it was even possible, mat's smile got wider. "yeah you do."

"and maybe there are people waiting around for me to figure it out..." you trailed off before shyly meeting his gaze. and before you could stop yourself, before you ran out of courage, you stood on your tiptoes (like you've been doing since he hit his growth spurt in seventh grade) and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

you lingered for a moment before pulling away and loooking up at your bewildered best friend whose mouth was wide open.

"what?" you asked. "did i read that wrong? sydney and grace said--"

"that's all i get?" he asked. "i've waited for this since i was six years old and i don't even get the real thing?"

you furrowed your brow. "what're you talking about? six years old?"

but mat was leaning in and capturing your lips with his own. "six year old mat had the biggest crush on six year old you," he said.

"and what about twenty-four year old mat?"

he kissed you again. "head over heels for you."

age twenty-six

after a less than stellar playoff run, you and mat headed back to canada for a portion of the off season, mainly to visit family.

but it was also nice to get out of new york, even if it was just for a short period.

in hindsight, you should've known something was going to happen. your mother, nadia, and liana took you to get your nails done and to grab lunch while you were out shopping. but you were so caught up in how nice it was to be back home (words you never thought you'd ever say), you paid no attention to the lack of mat time.

so when you walked into the backyard of his parents' house and saw a giant projector screen with blankets and pillows strewn about to make yet another fort, you almost cried.

mat's head popped out from the middle with a smile on his face until he saw the tears in your eyes. "why're you crying baby? this is supposed to be happy!"

"i love you" was all you could blubber out.

mat laughed to himself, taking your hands in his own. "i love you too baby." he knelt down and the tears kept coming down your face. "ever since i was a kid, i thought i'd be the one walking you down the aisle to the man you'd marry because i never thought you'd be crazy enough to fall in love with me."

you scoffed. "i'm definitely the one batting out of my league here, mathew."

"don't talk about the love of my life that way," he said before continuing on. "we've gone through a lot together, and i couldn't imagine getting through life without you by my side." mat took a deep breath. "so tell me, do you wanna get married?" mat asked.

you nodded through your weeping. "only if i get to marry you," you smiled.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Movie Madness

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When Dean drops in unexpectedly, you decide on an activity to get both of your pulses racing. Reader is a med-student in college and works in a library. This is the fourth fic in my Before You Go Universe, but can be read as stand alone (probably?).

Tropes: Fluff, Established Relationships, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early to mid-30's)

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), Mentions of sex (not explicit at all), Implied sex, Sexual Innuendo, SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE ALIEN,  Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIPs folder forever and I really just wanted to write a fluff where Dean had never seen Alien and the reader remedies that. 😊

"Okay, next question: What is the first step in glycolysis, what does it create, and what does it use?" Tim asks, lounging back against one of the dusty bookshelves.

 It was a Friday night, which normally meant you were gone to see Dean at the bunker, but this weekend he was off in Maine, dealing with a pack of werewolves and you had picked up a shift at the library.

Usually you would be disappointed that you couldn't see him, but due to the giant test looming over your head on Monday, you were happy to relax and study with your lab partner, Tim.

Tim stretched out his legs as far as they could go between the two bookshelves, while you read through the call numbers on the weathered spines of the faded books waiting to be replaced back on the dusty shelves in front of you. Tim, true to his word, had come to help you study. He had been happy to hear that you weren't going to see Dean, because he was also having a hard time with the material and he always said that quizzing someone else made him remember the information more anyway so he'd shown up three hours ago and hadn't left.

"Ohh I know this." You groan, resting your head against the bookshelf and bracing your arms on the metal ledge.

"I'm sure you do. Since you were asleep during the lecture on glycolysis."

"Hey. What happened to no judgement between us?" You turn your head to glare at your lab partner. "I didn't judge you when you dated  that finance major who didn't know that the Earl of Sandwich was a person."

"An honest mistake-"

"Or when you couldn't find your glasses for two hours when you were wearing them-"

"It's very easy to do that when you have glasses. And you didn’t tell me that I was wearing them! You have no idea-"

"Or when you-"

"Okay! I give. Make it stop." He groans, kicking out at the back of your calf with his foot, but you dodge him. "Just answer the question."

"Fine."

You stand there for a minute trying to mentally compartmentalize your notes, flipping through them page by page, shuffling through the color-coded diagrams you drew for the glycolysis cycle two days ago, because yes you had fallen asleep during the lecture but you had forced yourself to go through the posted PowerPoints. "Okay. In the first step it's glucose being turned into D-glucose-6-Phosphate and it uses the-um-." You groan. "Oh it uses hexokinase."

"Finally, and yes that's right. What's the next step, what does it use, and what does it create?" Tim asks.

You turn back to the cart of dusty volumes, picking a faded red encyclopedia etched with gold script and note the call number.

You walk around the bookshelf to the other side where the call number should be, brushing your fingertips along the worn spines that line the walls and breathe in the scent of old books. It was enough to calm you down. Something about being surrounded by them always made you feel at home. Your mother was always reading worn paperbacks in her chair by the window with a cup of tea steaming in the early morning light back home, in the library that your father had made her in one of the spare bedrooms at your house. Whenever you found the time to read, it made you think of her, of course finding time to read was difficult.

You hadn't been back to see your parents since last Christmas, called them yes, and you knew deep down at some point you'd have to introduce Dean to them, but you kept putting that off, mostly because you didn't want to tell them what he did. Whenever your mom asked on the phone, you changed the subject, because it hurt you to lie to them. You were so close with both of them that it made everything complicated to keep Dean from them.

"Hello?" Tim says from the other side of the bookshelf. "Did you get lost or something?"

"Huh? Oh no I'm just thinking." You reach up on tip-toe to place the volume on the top shelf where it belongs. "Okay, I’m pretty sure the second step is D-glucose-6-Phosphate to Fructo-"

Someone grabs you from behind, wrapping their strong arms around your waist to pull you back into their chest, while planting their lips directly on the slope of your neck.

You open your mouth to scream, but then you hear Dean's rough voice in your ear.

"Did you miss me sweetheart?" He kisses you again, trailing his lips down your neck into the shadow of your jaw.

"Dean what the hell? You scared the crap out of me." You hiss turning around to hit him with the large volume still clutched in your hands. But despite your anger, you were happy to see him.

There was a little more wear around his eyes and the dark circles that rimmed them were prominent against his skin, the shadow of his beard was more apparent, but his eyes still shone bright green with his smile when he looked at you, making you feel like you were going to melt.

It wasn't a new feeling, and you hoped that it never went away.

"Sorry sweetheart." Dean laughs, dodging another swing of the encyclopedia. "You looked so cute putting the books away I had to."

"You're the worst."

He grabs the front of your sweatshirt and pulls you into him so that his lips are inches from yours, but does not kiss you. "Am I?" Dean breathes, close enough that you can feel the scratch of stubble against your skin and long for him to close the distance between the two of you.

"Yes." Your hands curl in the front of his black shirt beneath his leather jacket.

Dean kisses you earnestly, drawing the next breath from your lungs as you breathe him in, drunk on his smell and taste after only a few seconds. There really was nothing like kissing Dean, the subtle tilt of your head back, the gentle scrape of his beard against your cheeks, the soft sound he makes when he deepens the kiss, and the way he holds you close, almost as if he believes you will fade away in his arms.

"How about now?" He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours.

"You might be raising your rating." You smile, tightening your fingers in his hair. He'd been allowing it to grow a little longer and you loved it.

"Anything else I might be able to do to get it a bit higher, Sweetheart?" Dean smirks.

"Maybe-"

"Alright, I think that I've given you long enough to-" Tim begins to say rounding the corner of the bookshelves, but stops mid-sentence when he spots Dean. His eyes narrow a fraction.

"Hey there Tom!" Dean smiles as he pulls you closer to his chest, but raises his head up to give Tim a winning smile.

"It's Tim." Tim replies with a frown.

Tim had only seen Dean a handful of times and each time he did, you noticed how much he seemed to hate Dean. You couldn't think of a reason why. Dean hadn't done anything worth Tim's hatred. You had tried to act as a mediator in the past, tried to get Tim to get to know Dean before passing judgement, but nothing seemed to work.

In fact you had invited Tim to come with Dean and you to get a drink one night after class, but it had ended with you pretending that you forgot to return a phone call from your mother and you dragging a fuming Dean out of the bar while Tim glared at him.

That night had been awkward for everyone.

The entire time Tim had emphasized how important a college degree was and how important everything the two of you were doing at med school was, while glaring at Dean and almost implying that Dean was wasting your time. And when Dean told him he barely finished high school, Tim had laughed at him. Which made you angry, because you knew that Dean struggled with that, that he struggled thinking that you deserved better because he wasn’t educated the same way.

The next day you had received a phone call from Tim who apologized for what he'd said and stated that he was having a bad day and drank too much, but what he said to Dean still stung.

Dean didn't deserve to be treated like trash, didn't deserve to be put down because he didn't go to college, but you allowed yourself to forgive Tim. He was one of your only friends at school. However, you still didn't understand why he hated Dean so much.

