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pedroscurls · 12 hours ago

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runaway bride (one-shot)

summary: on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal. pairing: old man!logan x fem!reader content warnings: smut (18+, mdni), oral - f receiving, dirty talk, manhandling, light choking, unprotected p in v sex (be safe folks!), doggy style, cowgirl, public sex in his limo, creampie but logan just keeps going, mentions of cheating (but not from logan), toxic relationship / friendship, implied age gap (but no mention of how old reader is), no use of y/n. word count: 3.6k a/n: ok, this is complete filth. i'm not even sure how this story came about or how it even came to mind, but here it is... i wanted to write old man logan so badly so what better way to do that is to write a smutty one-shot???

“Are you fucking serious?!” you exclaim, having opened the door to see your fiancé and your maid of honor in a heated kiss, hands exploring each other’s bodies. They both pull away from each other abruptly, eyes widening as the sudden realization of getting caught now settling in.

“Baby, it’s not–”

“Fucking save it.” You remove your engagement ring and toss it in his general direction, tears trickling the corners of your eyes.

Your best friend tries to step forward, but you raise your hand in the air and glare at her. “Don’t fucking get near me or I will lay you on your ass.”

“I’m sorry–” your fiancé begins to say.

“We’re done.” you interrupt, anger fuming in your veins. “You can go out there and tell everyone that the wedding’s canceled because fuck you,” you tell him and then point to your maid of honor, your best friend of over fifteen years. “And fuck you.”

You don’t even bother to hear their protests, already having turned on your heel and left the building without telling anyone. You see two limos parked out front, knowing that one belonged to your bridal party and the other belonging to your fiancé and his groomsmen. You don’t have time to think which one was the limo you rode in, already wanting to leave far, far away from here.

Pulling open the door, you slide inside and then finally allow yourself to let the tears fall. You bury your face in your hands, your breaths coming in pants.

“Just– Just take me anywhere else but here,” you tell the driver, looking up and expecting to see the same driver from this morning. When you realize it’s someone else entirely, you bite your lower lip and shake your head. Of fucking course you chose the limo that your fiancé had been in.

“A bit early to be leaving your own wedding, isn’t it?” he says, looking at you from the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, well, the wedding is off. Can you just take me away from here?”

Logan clears his throat. It doesn’t take a genius to know what might have happened, but he also knows that you’re not the one who he’s meant to drive and he’s certainly aware that you aren’t the one who’s going to be paying him either.

“Listen, darlin’, I’m supposed to be driving the groom and–”

“Well, he can go fuck himself. Can you please just drive?”

“Last I checked, he’s paying me and you ain’t.”

“Oh, he’s gonna still pay you. Now, drive.” you tell him, holding his gaze. “Please.”

Logan stares at you. He isn’t sure what exactly happened, but based on the conversations he heard the groom and groomsmen having earlier that morning, he has some idea that it had to do with the groom cheating on you. He just lets out a grunt and then starts the engine, pulling away from the curb and driving away from the venue.

He doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go or where you want to go, so he just drives. Logan continuously looks at you from the rearview mirror, now fully taking in your features. Logan wasn’t a man who ever cheated on a woman he was with; he’s always been so loyal, especially to the ones he cares about the most. He never understood why men (and women) cheat, why they just couldn’t end the relationship if they were no longer happy.

He hears you sniffling from the backseat and Logan slowly comes to a stop at a red light. He turns his head to look at you from over his shoulder. “Bub, you gotta tell me where you wanna go or else I’m just gonna keep charging him.”

“Good. Let’s take a trip to fucking Mexico and make him pay for it,” you say through gritted teeth.

Logan lets out an amused chuckle and then presses lightly on the gas once the light turns green. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel as he uses his free hand to enter Mexico on his phone and–

“Wait, I wasn’t serious.”

“No? Then, where do you wanna go, darlin’?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Anywhere but here.” you mumble to yourself.

Logan nods to himself and then sets his focus on the road ahead of him. He doesn’t know where to go, but he does find that he doesn’t want this ride to end. Even in the silence, he finds your presence soothing, comforting. He knows you’re having a shitty day – after all, you probably had woken up this morning expecting to be married by the end of today.

He does keep stealing glances at you, finding you completely captivating. Even when your eyes meet his from the rearview mirror, Logan feels like he had been caught staring and a blush slowly blooms across the side of his neck. He’s too old to be feeling like this, like some kind of a teenager with a crush on the most beautiful girl who’s out of his league.

“How about some food?” Logan asks after driving for about twenty minutes. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Wanna go to a bar? Drink your problems away?”

“No.”

Logan tightens his jaw and then pulls into a gas station, putting the car in park as he turns around to look at you. You bite your lower lip, getting a good view of just how handsome your driver is. He’s definitely older than you, gray in his beard and hair, crow’s feet at his eyes, but you can’t help the attraction you feel towards him. Suddenly, you’re well aware that you’re staring too long at him because when you finally meet his eyes, he’s smirking.

“Why’d we stop?” you ask.

“Gotta fill up, especially if I don’t know how long I’ll be driving you around,” Logan replies. “You want anything from inside?”

Just as the question leaves his lips, you climb out from the backseat and walk inside. Logan sighs and steps out of the limo as he follows you into the small store. He towers over you and he can’t help but get a good look at the dress you’re wearing. You look so angelic, so beautiful and serene – how could anyone think that there’s better than you?

“Get whatever you want,” Logan calls out and you suddenly turn around to look up at him. He watches your lower lip pull itself between your teeth, sees your eyes take in his frame from top to bottom, and suddenly, he feels very shy under your gaze. Logan clears his throat, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, tilting your head up at him. “Just didn’t think… Well, not all limo drivers look like you.”

“Not all limo drivers are like me either,” he mutters to himself. “Right. I’ll be up at the front. Just meet me there once you’re ready.” Then, Logan turns on his heel and slowly limps his way to the front, only glancing over his shoulder to briefly look at you. Your back’s already turned as you reach for a few items in the freezer section.

After a few minutes, you meet Logan at the front of the store and drop two bottles of water and a cherry-flavored popsicle. Logan eyes you suspiciously, but you keep your eyes trained on your feet. He has to wonder if your mind is drifting to your fiancé. Once Logan pays the cashier, he motions for you to walk ahead of him with a slight nod and then he follows you outside. Logan quickly limps to the door and opens it for you, staring down at you.

“Here,” you tell him, handing him one of the bottle of waters.

Logan arches a brow. “Thanks,” he mumbles, the close proximity almost making him weak in the knees. His eyes deviate to your cleavage, clearing his throat when his mind begins to drift. All Logan can think about is seeing you come undone underneath him, trembling and moaning because of him. He has to take a step back, has to create some distance between your bodies.

You then remove the wrapping of the popsicle and then wrap your lips around it, the deep red popsicle now coloring your lips. You keep your eyes locked on his and smile mischievously before you climb back inside. Logan shuts the door once you’re inside, the image of your lips around the popsicle giving him a clear image of your lips wrapping around his–

He hears the window roll itself down and Logan quickly walks around to the other side to fill up the tank, not bothering to look into the backseat as he feels the center of his black pants begin to tighten with each passing second.

Logan hasn’t been intimate in a very long time, his main concern being Charles and his own health, but you… Well, you’re stirring something in Logan that he thought lay dormant. He craves you and he knows that you’re also very vulnerable, having just ran away from your own wedding after finding out your fiancé was cheating on you. Logan doesn’t want to take advantage of you, despite sensing that you might want him too.

Once the tank is filled up, Logan then walks back to the driver’s seat and climbs in, starting the car. He looks at you from the rearview mirror, still sucking on the fucking popsicle with a dark gaze in your eyes.

“Where to?” he says, not realizing how quiet his voice comes out.

“Anywhere.”

“Making it real difficult for me, bub.”

You pull the popsicle away from your mouth a quiet pop! and then lets a small smile line your lips, deeply red from your cherry-flavored popsicle. Logan’s hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white and his claws threatening to come out as a result.

“Fine. How about your place?”

Logan lets out a quiet cough, not thinking that you’d be so forward and straight to the point. He shakes his head and then looks over at you from over his shoulder. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, darlin’. You’re only going to regret it and–”

“Listen, I just found out my fiancé and maid of honor were screwing around behind my back. The only regret I have right now is saying yes to marry that man and being friends with that woman. I don’t think I’m going to regret fucking you, though.”

Logan isn’t used to women saying what they want as bluntly as you do and it excites him. He doesn’t answer, just begins driving away from the gas station. He’s so hard beneath his pants, glancing over at you and seeing your eyes locked completely on his. He pulls up into an abandoned parking lot and parks the car, thankful that the windows on his limo are tinted. Logan climbs out from the driver’s seat and then opens the door to the backseat, gently reaching out to take the popsicle from your hands and tossing it over his shoulder.

“Let’s have you suck something else, huh, darlin’?”

You grin and then gently tug on the lapel of his jacket, pulling him inside with you as you shut the door behind him. You’re glad that the backseat of his limo is actually rather spacious because now that he’s hovering above you, he seems so much bigger than you, so much more broad. Your hands immediately move across his chest, feeling the chiseled muscles underneath your fingertips.

“I don’t normally do this,” Logan groans, feeling your lips move along the side of his neck, teeth grazing his skin.

“And what’s that? Fuck your passengers?”

He growls lowly, moving his strong hands to your hips and pressing himself firmly against your lower half as he settles himself between your legs. “You always got a mouth on you?”

You smirk and pull the ends of your dress higher up your legs until you bunch it at your hips, your white lace panties in full view for him. “Only when I want something.”

“Yeah, and what do you want?” Logan asks, hands moving to play with the waistband of your panties.

“A distraction,” you grip the lapels of his jacket and bring him down to press your lips against his. He growls against your lips and tugs down your panties, hand moving quickly to your folds and running the length of his finger across your wet heat.

Logan slides two fingers into you, not giving you time to get used to his thick digits. You let out a quiet gasp, pulling away from his lips to toss your head back at the intrusion. Logan moves you to sit back against the seat as he lies on his abdomen, lowering himself until his head settles between your legs.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him between your legs, your fiancé having never done this for you. When you feel his mouth latch onto your clit, his tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves repeatedly as his fingers thrust in and out you, you have to let out a loud moan. Your hands move to his hair, gripping it tightly as your arousal drips onto the leather seat.

Logan pulls his fingers out of you and laps at your juices. He stares up at you, watching as you toss your head back in ecstasy, your mouth agape as continuous moans escape your lips, and he can feel your walls begin to tremble, begin to tighten around his tongue. Logan knows his joints and muscles are going to ache after this, but he knows it’s going to be worth it. Knows that he’s going to want to do this again with you.

With his free hand, Logan undoes the buckle on his belt, followed by undoing the zipper and button on his pants. He pushes his slacks and boxers down his legs to relieve the pressure against his manhood. He pulls back to look up at you, his chin and beard dripping wet from your slickness.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growls.

“About fucking time.”

Logan narrows his eyes and moves up your body, hand coming up to rest on your throat. He leans down and gently nips at your jawline until his forehead rests against yours, eyes staring deeply into your own.

“You like this, don’t you, bub?” Logan whispers huskily, the grip around your throat tightening to add a bit of pressure. You gasp, eyes staring up at him as you feel the tip of his length brush against you repeatedly. The grip around your throat only makes you wetter and you lift your hips impatiently, chasing his hardened length to slide down onto him.

“So impatient,” he grins. Logan releases his grip around your throat and then grabs your hips, turning you over onto your stomach. He grabs you roughly, pulling you back into him as he grips the fabric of your dress. He pulls you to prop yourself on your hands on knees as he kneels behind you, gripping the base of his manhood as he rubs his tip along the length of your sex.

“Please!” you say impatiently, trying to push back against him.

Logan smirks and then pushes himself into your tight heat, not wasting any time in filling you to the hilt. He groans at your wetness, at the warmthness of your walls, the tight hold it has around his girth. He pulls back to his tip, only to slam back into you. Logan was telling the truth that he’s never done this before. Driving had only been a way for him to get extra cash, to keep his mind busy, and he certainly didn’t have time for this, but now he can’t even imagine parting ways with you after this.

His thrusts continue, your walls sliding along his manhood and milking him with every movement. Logan moves to rest his chest firmly against your back, his lips hovering near your ear as you moan continuously with each thrust he delivers.

“This what you wanted, huh, bub?” Logan growls, gently nipping at you earlobe. “Wanted me to fuck you like this?” He thrusts roughly into you, his skin slapping against yours.

“Y–Yes!” you exclaim, slowly pushing your own hips back into his. Logan groans, leaning away from you and briefly pausing his movements to watch you move along him. He grunts to himself, lightly slapping your backside as he watches you push back against him.

Logan watches himself disappear within your depths, only to reappear when you pull back, his entire length glistening with your arousal. He groans to himself and gently pulls out of you. You’re about to protest when he sits against the backseat and grabs you by the hips, placing you to sit on his lap. He grips your dress and rips it in half, causing a loud gasp of surprise to leave your lips.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Fuck the dress,” you reassure him. “I didn’t pay for it anyway.”

Logan smirks and then feels you lower yourself down onto him, groaning at your tight walls wrapping itself once more around him. He reaches around and undoes your white lace bra, watching it fall from your body as you now sit firmly on his lap, completely naked and exposed for him.

“Fuck me,” he grunts, watching your breasts bounce with your movements. He feels your hands begin to undo the buttons on his white button down shirt, removing it from his body. Today, he opted to forgo his usual white tank top, so when you lean in to press your chest against his, he can’t help but groan at the sensation of your erect nipples pressing firmly against him.

Logan feels your walls begin to tremble with each movement and he leans in to press his lips against yours, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. With one hand, he moves to grip your throat lightly, sliding his tongue past your lips when you let out a loud moan. He stares up at you, thrusting his hips upwards when your body begins to shake and the grip around your throat only tightens a smidge to cause pressure.

Your eyes shut tightly and you reach down to grip his shoulders, slamming yourself firmly onto his lap as he feels you to the hilt. Logan doesn’t falter his movements though, chasing his own release. It comes out of nowhere there, hand dropping from the grip around your throat to grab his base, thrusting upwards once, twice, before he pulls out to see his release trickle out of you.

You’re breathing heavily and you’re looking at him with a small smile and hooded eyes. When he looks down between your legs, his come continuing to trickle down your leg, it only ignites a fire inside of him and he suddenly feels hard again.

“One more, bub,” Logan growls. “One more.” He thrusts his tip inside of you, grunting lowly before he slides back into you, hands gripping the meat of flesh on your thighs as he feels the stickiness of your arousal mixed in with his come against the base of his lower half.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging them down his arms as your walls are already overly sensitive. Logan doesn’t falter, but his thrusts do become more erratic. “Oh god,” you whimper, trying to pull yourself away from him, but Logan holds you firm on his lap, making you take his assault on you.

You wanted a distraction and you were certainly getting it.

Logan leans up and gently nips at your jawline as he plants his feet on the floor of his limo, driving his hips further upwards. He does this a few more times before he holds you against him, releasing into you a second time as he paints your walls with his thick spend. He’s breathing heavily, forehead resting against your chest as his hands on your thighs move to rest on your hips.

“I uh, fuck,” he mumbles. “I should have asked first and–”

“Stop,” you interrupt. “I like that I can still feel you inside of me,” you smile, feeling him slowly pull out. Even though you miss his girth, his release remains and fills you up. You reach down to wipe the trickle of his come off your inner leg and capture it on the pads of your fingertips. You stare into his eyes and then bring your fingers to your lips, wrapping your lips around it and sucking his release off of it. “Mmm, yum.”