An awkward silence passes between the three of you.

"Well I'm gonna go." Tim says looking from you to Dean. "I've got an early shift tomorrow. But let me know if you want to study again before the test."

"Okay, I'll text you later. Oh and I'll add you to the google doc for the notes I made." You smile at him, while leaning into Dean's embrace subconsciously. It had been two weeks since you'd seen him and you didn't realize how much you missed him until this moment.

"Sure." Tim turns to go back for his backpack on the other side.

"Bye Tom." Dean calls at his retreating back.

You sigh grabbing Dean's chin and bring his face back down to look at you. "You know his name."

"Do I?" Dean scrunches his face up as if trying to remember.

"Dean-"

"I'm just joking with him sweetheart. He's gotta learn to lighten up." Dean rolls his eyes, but then brushes his lips against yours, making your mind go completely blank. "I missed you."

"Is that why you're back early from your 'hunting trip'?" You smile against his lips.

"Maybe. That and it turned out not to be a pack of werewolves, but a very angry bear. Yogi didn't get the memo about eating hikers."

"Guess that makes you Ranger Smith. Please tell me that Sam or Cas had to dress up like Cindy Bear to appease Yogi and that you got pictures." You plead tugging at his hair hoping that Dean is about to make this the best day of your life.

"I love how much you know about Yogi Bear-"

"Oh that's nothing, you should hear me talk about Scooby Doo. My sister and I used to watch it all the time and let me be the first to say, Daphne deserved better."

It was an argument that your sister and you got into more than once, she was team Fred all the way, but you think that Daphne deserved better than a guy who was more focused on himself rather than anyone else. Not to mention he always let her get into trouble and he never seemed to care about her. Meanwhile your sister always said that he was trying to act aloof and sexy.

I miss her so much.

Dean freezes as soon as soon as you say it.

"Dean?" You look up at him worried. "Are you okay? Oh no, please don't tell me that you think that Daphne and Fred should-"

He picks you up and pins you to the bookshelf behind you, but before you can ask him again if he's okay, his lips are against yours.

He tastes like beer, coffee, and something sweet that you can't identify, both intoxicating and invigorating. The smell of his cologne and shampoo floods through your nose followed closely by the smell of leather and gun metal. Dean pulls your thighs up around him to secure you against his waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue  brushing against yours in a wicked dance that drives all thoughts from your mind.  You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair to force his mouth harder against yours, not wanting him to stop.  It'd been so long since you'd seen him, since you'd had any time with him, since he'd touched you-

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" Dean whispers against your lips. "Because every time I see you I don't think that I can love you more and then you say something like that."

"That Daphne deserved better?" You smile.

Dean kisses you as soon as you say it, holding you so tight against him it's almost painful, but you don't care, because it reminds you that he's here with you.

"Say it again." He mutters.

"Daphne deserved better."

"Fuck I love you."

"And I love that each time I see you I find out more about your weird kinks." You snort rubbing the back of his head gently in the way you know he likes.

"It's not a kink, it's the truth." Dean sighs while adjusting his grip under your thighs to make sure he doesn't drop you.

"Mhmm. Sure."

"So how much longer do you have to work?" He asks.

You glance at the watch on your wrist behind his head. "About an hour. Longer if you keep distracting me."

"I'm a wonderful distraction Sweetheart. Wouldn't mind distracting you for a little longer." Dean's mouth drifts to your jaw.

"Dean." You sigh. "I love you baby, but can I please finish putting these away?"

"In a minute." He continues to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking a mark just below your jaw. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." You sigh, knotting your hands in his hair and securing him against your neck.

"Have I ever told you that you're the sexiest librarian I've ever seen?" Dean murmurs.

"Given how many you've watched on your laptop I'll take that as a compliment." You snort. "But they're probably wearing less clothes than I am-"

"I can fix that sweetheart."

You roll your eyes at your boyfriend, but you’re not opposed to what he’s suggesting. "How long can you stay?"

"Few days."

"Hmm."

"What do you think we should do with all that time?" Dean looks up with a mischievous glint in his eye that makes a shudder go down your spine.

"I have a few ideas."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Something that will get our pulses racing." You kiss Dean, but before he can deepen it you pull back. "And maybe a few things that'll make me scream." You whisper, your breath upon his lips. "Would you like that Dean?"

"I think I would."

"Good."

"You know when you asked me if I wanted to hear you scream and wanted to get our pulses racing, this wasn't what I had in mind." Dean frowns, shrugging off his leather jacket and placing the extra large cheese pizza down on the end of your bed.

"Really? Huh. Can't imagine what else you were thinking about." You reply with an shrug, shuffling through your collection of DVD's to look for your favorite one.

"You act so innocent Sweetheart, but we both know how much trouble you seem to get us into all the time."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You finally see the familiar cover of your Alien Movie collection. "I can't believe you've never seen Alien before. It truly is one of the best movies in history." You set up the DVD player and grab the remote while Dean changes into his boxers.

You were looking forward to a relaxing night of watching movies and eating copious amounts of snacks and pizza to drown out the worry for the test on Monday. You figured that you had studied enough today with Tim at the library and now you were taking a well deserved break with Dean and your favorite comfort movie, Alien.

As soon as you found out Dean had never seen it, you'd wanted to make him watch it, but there never seemed to be time and tonight was perfect. You had grabbed a pizza on the way back, as well as every type of candy you could think of, beer (Dean's contribution), and popcorn.

"I was never really into Sci-Fi. That's more Sam." Dean sighs, nestling down on your small full sized bed, avoiding the pizza box.

"We both know that's a lie. You like Godzilla vs. Mothra!" You shout, changing out of your jeans and t-shirt, before grabbing the flannel that Dean took off a few seconds ago. It was still warm, but soft against your skin. “Not to mention I’ve heard you make at least seven Star Trek jokes.”

"Godzilla vs. Mothra is not really Sci-fi, that's giant monster destroying a city and it's awesome." Dean replies not taking his eyes off of you as you button up the flannel and ignoring your comment about Star Trek.

"Yes it is awesome and it most definitely is Sci-fi. And Alien is Sci-Fi for people who like Sci-fi and awesome monster movie for people who pretend to hate Sci-Fi like you. It has something for everyone, even cat lovers!" You get on the bed, sitting cross-legged next to him as you reach for the pizza and the bag that holds all your other snacks.

"Cat lovers?"

"There's a cat in this movie, Jonesy. He's adorable." You grab a slice of pizza and try not to moan out loud at the taste. "I love you." You whisper as you take another bite of the cheesy goodness.

"I love you too Sweetheart." Dean says with a heart-warming smile, not understanding that you are in fact talking to the pizza and not to him.

"Um. Well I love you too Dean-" You laugh awkwardly.

He frowns at you. "You were talking to the pizza weren't you?"

"No…"

Dean snorts and grabs a slice for himself. "Go on and start the movie. I doubt that I'll be able to stay awake for it."

"You're gonna love it!" You say leaning into his shoulder as you continue to eat.

"Uh-huh sure. How about we make this interesting?”

“How?” You lean your head back to look up at him.

“Well if I guess who dies one by one correctly, you take off a piece of clothing and if I guess wrong then I take off a piece of clothing.” He purrs tracing the edges of where his flannel hits your thighs.

“Dean you’re only wearing boxers. And I’m only wearing your shirt and underwear."

“Even better. Only have one wrong answer for me, and two correct ones for you.” He smirks wider.

“Are you trying to distract me from my favorite movie with the promise of sex?”

Dean leans in towards your face. “That depends. Is it working?”

You look at him, eyes tracing his handsome features, thinking about how much you missed him. “Nope.” You reply raising your slice of pizza between the two of you and taking a large bite.

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs a beer, snapping the metal top off with his bare hand.

How does he do something so normal and make it be so sexy?

“I promise that you’re gonna love it. And if you don’t, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You stoke your hand down his muscular chest.

Dean lets out a heavy sigh. “Fine.” He grumbles, before pulling you into his side as the opening music fills your bedroom.

You’d seen Alien maybe a million times. Monster movies were your sister and your favorite and the Alien movie series was the subject of many movie nights you spent with her before she got married. Binge watching all of them while eating probably cancer inducing junk food was a regular occurrence. Not to mention her bachelorette theme was badass female characters and she had proudly dressed up like Ripley. 

You were excited to share this with him, and as much as he protested watching it, you knew that Dean was going to love  it.

"I'm gonna go make popcorn." You say shuffling through the bag of snacks for the box of microwavable popcorn that you were sure was at the bottom.

"What?" Dean perks up.

"I'm going to go make popcorn." You pull yourself from his arms, stretching your arms up to the ceiling before making your way to your bedroom door.

"I'll-um- I'll go with you." Dean clears his throat, rising from the bed to follow.

"What?" You turn to look at him.

You'd been watching for over an hour, long enough for the Xenomorph to be on the loose in the spaceship and long enough for him to see what a badass Ripley was. She was and you wouldn’t apologize for dumping Dean if you ever had a chance with her.

But Dean seemed to be enjoying the movie. He’d yelled for a solid five minutes at the crew who stood by and watched the xenomorph explode out of their friend’s chest and he’d grabbed you by the waist and shook you when the captain got killed in the air vents while screaming “it’s your fault he’s dead” to the characters on the screen.

He was hooked.

"I'm going to help you make the popcorn." He repeats, but he won't quite look at you, his eyes are shifting through your room, tracing over the dark shapes.

"Okay." You were confused as to why he was coming with you, but you shrug and walk out into your living room.

The apartment is quiet and dark. Your roommate, Suze, hadn't been home when you got there and you didn't know when she was coming back or if she would. She'd been spending an inordinate amount of time at her new boyfriend Matt's house, a boyfriend that you actually didn't hate running into and didn't make you feel uncomfortable.

After everything that happened with her ex Cooper, you had wondered if things between Suze and you would go back to normal. There had been a few awkward hello's and goodbye's, but since she started dating Matt about a month ago things seemed to settle down. So much so that she had actually invited you to come with them to get a drink one night and you were allowed to bring Dean, and it wasn't awkward, maybe at first, but not now. It had only taken two years for your roommate to actually like you.

I'll leave her a note to let her know that there's some extra beer in the fridge if she wants it.

You begin to open the box of popcorn to reach the plastic packets inside.

"Did you hear that?" Dean says, turning towards your front door and shielding your body from it like it's going to attack you.

"Hear what?" The plastic popcorn packet rustles as you tear it open before you place it into the microwave.

"That weird noise."

"Dean, I think you're hearing things."

"I am not!" He walks towards the door carefully.

"Yes you are." You stop for a second, watching his tense stature, and suddenly understand why he wanted to come with you into the kitchen. "Wait a minute, are you scared?"

"Huh?" Dean peeks over his shoulder eyes wide.

"You are! You're scared!" You snort. "I can’t believe this."

"I'm not scared." Dean lies, standing up straighter.

"Wow. Big bad Dean Winchester is scared of aliens."

"I am not!" He plants his hands on his hips, but its not enough to convince you.

"How are you scared of that? You see stuff worse than Xenomorphs everyday!" You laugh again, turning back to the microwave to pour the now made popcorn into a stainless steel bowl. 

"I don't see aliens. And I sure as hell don't see something like that!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." You shake your head at him, practically skipping back into your room. "And I thought this day couldn't get any better."

Dean collapses on the bed next to you in a huff. "How are you not afraid of that thing?"

"I’m honestly more disappointed that you haven’t proved their existence.”

“You want something like that to exist?”

“I mean it’s kinda cool-“

"Cool? You think that thing is cool?” Dean's mouth drops open in surprise.

“Yeah?” You shrug and pop a piece of the popcorn in your mouth.

“It’s got acid for blood!”

“So what you’re saying is, if one of those was on the loose you wouldn’t protect me?” You force your smile into an attractive pout, fluttering your eyelashes at Dean.

 He looks you right in the eye, without blinking and states, “Babe you’re on your own.”

 “Wow. It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me, I’m not scared.” Dean huffs as you fasten you arms around his chest and lay your head over his heart.

As the movie continues you keep sneaking glances at Dean, who has begun to subconsciously press you tighter and tighter against his chest with the arm he has wrapped around your back. He hasn't taken his eyes off the screen, the most he'd done is stress eat his way through all of your snacks.

But you loved it. You cuddled further into his chest, smiling against his skin as you did. You loved having these moments with him, hadn't had one with him in almost two weeks. The most the two of you had done was talk on the phone until you fell asleep, but you missed this. You missed your sexy, gentle, kind, passionate, caring, and gorgeous boyfriend.

“Come on. The CAT IS SMARTER THAN ALL OF THEM!” He shouts wincing as another crew member is killed by the creature.

“Yes it is.”  You snort.

"We should get a cat."

"What? Are you even a cat person?" You sit up and look at Dean, who is still watching the movie with wide eyes.

"I could be! It could tell that fucking thing was there! It was warning them and they didn’t listen and now they’re dead! See if we had a cat I’d listen to him." He argues.

"What are you the cat whisperer?"

"If it started acting weird then we’d know one of those things was around!" Dean shouts squeezing you tighter against his bare chest, his eyes still glued to the t.v.

Is it wrong that I like seeing him like this?

You'd never seen him afraid before, but it was giving you a sickening amount of joy for him to be clutching on to you so tightly. That was probably because you missed him so much and it was nice to be in his arms again, even if he was cutting off circulation to the top half of your body.

"Cats always act weird. They're cats. It’s kinda the whole deal."

"Do you like cats?"

"I could. I like dogs. I always wanted a pet when I was younger, but my sister is allergic." You frown at the tv.

When you were a kid you hadn't seen a problem and brought home a random dog while telling your sister loudly to "hold her breath."

Your parents hadn't thought it was as funny as you had.

"How is she doing?" Dean asks turning to look at you as the end credits roll.

He hadn't met any of your family yet and you were planning on asking Dean to come home with you for thanksgiving in a few weeks, but you weren't sure it was a good idea. You loved him and he loved you, but you were afraid that he would freak out about meeting your family. You knew that he wasn't used to something like that, meeting a significant other's family,  and you didn't want to push him to do something uncomfortable.

Then again, the premise of free food will probably entice him. Not to mention my mom is the best cook in the world.

"Good. The baby is due in November and she's hoping that it'll be out by Thanksgiving because she doesn’t want to miss the one holiday that doesn't fat shame you for taking another plate. I just called her the other day, she can’t wait for it to be over."

You also hadn't seen your sister in a little bit, but it was difficult to balance that, especially because she lived so far away and you were trying to balance work, school, and Dean. But you did get a phone call out to her at least once every week. Lately it had been more because she liked to call to complain about being pregnant and because her husband was away on business, she wasn't able to do it to him.

"How’s her husband?"

"He’s good. Just got promoted. I still have no idea what he does. She says she doesn’t either. Every time I asks my brain turns off. Then again she said she’d be okay if he was out there shaking it for dollar bills, as long as he brings money home."

"I think I love your sister."

"She is pretty great. And honestly, it seems like a nice way to pick up some extra cash-"

"No." Dean smiles slips into a frown.

"No what?" You ask him confused.

"You’re not allowed to become a stripper."

"I didn’t say I wanted to. Just that it might be a viable option to getting some cash on the side."

"No.” Dean’s eyes flick from where Ripley is fighting the alien in the escape pod to focus on you.

“You know it’s a free country and if I wanted to be a stripper I could."

"Nope."

"What?"

"Sorry doll. The only one that gets to see this sexy  body is me."

“I think you’re being selfish.”

“Yes unashamedly. I want you all to myself.” Deans smile shifts into a smirk, eyes glinting mischievously. “Though if you wanted to give me a show I wouldn’t be against it.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.”

"So what did you think about the movie?"

"I liked it, though I think it's kind of a red flag that this is your comfort movie."

"Says the guy who's entire trunk of his car is a red flag."

"I'm serious. How is this your comfort movie?" Dean gestures at the end credits that continue to scroll to the iconic soundtrack.

"I don't know. I like it. It makes me feel better about my problems watching them all scramble around."

"You're so weird." Dean sighs shaking his head.

"I know. It's great isn't it?" You flash a wide grin and elbow him in the side.

"Keeps me on my toes."

You find the box that contains the entire collection underneath the wrappers of all the snacks and wave it in front of you to taunt him. “So I’ve got the next three on DVD. Unless you’re too scared Winchester.”

“Bring it on!”

"Or," You smile up at him. "We could take a break because you were very brave. And maybe you deserve a reward." You press a kiss along the edge of his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble against the soft pillow of your lips. Dean had allowed it to grow out a little more than usual and you loved that.

"And what would we do?" Dean asks you innocently, but his green eyes gleam with mischief, tracing down to where his shirt rests over your thighs.

"Something that would get our pulses racing-"

Dean tackles you back against your bed, his lips inches apart from yours. “I’d like that sweetheart.”

“Thought so.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the Before You Go Series please let me know! 😊

Taglist:

@sunnyhummingbee @roseblue373 @brightlilith @snowayumi @ladysparkles78

@kittydeany77 @daisy-the-quake @mrsjenniferwinchester

[homestead-akatsuka]

"Good day, grasshopper!"

for the first time ever, i - nephilapothecary 'trout' homestead-akatsuka - have finished a ref, and i want to crumble into dust

would you believe this is a 'cover page' ref? as in the actual ref i posted as a wip isn't even done? and neither are joro's expression sheets nor design notes done? sigh... long long way to go!

more info of joro and other credits under the cut because i'm scared of long posts. by long, i MEAN long i am very sorry in advance.