Logan growls, feeling his length stir awake once more. “That want you wanted?” he asks again. “A distraction?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But I think I’m gonna want more distractions from you.”

Logan smirks. “That so, bub?”

“Oh yeah, I need someone to help me through this breakup,” you say honestly. “As long as that’s okay with you…”

Logan nods and then looks down at your exposed front, hand coming up to slowly knead your breast into the pit of his palm. “Yeah, baby. That’s more than okay with me.”

You grin excitedly, letting out a quiet whimper. “So… Your place then?”

“My place,” he confirms. “But how about you ride up front with me?”

“Yes, please. I do want a taste of you,” you bite your lower lip, hand moving to gently run your fingertip along the length of his manhood. “And I want to do it while you’re driving.”

Logan groans. “Oh, you’re fucking naughty, aren’t you?”

You nod shyly, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’ve been suppressed,” you admit. “My sex life has been… boring, to say the least.”

“Blessing in disguise,” Logan points out. “Thank god you’re not getting married to a man who doesn’t take care of your needs.” He leans in and then pecks your lips. “Don’t worry, though, bub. I’m happy to take care of you until then.”

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman character #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fanfic #old man logan #wolverine #old man logan fanfiction #old man logan howlett #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #story: runaway bride

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firewasabeast · 15 hours ago

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Prompt: tommy breakdown after buck goes through something traumatic, not right after. When buck is all good, tommy starts to shut down, and after a while buck notices and comforts him. Okay thats a long one sorry lol

This is probably not exactly what you wanted, but hopefully it's close enough! This fic features lots of snuggles.

Tommy stayed calm when he heard a firefighter had been seriously injured and air support was needed. He didn't panic when Chimney was the one to start relaying information to him and the flight medics. Even when he heard the words “Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118” and “impaled” he focused on getting the bird from point A to point B.

When he landed the chopper, Tommy stared straight ahead and let the medics do whatever needed to be done to get Evan ready for transport.

He thought he heard Chimney ask if he should really be the one flying right now. He wanted to say, “Who else is gonna do it? I'm the only pilot here.”

Instead, he simply replied with a yes, then took off with the knowledge that his Evan was being worked on behind him.

He didn't ask how the patient was doing. He didn't listen to whatever the medics said. He did his job and got them to the hospital.

He didn't see Evan's injury until the surgeon met them at the helipad. A large metal rod sticking out of his abdomen. His turnouts had been pulled off of him, undershirt cut open. Blood, both dry and fresh, covering his body.

He had a pulse. Tommy did hear that.

But he looked lifeless.

He looked-

Tommy stopped himself from going there. He heard his coworkers say something about sending another pilot to pick up the chopper. That Tommy should go to the waiting room. He was the emergency contact anyway.

Tommy went. Sat and waited and waited, staring at the white and mint green wall in front of him. At some point, the rest of the 118 filtered in. Then Maddie, Karen, and Athena.

Eddie was on one side of him, Maddie on the other.

He looked down once to find coffee in his hand, but wasn't sure how it got there or who gave it to him.

Eventually, Evan came out of surgery. A success, the doctor said. It'd be a long recovery, but he'd make it.

The first time Evan opened his eyes, Tommy was beside him holding his hand. When Evan's face lit up into a smile, Tommy felt like his whole world just got put back together.

He stayed by Evan's side throughout recovery. Had to be forced into going home for a few hours every couple days for some real food and rest.

Tommy wasn't one for using his sick time, or his vacation time, so he used up what he could once Evan was home so he could continue to care for him until he was fully healed.

It took time, but eventually Evan got to the point where he could return to work on light duty. He couldn't go out on calls, but he could help around the station. After a couple months of barely leaving the house, he was more than ready to deal with paperwork, and cleaning, and cooking.

Three weeks after that, he was fully cleared. In one week, he'd be going out on calls again. Everything would be back to normal. When Evan called him with the news after his doctor's appointment, Tommy had congratulated him. Had picked up a cake after work and they'd celebrated together.

And then Tommy stayed awake all night long.

Evan curled up beside him, softly snoring with his breath hot on Tommy's side. Tommy's hand rubbed up and down his back all night. Right over his newest scar. He had a matching one on his abdomen. Right where the rod stabbed through his body and almost took his life.

No, Tommy didn't sleep that night.

He felt nauseous the next day. Evan noticed, of course, because Tommy was obsessed with his risotto and could barely get half of it down.

“You okay?” Buck asked as they cleared the table.

“Yeah, I think I might be getting a cold or something,” Tommy reasoned. “Sorry.”

Buck smiled at him even as he raised a hand to Tommy's forehead. “You don't have to be sorry for not feeling well. I don't feel a fever.” He moved his hands to Tommy's cheeks, then his neck, then ran his hands down his arms. Tommy knew the drill. The mere mention of not feeling one hundred percent would send Evan into a spiral, even if he did try to keep his face as nonchalant as possible.

“You feeling any congestion? Sore throat? Chills? Fatigue?”

Tommy took a step forward, rested his hands on Buck's cheeks and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I'm okay, Baby. Probably just tired.”

When they went to bed a few hours later, Tommy slept. For a couple hours, at least. He wished he hadn't though, because the nightmare he had felt more graphic than seeing Evan get taken away by the surgeon.

He woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Thankfully, Evan was out like a light. Tommy got up and headed into the bathroom, turning on the sink to splash some cold water on his face.

He grabbed a washcloth and wet it, wiping the sweat off of him. Then, he pulled off his sweatpants and put on a new pair before getting back into bed.

Once he was back under the covers, he reached over and scooted his hand underneath Evan's body, nudging him until he turned and laid nearly half of his body directly on top of Tommy.

Tommy tugged the covers up until they were over Evan's shoulders, then he wrapped his arms around him and held him tight.

Evan smacked a couple times, burrowing his head further into Tommy's neck. Tommy closed his eyes, breathed him in. Felt Evan's heartbeat against his chest. Listened as his breathing evened back out.

He closed his eyes, but he didn't fall back to sleep.

The next day they both had work, but Tommy ended up getting distracted so many times that his captain wouldn't let him fly. Tommy couldn't even argue with the decision.

They next day, when they both got off shift, Evan arrived a little later than Tommy with burritos in hand.

“They're from your favorite food truck,” Buck told him with a smile. “You haven't been eating much lately, so I wanted you to have something good.”

Tommy didn't have the heart to tell him that the thought of eating made him feel like throwing up. He choked down every single bite of his burrito, then managed to pull Evan into the bedroom for a nap.

Well, sex first, then a nap.

As he laid on Evan's chest, one arm curled up beside him and the other over Evan's pec, he glanced down at the scar. How it raised ever so slightly from the rest of his skin, bright pink against the white.

His chest ached. His eyes burned. The call that he'd forced in one ear and out the other repeated over and over now. “We need an ETA on air support on the Marriott fire downtown! Firefighter Evan Buckley of the 118 has been seriously injured. He fell and was impaled by a metal object. Goes through to his back. Unclear at this time if any major organs were hit, but he's losing a lot of blood and his heartbeat is irregular.”

Tommy didn't realize he'd started crying until Evan stiffened underneath him.

“Tommy?” he asked, his voice soft but concerned. “Babe, what's wrong?” He tried to move them so he could look at Tommy, but Tommy just clung onto him tighter.

He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a stunted, shaky breath. “Nothing. S'nothing.”

“Well th- that's obviously not true.” He ran his hands through Tommy's hair, then over his shoulders and down his back. “Come on, talk to me. Please.”

Tommy gave himself a second to calm down. He wiped his eyes before he slowly sat up to face Evan. Evan scooted up the bed so he was leaning against the headboard. He took Tommy's hand, moving his head to meet Tommy's eyes as he tried to look away. “Tommy.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “Please, I'm worried.”

“I... I was so scared.” He breathed out the words like he was admitting to some wrongdoing. “Evan, when you... When I heard it was you over the radio, I was terrified.”

Buck pulled Tommy toward him, wrapping him back up in his arms. “I knew something was wrong. I talked to Cap about it. He said not to push.”

“I was trying to be strong for you. I'm not the one who got hurt.”

“You don't ever have to be strong for me, Tommy. You're allowed to feel things.”

Tommy leaned back enough to be able to look at Evan. “I just put myself in survival mode,” he said. “It was all about getting you better. I could focus on that and not worry about anything else. But, now that you are better- which I'm very thankful for- it's... it scares me. I don't ever wanna see you like that again.”

“Me getting the all clear is what did it, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “I think it's always been there, the fear. But it definitely got worse as soon as I found out.”

“Why didn't you tell me, Tommy? We're supposed to- to share stuff like this with each other.”

“I didn't want you to think I wasn't supportive of you going back to work. Because I am supportive of it. I know you're excited, and I'm excited for you. I just- I really love you, Evan.”

Buck smiled. He leaned over and pressed his lips to Tommy's in a chaste kiss. “I really love you, Tommy.”

Tommy pulled Evan to him this time, holding him in his arms. “I have no doubt that you'll be as safe as you can possibly be,” Tommy said, his hand finding its way to the scar on Evan's back. “But I'm gonna be worried for a while.”

“I think that means you care,” Buck teased.

“I really, really care.”

“I like that you care.” Buck smacked a kiss onto Tommy's chest. “If it helps, I worry about you every time I hear you're going up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He thought about it for a second. “It does help.”

Buck smiled against his skin. “Good. You think you can sleep now?”

Tommy scooted down until his head rested against the pillow, his and Evan's legs tangling together. “I think I can try.”

#bucktommy #911 #evan buckley #tommy kinard #i don't love it #but I wanted to finish it up before my eyes completely give out on me #everything is a blur!!

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rhupi · 2 days ago

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Hiiii I love your swap au and was had an idea for it :)

Kushina finds obito walking around at an ungodly hour reading a medical book and she's obviously concerned and obito basically almost passes out and she calls the entire team to come help put as they figure out he's sick and kakashi and minato scold him whilst rin and kushina draw up a schedule for him to follow so it doesn't happen again.

Hell yeah🔥

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 day ago

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Apologies if this is a bit morbid, but my partner died a year ago and I've been left with their vast collection of sex toys. I've cleaned them all with a spray cleaner intended for toys, but I don't know if that makes them safe to continue using? Some of them are things we bought and used together, but many of them predate our relationship, so idk much about their history or the kind of material they're made of. I can tell some are pretty expensive tho and it seems wasteful to throw them out...

Sorry if this is a weird ask, but it's hard for me to talk about my partner IRL, so I haven't been able to get any perspective from friends and I'm worried they'd judge me either or keeping the toys OR for getting rid of them.

So any advice on potentially using another person's toys? Should I always dispose of toys if I don't know exactly where they've been? Is there a higher level of cleaning I should do beyond spray cleaner, soap and hot water? Any help is appreciated 💛

hi anon,

no need to apologize! this is a great question, and not one that I imagine is covered in most advice about grieving. I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm glad to be a resource figuring out an answer to this question.

so first off, re: cleaning, I'd check Dangerous Lilly's toy cleaning guide to make sure everything has been cleaned as thoroughly as possible based on what material it's made of. if you aren't sure what kind of material a toy is made of, that's a great sign right out of the gate that it's time for that toy to go - if you can't identify it, you can't make sure it's clean, and you can't even be sure it's body safe at all.

broadly speaking, I don't have any objections to keeping and using sex toys that you don't know the full history of, as long as you can verify that they're made of something non-porous that can be thoroughly cleaned. some people might balk at the idea of using a toy whose sexual history predates your relationship, but I'm a pragmatist and I think if you can handle having sex with a human person whose genitals have had sex with other people then a sex toy functionally isn't that much different. again, as long as we can clean it thoroughly!

overall, just from a health and safety standpoint, I'd say anything that we can confidently identify and clean is good to stay, if you want to keep and use them, while mystery toys or toys made of porous materials need to hit the bins. whether or not you continue to use these toys or turn them into a treasured collection is up to you! a lovingly preserved sex toy museum is as sweet a memorial as any.

#sex edventures 2024

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barcaatthemoon · 24 hours ago

Text

closer || lia walti x reader ||

After a long week, Lia offers you something different for comfort.

18+

"Lia, I'm home!" you called out as stepped inside of your home. The past week had been pretty rough for you, but today seemed to drag on and on. You weren't sure what it was in particular that was causing you so much grief, but you felt absolutely wrecked. All you had been wanting all day was Lia. You craved being close to her, and you could only hope that she was in the mood to be around you.

At the silence, you started to fear that maybe Lia didn't want to spend time with you. She had been pretty busy all week, and you knew that it was hard for her not to have time to herself. This was the first day that she had off where you had been forced into the office, but that didn't mean that she would want you rushing into her arms at the end of it. With your luck, it was more likely that Lia just wanted the peace and quiet that you had trouble keeping.

"Lia?" you called out as you started to walk around the house. You sighed in relief when you saw her outside. The little garden that she had been keeping was just barely holding on with the change in weather. It was admirable how Lia refused to give up on it until every single plant was actually gone for the season. There were only a couple of flowers left, but she tended to them with great care.

"Shit!" Lia swore as she glanced up to see you standing at the sliding glass door. The shock of seeing you only lasted for a couple of seconds before it was replaced by joy. It shouldn't have surprised you that Lia was glad that you were home, but it did anyway. You knew that Lia loved you dearly, but if she had told you that in the moment, you would have burst into tears. "When did you get back?"

"Just now," you answered. Lia quickly got up from her little garden to walk over and kiss you. She didn't touch you with her hands, only leaning in to give you a couple of quick pecks on the lips.

"Give me a minute to clean up, and then I'll be in the living room," Lia told you.

"Wait, don't go. I need you." You were a bit embarrassed to sound so whiny, but Lia didn't seem to mind. She seemed to have a idea that your week had been rough, and today seemed to be the day to really break you.

"It's okay, I'll be right back. Just go wait on the couch for me," Lia told you. As much as you wanted to follow her around just to stay in her presence, you went to the couch like she asked instead. Lia was quick about cleaning up and coming back to you. You had expected her to just cuddle up next to you, not come back holding your favorite strap-on in her hand.

"What is that for?" You let Lia pull you onto your feet. She dropped onto her knees in front of you, hands resting on the waistband of your jeans. "Lia?"

"You said that you needed me, and I know that look in your eyes. It's been a rough week, so I want you to just sit back for a bit. We haven't had much time together, and I think I know a good way to reconcile that a little," Lia said. You really liked the sound of that, and it was your complete trust in Lia that led you to agreeing.

Lia got you out of your pants while you pulled your shirt off. She helped you into the harness, pressing kisses to your hips as she did so. You helped Lia up from her knees before being guided to sit back on the couch. Lia slowly stripped herself down to nothing before she straddled your lap.

"Don't do anything, okay? Just sit back and close your eyes," Lia told you. You leaned up to give her a couple of slow kisses before you did exactly what she said. You could feel her grind against your thigh a little, becoming wetter with each swipe of her hips.

Lia's hips lifted a little, and you whined at the sudden loss of contact. Lia grabbed your jaw with one hand, positioning your face to look down as her other hand made its way between her legs. You didn't bother having any sort of shame as you watched Lia touch herself in front of you. All of this was for you after all, so you reasoned that you were free to watch her all that you wanted.

"Do you want to taste?" Lia asked you. You nodded, opening your mouth just enough for her to push her fingers past your lips. You sucked the arousal off of her fingers as she lowered herself onto your strap. Your eyes darted down to watch as Lia settled down onto your lap. "I'm just gonna stay right here for a little while, okay?"