'name' ✧ Mai/Mugi Jorō (麦 ジョロ—) age ✧ late 20s to 30s (generally a good two years older than the sextuplets for reference) height ✧ 4'11 / 151cm birthday ✧ March 14 nationality ✧ Singaporean, Chinese (Cantonese/Hokkien) gender ✧ Non-binary pronouns ✧ They/He/She – doesn't mind any pronouns, but generally prefers them in the order shown. orientation ✧ Sapphic/Lesbian, Polyamorous, Demisexual voice-claims ✧ Saiga Mitsuki (JPN), Stephanie Beatriz (ENG)

playlist ✧ "And the sunshine greets you again, my scarab!" (to specify, the voice-claims for both JPN and ENG are Rika from Pokemon Horizons and Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 respectively!)

Jorō is the current and only farmer that owns the now-revitalised land on the outskirts of Akatsuka Ward, the quaint Furusato Homestead (故郷農場). Without so much as a tie to the country, it seems as if they've appeared out of nowhere.

They are known by quite a few of the seniors in Akatsuka Ward, though mostly by the stay-at-home parents and local cooks. They make a decent living off of their crops and own a reliable little flock of hens and wild geese, with barn cats that seemed to settle in of their own accord.

One of the few friendlier citizens quickly become a familiar face to them; Jorō becomes fast friends with Matsuyo, someone who frequents their produce at the farmers' market - the fact that Jorō never charges all that much and looks way too young to be a farmer must have drawn Matsuyo in out of curiosity. They see her almost like a second mother, with her kind words and reassuring smile, whose meetings at the markets sometimes come with little gifts of food. Their meetings with Matsuyo soon extend beyond exchanging produce and small talk, and Jorō's presence in the Matsuno household become known to the sextuplets living there. Well, the few instances of their name are accompanied only with a healthy dose of motherly nagging.

A collective decision to put a stop to this endless harassment from their mother, the sextuplets attempt to confront them - and hopefully, scare them off so they wouldn't have to hear about getting jobs again.

An... unfortunate incident leads to a very rocky first impression of Jorō, but the lot of them sort it out in due time.

In the present, the idiosyncratic farmer finds themselves to be good friends with all six of the Matsuno brothers, each with their own little oddities. They are especially fond of the second, fourth, and fifth brothers: Karamatsu, their go-to buddy for so-bad-its-good western movies and playful, sometimes heartfelt talks. Ichimatsu, their quiet companion whose candid - and also morbid - conversations make for great company. And Jyushimatsu, an almost-rabid ball of energy who never gives them a day of mundanity.

𓆣

Jorō's personality and looks are a strange mismatch. Covered neck-down in intricate tattoos of insects and botanical illustrations, one would assume them to assert themselves like a delinquent would, or at least assertively enough to give off a threatening aura, even at a glance. This could not be further from the truth.

They carry themselves with an air of whimsy and have a level-headed mindset. Jorō's language, though warm and homely, can sometimes seem eccentric - choosing to refer to their friends with insect-related terms of endearment and speaking almost in roundabout manners. They rarely hold grudges, but have learnt to be quite wary of people who they find to be shady or untrustworthy. Despite the mellow persona they hold, if they ever aren't being taken seriously, they can and will make their stance clear as day, through words or force. A very 'do no harm, take no shit' attitude. Don't worry though, they're very placid most times.

Jorō comes off as polite and charming to acquaintances, but by god, do they have a potently concentrated ball of anxiety hidden in deep layers within their heart. They easily tire when they're around unfamiliar people, having to keep up the cool, composed act and having to figure out what to say to certain people so they don't come off as impolite or strange. Around friends, they loosen up quite easily and can get a little vulgar. They mean well, it's just natural habit to swear.

A hoarder of hobbies, the king of trinkets. They have a dedicated room for their old, current, and transient hobbies, as well as display shelves for all the little items they collect. You can find quite a lot of stuff in there; guzhengs, violins, embroidery, pottery wheels and more. Their current interests lie heavily in the arts and sciences, mostly illustrations, insect identification, and insect pinning. They love beetle fighting but only ever conduct it under very strict, specific circumstances – they despise hurting beetles for entertainment, and would rather have them fight naturally than force it.

An individual with a vested interest in entomology, environmental sciences, native biodiversity, and ecology. They've earned a Bachelor's Degree in Science and minored in entomology in Australia, they WILL talk your ear off about insects do NOT mention insects around them you will REGRET IT.

Jorō Trivia 𓆣

✧ They speak English, Japanese, German, Mandarin, and some Cantonese! It's mostly swears for Cantonese but they can also converse in it too.

✧ Aside from the Matsuno family, they're cloae buddies with Chibita! They sell daikon and fresh eggs to them and accepts coupons for free oden sometimes.

✧ They hand-embroider a lot of their shoes and pants! A habit they developed from their university days, in which they'd cover all the accidental acid spills and bleach stains with floral and insect motifs.

✧ Their parents enrolled them into a lot of extracurriculars as a kid, so they end up being decent at a lot of things; first aid, singing, violin, guzheng, etc. They're no master though.

✧ A lot of animals seem docile around them. They've managed to befriend a family of geese on their property, formed an alliance with the feral barn cats that take residence in their shed, and somehow managed to figure out a compromise between the crows that always want a bite of their crops. How they do it, nobody knows.

𓆣

god okay I took a LOT of inspiration from @/puffpawstries and @/flowerakatsuka's refs for honno and kuroba respectively, my apologies if i might have mirrored a few things too much GWAHAH

my style's usually quite clashing with the ososan style but i think i managed to balance it! here's the blue linework version even though it's. ngl it's a lil ugly HAHAGSJ

falls over and turns to dust

[mydarlingclaudia]

taste like the fourth of july

note : dividers are from @/rookthornesartistry. I FUCKING LOVE LANA DEL REY AND I LOVE HER UNRELEASED SONGS GUESS WHAT THIS IS INSPIRED BY!!!!!! SUGAR DADDY CHRIS!!!!!!! OOC DONT WORRY ABOUT IT!!!!!! this is really short but I've had this in my drafts since 9/9 and I finally got it of motivation to write it so it was either getting written tonight or not at all and if you saw this as a wip in a wip tag game and you thought it was gonna be smut sorry lmao

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy @withonly-sweetheart @onlyasimp4nobody

desc : sugar daddy. established-ish relationship, fluff, a bit suggestive, age gap (mid twenties - late forties), fem!reader, re8!Chris, not proofread

You love him ‘cause he tastes like your favorite liquor, and also because of the fat wad of cash he’s willing to hand over if you just bat your eyelashes at him. Well, that might be the reason, anyway. Not one of the sweetest men you’ve ever been with, but definitely one of the best.

Chris will buy pretty much anything for you. Expensive shoes you’ve been staring at in magazines? Yours. A watch that’s way too expensive but you like the color? It’s on your wrist the next morning. A cute new swimsuit? It’s yours as long as he gets to watch you model it.

There seems to be only perks when it comes to continuing on with whatever is going on between you and Chris; the money, the gifts, the vacations, the sex. Only downside is him going away for work, but that’s only a small downside, it doesn’t scare you away. Chris isn’t leaving you uncared for, anyway. The $1,000 he gives you the night before he heads out is supposed to be an apology, that’s what he says, at least.

Chris isn’t totally sure why he’s still doing this, he always thought of himself as a more traditional guy, you know, get a girlfriend that would eventually become a fiancée and after that a wife. But when he met you at this nice little restaurant, sitting all alone at the bar, eyeing him the whole fucking night, what was he supposed to say to you when you tapped him on the shoulder and asked him for a cigarette? No? It was a lucky enough guess that you even assumed he had cigarettes on him, maybe the smell of the smoke clung to his clothes more than had thought.

You hadn’t even asked if he was married, you probably saw his ring finger that lacked a wedding ring and took that as a green light.

It’s probably better this way, Christ, you’re twenty-six and he’s forty-eight. Chris could waste a few thousand dollars on you, give you a few years of his time, there’s not much else that he does besides work.

And you’re pretty, you’re worth the money.

So who is he to deny you? It really is a win-win.

But it’s not like you and Chris are exclusive, you were both able to sleep with whoever you wanted, no hard feelings if you do or don’t. And you did, for a little bit, before you started questioning whether or not Chris did the same. You never noticed another woman's clothes in his apartment, no lipstick-stained shirts in his hamper, nothing. You stopped seeing other men maybe a week after Chris had found a few fading hickeys on your hips and left darker ones where they once stood.

Okay, saying you love him might actually be a bit of a lie, but you’re pretty sure he’s lying to you too when he says it back. You’re not one to look things over too much, even if he does truly love you, that just makes your situation better.

Another great thing is date night.

You love vacations just as much as the next person, but Chris' job doesn't guarantee any amount of time longer than a week off. So vacations are a treat, typically a birthday present for either you or Chris, go somewhere with a great beach and greater drinks.

Date night is at the very least once a month, Chris always calls you a few days before, tells you the time and place and you just stand there and nod before blowing him a kiss over the phone as a goodbye before hanging up.

He takes you out, buys you dinner, gets you a new dress or a new necklace depending on how you're feeling that night, then drives you through the city before heading back to either his or your place.

You will admit that you find it funny when he doesn't know how to react to what you do. If you want something, say it, okay? Don't send him nudes, he's told you time and time again that he prefers seeing you face-to-face and not on a tiny screen that doesn't capture the whole view. You think he prefers it that way because then at least he can reach out and touch you instead of trying to type things out on his phone only for them to end up being deleted seconds later.

The morning after date night is never awkward, at least not usually. You either spend the day at Chris' or he takes you out shopping again before dropping you back at your place. You still feel sore most mornings.

This is one of those mornings, you can still feel the burn between your legs and the sting of bites, scratches, and beard burn left behind. Chris isn't there when you grope around for him in bed, but he's quick to come to your rescue as you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on before the door opens and he steps out.

"You up?" He's straightening his shirt out when he asks you, not looking at you as you sit up in his bed.

You stretch and rub your eyes, "Mhm," You mumble, Chris finally looks at you.

"You usually sleep like a log."

"Can you blame me?" Another mumble and he smiles, walking over to you and placing both his hands on the side of your face so he can lean down and kiss the top of your head. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Got called in, something important, apparently." He sighs, you push forward and lean against his ribs as he brushes through your tangled hair with his fingers.

"It always is."

"Mm, don't pout."

"Don't want me to miss you?" As always, whenever you tease him, he only responds to you with a light scoff before he smiles. Chris pulls you away from his ribs so he can cup the back of your neck and get you to look at him, his thumbs trace over the edges of your jaw and you hum.

"You still want something from me?"

"A pony," Chris rolls his eyes this time, kneeling so he can wrap his arms around you once you giggle.

"We're going out again once I get back." You think you hear him murmur, "Not to get a fucking pony." under his breath even though you can feel his breath in your ear, but you know he's saying that more to himself than to you.

"Surprise me?"

"Sure," Chris pulls back and kisses your cheek before his lips meet yours, his kisses are as slow as they always are. Chris breaks the kiss for a second only yo mumble, "Do you feel alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit." You press a kiss to his closed mouth as you play with the ends of his short hair.

"I gotta go," You sigh and kiss him again before you pull away from him, he kisses the corner of your mouth before he stands up. "Go have fun today."

"I will."

"Good, I wanna see what you bought later." You lay back down again as Chris starts to pull his jacket on and head for the bedroom door.

"Don't be too late," Your back is already turned towards the door when you call out to him, you don't see the smile he shoots you over his shoulder before he leaves.

[annabawritersdream]

Tulisa and Daron

My ace babies 😊

I've been obsessed with them for the whole day. These two may have a pretend marriage (that's basically what it is at the beginning), but it actually might be the chillest couple in all of Gondor. They truly understand one another, they become besties, they share many interests and their relationship isn't based on sex/lust. They talk to one another about pretty much everything and Tulisa might be the only woman in Gondor not to have to worry about her husband cheating. Their dynamic will be very interesting to write. It's basically two best friends (with no benefits) getting married. Also, the way I characterized is based on what I read on the internet, so if I portray some aspects inaccurately you're very welcome to let me know!

Coming up with their names was kind of hard. I tried to translate the names of the actors/characters they potrayed in their respective shows into Sindarin and Quenya but none of the variants I found fully convinced. So I basically reverted to the most basic things I could think of. I do like their names though. I suppose their ship name is Dulisa? The other variant I came up with is Turon, but I don't like it as much. Oh, well...Tulisa it is then.

I originally wanted to make him either gay or bi, but then I thought that it had already been done before (and Renly is already gay in GOT so I wanted to try something different). I read on Reddit that ace guys are not that common, is it true? I honestly don't know that much about the topic and, as I mentioned earlier, my characterization of them is based of what I read online, so if anyone has tips to make such a relationship accurate and respectful, please let me know! She's aro/ace but he's just ace (I read that a person could not necessarily be both, hence the fact that he's just ace. He does feel romantic attraction and I think he might take up poetry to express his feelings. If he ever meets Erionwë, he definitely will).

Would you like to read a snippet about these two? Maybe their first meeting or something like that? I have plenty of ideas!

Please do let me know!

[elronds-library]

A Song In Stone [WIP]

by EirianErisdar (@eirianerisdar)

Part 2 of The Ever-Fixéd Star

In the Fourth Age, Fëanor, Maedhros, and Elrond journey to the ruins of Formenos, where they forget to account for the dubious structural integrity of seven-thousand-year-old buildings. In which Fëanor, Maedhros, and Elrond find themselves trapped in a collapsed workshop, contending with rain and injury - and Maedhros comes to understand just how much his foster son cares for him. Compliant to events in The Ransom Of The House Of Fëanor, but can be read entirely separately.

General, No Archive Warnings

Words: 18,311

[polutrope]

End of Year Recs

Inspired by @sallysavestheday's 8+8+8+8 Fic Recs, but with my own twist.

Below the cut, you will find 8 Fics by My Mainstays, 8 Fics by Authors New to Me, and 8 Works of Art.

As with any rec list, it's always hard to narrow it down -- but I also think rec lists are an important part of the fandom ecosystem and I've found many great fics I never would have clicked through them. Please look at my Bookmarks for more fics I loved, and please know you're all amazing for creating and sharing in this incredibly talented fandom 😚.

Many M- and E-rated fanworks below the cut because lbr, that's my jam.

8 Fics by My Mainstays

Some of my favourites by authors who have been consistently putting out writing I love well past the last year, many of whom I am fortunate to call friends.

Sing Thy Memories, Take My Hand by @melestasflight (E, 5.8k). Fingon/Maglor.

‘You have returned to Middle-earth for Maglor Fëanorion, you said?’ Elrond asks. ‘Yes, I am to beckon him come back to Valinor at last,’ Fingon answers hopefully. Few others had been willing to return to Middle-earth, and Fingon had already saved a Fëanorian cousin before. That made him more qualified for this task than most.

Melesta my dear, you put out some truly exceptional writing this year but holy damn did this blow me out of the water. You brought all of your powers to bear on this fic and it shows. Beautiful landscapes, complicated emotions, and sensuous smut.

i've been so worried (you've been so still) by @welcomingdisaster (E, 9.5k). Maglor/OFC.

A maiden of Estë does not explain. A maiden of Estë does not hold anger. A maiden of Estë does not tell what she has seen. A maiden of Estë does not follow kinslayers across the sea, nor does she sleep with the high regent of the Noldor.

Lena, you reached into my brain and pulled out the perfect fic for me. Ellind is a compelling OC, the Feanorian dynamics are so crunchy, the worldbuilding is fascinating and -- crucially -- Maglor is so sexy.

Filature by @sallysavestheday (G, 0.8k). Fingon.

After Thangorodrim, Fingon tries to come to terms with the urgency of Beleriand.

I am just screaming about the way sally uses her powers of economically florid (yes, it's a thing) language to delve into themes that are so core to Tolkien's writings through this character study of Fingon.

Strange Currencies by @jouissants (E, 67.2k, WiP). Maedhros/Maglor.

When Maedhros and Maglor fall together, they don't expect it to matter. Ages later, Maedhros is reembodied in Valinor to find himself married to a ghost. He and Maglor must face the repercussions of their history in Beleriand to move forward together, whether they want to or not.

How could I pick just one! I love everything you write, you know this. But it had to be this one. This fic just radiates love -- between the characters, and by the author for the characters. It's richly emotional, atmospheric, sometimes funny, and deeply engaged with canon in unexpected ways. Even if you don't care for the pairing or the tropes, please read it for the flashbacks. And don't say I didn't warn you if you're drawn in for the rest.

join my barren soil by @meadowlarkx (E, 11.1k). Maedhros/Maglor.

A familiar sound: the door Maglor had hung, parting in a rustle of leaves and cloth. Maedhros closed his eyes. “He wasn’t alone,” someone called out with grim satisfaction. “Brought a bedwarmer for the road.”

This gripped my heart with pain and then released it tenderly. Such an intricate and thoughtful fic. If the warnings make you wary but you're up to giving it a try, DO IT. Lark will never let you down with the tough themes.

An Incarnation by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor (M, 63.1k). Elrond & Family.

Haunted by a lifetime of grief even in the bliss of Aman, Elrond finds himself in a strange predicament — as the rest of his family learns how to survive the Fourth Age on two sides of the Sea.

Again, how do I pick but one fic by visitor? Of course, in the end, it had to be this final installment of his sprawling Elrondverse that I have been consuming like a fine dark chocolate these past few years. Another fic that just radiates affection for the characters and their world. Come for the delectable prose, spicy smut, and juicy conflict; stay for the eldritch identity fuckery and eggpreg.

To Evil End by @zealouswerewolfcollector (E, 2.9k). Fingon/Maedhros.

Decades after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Fingon comes back to Maedhros.