"That's fine," you mumbled. Lia placed her hands on your head, scratching lightly at your scalp. You wanted nothing more than to just enjoy the feeling of Lia being on top of you like this, but as she continued the movements of her fingers, you felt your eyelids begin to grow a little heavier.

"Shh, it's okay. Just relax and let it happen," Lia cooed as you started to try and fight off your exhaustion. Everything that had been happening over the course of the week seemed to be catching up with you. You felt your head start to tilt back a little, and Lia leaned forward just enough to press her body against yours. It barely took any time after that for you to fully just fall asleep, and once Lia noticed that you were out, she climbed off of you and brought a blanket over to cover your body with.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso smut #minors do not interact #minors dni #lia walti smut #lia walti imagine #lia walti x reader

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elegantgardenrunaway · 2 days ago

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Today, we dance

PreCrash! Captain Curly x reader

A/N: Sorry, I couldn't resist. Haha. Anyways, this is not proofread and English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

(Image found in Pinterest)

Just think about finding captain Curly after the whole birthday ordeal. The room is still decorated while he's just sitting there, with his head down with an unreadable expression on his face.

You don't say anything as you sit next to him, not really knowing what to do, this was beyond your paycheck. Well, your last paycheck, the idea is still making you nauseous. You don't know what you are going to do after this, if you are going to be able to get another job or if this will be it for you. The weight of the news is crushing both of you, suffocating you in its silence.

You glance at him, then look around the room, the room which you hoped to celebrate your captain and decide here and there that this was too somber. This was supposed to be his celebration, his day and you'll be damned if you let it end like this.

Besides, you needed some distraction, maybe he did too.

You are a little ashamed to admit that it took you some time to get the courage to put your idea into motion, worried you may be stepping a boundary or just doing something in a time that wasn't right. Sure, the captain and you were getting close as of late, but you wouldn't say you have that kind of trust, not to mention it wasn't really professional.

But it's not like you have anything to lose now, right?

You turn on the radio, put some music, take his hands, invite him to dance "just one piece", you say, anything to lift his mood. It takes some convincing, a lot of convincing.

"We still have work to do" he says.

"To hell with work" you respond, taking his hands to guide him "Forget the work, the company, everything. Tomorrow we'll drown, today? Today, we dance. If you want to, of course."

He observed you, with those blue eyes with something you had never seen before, something you can't describe.

To be completely honest, you were expecting a refusal.

You were pleasantly surprised when he didn't.

His callused, warm hands awkwardly held you, not exactly knowing what to do.

"... I have to tell you..." He whispered slowly, sounding as if he was confessing a crime "... I'm not a good dancer..."

You blinked. You didn't expect him to say that. Captain Curly? A bad dancer? The idea made you snort.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry... " you shook your head, giving him an apologetic smile, hoping that you were not being rude. That's the last thing you want to do to him. You guided one of his hands to your waist, the other holding yours "... It's just that... That's very hard to believe coming from you, captain."

He just shrugged. For some reason, the easy smile he usually gives seemed different. You can't help but wish you could see it more often.

"What can I say? Being a captain is not exactly a job where I can really do these kinds of things..."

You chuckled "Don't worry, we are not doing anything complicated of sorts" you reassured "Just follow my lead..."

You started to guide the captain through the music. Nothing difficult, just simple, easy to remember movements. As you progressed with your impromptu dancing clases, you didn't notice when your bodies got so close to each other, to the point he had his chin resting on your head while you were resting on his chest.

The mellow melody taking you to another world, another earth. There were no screens, no pixels, no pony express, no worries about the future. Just the two of you, swaying with the music. This was all you could offer to him.

And you hoped that was a good enough birthday gift.

"You know, you are not as bad a dancer as you said you were"

"Hmm? You think so?"

"Mhm, but if you really feel like it... I can give you some classes..."

"... That..."

"Ah...Sorry-"

"No! Don't be!"

"..."

"... It actually sounds wonderful"

"Really?"

"...Really"

"... Well, we have some time before we arrive at the destination... We can see each other during our breaks..."

"I'm looking forward to it then"

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing curly x reader #curly x reader #Spotify #x reader #captain curly x reader

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 1 day ago

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Hiiiii!!!:]

Request for Logan x reader where they carve pumpkins and watch scary movies, or maybe they do a halloween night out or something!!

(I hope this isnt too "late" to request fall/halloween stuff)

I had too many ideas so this is like a 4+1 type of fic lol it can be for any Logan and it's gender neutral! Request are still open!

The 4 times Logan didn't want to participate and the one time he did

1. Going to the pumpkin patch

You basically had to drag Logan to the pumpkin patch. You woke up so excited, the weather was finally a nice cool and crisp real autumn morning and it was supposed to stay nice all day, so naturally you thought it would be a good day to finally go get your pumpkins. Logan thought differently.

The pumpkin patch wasn't his idea of a good time. There were little ones running around, parents weren't really watching their children, and the couples that were there were all matching. You tried to get Logan to wear a matching outfit with you. "Come on, it'll be cute!" he rolled his eyes at your argument and wore his regular flannel instead.

At least flannel is correlated with fall.

You picked out the pumpkins the two of you were going to carve. When you asked for his opinion, you were met with a shrug and his typical response; "get whatever you want, babe." Usually, it was a nice response. It was his way of telling you that he could buy you whatever you wanted. If you were torn between two different colors in sweaters, he would say that because technically, he could buy you all of the damn sweaters, and he knows you'll look amazing in whatever. However, this wasn't exactly a good response when there were hundreds of pumpkins to pick from.

You showed him the pumpkins were finally decided and he grabbed them for you before carrying them to the little counter to check out. You sighed, feeling a little defeated? a little guilty? You weren't sure what the emotion was that you were feeling. You just felt bad for dragging him to do something he obviously hated so much.

2. Carving pumpkins

You know the pumpkin patch was a failure, but you wanted to carve your pumpkins asap. As Logan drove the two of you home, you were looking up pumpkin carving inspirations, and by the time you did get home, you were practically buzzing in your seat.

You jumped out of the truck and grabbed one of the pumpkins, Logan chuckled as he watched you zoom from the truck to the front door, seemingly forgetting that he had the keys. He could tell you were pouting due to the door being locked still, so he trudged out of the truck to the front door. "Move over, sweetheart," He mumbled and wrapped his arm around your waist to move you aside so he could unlock the door for you.

Once you got inside, you put the pumpkins on the table and kissed Logan on the cheek. "Do you want to help carve the pumpkins?" You asked with puppy eyes that you know make it difficult for him to say no to. He just walked past you, and for a second, you thought he was going to the bedroom, but then you heard rummaging from the kitchen. Looking behind you, you see Logan coming back to the dining room table with a couple of knives, spoons, and paper towels.

He sits in silence and rolls his eyes when you just stay standing there. "Are you helping or not? I'm not carving two damn pumpkins by myself, " He grumbled as he started cutting the bottom off of one of the pumpkins so he could start degutting it.

You snapped out of the shock and nodded, "Let me go get a plate I want to save some seeds" You go to grab a plate, but he stops you by showing you a plate, "Cut open your damn pumpkin, will ya?"

The two of you could feel a smile starting to form, and you sat next to him to start degutting your own pumpkin.

3. Watching a scary movie

You wanted to make up for the other day. You really thought Logan would enjoy the pumpkin patch more than he did. Halloween and autumn were your favorite time of year, and you wanted to enjoy it with your man, so you were determined to find something he enjoyed about the season, too.

You figured a movie date night would be perfect! There is no need to leave the house. There wasn't even a real need to change out of your pajamas. You made pizza from scratch and even made the popcorn on the stove top; everything was prepared, and all Logan had to do was pick out a movie for the two of you to watch.

He ended up picking the creepiest movie you'd ever seen.

He didn't think much of it. Honestly, he remembered the movie coming out decades ago and got excited to resee it. "Oh, I haven't seen this since it first came out" He tried to sound nonchalant, but the excitement was clear in his voice. You looked over his shoulder to see the movie he had picked, and you froze.

Something had to be fucking with you, out of all the things this was what made Logan excited? Now you loved horror movies, but Rosemary's Baby??? no. You just couldn't handle that movie, but dammit he was so excited. You swallowed and nodded stiffly. "Sure Lo. Sounds great" He smiled and put it on before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

Half the pizza is gone, the movie is about a quarter over and you were buried into Logan's shoulder. "Baby?" He asked with clear concern, "We can watch something else." He went to turn the movie off, but you jumped up before he could, "NO!" you let out a nervous giggle and shook your head, "It's just starting to get good, I really want to finish it"

You pulled him back to how he was and reached over to turn the movie back on, "You'll just have to protect me if I get too scared" you said teasingly, but you'd never been more serious before. He chuckled and held you closer than before. As the movie continued, you hid in his chest so he could enjoy his movie, and you could sleep tonight without having nightmares.

4. Going to get costumes

If you thought getting him to the pumpkin patch was hard, this was damn near impossible. You had to use threats, and he knows it's a bluff. It has to be a bluff. But he also knows you, and you are always true to your word, so he's too scared to risk it and just admits defeat.

He gets in the truck and drives you to the local Halloween store. You have him following you around like a puppy. He's honestly too afraid to lose you in this store. There's so many people and so much that they're selling. The store felt very claustrophobic to him, so he just sticks to you.

You pick out a couple's costume (it can be anything, but I like to think of a red riding hood and a wolf lol) and he groans aloud knowing you will have him wearing it for whatever party you drag him to.

As you check out, he listens to you ramble on about going to get tacos, and he just shakes his head and agrees to go get some. You're lucky he loves you so damn much

5. Passing out candy (the one time he was excited)

Today was finally Halloween and sadly you had to work until six, you told Logan the day before that you wouldn't be home in time for the beginning of trick or treating, but you will be home for the rest of it. You showed him exactly where the candy was since you had to hide it from him. "What do you mean you hid candy from me? I built this house there's nowhere to hide candy." He said, nearly pouting. It wasn't his fault he had a sweet tooth, and dammit he deserved some candy.

You clocked out as soon as you possibly could, and as you walked to your car, you went to text Logan, letting him know you were on your way home, but your phone was already dead. You sighed and decided to just head home before the streets got too busy with kids.

As you pull into your driveway, you can see the lights in the house on, and you can hear music playing. Confusing washes over you. With how Logan had been acting all month, you thought he would have the lights off and act like no one was home for trick or treating.

You walk to the door, and your heart swells with the sight in front of you. Logan hadn't noticed you walking in just yet. He was busy giving a toddler dressed up as Cinderella a sucker from the pumpkin bowl that had been sitting on the table completely empty this morning.

Not only did he put the candy meant to be passed out in a tacky looking pumpkin bowl, but he was also bent down to the kids' level to give them their candy. "Don't you look beautiful, princess!" He praised the little one who started giggling at the attention. As you walked closer to the man towering over the little ones, a gasp left your lips before you could think of holding it back. Logan Howlett, a man who acted like Halloween preparation, was torture was.... dressed up?

Tears were close to falling as he turned around. He acted as if nothing was going on, "Hey darlin' how was work?" He asked, closing the front door before walking over to you to kiss the crown of your head. "It-it was good." You stuttered slightly as you took his form in the costume fully in. "Your dressed up" you said, and he nodded "Well yeah, you bought us the costumes" He shrugged, "I thought you wanted me to be dressed up, the kids have been loving it but I did scare a toddler earlier" He frowned deeply "I gave them extra candy." He explained and looked at the bowl that was close to being empty, "Well I've been giving them all extra candy. They've been great costumes, though!" He tried to defend his actions, making you laugh.

"I'll go get my costume on, and you can tell me what I missed while we wait for me, kids." You said as you went to the bedroom to change. When you came out, his heart skipped a beat. To him, you were just so perfect.

For the rest of the night, he sat on the porch with you and filled you in on the costumes you'd missed earlier in the night.

That night, you realized something, Logan may not be excited to do many things that you loved to do, but he would do anything for you.

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

I think the taglist is updated? Lmk if it isn't and I'll add you! This taglist is just for Logan!! I'm planning on starting to write for Bucky again so lmk if I should make a taglist for him as well <3

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fluff #wolverine #wolverine fluff #wolverine x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett imagine #james logan howeltt #logan howlet #halloween imagine #logan howlett x gn reader #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett x male reader #logan howlett fanfic #logan wolverine #wolverine imagine

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directdogman · 1 day ago

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Stupid question, but it's leaving me sleepless, for some reason.

Assuming furries exist in the dialtown universe, would they have the same head as animals in dialtown do? Or would they be based off animals head pre-dial-up? Antique style, I guess.

My assumption is that object heads would be the norm since they'd likely be easier to spoof (and could even double as a socially acceptable way to appear more like your fursona in daily life), but there'd almost certainly be a split in people's preference due to a cultural quirk caused by one of the Dialup's intended psychological effects.

Crown wanted to blur the visual boundary between humans and animals in order to hopefully incite humans to care more about the various species. While one way to do this was to give animals unique niches/functions (which many do not perform at all usefully, as reality isn't written like an episode of the Flintstones), another key aspect of the change was to make humans care more by making animals look more like people - and vice versa. People care about what they can intrinsically relate to (and of course, see themselves in.)

This idea didn't really pan out on any level.

Anyway, this is where we get into the psychological nuance caused by this shift and why either design might be preferable.

Wearing an object head that matches your fursona's species, assuming you want to be seen as an anthropomorphic animal in DT's universe is certainly one way of going about it. Hell, you could literally swap your original head's casing out for a reworked replacement outer layer of whatever your animal OC's head is, and it'd look exactly like the animal you're basing it off. Imagine if you could buy a blinking/hyperreactive fursuit head in our reality that looked 100% like an actual fox's face. I'm sure there's people out there who'd want one.

...However, that brings up a question: What if someone didn't want to look like an actual animal? Most fursuits don't aim to be truly photo-realistic of course and instead go for something more stylized. Flesh head designs could be the equivalent of this since it's something you can't encounter in the wild in any form.

Ironically, I could also imagine a small minority of people who want their designs to be more animalistic taking this approach too, since like I said, the Dialup made humans and animals look more similar. By creating something that appears fundamentally organic around a normally inorganic head, you would look less human in DT's world - and by proxy, more like an animal.

Finally, worth noting: I'd have to imagine that there's also a lot of zoology nerds who have an interest in pre-Dialup biology and would thus want it depicted in their designs. Y'know, kinda like how people make fursuits of extinct animals like saber-tooth tigers. A lot of furries are zoology enthusiasts and I have to imagine finding out at some point in your early life that EVERY animal had bizarrely different designs just a few generations ago would be something people would wanna get artistic millage out of.

Hope this helps!

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 24 hours ago

Text

Chapter 2: I'll Never Let You Go Again Like I Did

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Little bit sad, DENIAL, Homophobic Comments (Soldier Boy), Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of using drugs, Sexism, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of torture (Soldier Boy's Time in Russia) Loneliness, Longing (I mean… as close as Soldier Boy can get to it), Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.4K

Song Inspiration For This Chapter: Until I Found You (chapter title is lyric from this song) and Coming Back For You

Note: 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 First Person And Is In Italics

Playlist for Series (Spotify)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Oh my goodness I'm so excited about this series and thank you so much to everyone for all the wonderful love and support so far! It really means the world to me 🥰

One Year Ago: Ben POV

Ben squinted his eyes as he stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of the early morning, shouldering the strap of his worn backpack with a huff. The people on the crowded, gum covered sidewalks shot him odd looks and gave him a wide birth as he made his way down the path, but he didn't care, in fact he didn't notice them. His mind was somewhere else.

He wasn't sure where he was going, just that something in the pit of his stomach was pointing him in this direction. Ben had started walking in what he thought was the way to Legend's apartment, but the streets looked so different than the last time he was in New York and he was a little turned around, but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone.

And there was something in the pit of his stomach, some instinct or gut feeling, that was telling him he needed to go this way.

It was an odd feeling that prickled on the back of his neck, as if he'd forgotten something. Ben wondered what exactly it was that he'd forgotten. He hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone other than the scientists who kept him locked in a cage so he didn’t exactly have a social calendar to follow up on.

I've been locked in a lab for forty fucking years, what is there to forget?

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed just out of reach.

Ben raised his eyes from the sidewalk with a sigh to look at the people passing by, taking in their new clothing and different hairstyles to distract himself. He frowned at the bizarre groups of people to him that flit by on their merry way, muttering little things under his breath about how things used to be.

Ben had a feeling that he was going to be doing that a lot.

New York City was different, the same, but different. Even though Ben had been gone for forty years, it still felt like the center of the universe. There were still hot dog vendors on every street corner, still magazine stands with freshly printed newspapers that smelled like ink and were warm to the touch, still coffee shops that lined the streets and caffeinated the masses, and there were still cab drivers who wove through traffic as if they were unstoppable shouting at pedestrians as they went.

The memories he had of old New York City merged together with what he was seeing around him and felt himself slipping into the past only to be jolted back into reality by the strangeness of the future.

He didn't like feeling disoriented, but it was there, brimming just under the surface. His body was tense as he walked prepared for anything, unable to relax as he continued on his way to wherever the hell it was he was going.

The morning sunlight reflected off the glass windows of the skyscrapers that worshiped the rising sun and the sounds of the city vibrated against the brick and mortar. There was a buzz of electricity in the air, the low hum of power that Ben could always hear beneath it all. Cars honked sharply, people shouted in colorful language to one another, and the wind rustled through the long strands of Ben's hair crinkling against his ears and scratching against his neck.

He hadn't had time to cut it or his beard and it didn't seem to be as important as finding Legend and getting his affairs in order.

The smell of hotdogs, earth, cologne, and heavy perfume wafted up with the breeze that tugged and pulled at his sweatsuit. The same stained sweatsuit he had found in a rust covered locker before hiding in the cargo hold of a plane headed back to the U.S that was probably almost as old as him. The plane ride had been long, but when he'd been in a lab for the past forty years it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. He spent the whole time stewing in his thoughts. He'd slept enough and like hell he was going to drift off and let those Russian fucks take him again.

Ben sighed when he felt his memories begin to unravel on the edge of his mind, unfurling and asking to be relived. It wasn't unusual or unwelcome. Ben was using those memories to justify what he was going to do to his old team. As long as the rage continued to burn against his skin, Ben would have no problem breaking each of them down piece by piece.

Ben didn't understand how his team could have done that to him or why they'd done it to him. He thought that he'd been a good leader, a good American, a good soldier, a good hero, and yet they'd all stabbed him in the back. Sure, maybe he'd been a little rough on them, but Ben saw it as the only way to toughen them up. They needed thicker skin if they were going to survive in a world like this.

All I've done is give my fucking life to this country and what did they do? They gave me to the fucking reds.

His hand tightens on the strap of his backpack as he weaves through the crowds, trying his best to keep to himself when all he can feel is his anger and frustration building and burning hot under his rib cage. His new power stirred beneath the surface, energy beginning to travel through his body, tracing his veins and pulsing in the center of his chest.

I should have seen it coming. I should have killed that entire fucking bunch of pussies the second I had the chance. Especially that bitch.

His frowned at the thought of Countess.

Truthfully, when the two of them started messing around it was only because Countess's soulmate had died a few years before and Ben knew he wasn't going to meet his soon if anytime. He'd messed around with plenty of other women for the same reason and well…

Ben's frown deepened as he stepped around a couple that was walking arm and arm, the dates on their wrists flashing gold in the sunlight. He ignores the feeling that comes when he sees them, pushes it down into the deep recesses of his mind as he has done his whole life.

Since he was a kid, Ben wasn't sure that he believed the "soulmate thing." Sure he'd seen hundreds of other people around him find "the one," but Ben wasn't sure that he was made to be a soulmate. Especially not with a birthdate on his wrist so far in the future. He assumed that it meant he wasn't going to get a soulmate and he'd spent the better part of his life pretending that he didn't care about that. He was a man after all, and Ben didn't want to need anyone. At least, that was what he told himself.

Ben had lived long enough to see other soulmates find one another, witnessed the goofy looks on their faces when they locked eyes for the first time, and had the super hearing to listen to what came next.

But instead of focusing on the impossibility to meeting his own, Ben focused on the lie he told himself, that it seemed ridiculous to be intertwined with someone as soon as he was born. Not to mention that Ben wasn't sure that he wanted to be with someone, not when he didn't age and not when he'd have to watch whoever it was, if anyone turn to dust.

Yes, he could see himself settling down with someone, having a few kids, but Ben wasn't sure that whoever was supposed to be his other half was within reach anyway so why care? Ben knew that he didn't age, but he didn't actually think he'd ever get to meet you or that you would actually ever exist. Not when you were born so far away from him and not when he'd been trapped in that lab.

But that didn't stop a part of him from thinking about the possibility of meeting you. When things were quiet in the lab and he was left alone for a few precious moments, he felt his mind begin to slip into the question of what if?

What if you existed and what if you came for him?

He knew that it was a long shot. The only people that knew he was there were the people who stabbed him in the back. And Ben didn't want to cling to some fantasy, it felt feminine to fanaticize about the person who was supposedly meant for him breaking down the thick metal door and pulling him from the lab.

Again, Ben was trying not to believe in the "soulmate bullshit."

Countess had been a way of passing the time as had the numerous other women, but with them were moments when he'd feel something odd settle in his chest, something that he never could put a name to. In those moments he would raise his right arm and look at the birthdate printed on his wrist, the same one that Ben had kept hidden for most of his life, the one that when he was a boy people mocked him for, and the one his father chastised him for having as if it was Ben's fault that some celestial body had decided to single him out.

All of his childhood friends had found their soulmates and Ben had spent the better part of his life covering it up to avoid the conversation that always happened when someone saw the date. No ones soulmate was born so far in the future and Ben’s father had spent a lot of money making sure that word didn’t get out his son was a freak.

His father already made Ben feel like a disappointment and a fuck-up, but Ben was already thinking it himself every time he looked at the date printed on his wrist that seemed impossible. When his mother was alive she would try her best to make Ben feel better telling him that it wasn't impossible, that one day it would all make sense, but after her death Ben stopped feeling comfort, joy, and anything warm. All he felt was the cold shoulder from his father and the words that Ben pretended didn't hurt when his father was halfway through his second bottle of scotch with a third prepped and waiting on the kitchen table.

It made Ben feel like a pussy every time he looked at the mark and thought about his future soulmate, but he did it in private, usually after he'd had a few glasses of something and a few puffs or snuffs of something else to numb his mind. And he'd allow himself a single moment to think of you, wonder if he'd ever meet you, and wondered if you'd ever actually exist. In those few fleeting moments he believed in soulmates, but then he'd snap out of it and wake up the woman in bed next to him to distract him for another hour or so.

Ben's eyes flick to his right wrist covered by the gray and maroon tracksuit, his brow furrowing together. He was trying not to think about you or rather the possibility of you today. He didn't have time for that, not when all he wanted was to make his old team pay for everything they did to him.

But there was a little whisper of something in his ear, a small wisp of hope that he had finally made it to you, the one thing he didn’t think would ever happen, that he lived long enough to be alive the same year you were, and that you were out there somewhere waiting for him.

No. Ben tenses. I'm not going to think about her, not when those butt fucks need to be dealt with. I'm going to go to Legend's and then I'm going to-

He didn't see you in front of him until it was too late to move out of the way. Your body hits his full on in the chest, sending the bagel between your lips tumbling into the street, but Ben barely feels the hit, what he does feel is the dam he built forever ago burst open and warmth soaks into his body. Electricity skitters along his skin, crackling in the air as his eyes lock with yours only for a second. He feels like he's caught fire, as if the pieces of himself deep down inside are overheating and vibrating until there's nothing left, but you and him.

Any thoughts he had of his team and revenge are lost in the flood of emotions that fill the hole inside he tried so hard to ignore with the lie he continued to tell himself: “I don't believe in soulmates.”

And yet, there you were.

He can hear his heart and yours beating together as one, his own pounding so hard under his ribcage as if it wishes to break free and cross the space between your bodies. Seeing you for the first time feels like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp jolt backwards when it lands and the pinch of flesh against Kevlar. It was worth the bruise if looking at you was the same way each time.

Ben can feel the world slipping away, going silent, and in that silence Ben is lost in you.

Holy Fuck.

You were the perfect amalgamation of every single beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen and fantasized about in his entire life. And yet you weren't what he was expecting. Over the years Ben had bedded many women, the ones who captured his attention for a night, but none of them were anything like you.

In all the ways those women were bold and dramatic you were confident, but not boisterous, beautiful but not haughty, respectful but not prude, and there was a kindness reflected in the warmth of your eyes that Ben had never seen before, but there it was staring back at him unblinkingly.

You reminded him of the women that came arm in arm with men to his parents lavish parties when he was a boy, the ones who were classically beautiful and reserved with the golden dates on their wrists catching in the light. The exact kind of woman he hadn’t seen for the better part of eighty years and the opposite of the women who had thrown themselves at his feet forty years ago.

Your hair falls forward into your face from the force of your body hitting his and Ben itches to push it back, to touch you, to feel his skin against yours to quench the burning that he can feel in his soul.

All of his instincts are telling him to pull you against him, that you're too far away even though you're standing only inches apart. That he needs to breathe the same air and feel the warmth of your skin against his rough fingertips.

The birthmark on his right wrist sears his skin and he knows what it means, that you're the woman he's been looking for his whole life, the woman that always seemed just out of his grasp, the woman that was made just for him, and the woman he thought would never exist.

He watches your eyes widen with the same realization about him behind your round glasses, eyes that are the perfect color and eyes that Ben can imagine staring in to every day for the rest of his life. He'd never wanted to spend more than one night with a woman, never wanted more, but all of that fades into you.

The idea of a soulmate no longer seems ridiculous, no longer seems like something he’d never have, not when he’s looking into your eyes and nothing else seems to matter.

Not when looking at you is like seeing the sun sink into the earth at the end of the day and feeling the hope that it'll rise the next morning.

The lie he told himself for so long is slipping away the longer he stares at you, because although he never wanted to want anyone he knows that he needs you. It's an odd feeling for him. He's never once cared about anyone, told himself that it was weak to, that having a soulmate was a stupid idea and not for him, but all of the things he ever thought about soulmates is evaporating in the heat that is consuming his body by being in your presence.

Why now?

The thought makes the world come back into sharper focus.

I've lived decades without her and now the moment I come back to the U.S I just run into her?

It was laughable .

The moment of clarity allows the fantasies of his revenge to come creeping in and Ben feels the anger and rage ebbing on the edge of the wonderful feeling building in his chest when he looks at you.

You weren't a supe. Ben could tell that just by looking at you. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone so soft and yet someone that he wanted to possess so badly that it almost hurt to stand inches away from you.

I don't want her to be apart of this.

The thought is immediate, stirring some primal urge within to protect what's his. Because you were his. You were the missing piece that he pretended not to need and the woman who always seemed to slip into his mind when he was alone and all was quiet,.

The thoughts of what he's about to do to his teammates come surging up and he didn't want you involved in any of that. Not when he knew that he needed to protect you, that he'd drag you along, and you'd see all the ugly parts of him and see the horror of what he was about to do.

He didn't want that for you, he didn’t want the first time that he met you to be like this, him looking like he'd crawled out from under a rock and full of so much anger, rage, and frustration it felt like he was going to explode, him having a new uncontrollable power that meant he might hurt you, and him being unable to give you his full attention when all he could think about was the team that stabbed him in the back.

What he was, was selfish, he knew that about himself.

But I won't be this selfish.

Ben had made many mistakes his life, he knew that, had done some things that he wasn't proud of, but you wouldn’t be one of them. He didn't want to put you in danger and realized that there was only one way to protect you, because after all, he was the only one who knew that you existed.

His eyes trace your face one more time, memorizing it before he does what he thinks is right. Ben turns away from you and forces himself to keep walking. Each cell in his body is screaming at him to turn around, to run back to you, but he can't. He doesn't want it to be like this and he knows that you deserve better.

I won't do this to her.

“Wait-“ He hears you shout over the sounds of the street.

The sound of your voice is a soothing melody, a warm soak in a hot bath, a steady hand against his back, and a salve over the gaping hole where a piece of him was missing for so long, the hole that he tried to ignore his whole life. He grits his teeth and continues to walk away from you, each step feeling like he's walking through tar the further he gets.

And deep down Ben is hoping that he did the right thing and makes a promise that he'll come back for you.

Present Day Ben POV

Why the fuck am I coming to this thing again?

Ben thought to himself standing outside the closed apartment door holding an expensive bottle of scotch. The same bottle of scotch that he was going to break open as soon as he crossed the threshold to get through this. He didn’t think that Hughie would appreciate it the way he would anyway.

Probably drinks those fucking fruity drinks with the umbrellas.

Ben didn’t understand why Hughie had invited him to this party or why Annie would let him invite Ben to it. Ben knew how much she hated him and the feeling was mutual.

Ben sighs as he stares at the door thinking about walking back to the elevator.

Invited was a strong word. Ben had overheard Hughie talking about it in the break room with MM and when Ben walked in, Hughie felt the need to fill the awkward silence by inviting Ben to the housewarming party.

Ben didn't know why anyone needed a housewarming party, but he chocked it up to another thing about the 21st century that he didn't quite understand.

He thought about all the people inside that he saw at work everyday, the ones that he tried to avoid all shoved in the apartment in front of him and groaned to himself.

Fuck, I should just go home.

Ben frowned at the thought of going back to his extravagant penthouse apartment downtown. The one that was two stories with a private balcony, six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a study, a media room, an exercise room, and overlooked Central Park with a view that would make anyone else salivate. His real estate agent had been surprised when Ben hadn't batted an eye at the price, but Ben didn't think about money the same way everyone else did.

He didn't have to, not with the money he'd earned over the years and not with the money his father, grandfather, and great grandfather in his accounts.

When he'd first bought the apartment he had been happy to get out from under Butcher's eye, who had a tendency to watch Ben like a hawk whenever he thought that Ben wasn't paying attention. But the apartment was large and cold, furnished with furniture that Ben had hired some twenty year old interior designer to buy, who charged him an outrageous amount of money to do absolutely nothing. She'd called it "minimalism," Ben called it "a fucking rip off."

Not one piece of furniture was comfortable to him and being there never felt like home. Then again, Ben didn't have a "home" to compare it to. His family mansion back in Philadelphia after his mother died had been cold and most of the rooms were closed off and the apartment he had in New York before he went to Russia was almost as big as his new one, but it never seemed like home. It always seemed like a way station, a place for Ben to entertain women for a short while before he went to a commercial shoot, a party, or on location for a film.

Even his cleaning lady and housekeeper would comment on the little things about his apartment that Ben tried to ignore. Honestly, Ben thought that she was fucking nosy, but she did her job well so he kept her on.

That and because he couldn't seem to remember her name no matter how many checks he wrote.

Ben didn’t like being in his apartment at all, but he knew that it wouldn't change if he moved. It wasn't where he lived that was the problem, it was that you weren't there with him.