Every time this author posts something with a complicated premise (which is almost always), I'm like /grabby hands/ gimme gimme gimme. This story gave me many chills. Hewer is a master of succinct and punchy dialogue. I can't believe it's less than 3k, for the impact it's had on my imagination.

it does not disturb your flesh by @crownlessliestheking (E, 50.7k). Celebrimbor/Earendil/Elwing.

There is a Fëanorian in the Havens of Sirion, and Elwing Dior’s daughter is allowing it.

I had no idea what to expect with this throuple and I was blown away by the characterisations, conflicts, and fascinating worldbuilding.

8 Fics by Authors New To Me

Some of my favourite fics by authors I read for the first time this year, and who made my fandom experience richer.

Succour by @misst1ff (E, 3.5k). Hunleth/Mablung.

Hunleth of the Haladin copes with loss and injury after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and finds healing with Mablung of Doriath.

mouse's writing is crisp, clever, and funny and I'm so glad they're putting those powers to use on some less-explored characters. This fic is proof that straightforward PIV smut can be hot as hell. I love the use of cultural difference. Don't miss the follow-up threesome, either.

the darkness got a hold on me by @luthnethril (E, 7.3k). Daeron/Maglor, Maedhros/Maglor.

Daeron wants to throttle him. He wants to grab him by the collar of his lace robes and slam him against the wall—he wants to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. "You can have a taste," Maedhros tells him, pushing him slightly forward towards Maglor's open legs. "Given that we are all here to promote relations with our respective peoples, I have decided to be generous."

I went into this skeptical of this triangulation but the author totally convinced me. I also really liked this Daeron and the way they did a Daeron-son-of-Elu that fit into Silm canon, for me.

make me come alive by @queerofthedagger (E, 6k) Maedhros/Maglor.

Maglor struggles to give up control. Maedhros makes sure that he learns.

I love this darker take on the uses of osanwe and on Maemag. It's also incredibly hot. I hope qotd sticks around the fandom for a bit, I'm loving the characterisations and voices they are bringing to some of my faves.

Threnody for the Dispossessed by kenaz. (T, 11.3k). Daeron/Maglor.

When the Valar recall Maglor to Valinor to plead for clemency, it falls to a reluctant rival to find him.

I couldn't believe I'd never read this Daemags before. It was so richly described and I love the characterisations of both, but especially Daeron's first-person POV.

spinning circles in your warm blood by @aredhels (M, 0.6k). Daeron/Luthien.

”Oh, brother,” she sighs as she kisses Daeron’s jaw, ”no one knows me like thee.”

It's the incestuous twist on "Daeron is Luthien's brother" that you never knew you needed. The codependence is so good, the prose beautiful.

rules of betrayal by @tobermoriansass (E, 42.5k). Curufin/Curufin's Wife ... and whole bunch of others.

Finrod attempts an experiment in the name of scientific, Noldorin curiosity about sex, the elf and spiritual enlightenment. It does not go as planned.

I can't belieeeeve clovis is a new author to me this year because they've been such a core part of my 2024 fic reading experience. I have never turned around and re-read a fic as quickly as I did rules of betrayal. A true testament to the way sex-in-art can open up avenues of character and psychology that nothing else can.

Spear-fishing for Ghosts by birrdieEdwards (T, 3.4k). Indis.

Then, her hide jerkin had been proof against tooth and claw and her stone spearpoint had been dipped in the blood of dark hunters and fell beasts. Now, her steel armament was shining and new and had never seen battle.

An entirely unexpected fill for a 2-year-old silmkinkmeme prompt of mine asking for Vanya POV on the War of Wrath. Everything about this fic is unique and I am in awe of this complex, intricate Indis characterisation. The rest of the fics in the series are just as good.

The Thorn is Exceedingly Sharp by @littlewhitemouseagain (E, 16.2k). Curufin/Eol.

After bellowing with laughter at the thought of such a contest, Telchar gathered the two elves up and proposed it to them at once: “A challenge of weapon-craft; the better-made weapon wins. Easy as that.” “What weapon?” asked Eol. “Swords?” asked Curufin, one ring-bedecked hand curled under his chin. Eol glanced at him, but Curufin kept his gaze on Telchar. “I can make no lesser of a blade than you.” “Ah,” Curufin mock-realized, rolling his eyes up at the cavern ceiling (an elven habit, as they often appealed to stars in their rhetoric), “I was being rude in suggesting a contest that would favor my skills. Perhaps, instead—” “And how does it favor you?” asked Eol, cold and biting.

I can't believe I've only been reading Littlewhitemouse for less than a year, either. Everything of theirs is so unique, so clever, so profound yet irreverent at once. I had trouble choosing just one of their fics, but ended up on this most recent Silmfic because it's a testament to how they manage to make a story about awful people so good and so compelling. And the sexual tension is hot as hell.

8 Works of Art

Some of the fanart that left an impression on me this year.

Maglor by @myceliumelium. I just love my guy looking wretched and beautiful with a spattering of blood.

Dior and Celegorm by @aamuusva. Dior the Fair, INDEED. I love his beauty and fierceness, I love Celegorm's unrepentant look.

Maglor by @exercise-of-trust. I don't know how to say it but he's just the ideal Maglor to me. And I love this artist's style.

Fingolfin by @ylieke. The DEFIANCE and GRIEF in this elf's eyes just pierces me right in the heart.

Amrod threatens Elrond and Elros by @runawaymun. An illustration for my fic! The artist went all-in on the horror of this moment and it's breathtaking.

Maedhros/Maglor by @tari-cua. I love everything tari-cua creates. The art is so lush and sensuous and their Maedhros and Maglor are so distinctly characterised. The fic @danmeiljie wrote inspired by this is a perfect accompaniment.

Reunion on the Beach by @arlenianchronicles. The beautiful, emotional art of Maglor and Elrond that I spent all summer staring at for TRSB.

Maglor's penance by @magicinavalon. Last but certainly not least, the strong, naked, tied-up Maglor we all deserve. Please also read the fic it illustrates by @queerofthedagger, you will NOT be disappointed.

[filipofmounthonora]

first year vs fourth year

aka im back in sge mode heyyyyy 😭 just doodling some (mostly soon to be featured) characters from my prequel / young callis+arthur series (i know its kind of old BUT. i AM working on the next installment which is probably going end up 3x as long 💀 stay tuned for wip posting. and callis posting 🥰)

ummm random ideas / explanations under the cut:

gareth and gaheris are arthur's cousins (gaheris is 15 (1 year older than arthur), gareth is 12) and both in his class. they generally dislike arthur for various reasons but mostly because they think he's cursed + stole the crown from his brother

callis is gareth's best friend. he is Not hers. he might also be in love with her but that is a tale for another time. you'll see

george (or grog) and alek are callis's roommates (alek is barely 16, george is turning 12). they both got into evil technically by nepotism. you'll see

it will be Ages before i can properly explain why lesso's name is completely different in this series so ill just say it here. its quite silly actually but its been this way for Years and Years so "leonora" is actually a portmanteau name of her first nickname (nora) and a second nickname (leo). the road to nickname 2 will be a long one paved with the power of friendship and not dying in the trial by tale etc etc. you'll see

emma is a surprise tool we will use later or something. she's not relevant after first year or so but im doing my own spin on her not being asked to the snow ball but somehow not being failed. what i'll say now is that callis and gareth are involved. you'll see

uhhh and if you're reading this have a snippet

[therandomficwriter]

Crossing All The Lines

Who: Aaron Hotchner

What: Reader has feelings for Aaron and dances around them with quick glances when you think he’s not looking. Then reader gets hurt and accidentally confesses in the heat of the moment.

Request: Nope

Warnings: Typical canon criminal minds violence, talks of getting shot, blood, Slight age gap but otherwise age isn’t mentioned, etc. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/n: I know its been forever since I've written anything but I’m back into my criminal minds binge and currently have Hotch brain rot so yeah,,, n e ways please feel free to enjoy! A/n 2: Ngl I've been working on this one since June of 2023 and barely finished it now (Feb. 2024) so this was a loooooong wip but besides that i really hope you guys like it!

You guys have been going at it for hours now. The sun had set long ago and many of the officers have gone home, the new shift well settled into their stations.

Despite the amount of time you and the team had spent trying to get to the bottom of the unsub’s reasoning, which would bring you guys one step closer to finding out who it might be, you are no closer to figuring it out now than this morning.

Reid is going off on another one of his tangents and you are trying desperately to pay attention and keep your mind from wandering, the late hour not helping you much.

Everyone is in a different form of concentration but, none the less, in a similar state of exhaustion. Morgan is slouched in his chair, head in his hand, Rossi on his fourth, maybe fifth, cup of coffee, but there’s one person you can’t help but let your eyes wander towards.

Hotch stands at the head of the table, arms crossed on his chest, tiredness prominent in his features. Your eyes follow him as he moves across the room, removing his suit jacket and discarding it onto a chair. Moving back to his original spot, he rolls his sleeves slightly up to rest upon his forearms, then loosens his tie ever so slightly.

He leans over the table and opens his mouth to begin talking but, if you are being honest, not a single word is heard by you. Your eyes stay glued to his arm, his muscles flexing slightly from the way he is gripping the edge of the table.