It had been an entire year since he'd seen you and every day Ben walked the same path he had the day he met you for the first time hoping to run in to you. He didn’t have your name or your address or anything that he could have someone at work plug into a computer to find you. He'd tried to "google" you, but there was only so much he could do with the little information he had and he didn't understand how to find you other than the old fashioned way.

So he was back to sitting home alone every night trying his best not to notice how empty the apartment was, the one he bought that was more than big enough for two people. Sometimes he tried to stay out as long as he could to avoid going back to it, but each time he went through the front door it only emphasized how empty it was.

Ben's life was empty. He hadn't realized that before, but nowadays he was hyperaware of it. In the past he would have filled his life with women eager to warm his bed, but ever since he saw you Ben hadn't been able to think about anyone else.

Ben couldn't remember the last time he felt this frustrated and it only made everything harder for him. And as much as he tried to relieve the tension it never seemed like it was enough. He needed you.

And after he spent twelve months trying his best and he was tired of feeling restless he tried to pick up a woman in a bar.

Every cell in his body screamed wrong at the top of its lungs when he spoke to her, using lines that he'd perfected since he was a teenager. Ben knew he was good at that, but he fumbled the ball each time he opened his mouth. He tried to shake off the ghost of you, but when he spoke to the woman leaning against the aged wooden bar with a martini in her hand and wearing a dress that left little to the imagination, he got a flash in the corner of his eye of someone coming in through the door and he'd thought it was you.

He hadn't been expected to feel so ashamed, guilty, and embarrassed at the thought of you catching him with someone else. He'd been sleeping with women longer than you'd been alive and he'd never felt that way, but now that he knew you existed and knew there was a possibility of you running in to him, it was all different.

Ben's outlook on soulmates being "ridiculous" had evaporated on the spot the moment he locked eyes with you. He couldn't pretend that he didn't care anymore and couldn't pretend that you didn't exist.

How could he when you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen? How could he when a piece of him was with you? How could he when you were always on his mind?

He'd never had a woman have a hold on him so completely in his entire life, but you did.

She fucking does and I only saw her once.

It only made him feel worse. He wondered if he'd made the right decision when he turned his back on you.

Sometimes he liked to think back to the moment of when he first saw you when everything was quiet and he was sitting up in his bed staring down at the mark on his wrist that shone a brilliant gold. His mind would slip into those few moments of bliss and he would wonder what would have happened f he just said "fuck it" and didn't go after Payback, if he'd stopped and asked for your name, and allowed you to let him forget everything that happened in the past forty years so he could start his life with you.

Unfortunately, those moments were usually followed by the same self-deprecating thoughts that Ben had, the chauvinistic ones that he'd carried with him over the years, and the ones that his father had impressed on him from the moment he could walk and Ben couldn't seem to shake.

He'd berate himself about how it was stupid and pussy-like to pine over a woman.

Because that's what he was doing, he was pining over you and he didn't like it.

He didn't want to think of you as much as he did, but he couldn't help it. Now that Ben knew you existed he didn't want to miss out on another moment of your life.

Of course, he couldn't find you and that was the problem. Sometimes he wondered if you were looking for him as hard as he was looking for you, if you walked the same way each hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The dreams didn't make it any better. He'd never heard of someone living the memories of their soulmate when they slept, but every night he was subjected to watching your life and it only made him want to find you more.

He'd never knew that someone could feel so lonely surrounded by people, never knew that someone could feel so out of place, and never knew that someone could be as sad as you were, but each time he relieved a memory of yours at night Ben could feel his heart twinge.

Ben watched the lonely birthdays you spent with a cupcake and a beer for him, saw the jeers of the people in your hometown and the pitying looks from your parents, felt your shoulders shake when you cried alone in your room and stared at the birthdate on your wrist, and he felt you losing hope as each year passed.

Ben didn't usually allow himself to feel emotion like that, but watching you go through it all hurt him more than anything those Russian fucks did to him. He wasn't used to that and he wasn't used to thinking about other people as much as he thought about you.

But something about him felt different after meeting you.

Ben had asked Legend about soulmates, specifically the dreams, but Legend had muttered something unintelligible under his breath and took another snort of cocaine from the mirror on the coffee table instead of answering. Their relationship had been a little awkward after Ben slept with Legend's soulmate forty years ago, but Legend didn’t seem to be too upset about it… anymore. Mostly because Legend's soulmate tried to pull a Lorena Bobbitt one night and Legend caught her before any permanent damage was done.

She was in prison, and Ben didn't understand why Legend still went to see her for conjugal visits, but he figured that she was as much of a freak as his old handler.

Just rip the bandaid off you fucking pussy.

Ben thought staring at the clean white door in front of him.

Truthfully, Ben was tired. He'd been running himself harder for the last month, throwing himself into his work because he was starting to believe that he was never going to meet you again, and it seemed like work was the only thing that could distract him long enough. But he couldn't escape sleep.

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had avoided sleeping the best way he could and he got through a few days before he collapsed. The first dream he'd had of you had come on suddenly, but clear as day.

You reading on your bed in your apartment smiling down at the pages as if it the book was telling you a secret.

Ben wasn't a reader, didn't see any merit in it if it wasn't a western or a war book. The most he could tolerate was Ernest Hemingway, but he could have sat there and watched you read forever. You looked so peaceful, content, and happy that Ben was afraid to interrupt you even though it was just a dream.

But whenever he thought about you dreaming his memories, something dark settled in the back of his mind, because what were you seeing? He'd done a few things he wasn't proud of and Ben didn't want you to think that he wasn't a hero or that he was a bad guy.

Ben sighs and raises his hand to knock hard against the door with his free hand, trying not to open the bottle preemptively before entering the apartment.

"Ben?" Hughie says it like a question when he opens the door, eyes wide with the same stupid look on his face that always grates on Ben.

Ben forces his signature tight lipped smile that he flashes around the office. "Hey there sport."

"Hey. Wow, you're here." Hughie clears his throat and looks over his shoulder as if he's nervous about something.

Ben raises an eyebrow. "I was invited."

"Well yes but-"

"But?"

"Um-"

"Spit it out dipstick."

Hughie clears his throat. "I didn't think you would come."

Fuck I should have stayed home. He doesn't want me here, neither does his fucking beard.

Ben frowns listening to where Annie groans under her breath further inside the apartment and talks low under her breath to someone that Ben can't see.

"Well surprise and congratulations or whatever." Ben rolls his eyes holding out the bottle of scotch. He was hesitant to lose sight of it, not when talking to Hughie for less than five minutes made him want to down the whole bottle.

"Oh wow this is really," Hughie's eyes widen as he takes in the label and realize how much money Ben spent on the bottle. "Expensive stuff, thanks Ben."

"It'll put some hair on your chest." Ben claps Hughie hard on the shoulder as he pushes past him into the foyer of the apartment.

The entire apartment could have fit in Ben's living room and kitchen. It was made in a similar fashion to his, sleek white walls, sterling silver appliances, large glass windows that let in the light-

Ben stops so suddenly inside the area that leads into the kitchen that Hughie plows into his back, but Ben doesn't feel it.

He can't move, can't breathe, because he's noticed the person talking to Annie is you. This was the last place that he'd expected you to be, but he doesn't care, because you're here and you're more beautiful than he remembers.

You're standing there pouring ice from a large bag into a pink acrylic bucket with an adorable amount of concentration for such a simple task wearing the same sweater you were the day he first saw you. You're also wearing a little more makeup and your hair is longer, and not pulled back into the messy bun as it was that day, but you’re still you and you’re here.

His fingers twitch with the urge to run his hands through the tangled tresses, to feel if they're as soft as he imagined for so long.

Ben's body swells with emotion, goosebumps flicker over his skin, and all other sounds in the room vanish, because seeing you was like watching the sun rise and feeling the world hold it's breath as it basks in the early morning rays.

And Ben wanted to bask in everything you were, every day for the rest of his life. Now that he found you again he wasn't going to let you out of his sight.

Your soul sings to him as he nears you, the cells in his body vibrating so fast that he can feel every single one begging him to touch you.

You turn into him by accident, sending the bag of ice tumbling to the floor, but feeling your body against his sends him into overdrive and he can't hold back anymore. He reaches out to grab your shoulder as gently as he can without hurting you.

Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. And because you weren’t a supe he knew how fragile you were.

You gasp under your breath at the contact from his hand, but to Ben it sounds thunderous in his ears. Ben trails his hand across your shoulder, up your neck, to cup your chin and raise your face to look at him. He feels like his whole body is igniting as he makes contact with your skin.

He can feel an odd vibration in his chest as he does so, energy crackling and pulsing around the two of you, but the rest of the room falls silent. He can’t look away from you, not when seeing you again is like staring too long at the sun and he's left with the imprint of your light and beauty on the inside of his eyelids.

Ben can't focus on anything else, doesn’t hear the awkward chatter, doesn't feel the discomfort he had upon his arrival, doesn't notice the way everyone has turned to stare at the two of you, and doesn't feel the air conditioning turn on and blow cool air against his warm freckled skin.

All he knows is you.

Your eyes are wide and he suspects his are as well, pupils blown but still beautiful and hypnotic as they were one year ago. Ben feels a smile pulling at his lips and he lets it go, because standing in front of you, feeling like this, it’s impossible to do much else.

Your skin is warm to the touch beneath the roughness of his fingertips and he touches you with a reverence that he has never graced anyone else with, because you were his. Every part of you was made for him just as every part of him was made for you.

The your soul was calling out to him, weaving a golden cord of energy in his mind that snagged in the center of his chest and made him feel whole for the first time in life.

You reach out to touch him, the soft palm of your hand falling just over his heart and it makes something inside him break open to flood the space between the two of you.

Hope stirs in his chest with your gentle touch and your unblinking gaze, warmth trailing from where your hand lays against his shirt. His eyes drop to the wrist to see his birthdate, a glowing ember against your skin where the sleeve of your sweater has fallen down an inch.

Your eyes lock with his once more, full lips slightly parted, and breathless.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." Ben murmurs, trailing his thumb across your cheek with a gentleness that he's never possessed.

Ben was not a gentle man, but for you he would try. He would be anything you wished him to be, for as long as he lived, because now that he found you, he was never going to let you go.

And he welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to stand in his way.

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always welcome and appreciated! I really love hearing what y'all think. ❤️ If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

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thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels · 3 days ago

Text

Is it a curse that keeps the dead alive? (is it the love dripping from my tongue?)

Day 6 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: jason todd x reader (gender neutral)

length: 8.2k

genre: horror, fluff sort of, hurt/comfort

warnings: poltergeist jason, lots of talk about grief/death, unhealthy drinking habits, reader is almost mugged, brief/vague talk of suicide

a/n: sometimes all you need for halloween is to tongue kiss a ghost yk anyway enjooooooy <3

Staying in Gotham after Jason's death had felt like a bad decision that you couldn't shake, just like loving him had always felt like a bad habit that you couldn't break. There was a part of you that always knew that you should leave, that staying in this place where the memory of him haunted you like a ghost was doing nothing but turning you into a phantom, yourself - a whisper of what you used to be.

There's a part of you, you think, that died with him, that crumbled to dust and now lays somewhere on a street hidden in a corner of this endless, cursed city. You should've left, you know. You should've run when you had the chance. But you didn't. And now here you remain, feet rooted to the ground in this terrible place, the feeling of your dead lover haunting your every move. You should've left, but you didn't - and now you can't help but cling to whatever pieces of him you have left, even as you feel them pulling you further from the living.

"These drafts are, uh," your editor chews on her lip as she speaks, tapping her pen against the stack of paper on her lap. "Well -"

"What?" you snap. She holds her hands up in defence.

"They're just… a little dark, is all. It's not - they're not like your other novels."

"Am I not allowed to change?" you ask dully. "Am I stuck here? Can I not… can I not take a step forward?"

You should've left, but you couldn't, because the only pieces that you have left of Jason are Gotham - the Bowery and the streets of it, the bricks of the alleyways and the cracked concrete of the sidewalks. The apartment that you'd planned on getting with him, with its rickety fire escape and paint peeling from the walls. All these pieces, all these reasons to cling to and keep you here. It's like a curse, this place, and you were trapped before you ever even realized it.

"That's not what I'm saying," your editor sighs. "I'm just… a little concerned is all. I don't want you to get lost in this."

"I'm not lost," you shoot back, the words a rushed tumble falling from your lips, a fearful assurance for yourself more than her, perhaps. "I'm not. I know exactly where I am."

"And where is that?" She arches a manicured brow as she watches you. The clock on the wall ticks on and on and you think, perhaps, that this must be what it feels like to be an animal caught in a snare. You stare back at her, waiting, waiting, waiting for something to happen, for someone to pull you out of this place… but you're not sure there's anyone left to take your hand these days.

"…I'm right here," you offer eventually, your voice quiet in the echoing room.

"Right," she sighs. "You should… go away for a while, I think. Take a vacation."

"A vacation?" you echo. She nods and hums in affirmation. "Where?"

"Wherever you want," she shrugs. "Anywhere… anywhere but here."

"Where would I be," you say slowly, "if not for right here?"

"It's just to, you know," she sighs, tapping her nails on the stack of paper as she searches for the right words, as she looks and looks and looks for the way out. "Just to get away from it all for a little while. Get away from this place and these drafts and the - your, um,"

"My dead boyfriend?" you offer dryly. She shoots you an exasperated look.

"Your grief," she corrects. "Get away from your grief before it kills you, too."

You wonder sometimes if Jason knew that, even when you didn't. If he knew, all of those nights that you spent crying and pleading with him to be safe, to be careful, to not go out there to die. You wonder if he knew that it was some kind of curse, that this city traps you and ensnares you and chokes the outside world.

Not that it matters, you think dully, now that he's dead.

"Is this because of the Red Hood?" your editor asks bluntly. You blink.

"Pardon?"

"The new novels, the - the horrors that you write now. Is it because of the phantom?" she clarifies. You straighten where you sit, shifting in your seat.

"They're just… ghost stories," you say slowly. "The Red Hood's not - he's not real."

"I'm not saying he is," she sighs. "I'm just… Jason died and that changed you and I get that. But these weird… these weird rumours start popping up all over the city and suddenly the only books you'll write are about… about -"

"Ghost stories?" you prompt.

"Dead people!" she exclaims before sighing and brushing a stray hair out of her face. "I just… I just don't want to see you get stuck in this is all."

"I think," you say pointedly, rolling your shoulders back and settling further into your chair, "that it's a bit too late for that."

Dead, sure, but not gone. Even after his death, it's like he's still here. It's an ever-heavy presence laying over your shoulders and wrapping around you. Sometimes you swear you can even feel his breath on your cheek.

But that's crazy, you tell yourself. It can't be real. He's gone, he's gone, he's gone.

It's years after Jason's death that stories begin to spread around the Bowery - rumours of a hulking, shadowed figure stalking through the alleyways at night, intangible and uncatchable and melting into nothing whenever he's close to getting caught. People murmur about seeing streaks of red out of the corner of their eyes and a hooded figure hiding in the darkness. People whisper, people talk.

The Red Hood, they began to call him.

It scares people, notably - everyone at first. But then a pattern begins to emerge, and the story surrounding the Red Hood begins to shift. It's the criminals that begin to taste fear, that begin to shrink away from the darkness of night and the nooks and corners that they used to call home. It's the violence that begins to shift, turning against the perpetrators.

The Bowery's protector, he begins to be known as. Some sort of guardian angel, stalking the dangerous back alleys and keeping people safe in the depths of the endless night.

You hear the stories, of course, for you also call the Bowery home. And sure, a part of you thinks that it must be nonsense, must be some kind of trick of the night or hallucination spun from living endlessly in this closed-off city. But you've felt it, of course - the presence of someone watching, lurking, trailing after you. You swear that you've seen it, the streak of red like a splash of blood against the blackened backdrop of night.

You swear that there's something out there… and you swear that he's got his eye on you.

The first time you really encounter the Red Hood, you're sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building, one beer cracked open for yourself and a second sitting next to you, untouched. It's never opened - Jason's not there to share it with you. He never will be again, you know, you know, you know. But there's something that feels so wrong about doing things for just you instead of for the both of you, and you're not sure that you would be able to stand the idea of grabbing one beer from the fridge and drinking it alone.

But you are alone, you know, and you swing your legs over the edge and look up at the stars alone, your breath coming out in cold, foggy puffs. He'd sit with you, back when he was still alive. He'd point up at the stars through the cloud-splotched sky and tell you about the constellations, outlining the stories and the histories as he traced a hand up and down your spine and pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head.

You look at the sky tonight and you think about the big, wide world beyond this city, beyond the tangled snare of this life and the way that it haunts. And it's like you can feel it, the knotted wires twisting around your ankles and keeping you rooted here.

But then you tip your head down to stare toward the tangled mess of the city beneath you and you think of the Red Hood, of the shadow stalking the streets below. A shudder passes through you as you feel it, the weight of that unknown presence, and you can't help but wonder if it's Jason who's still here - if he's still holding on for you in some way.

Selfish, you think harshly as you clench your fists and stand, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and stumbling. Your head swims as you pull yourself to your feet, and you teeter for a moment as you slip on the edge of the roof.

But just as your heart lurches in your chest, just as you feel yourself tip off the edge, everything sort of… pauses for a minute. No one ever thinks they're really going to be the one to fall drunk off of a roof to their death - but here you are, balancing so precariously on the ledge between life and death.

Something sort of… catches you, then - an arm wraps around your waist and hauls you back up onto the safe, steady ground, notably far, far away from the ledge. And you swear to god you see it - the shadowy outline of a figure, the halo of red, the bite of cold flashing through you.

You spin around, wildly looking around the empty rooftop and letting your heart sink back into your chest as you find yourself alone, standing next to the roof access door. As you reach for the doorknob, your heart still spinning from the ordeal, you glance back at where you were sitting.

Your heart lurches again, then, finding its way to your throat as you stare at the empty beer bottle that sits on the ledge, your fingerprints still smudging the condensation on it. The second bottle, you realize… is gone, disappeared along with whoever or whatever saved you from the fall.

As you stumble back into your apartment, locking the door behind you with trembling fingers, you can't help but feel like you're not quite alone - like something that used to be out there is now… in here.

It's weeks later when the Red Hood makes his appearance again. You're sitting on your fire escape late in the evening, the metal hot to the touch as the moon hangs low and the summer air sits heavy and humid. Two glasses of lemonade sit next to you, yours half-empty and dripping condensation in the heat that wraps around everything, choking everything that it touches. Jason's, of course, sits untouched beside you, but it sits nonetheless - like he'll walk out any minute to join you, to sit next to you and crack the ice cubes on his teeth.

You're looking through old pictures of the two of you, boxes of them that typically stay hidden and buried in the back of your closet having been pulled out and dusted off. You're not sure why, but there's something lately that's made you want to remember him more than usual - something that's made you want to see him.

But one of those hot, sticky gusts of summer wind blows through and a picture flutters out of the box and away - despite your desperate, rushed scramble to lean over the railing to try to grab it. It's agonizing, perhaps more than it should be. With so few tangible memories of him left, you don't feel like you can afford to lose any small scraps. It's like he's slipping through your fingers more and more each day, and you start to realize in a sinking sort of way, that even the dead will always have further to fall, further to disappear.

You're hanging over the railing, staring forlornly down into the darkness when the photo just sort of… floats back up toward you. It's like it was tossed by someone or something down below, some unseeable force pushing it back up and toward your chest. But as you snatch it in your hand and lean a bit further to peer down toward the ground, all you manage to see is a quick stripe of red blurring through the shadows in the corner of your vision. There's nothing else… nothing besides the endless darkness and the twisting maze-like trap of the city.

When you sigh and sit back down, thumbing the photo as you grip onto it and letting your shoulders slump with a deep exhale, you reach for your lemonade. But the second glass, you find, is… empty, with wet fingerprints breaking through the layer of condensation on it and the ice missing, too.

Turning away sharply to look down at your hands, you realize that the photo that you're holding is one of you and Jason on Halloween years ago, matching ghost-like costume makeup smudged across your faces.

And so it begins, this routine that the two of you have. It's no replacement for Jason, sure - this strange, shadowed spirit that seems to trail after you, that seems to haunt your every move and tangle around you like the curse of this place. It is no replacement for the love of the living, but it's something - it's someone, and it makes you feel just a little less alone.

It's when you're walking home one night, winding through the twisted, maze-like alleyways and streets with nothing but the dull light of the moon to guide you, when you think that maybe this will be the night that you're unlucky. You know where you live - you know that it's really only dumb luck that you haven't been mugged yet, haven't been backed into a dark corner with no one to turn to and nowhere to run.

It's a cornerstone of this city, perhaps, to be so trapped… to be caught in this web before you even know to be afraid.

So when it begins to happen, when you're pressed into a corner, the brick wall cold and piercing against your back and your heart in your throat, you think that it's probably just time for the inevitable.

But then you think of Jason, of how kind and caring he was and how protective he was. You think of how he'd walk you home late at night to make sure that you were safe, how you'd wave down to him from the fire escape of your apartment and blow him a kiss from above. You wonder, in that hazy, fearful sort of way that seems to happen when death comes knocking at your door, if he was afraid when he died, somewhere in some back alley like this. You wonder if he thought of you, of the fact that he'd never come home safely that night, of the fact that he was leaving you.

There's something that lurches painfully in your throat as you press yourself further against the wall and you think of him in your place, with those kind, gentle eyes of his and those hands that didn't quite know how to do harm yet.

Sometimes you think that Jason was just too good for this place - that he deserved something much more than this crawling city could give him. And maybe, you think as a knife glints in front of you, the yellow of the streetlight illuminating your oncoming death. Maybe dying is the only way out of this godforsaken curse.

But then something… changes. The air shifts - the shadows dance. A streak of red slices between you and your threat and you hear a scream and a bloody gurgle of pain and maybe even a gunshot. You see the figure in front of you, wrapped in shadow and striking reds. You see the way that the streetlight goes right through him and the way that the shine of the moon can't quite seem to touch him… and you see the body of the man who'd been threatening you, too, blood-soaked and unmoving on the ground.

You stare down at him, your eyes wide and unblinking as you watch blood pool into the cracks and crevices of the crumbling asphalt beneath you and you consider how many of you have died like this - silent and ignored, like a rat in a back alley that's seen as nothing more than a nuisance… another body to step over, another lost cause finally gone.

The body doesn't move and a shaky, whimpering exhale leaves your lips as you lean heavily against the brick wall, your knees trembling and your hands cold. It could've been you tonight - it was Jason, once. There is a death that stalks these streets and something saved you tonight, you're sure. Something that shouldn't have been there.

Sure enough, that strange, hulking figure is still there, standing in front of you for the first time after flitting past you, unseen, for so long. You see him tangibly, solidly - you see his stance and the way he rolls his shoulders back and clenches his fists.

You see Jason standing in front of you - a ghost of what he used to be, a haunting memory seeping into reality before your wide, unsteady eyes.

"Jason…" your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a murmur cutting through the silent, still night. You're sure that you've gone crazy, of course. You think that maybe that man really had killed you and this is some hazy, cursed afterlife… some way of trapping you here in this moment and this agony even in death. You think - but you say his name, whisper it to him like a prayer and you wait, frozen, for an answer from above.

He turns to you slowly, and it seems that it's his turn to act like he's seen a ghost, spinning to face you and staring, wide-eyed and silent. You see him, just for a moment, and you know now that it's him, that it's Jason.

"Jason, I - no, wait, please -," Perhaps it's because he's afraid, you think desperately. Or perhaps it's - perhaps you've gone insane. He fades from in front of you, vaporizing into the endless shadows of the city and leaving you alone in the alleyway.

Alone, alone, alone.

Even in death, you're still losing him. Even in death, he's still slipping further and further from your fingers, squirming from your grasp until not even his memory is left to haunt you.

He's gone, and there's nothing but you and an unmoving corpse in a dark corner of a dark city, and when you stumble home slowly that night, there's a silence and a stillness that makes your skin crawl and your hands twitch.

Even in the days that follow that incident, the presence is just… gone. It leaves you reeling, of course, wondering endlessly if it was real, if the shadowy, blood-soaked protector of the Bowery is Jason, in one form or another.

But even if it is the ghost of him, you think, staring at the photo of him that you keep tucked into a corner of your wallet. Even if it is some phantom memory of him, some piece that couldn't die - couldn't get away from this place… is it even really him? Is it enough, you think, to have just the shadow of his life?

It plagues you as the days roll by, and you find yourself wandering endlessly, both inside your home and out in the winding, maze-like streets, like you're looking for something that you know doesn't exist. It's like you're searching for some kind of way out, waiting for a sign or an omen or another blood-soaked body in the back of an alley to rise from the dead and tell you what to feel.

But time drags on ceaselessly in a city that grows inward, that tangles itself endlessly together until it traps you. And as that time rolls by, you begin to get more… desperate.

You want to see him again - you need to see him again. And you figure… there has to be a way to make him appear - just once, just to see if you're right, if it's really him and he's really haunting you.

That's how you find yourself, one night, up on the rooftop of your building once again. One mostly empty beer bottle sits next to you with a second, untouched one placed caringly beside it as you stand on the concrete ledge and let the breeze blow into you.

You wonder briefly, as you peer over the edge, what it would be like to be nothing, to have the wind blow right through you and never feel the cold. You gaze down, down, down towards the darkened depths of the city as night blankets the buildings and muffles the life there. It's odd, you think, to look at it all from this height - to stand above it like this. It's odd to feel so separate and yet… trapped, still. Trapped… always.

You toe at the concrete edge and wrap your arms around your waist as the end-of-summer breeze brings in the cooler air and makes you shiver. You think that perhaps this is going a bit too far - perhaps you've gone a bit too crazy and this will be the end of you. Maybe there is no place here for the living and all that's left for you in this forsaken curse is to join the dead, one way or another.

You consider, as you stare down into the depths, being buried next to Jason if this kills you. But then you consider being buried somewhere outside of Gotham - because maybe then you could finally escape this place, even if it really is only in death.

But then, as you lift one foot and let it swing over the edge, you think that perhaps you… don't even really want that. Perhaps you can't even stand to think about it. Perhaps there is some part of Jason tied to this place because that's really what gets you… you don't want to break free of it.

You get a bit distracted, admittedly, thinking about all this and turning it over in your mind, and you let your foot hover over the empty space, staring down at the city below. You're so distracted that it catches you off guard, the firm arm that wraps around your waist and hauls you away from the ledge, dragging you to safety.

The breath catches in your lungs from the force of it, from the strength of the tug that pulls you endlessly away from that tipping point between life and death and steadies you on your feet. You're reeling from the force of it still when you hear a voice - his voice. Jason's voice… for the first time since his death, all of those years ago.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he begins, a hysterical edge in his voice. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if I hadn't been there? You could've - god, you could've died." He's going on and on, trembling and tugging at his hair and babbling about how he doesn't know what you were thinking and how dangerous that was and how he's been trying so hard to keep you safe but you're out here doing things like this and…

And you stare, wide-eyed, at the ghost of your lover as he stands before you and speaks to you in a voice that you almost recognize. It's different, notably, scratchy and warbling in a way that it wasn't before. But it's Jason's, still, and you'd know that voice anywhere, from anyone… even in death.

He looks… dead, mostly, you note. Pale-faced with dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken and face hollow. He looks… ashen - empty and unwell and… dead. He looks dead.

But he's standing in front of you and chewing you out for being so reckless, scolding you for not taking care of yourself and you're just sort of… stunned. Your head spins and your hands shake and it's like you can't breathe as your lungs turn to ice. You can still feel it, you're sure, the weight of his arm around your waist - you can still feel the strength of him haul you away from the ledge that you were so precariously tipping over.

You can feel the ghost of the man that you once loved saving you from becoming what he is now.

"Jason…" you whisper his name and his jaw snaps shut as he stares, unblinking and unmoving as you fall apart in front of him. If he were still alive, you realize, all of that shouting and carrying on would have him here heaving for breath while his heart hammers. But he's dead, you remind yourself, and you can't help but sink to your knees, crumbling under the weight of it all, under the weight of the man that you loved and lost standing in front of you and looking so hollow but so whole at the same time.

Your hands shake and your lungs tremble and you feel lost in the maze of it all more than ever before as everything spins and spins and spins around you. But he sees you start to buckle, start to crumble towards the ground and Jason reaches for you, gripping you around the waist and keeping you somewhat upright.

When you reach for him in shock, gripping onto the dull red of his tattered hoodie, you feel him, solid and real and tangible as he presses against you. He's real, even as a memory, even as a phantom of who he used to be. He's real. You whisper his name again as you look up at him and it's like it all comes to a halt, like the wind stops blowing and the stars stop blinking as you look at the man that you love and you find him again for the first time… even in death.

There the two of you stand, face to face, dead and alive. He's looking at you like you're the ghost, wide-eyed and shocked and staring at you like he loves you still. And you're pressing against him - and he's cold to the touch like he never was before, the heart in his chest silent as he looks down at you.

But he's Jason and he's here and he's more alive than he's been to you in years.

"Jason…" you say his name again like a prayer, like a plea. You say it while you stand so close to him that your breath would be mingling with his if he still had anything to breathe and your hands tighten on his hoodie at the reminder… at the remembrance that he's so, so far from you, even now.

It's almost as if he remembers this at the same time as you, because he pulls away from you in a jerking, shocked action, stumbling away and leaving you to stumble on your own. He steps back so fast that he trips on his own feet and there's a look of anguish in him suddenly, like he's remembering that he's not supposed to be here - that he's not allowed to live anymore.

"Jason," it's a shrill, desperate yell this time that comes from you as you watch him begin to fade, begin to melt into the mist of the night and leave you once more. You call out to him with a wretchedness that he's not sure he's ever heard before in life or in death… with a need that makes him feel almost alive, almost real.

It makes him stumble, makes him hesitate as he stares, eyes wild and sparking with something almost akin to life. It makes him snap back into solid form again. You make him whole again, just for a moment.

He says your name, a whisper over the breeze, a small noise swallowed by the night, and the shock begins to rattle and drain from your body in heavy, gasping breaths as you double over and sob, falling to your knees fully this time so that you can weep into your hands and hide your face from view. There's nothing from him for a moment, and you're petrified that if you look up, he'll be gone again, nothing but a shadow of the night, nothing but a memory faded by pain.

But he proves you wrong - takes you by surprise, just like he always could. He moves toward you like he's pulled by some invisible thread tangling around the two of you and winding your lives and deaths together that he can't quite untangle himself from. He moves to you like he loves you, still, even in death.

When his cold, undead hands cup your face and begin to wipe away your tears, when his bluish lips press against your forehead and he shushes you in that gentle, loving way of his, you find that maybe being trapped here isn't so bad.

"You can't do that," you whisper as he crouches in front of you, his hands wiping away endless tears that roll down your cheeks and his brows bunching together as he frowns. "You can't leave me like that - not again. I can't - I can't do it again."