You try to pay attention, really you do, but it is no use. Your sleep deprived brain is not allowing you to focus on anything but the man in front of you. If you are being honest, you have grown feelings for him but you don’t dare act on them. I mean how can you blame yourself? There is just so much you admire about him, you can possibly go on for hours just listing off the reasons.

As your mind seems to drift off, you don’t seem to notice Hotch has caught on to what you were doing.

Feeling eyes on him, he glances around the room and soon catches your eye. Upon meeting his eyes, yours slightly widen and you quickly look down, willing your face to not heat up at being caught with your shameless stares. You swear at yourself thinking if he brings it up you’d blame it on the late hour and lack of proper sleep.

Unknown to you Hotch’s lips quirk up, amused at your reaction to being caught, chuckling softly to himself. He looks around the room once again, taking note of the tired faces of his team and decides to speak up.

“All right team, let’s call it a night. We’ll pick this back up in the morning when we’re all rested. Maybe then we will be able to think about this more clearly.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the team quickly gathers their belongings and heads out of the station towards their shared vehicles.

The ride back to the hotel was uneventful as everyone split off into groups between the two SUVs. You opted to ride with Hotch and Rossi taking advantage of their silent personas, definitely not because you favored the first of the two.

Taking your place behind the passenger seat, you quickly got as comfortable as possible on your way back to the hotel. Usually you would try to fill in the silence with different topics varying from the case you guys were currently investigating to what book you were reading at the moment, but right now you could barely form coherent sentences with your sleep deprived mind.

You could feel yourself slowly drifting off, the smooth ride and the sound of the car moving along the street help bring you into a deep slumber.

Unbeknownst to you a pair of eyes traveled across your sleeping form, glancing back and forth between you and the road. A small sigh escapes his mouth as he notices your breathing even out.

Hearing someone clear their throat, Hotch casts his eyes toward the passenger seat where Rossi is sitting with a knowing look on his face. His eyes turn back to the road.

"Dave..." he says quietly, tone coming out as a warning.

Rossi raises his hands in defense, keeping his voice down as well "I didn't say anything."

"I know that look. You have something you want to say," Hotch mutters, face annoyed.

"Aaron in know that look on your face. How long are you planning on keeping her in the dark? You deserve to be happy and I can tell she is the reason your mood has improved a lot lately," Rossi keeps his voice low as to not wake you up.

Hotch moves his eyes towards you one more time, taking in your features, he notices the slightest content smile on your face not having a worry in the world while sleeping. He lets out a deep sigh eyes leaving your figure and focusing completely on the road.

"Because I am her boss and she is my subordinate. I can not cross that line even if i wanted to. I can only imagine what the higher ups would say if they found out."

"Besides she deserves someone better, someone closer to her age, someone her could provide her with everything she could want or need. Why would she want someone like me," he finished off.

Rossi shook his head, "You, my friend, are completely clueless. How could she not want to be with you? Have you seen the way she looks at you? And don't give me that B.S. about your status as her boss, as if that matters. Trust me Aaron, that girl would follow you through hell and back if you asked her and i know you would do just the same."

Hotch let Rossi's words sink in. He kept his head forward, choosing not to reply in order to completely shut down this conversation, not wanting to get his hopes up too high.

Luckily the hotel quickly came into view and Hotch felt himself relax slightly. As soon as the suvs were parked everyone got off and split up and made their separate ways into their hotel rooms. Getting off, Hotch made his way to the back passanger side to wake you and send you off to sleep in your room.

He got to his own room, going through his normal night time routine before slipping into bed. Despite the late hour and lack of proper sleep the night before, his mind seemed to run non stop. It wasn't the unresolved case or fact that the unsubs motive was hard to pinpoint.

No, his mind seemed to be full of you. The conversation with Rossi seemed to have kickstarted his thoughts into a spiral. Eventually he drifted off to sleep his final thought of you and what he believes could never be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually you and the team had finally managed to find the link between the victims and his motive became clear. Richard Cornwall, a local who lives in the outskirts of town on his family ranch had been taking the victims and making them weaken enough to use in his own version of "hunting."

The evidence pointed to you all that he was a narcissist that believed he was too good at hunting the local game that it no longer was fun to him. So he thought that using real people would provide more of a challenge, that way he could really prove he was the best and what he did.

Currently on route to the Cornwall family ranch, y'all prepared yourselves. It was common knowledge that he was a hunter so you knew he had to have a surplus of weapons as well as being on the look out for and traps he might have left around the property.

Parking the suvs in front of the main house, you split up to survey the property looking for Cornwall and the latest person he had kidnapped.

While the rest of the team searched the two story house, you, Hotch, and Reid had taken the left side of the property going straight towards the barn, stalls, and the field. You noticed a deer blind a little ways away in the field making a mental note to take a sweep of it after checking out the barn.

After clearing the stalls, you guys made your way though the barn with no signs of Cornwall or the victim. Reid noticed a corner of the barn that seemed to be where he left the vicitms to bleed out. The deep red was splattered on the walls and completely covered the floor. Hotch took note of it saying he would get forensics to take samples of it.

As you guys began to exit the barn after clearing it you turned your head towards Hotch and Reid to tell them about the structure you saw in the middle of the field. As soon as you opened your mouth, the sound of a gun shot rang though the air.

You were down within a second, the shot hitting you right in your left shoulder causing you to let out a scream, your other hand reaching out to hold onto the wound. You began to feel lightheaded, the blood coming from your shoulder seemed to be never ending.

Hotch and Reid quickly crouched down taking cover in the barn as another shot rang out. They each grabbed one of your arms pulling you inside to safety with them. The yell you let out was worse than anything Hotch had heard, he could only imagine the pain you were feeling right now.

He radioed the rest of the team and the rest of the officers to let them know to be on the lookout notifying them you were currently down. They only know the general direction the shot came from, not too sure where Cornwall was.

"The blind" you let out weakly.

Reid spotted the deer blind a little ways out in the field and let everyone else know the location so they could proceed with caution.

You on the other hand, felt like you would pass out any second now. You felt like you were on fire, your shoulder growing heavier by the second. Soon your vision started getting spotty, white dots littered your sight as you tried to blink them away, tears streamed down your face from the pain.

Hotch turned to look at you to make sure you were alright but quickly noticed the flushed look on your face, your lips were pale, a sign you were soon to faint.

"Hey, L/N, look at me. You need to stay awake for me." he urged, shaking your head a bit to stimulate you.

The sound of his voice was coming in and out, growing louder then getting harder to hear, your ears no longer wanting to work. You blinked a bit trying to focus on him and what he was currently saying to you.

"Y/N, you're losing a lot of blood, they might have to do a blood transfusion at the hospital," he ushers out, desperation evident in his voice, "What is your type?"

In your current state, you tried hard to process what he was asking you. You vision was quickly growing worse and it was getting harder to hear him. You let out the first thing that came to your mind.

"You."

The last thing you heard was JJ's voice over the coms informing they had got unsub in custody and finally found the last victim who was luckily alive. Black soon consumed your vision and you were out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeling of the ground rumbling beneath you was the first hint to you that you were slowly gaining consciousness.

Soon the low sounds of a siren could be heard, slightly muffled to you. You tried desperately to open your eyes but you couldn’t find the strength. But you could feel a weight in your hand and you tried to flex your hand, your fingers twitching slightly.

At that you could have sworn you heard what sounded like your name. You tried to focus your hearing a bit more.

“Y/N,” you heard a man say.

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before somewhere. The sound of it seemed to make you calmer. At the sound of his voice again you tried once more to open your eyes.

A blinding light above you is the first thing you see, yet everything still seemed to be foggy. You glance at you surroundings, your eyes barely open a crack. That is when you see him.

He looked absolutely ethereal, you could’ve sworn he was an angel here on earth. The bright glow from the lights casted a halo around him. But there’s no way he could be here right now. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything? We are heading to the hospital right now, we should be there any moment.”

You stared at him for what seemed like forever just taking him in. His sentence went in one ear and out the other, as if he never said anything to begin with, as if he wasn’t even then, a mere figment of your imagination. You couldn’t wrap your head around what was going on or where you were. The only thing you could say was what you were currently thinking.

“I dream of you so often, I don’t know if you’re even real.”

And with that you felt yourself slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. The sound of that man’s voice imbedded deep in your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A low beeping lulled you out of your unconscious state. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if they were made of concrete, not allowing you to open them just yet. You stayed there unmoving, trying to get accustomed to your surroundings, willing yourself to try and feel anything around you.

You could feel the soft pillow underneath your head and the, somewhat, stiff bed underneath you. In your head, you knew your were laying in a bed somewhere, but for the life of you, you could not recall a single thing that happened to you or where you could possibly be at this moment.

Racking your brain, you tried desperately to remember what was going on. The last thing you remembered was that you and the team had a case you were working on. Where was it? Oh, right, you guys were currently in Texas. The unsub was a fisherman? No, wait, a hunter.