"I'm sorry," he starts with, and a part of your heart lurches until he says, "I won't - I won't leave you ever again. There is nothing that can take me from you now." Just as he's begun to smooth the wet tracks from your cheeks, though, the mist around you dampens further into rain and you watch as it goes right through him, as it hits the ground beneath his feet and soaks the pale concrete.

"Jason, I need…" you begin as you stare at the ground through him. "You need to tell me what's been going on."

It's odd, you find, to have him in your home again, to watch him stand in your kitchen and make a cup of tea - just one cup, you notice, while you dry your hair from the rain. He'd ushered you out of the cold, pushing you with gentle, tender hands until you were back inside the safety of your apartment and looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

The kiss that he'd pressed to your forehead was quick, a hesitant sort of thing as he'd delicately guided you to the bathroom to clean up and get warm. As you stood in the doorway and watched him waft toward your kitchen, something had flipped in your gut at how normal it felt to have him back in your life and your home, even if you could see the kitchen lights shining through him and onto you.

By the time you come out into the kitchen, he's pushing a steaming cup of tea towards you as you sit on a stool at your counter, letting your hands wrap around the ceramic to soak up the warmth.

"How is it that you can, um," you begin, frowning down at your tea. When you glance up at him sheepishly, he just grins in that kind way of his, the gesture juxtaposing the gaunt, hollow look on his face.

"It's ok," he prompts gently and you sigh.

"How can you… touch and hold things and… and be?" you ask slowly. This time, when he smiles, the only thing that shines through is love.

"Well it's - it's because of you, baby," he says simply. You blink at him, staring as you frown.

"What?"

"It's, I don't know - it's just what poltergeists do, I guess," Jason shrugs as he shifts on his feet. "We cause trouble, we wreak havoc. It's what I do."

"I don't know," you say, huffing out a laugh. "I'm not sure keeping the Bowery safe counts as wreaking havoc. I mean, the only people you're causing trouble for are the people who probably deserve it. And you're… you're keeping me safe. And - and my home. You're keeping our home safe." You clear your throat after you speak, pointedly looking away from him and out your window, instead, feeling heat seep into your cheeks as you stare at the way the rain quickens into a downpour outside.

"I have to," Jason says quietly, and the sombre tone of his voice makes your gaze snap back to him. "I couldn't… I couldn't do it when I was alive. But I can do things now… I can be things that I couldn't before."

"But how, Jay?" you sigh. "What do you mean when you say it's me?" He laughs a bit at that, then, leaning across the counter to kiss your cheek and feeling a spark of delight zip warmth through his chest for the first time since his heart stopped beating when you lean forward subconsciously to let him love on you.

"You've been leaving things out for me, baby."

"Hm?" is your only response. Jason looks at you pointedly and you chew your lip for a moment before he glances down at the tea in your hands and you perk up.

"Oh my god," you splutter, and he laughs a bit at your gasp. "The beer, the lemonade, the - everything. It really was you."

"Yea, baby," he says easily. "Every… all the drinks, the extra plates of food, the - everything like that. You were paying tribute to a ghost, babe. You were keeping me here." You sit with that for a moment, letting your fingers tighten around the cooling ceramic of your mug as your head spins from Jason's words, with the knowledge that you really had spent all this time keeping the dead alive, in a way.

"Why'd you…" you begin, shifting in your seat as you search for the words. "Why'd you stay here, though? This place… it chokes the life out of people, Jay. It really choked the life out of you." You wrinkle your nose in immediate regret as you say the ill-timed joke, but Jason just laughs and presses another cold kiss to your cheek and you relax ever so slightly under the comfort of it all. "Why would you stay trapped in a place like this? Even in death?"

"Because of you, baby," he says gently, and his fingers tangle together as he eyes your hands, like he wants so desperately to reach for you but he just can't bring himself to. "I'm tied to you. Your love and your gifts and your… your remembering of me - that's what's keeping me around. I'm not tied to this city like a curse anymore. I'm tied… just to you. To your - to your love."

"Jason," you begin, your voice wavering as you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes, but he just continues.

"I've been trying, you know, this whole time," he says in a rush. "I've been trying to watch you - watch over you, keep you safe and all that. I've been trying to repay you for keeping me alive, sort of. I've been - I've been trying to make it worth it for you."

"I wasn't…" you begin carefully. "You don't have to do that for me. You don't have to make it worth my while. I just - I just missed you, Jason. I just wanted you back. Why didn't you come back to me?" Your voice cracks at the end as tears blur your vision and Jason shrinks back in a way that you've never seen before, curling into himself. He looks small, scared and insecure in a way that you're not used to seeing from him, even in life.

"Baby, I'm - I'm dead," he says heavily. "I look dead. I'm… I'm hollow and I'm rotting away and I didn't - I couldn't let you see me like that."

"Oh, Jason…" you say softly, but he steps away from the counter, away from you, and rubs harshly at his eyes with the palms of his hands as his shoulders bunch up. Under the light of your kitchen, his skin looks thin, stretched over bones too tightly as it shines with a waxy, unnatural, yellowish tinge.

"I can't be who I was before," he says desperately, keeping his face hidden in his hands as he all but doubles over, his voice trembling and cracking. "I can't - I - I want you to remember me, remember me for who I was, not - not this thing that I am now. I just… I wanted you to remember me well."

You abandon your cup of tea at his outburst, retracting your hands from the warmth of it so that you can make your way around the counter and toward him.

"Come here," you offer gently as you jump up to sit on the counter in front of him, waving him over with one of your hands. Jason looks at you for a moment, wary and sniffling, but even now he finds himself incapable of denying you and his feet bring him, stumbling, toward you despite his protests.

You widen your legs for him, letting him slot his hips between your thighs as you wrap your fingers around the red fabric of his hoodie and pull him closer to you. It's the hoodie that he died in, you note as you thumb at the fabric, at the tears and loose threads. It's the hoodie that he was wearing when he walked out your door and never came back.

But now he's here, trembling and looking down like he can't bear the sight of whatever disappointment, whatever hatred he's sure you'll look at him with. But you just cup his face in your hands, his skin cold as you smooth your palms over his cheeks and coax him ever so gently to look up at you. Then, slowly… slowly, you lean forward to press your lips against his, the bluish tinge of his lips chilled against your own.

There's a sound that he makes somewhere in the back of his throat, nervous and shocked and disbelieving as you part from his lips only to press a series of gentler, slower kisses across his face. You cover the sunken hollows of his cheeks and the darkened circles under his eyes and the pale, waxy skin of his fluttered-closed eyelids. You cover every surface until you find his lips again, and you can't help but be a bit delighted this time when he kisses you back, letting his tongue push against the seam of your lips as his hands grip onto your hips tightly.

"Jason," you murmur quietly, breaking away just enough to suck in a breath. He hums in question, his lips chasing yours, but you huff out a laugh and tap him chastisingly on the lips. "I still have to breathe, you know, even if you don't."

"Sorry, baby," he says sweetly, turning to trail kisses down your neck, instead, but you only indulge him for a moment before you're cupping his cheeks against and guiding him gently to look at you.

"I love you, you know… completely," you say honestly, and he tries to shift and look away but you tighten your grip on his cheeks so that he's forced to look at you. You know, of course, that he could leave if he wanted to - could vanish into thin air and melt from your grasp once again. You know that he's here because he's choosing to be, because he loves you, because he worships you, but never because he's trapped with you.

"Baby…"

"No, Jay, listen. I love you endlessly, through death and beyond. I promise, baby. I'll… I'll promise you as many times as you need to hear it. I love you tonight just as much as I loved you the night that I lost you. Nothing… nothing could change that."

"You didn't lose me," he murmurs back, leaning to press his forehead against yours and let his eyes flutter shut. "You didn't. Not - not forever, at least. I'm here. I'm here, I'm - I'm so sorry for leaving you, baby."

"Don't you apologize for it, Jay," you whisper back, letting one of your hands press against his chest where his heart used to beat and feeling nothing but the dull cold that radiates from him now. "Don't you apologize for shit that isn't your fault."

"I'm story I stayed away for so long, then," he amends, and you pull back to smile at him fondly, your eyes full of nothing but love as you run a hand through his hair, as brittle and dry as it is now.

"You came back, though, didn't you? You came back to me," you say easily, and you're sure that if his lungs still had use he would sigh one of those heavy, deep sighs that he's so fond of. Maybe that really is the curse, you think. No matter how far you run, you always end up right back in this place.

"I did, yea, I -," Jason clears his throat, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. You let him, smoothing your hands up and down his chest as you feel him clenching his fingers against your hips. "I'll always come back to you," he ends up saying firmly, tilting his head back down to look at you once more. There's something in him now, a promise, a passion - and it flits through his eyes so deeply that he almost looks alive. "I'll always come back to you."

"I know you will, baby," you say softly, one of your hands finding the back of his neck to pull him toward you again. "I know you will." When you kiss him this time, there's no hesitance, no fear - not from either of you.

When he buries his head in your shoulder to weep, his face pressed against the skin of your neck so that you can feel his tears, icy and wet, trailing over your skin, you bury your hand in his hair and shush him gently, rocking him back and forth as he sobs. That night, with the storm raging outside and tearing through the winding, tangled streets of Gotham, the two of you remain in the confines of your home. That night, you learn that ghosts can still cry. You learn that they can still love.

It's shocking, to say the least, when you wake the next morning to learn that the storm has passed and the sun's broken through the clouds just ever so slightly. The gaps in the darkened overhang filter shattering, slender beams of light onto the dark and tangled city below, illuminating cracks and crevices that have been unseen for so long.

Ghosts can't sleep, you know, but you wake with Jason in your bed, anyway, holding you and soothing you and pulling the blanket up around you while you doze against his chest.

"Did you stay here all night?" you murmur against him, and you feel him hum in affirmation.

"Of course," Jason responds easily, his voice hushed and low as he soothes you with his hands. "Where else would I be, if not right here with you?"

"Fighting crime," you mumble, and this time his laughter shakes his chest enough that it jostles you, much to your half-asleep displeasure. "No, I'm serious," you continue. "I hear there's some crazy smuggling going on at the docks - someone even said they saw a mermaid on one of the cargo ships."

"A mermaid?" Jason muses. "In Gotham? I think you need some more sleep, baby."

"You're no fun," you quip back, but you close your eyes and curl closer to him regardless as he laughs.

"I think I'll stick to the Bowery for now," he soothes. "Someone else can deal with whatever circus is going on down at the docks."

"Yea, but what about last night?" you sigh sleepily as Jason traces a hand up and down your spine. "How do you think the Bowery fared without the Red Hood protecting it for the night?"

"I feel like…" he responds slowly. "You're making fun of me."

"No," you say quickly. "Wouldn't dream of it." His finger flicks you gently on the forehead and you giggle, keeping your eyes closed and your face buried in his chest.

"Even the Red Hood deserves a night off every now and then… right?" At the hesitance in his voice, the thin warble of insecurity seeping in, you open your eyes and tug yourself up and away from him so that you can give him one of your soft, gentle smiles and kiss him on the cheek.

"Endlessly, yes," you say simply, and it relaxes him enough that he lets his shoulders drop and he tugs you back toward him, settling you against his chest once more and coaxing you to close your eyes. His skin presses against yours as he pulls the blankets up around your shoulders and tucks them in carefully, and you can't help but hum in satisfaction and press yourself further into him.

It's not often that the sun shines in Gotham, in this cursed place that traps you and holds onto you in its choking, death-like grip. It's not often that the light breaks through. But now, as the beams shine through your window and cast patches of heat onto your back, you find that the cool feeling of Jason's touch is nothing but a comfort against you.

Maybe this curse isn't so bad, you think, if he's here with you. Maybe this life isn't so bad, even in death.

It's surprisingly simple, you think, for the two of you to begin to settle into this new routine, this new life after death. You're still tangled in this place, of course, still trapped beneath the weight of this haunting city and the ways that it ensnares you. But there is a safety in your home for the two of you that feels a bit less like a curse and a bit more like a choice.

It's late one evening, the rain raging outside as flashes of lightning crack through the sky and thunder rattles the windows of your living room as it booms overhead. You're turning up the heat on your thermostat and Jason's sitting on your couch, that sullen, fidgety look overtaking him as he remembers that he's different now, that you can't curl up into him for warmth the way that you used to.

"What are you doing over there?" he asks in that dull sort of way that he slips into when he can see the fabric of your couch through his hands and he catches glimpses of his reflection in your mirrors.

"I'm just turning the heat up, babe," you say absentmindedly, cranking up the temperature on your thermostat so that it's high. "And that's not something that you have to apologize for," you point out as you spin on your heel and turn back to him, making your way back to your spot next to him and glancing at your radiator with a huffed out breath when it rattles with newfound effort.

"How warm did you make it?" he asks, a frown tugging at his lips as you curl against him and he cranes his head around you to try to catch a look at the number on the thermostat.

"Just warm enough for me to do this," you respond easily, pressing up against his side and letting the cold feeling of his skin seep through you as you let out a delighted shiver. Sure enough, as the temperature in your apartment begins to rise, you find yourself pressing closer to him, seeking the cool touch of his hand tracing mindless patterns across your back under your shirt and the feel of your cheek pressing against his neck.

"Hm, clever," Jason mumbles in that new airy, warbling way of his, and you know that if blood still pumped under his skin he'd have a bright red blush raging across his cheeks. You coo still and poke him gently in the hollow of one of his cheeks, watching him fondly as he looks down at you with a long-suffering stare.

"I'm just saying," you shrug, "we could do all sorts of things like this."

"Yea?" he quips, but his hand smooths down your back and grasps firmly onto your hip, his fingers dipping just below your waistband to press into your skin. "Like what?"

"Hm, I have some ideas…" you trail off, looking up at him with big, hopeful eyes. "But what were you thinking?"

Outside, the world spins and spins and the storm rages on. Outside, the streets are dark and winding and dangerous, the maze of alleyways and crumbling roads a haunting hazard, a mass grave for those tied to this place. Outside, the city creaks and groans with a life of its own as it takes and takes and takes.

But in here, even the dead can find themselves a home. In here, even ghosts can learn to live again.

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taco-rambles · 1 day ago

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DC XDP prompt: Danny falls out of a portal literally into Batmans arms in a JL meeting.

Feel free to play with this. I probably will write more, but I'm STUCK and don't know how to write the JL or anyone else for that matter.

XXX

The Justice League meeting had gone very well. For once there were no major crisis from anyone attending, and all of the regular members of the league were in attendance. A few of the second row hero’s had begged off for one reason or another, but nothing that was a threat of any real kind.

Batman was wary, and on edge as the meeting wrapped up. It was never this simple, it just couldn’t be. There was always some kind of threat to keep an eye on, but the worst thing that had come up during the meeting were routine security updates.

No one else seemed to be on edge from the far too calm, routine meeting, and Bruce had just about convinced himself that it was really just one of those meetings where nothing outrageous would happen. It was ideal even…

Then the alarms went off, in the specific modulation that indicated a magical incursion.

Batman wasn’t the only one who’s hands went to weapons when the portal materialized above the meeting room table only a moment after the alarm went off. Swirling lazarus green had him ready for the fight even as the rest of the league went into defensive positions around the incursion.

“What…” Flash started to ask about a minute later when nothing had happened yet, the alarms still blaring.

That’s when something came flying out of the portal, at speed, back first.

Batman had a split second to decide to attack… or not. A split second to try to process the impressions and decide if this was an attack.

The portal closed as he cradled the small body that had crashed into his arms, the alarms silencing a moment later as the rest of the league tried to catch up, all of them wondering if this was some new threat.