As you started to recall more and more of the case it all started to come back to you. You, Hotch, and Reid were searching the barn. That's right, you were right on his trail and then... he shot you.

'Wait Hotch, Reid, are they alright?'

Your eyes suddenly shot open at the thought of your friends hurt. Wincing at the sudden bright light around you, you blinking trying to get used to the sight around you.

At the same time, all your senses rushed back to you all at once. you could hear that constant beeping again but this time a little louder. Looking towards your right, you noticed the heart monitor displaying your heart rate. You stared at it for a little bit and watched the line move at a rhythmic pace before you realized that your left hand felt a bit heavier that usual.

Your fingers twitched, slowly flexing, trying to grasp at what was resting in your hand. You turn your head slightly, glancing down at your hand, only to notice another hand placed over yours.

Eyes widening at the slight, you move them from the hand, up the arm and towards the person it belonged to. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

In the chair next to you, Hotch was leaned back into the chair. His left arm was slung over his abdomen and his right arm was stretched out resting on the side of your hospital bed, hand intwined with yours.

He look so peaceful in his sleep, which was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression, despite the slight furrow in his brows. How he managed to look so comfortable in that hard plastic chair was beyond you, but you were sure that the exhaustion of the events the night before finally caught up to him.

You watched him for a while, your heart strings pulling at the thought of him so worried about you that he actually slept in that uncomfortable chair all night when he had a nice warm bed back at the hotel you guys were staying at.

The sounds of someone clearing their throat pulled you from your thoughts, as you glance towards the doorway where the sound came from. Rossi stood there leaning against the door frame, a knowing smile gracing his features.

Feeling the heat rise to your face, your eyes dart away from Rossi and down at the blankets the covered you. David knew of the feelings you harbored towards the man to your left, having caught you staring at him a little longer that usual a couple of times. He soon got the truth out of you after a night of drinking, to which you spilled your heart out to the older man in hopes of getting advice from someone that knew Hotch inside and out.

"How you feeling kiddo?"

Hearing his question spoken softly, you glance back up at him and clear your throat feeling it dry from not speaking for hours on end.

"Alright. Just a little sore I guess," you rasp out quietly.

He raises his eyebrow, "A little? Kid you got shot with a rifle, I don't blame you if you said you it hurts like hell, which I'm pretty sure it does."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," you chuckle softly at his words before glancing back down.

You can't help but let your eyes travel back to where your hand was intwined with Hotch's, letting out a little sigh. Rossi's eyes follow yours, then travel up to where his friend slept soundly.

"You know," he starts with a small smile, "he was really worried about you kid. He's been with you since the ambulance pulled up. He refused to leave your side and even rode with you the whole way over here. We even had a hard time trying to get him to go shower or even change. He insisted that he had to be here when you woke up."

You shift your focus up to Hotch's face, taking in the words Rossi was saying, heart melting at the thought. Your mind raced at the implications of what this all meant but you quickly shut them down, not wanting to get your hopes up.

"I'm sure he would've been the same if it were any one of us," you replied, shoulders slumping a bit at the thought.

David rolled his eyes at your words, "You know what I mean Y/N. Sure he would've been worried if it happened to any of us, but I doubt he would be sleeping if those god awful chairs all night if it wasn't for you."

At that you could feel the hand in yours start to twitch, Hotch moving slightly as he began to wake up. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes started to flutter open. The first thing Aaron saw as he fully woke up was Rossi standing in the doorway staring right at him.

"Dave? What are you doing here?"

Rossi chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pushes himself away from the door frame to stand up straight.

"Oh nothing, figured I should probably go get a bite to eat and maybe a cup of coffee. It seems like you guys have a lot to talk about," he finishes, nudging his head in your direction.

The look of confusion quickly washes away from Hotch's face as his head snaps in your direction. He takes in the sight of you wide awake, a slight flush on your cheeks that he assumes is because of your injury. He could feel your hand flutter underneath his as he glances down at it. The sight of your hand wrapped with his causes his heart to skip a beat, the moment it resumes he swears he can hear it pounding in his ears.

Rossi clears his throat once more gaining the attention of the two, "Well I better be off, let me know if either of you want something. I hope you feel better kiddo."

You let out a small 'thank you' and he smiles at you then sends Aaron a knowing glance when you aren't looking before turning and making his way out. You both sat there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch finally asks, breaking the silence between you.

"Honestly, I've been better," you let out a little chuckle, trying to ease the tension, before turning solum again remembering your current state.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I should've know better, if only I-"

Hotch cuts you off with a reassuring squeeze to your hand.

"Don't," he says firmly, "Don't you ever blame yourself for something that is out of your control. You did all you could and your observations helped us catch the unsub and the last victim was found alive."

"I know, but I just feel bad cause you had to sleep on that," you say, gesturing towards the chair he was sitting on.

He lips quirk up ever so slightly, "Don't worry about it, I should be used to it now because of all the late nights I spend at the office. Besides, I wanted to. I wouldn't do this for just anyone," he says, starting to gain the courage to tell you what is on his mind.

"Hotch-" you start, only to be cut off by him.

"Wait, just let me say this," he holds his hand up. you nod encouraging him to continue.

"Y/N, you are the bravest person I know, not to mention the most caring and thoughtful. You always tend to put others first, but are still able to stand up for yourself and voice your needs. I admire so much about you that I could possibly go on forever. What made me fall for you is beyond me, but I know what I'm feeling is real. I kept telling myself that I shouldn't love you, that I shouldn't cross that boundry, but its not as simple as it sounds. No matter how hard I tried, you made me fall harder and faster without doing much," he sighed, "Even if you don't feel the same, i just needed to tell you."

At the end of his speech your eyes were shining with unshed tears. Never have you heard anything as sweet and poetic as that. You could feel every one of his words in your soul as if he was speaking right to it. He had put his heart on his sleeve for you and you thought it was only fair you did the same.

"Aaron, when I first met you I thought you were just a cold, stoic, blunt man,"

Hotch could've sworn he felt his heart ache at the words leaving your mouth, but that soon changed as you continued.

"But, then I met you and learn a lot about you. You actually had a similar sense of humor as me and know how to dish out a joke as well as take one. Your wit is one of the things that surprised me the most about you. Not to mention that you protect the ones you care about with your life. You come off as nonchalant when in fact you care so much about each and every one of us on this team. And despite what you think, you're the best dad Jack could ever ask for. You really are his hero and I don't blame him. You say you admire me but, oh boy, you have no idea how much about you I cherish and appreciate."

"At first I thought it was nothing more than just a silly little crush, but it turned into so much more than that. I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard I tried, it happened without me even realizing it. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning and the last thought I have before I drift off to sleep at night, its like you're all that's in my mind. My heart has yearned for you longer than I knew it myself and now that I know that its not just me, I'm willing to cross that line as long as you're there with me," you finished giving his hand a loving squeeze.

Aaron stared at you with loving eyes and you could've sworn your heart stopped at the sight. You looked at him shyly with the newfound revelation of your feelings towards each other being mutual. You could feel yourself slowly leaning towards him and him doing just the same.

As the distance between you grew shorter and shorter, you both were stealing glances at each others' lips. Just as you were about to close the distance, a sharp pain shot right through your shoulder causing you to wince and pull back.

Hotch looked at you with worry helping you lean back into the hospital bed. His eyes scanned your face for any traces of discomfort as you got situated back into place. Your eyes met as if he was ask you a silent question, you nodded letting him know you were fine as he sighed in relief.

Chuckling a bit a the situation, he shook his head slightly before leaning down and placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

"Let's wait till you get out of here for that," he smirks, "Besides I need to treat you out to a nice dinner before we could have some dessert" he finished with a swift kiss to the knuckles of your hand that was still interlocked with his.

You couldn't help the heat that quickly rose to your face at his comment. Never, did you think Hotch could be that smooth. Rolling your eyes, you gently slap his arm causing him to laugh softly.

"You're so corny."

"Well you better get used to it cause you're stuck with me now," he replies with a smile.

You shake your head with a giggle, "Can I take that back?"

"Nope," he says, smile growing wider as a mischievous look glints in his eyes, "Besides you said I'm just your type."

The memory of what he was talking about quickly floods into your mind.

Your face flushes a deep shade of embarrassment and you quickly cover your face with your hands, "Oh my god!"

A/n: I really hope you guys liked it! It took me quite a bit to write but i really love the way it came out! I honestly think this is probably my favorite one I've written so far! Just to let y'all know i do have quite a bit planned out so be on the lookout for that and hopefully I'll be able to put out little thing here and there! Once again if y'all want to be added to the tag list the link is here ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ and just fill it out for whatever you want to be tagged for and if you don't know what I write for just checkout my masterlist or leave and ask and I will reply as soon as i can get to it!

Taglist: @uraveragegorewhore @drayshadow @wlfstxr @nikkitc0703 *The ones in red are the ones I couldn't tag so if you want to be added again or removed just fill out the form or comment on here!*