Batman looked down at the child in his arms, a boy in his mid teens and small for his age, with white hair framing a frighteningly familiar looking face, gently pointed ears, and fangs in a mouth that gasped for breath against pain. The eyes were closed, twisted tight as the child clutched at his chest and belly, holding together severed flesh that leaked lazarus green blood from a clinical and too regular wound. Fingers tipped with small claws spasmed, tears coming from closed eyes.

“Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, Diana’s voice filled with concern as Bruce wrapped the child in his arms and stood up from where he had been knocked on his ass catching said child.

“Call down to medical. Severely wounded unknown,” he snapped, moving towards the door, only to stop as there was a flash of light in his arms, and the child suddenly gained a solid weight that was closer to human. The blood dripping from passed out hands was now brilliant red, fingertips blunt with chewed nails, the boy’s skin going from pale white to… a healthier tone.

Bruce consciously stopped cataloging his observations then, swiftly making his way to medical. Whatever this boy was, whether he intended to tug at Batman’s heart the way he was or not, was severely wounded and needed medical attention immediately.

He could process it all, and wonder why a child looking exactly like Damian Wayne had been thrown into his arms through a lazarus portal later.

XXXXX

An hour later, after a discreet call to his youngest just to be sure, Bruce watched the now sedated child in the medical cot, working on trying to face match the databases and find out if the child came from earth or not.

The searches primarily turned up Damian Wayne. Bruce knew for certain this child was not his son, but he was also running a DNA analysis because this Might be his son. It made a disheartening amount of sense for this boy to be another version of Damien, perhaps from another dimension, or some manner of clone, or perhaps Talia had simply hidden another child of his away… Bruce needed to narrow down the possibilities, to find the truth.

Of course, it was equally possible that this boy was some manner of mimic, taking on a form that would ensure his safety in unknown environment, a shape shifter intentionally injuring himself in order to infiltrate the Watchtower. Though that last theory didn’t make sense for a number of reasons. Most shape shifters would be secure enough in their abilities to simply try to mimic someone who already had access to the watch tower, to say nothing of the boy’s dramatic entrance.

Batman wasn’t thinking logically. Bruce couldn’t simply leave the boy here though. Not until he knew more, everything relevant by preference. The thought that this might be his son in any way was enough to keep him near, but he could already tell he was compromised.

He had already informed Diana and Clark, and both of them had agreed that he should stay nearby until they had the situation sorted out.

Bruce had been stuck in a circular though pattern for about fifteen minutes when a green form came into the room, J’onn looking at him calmly.

“Can you find anything out?” Batman asked without preamble, unable to bring himself to observe polite pleasantries when he was so unsettled.

“Nothing beyond surface thoughts. The boy’s mind is static and pain of the emotional kind,” J’onn stated after a moment.

Batman nodded, accepting the answer. J’onn’s abilities weren’t always the answer to everything, could indeed often be a crutch that led to the wrong answers. But they could also give the Justice League a starting point often enough.

“You should rest friend. It is unlikely that the boy will awaken soon…” J’onn cut himself off with a quiet look at the boy. “Or not. He’s coming around.”

Batman watched as the child’s eyes blinked open, drowsy expression turning to the two heros without much recognition. Bruce didn’t let himself react, kept himself in a calm pose even as his mind once more went into overdrive.

The boy had blue eyes, not green like Damian's.

#dp x dc #up for adoption #I'm going to write more #I have written more #Not sure how long it will last though #Bruce: is this my child?#The universes: Yes. Doesn't matter if he was before he is now #rest of the JL: o.O ... adoption on demand?#Bats you have a problem #First time making a dc x dp prompt #or story #or whatever

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tan1shere · 1 day ago

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Are We Still Friends

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: thought I'd do some angst again cuz im in the mood for it turday - I don't know if there's a happy ending tho... SORRY !

Summary: she didn't mean to hurt you, never wanted to. But she ended up doing so. Badly and unfixable.

Warnings: ANGST ! No happy ending, idk if there's anything else ?? Get tissues babes

Masterlist

She wasn't herself recently and it worried you, knowing her past. But it wasn't exactly like that. You began to think that at first when she started isolating from you. But then you saw how cold she had gotten. You started to wonder if it was you, who had upset her. But you've never done anything except love her. She had been out all day, like she has been alot recently. You understood because she has to work ofcourse, but it was always later in the evening when she got home.

You two were seated for some dinner, things being silent like usual. You watch her mess around with the food, not making eye contact with you. "So, how was your day?" She shrugs. "It was alright." She replies. Her tone dry as anything. Your heart picks up in speed, not liking this side of her. It was not only worrying but frightening you. What had you done, what had anyone done to upset her this much?

Whenever you'd ask if she was ok, you'd just get a hum in reply. But it was far from reassuring your concern for her currently. So you ask her properly tonight, usually leaving it be whenever she'd hum. "Baby are you sure you're ok, you've just been so off recently." Her eyes look up at you slightly for a second, then immediately back at her food. "I'm fine." You're surprised by the full answer. "Are you s-" "I said. I'm fine." Your heart sinks at the way she talked to you, was she angry?

"Oh, ok." You slowly grab your plate, going to put it in the sink without another word. That is, until she speaks up. "I'm sorry." She sighs. But you just think it's best to leave her right now, heading up to your bedroom. "Baby." She says timidly, still holding a slight anger in her voice. You knew something was clearly going on, and all you wanted was for her to talk to you. Or atleast figure out what was happening. Is She tired? Did you say or do something? Or maybe you hadn't said or did something.

It was eating at you, stressing you out. All you wanted was for your true love to be ok. It's all you've ever wanted. You couldn't work properly, it invading your mind like a bad smell. All you wanted was to get home and sleep, especially with her. But that also died down along with her happy vibe. No cuddles at all, you felt unlovable. Her mood was killing your own, and causing all your friends to notice. But that was the thing. She seemed to be semi ok with them, still having a tense tone.

But actually making an effort to talk. Maybe it was you, maybe you weren't as interesting anymore. Maybe she'd grown from you, was she getting over you? Night time rolls around after a long, long day. You get into bed, her not long after. Immediately going to get some sleep. "Night baby." You said, softly. "Night." Again, dry. Desert dry. You sigh, turning over on your side. Facing her but closing your eyes. You hadn't noticed, but she was looking at you. The guiltiest look on her face.

A few weeks past and nothings changed. She's still in the same exact mood. It made you wonder if it will always be like this. You were at work currently, going to scroll on your phone while on your break. You lean back in your chair observing. When you see a particular photo. One that made your heart sink. You look at it carefully. But you didn't want to, you wanted to puke. It was Billie, she was kissing another girl. You were trying to rack your brain on when and where this happened.

The caption said "Billie with - some girl." Your brows furrow. Her fans knew about you, you didn't know exactly how well but when you opened the comments it was clear.

'That doesn't look like Y/n'

'Did Billie cheat'

'That isn't her girlfriend'

'Who is she kissing'

You had the exact same thoughts, except there was more of them. Flooding your mind. "Who is she." "Whyd she do this." How could she, you really didn't want to believe it. She would never. Your heart sinks further realizing that it was you. But at the same time it wasn't. She cheated on you. You were still in pure shock, deciding to go home early.

You doubted she had even seen the photo, she hardly ever went on her phone these days. But then that got you thinking, the only time she did was at night. But she'd only go onto text messages, you know. Because her phone would constantly ding. You figured it would be Finn, or a family member. Or even another friend. But now you were starting to think otherwise. You plop down on your bed when you finally get home. Staring at the ceiling.

You thought it over long and hard, and you were picking between confronting her and getting it over with or letting her come clean. But it's been so long you worry she wouldn't. Did she care? But you couldn't bear it, the thought of loosing her. And if you confront her that would be the result. You just hoped deep down she'd come clean and you could try working this out. Right?

The door opens hours later, you see her placing her phone down on the nightstand. "Hey, what're you doing back early?" She asks. "Didn't feel too great at work today." You reply, turning over. "Oh, sorry." You knew she said that to be somewhat sympathetic, but in a way it's as if she was apologizing for more. You shrug slightly, just wanting to take another nap. "Me and Finn finally got done with something we had been struggling on for months." She says a tad bit happier than she had been.

You nod. "That's good, Bills." Now it was your turn to be dry, she wanted to leave you be. Noticing your mood. Going down to the living room. You look over at her phone that she had left, considering looking at it. Was that wrong.. you don't even know if you can trust her after the photo, you were almost certain you'd find what you really hoped not to find on there. When it dings. You just had to, reaching over to grab it.

She hadn't changed her password. Did she think shed get away with it or something? Did she want to just pretend it never happened? All these new questions in your head overflowing. You go to the message and it was from a girl, that girl who was feeling her up at a party way back. You knew Billie didn't like her and found her to be very annoying. What changed? Billie was always a kind person to everyone, never mean to anyone's face. Especially considering this girl was friends with some mutual friends.

But not that friendly. You felt your eyes water, thinking of what to do. You read more of the messages. Reading one of Billies saying to leave her alone in the end. Did she regret it? Why hadn't she told you if so. You bite your bottom lip, feeling the tears pour. 2 years wasted. Down the drain. That was all you could think now. How much of a waste this whole thing was. Slight anger rises in you. Not much because you never got angry, but this. This was the thing to be mad about.

You walk downstairs, little scared for what's about to come. She was sitting on the sofa, when you let her phone fall into her lap. Her head looks up at you, confused as anything. Her eyes move to her phone seeing what was on it. Her head instantly looks at you again, noticing the tears. "Baby-" "Don't. Baby me. You don't have any right to call me that. When you've hardly been doing such for a few months. Why start now." She was stunned to say the least. Even though she shouldn't be, she knew you'd find out eventually. But she honestly hoped it'd fade away and that you wouldn't have to.

"Please let me-" "Explain?" You finish. "Theres nothing to explain. You've been talking to this girl for God knows how long. Kissed her!" She didn't realize you knew that. "How'd.." You scoff slightly. "When your famous Billie. Cameras never leave you. I saw on one of your fans accounts." She sighs, cursing to herself. Now she really felt guilty. She had been this whole time and wanted to tell you. She just never knew how and decided to forget it all. "It was a mistake." You chuckle. "Yeah, a massive fucking one." Her hands go to grab your shoulders as she quickly gets up.

You push her back. "No Billie, don't touch me. Please." The Please breaks her, she finally felt everything. All that she had been ignoring and pushing down until she didn't feel as guilty. That was truly pointless now. "Ba- Y/n. Just let me tell you what really happened." You shake your head. "How am I suppose to trust you. You've been lying to me this whole time." She nods. "I know I know, I don't know why I didn't just tell you. I should've." - "You're a liar. You're a fucking cheat." You go to leave the room. But she goes after you.

"Let me talk, please." You turn to look at her. "What's there to say? That it was an accident. You had been drinking, she came onto you. And that you were intoxicated so you obviously couldn't stop her. Did I miss anything?" She looks at you, that was half true. "Just let me-" "No, save it. Because if it's remotely close to what I just said I don't want to hear it." You go over to the closet. "I had been drinking, and no that's no excuse. I was trying to get away from her. I promise." Your tears come back. That promise was broken to you.

"I have no excuse for what I did. And I should've told you but I didn't, because I was trying to protect you. I didn't want to hurt you especially with how work had got you. I couldn't, I decided to when things eased. Then it started weighing on me. I felt miserable because it was all I was thinking of. The fact I hurt you, the second she kissed me." You grab a suitcase as she waffles on. Her eyes filled with worry. "You have to believe me, I know you won't but please. Please." It had been forever since you heard any emotion in her voice. And now it was need, desperation. "I cant stop you." You say sadly.

She looks at you confused. "I don't like her at all." You shrug again. "I don't know what to believe at this point." You pack a few things, starting to fully sob now, feeling shakey. She comes over going to gently touch your arm. "N-no." You attempt to move her. "Stop." But she now cries ever so slightly, bringing you into a hug. You wanted none of it. But with your weak state, your pathetic hits to her chest were doing nothing. You did need comfort right now but she was the last person you wanted it from.

When you muster up some courage you push her away. Scurrying with the suitcase down the stairs. You needed to get away. You had to.

"Are we still friends?.."

You don't say another word, knowing you both knew the answer to her question. It was the end you just couldn't keep doing this anymore. You didn't want to hurt. This was the only option for now. Closing the front door...

Maybe thats the sign it just wasn't meant to be.

Can't say goodbye..

Can't say goodbye.

#billie eilish #billie elish icons #billie eilish fanfiction #billie #billie eilish x reader #billie ellish lyrics #billie elish moodboard #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish angst

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banquetwriter · 22 hours ago

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୨୧ Soggy Socks ୨୧

pairing: Joel Miller ♡︎ Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ implied soft!dom Joel, shy!joel, post TLOU 1 but pre TLOU 2, reader is basically ellie's mom, Joel and Ellie are friends here, passionate sex, no explicit aftercare, Joel is a little timid and shy and gives game and hbo Joel bc I love both smh

summary: ʚ two late-night fear driven bed talks leads to some well… bed talking ɞ

Words: 5.2k

A/N: omg hi, this isn't beta read and I'm a weird headspace lately and I hope this turned out ok I think its horrible low-key.

The cold air of the house clings to your frame. Yet another nightmare plagued your mind. The horrors of the world are not soon forgotten in your brain. You wrapped your arms around yourself. The thin fabric of your sleep shirt is both cold and warm as you leave the relative safety and warmth of your bed.

Your footsteps are light to not wake a sleeping Ellie. You tiptoe past her room and make it to where exactly you didn't want to. You stood in front of Joel’s. It was hard to define your relationship with the older man but one thing was clear to you. Your relationship transcended the perturbable barriers of society.

You both loved each other that much was clear to you, the crazy look he got in his eye when he thought something or someone was going to hurt you. His strong body guarded yours. You knew you craved him to a worrying level. It was true.

One time on the road someone came up behind you and threatened you. You slowly started to give the thief what he wanted, Joel wasn't going to allow that. He killed him.

It was the first time he had ever directly protected you. Not Ellie and you. Just you. You turned around, cheeks tear-stained and a lot of looks in your eyes. You faced him with nothing but fear, not of him but of the situation. Ellie looked between both of you with her fearful look.

Joel’s face fell seeing your scared expression. “Hey hey you're ok,” he whispered causelessly, setting down the weapon he used to save you. You clambered into his arms shocking the salt and pepper-haired man.

“Thank you, I'm so sorry,” you whispered back to him. His rough warm calloused hands found the back of your neck. His pine scent engulfed you as his strong arms wrapped around your body shielding you. He made you feel so safe.

It was a feeling you craved every day since then. You quietly knocked on his door with your left hand bringing your other hand to open his door. You peer into the room. You see his sleeping form tangled up in blankets.

“Joel?” you ask, peering over him. His snores fill the room. “Joel,” you say more sternly. You can see his eyes open taking in your surroundings. He shifts suddenly, whipping around to see you. You blink slightly embarrassed at waking him up. “What's wrong?” he said his sleepy face filled with concern.

The embarrassment fills your body into your bones. “I- nothing in sorry go back to sleep,” you whispered attempting to leave. Joel wasn't gonna have that. He sat up further, “Y/n.” His voice is stern. You paused, biting your lip before turning back.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asks, chest rising and falling more rapidly. It's now you notice he’s just in some plaid boxers. And only the boxers. His bare chest is illuminated by the moonlight leaking through his windows. “I just- I couldn't sleep I guess. Nightmare,” you mumbled your words scratching the back of your neck.

Suddenly the room didn't feel so cold. It felt hot. Like his laser gaze on you. Your eyes didn't catch his, fearful of what you might find. Scrutiny maybe? Judgment surely. “Hey,” he said causing you to look up.

“C’mere,” he whispered. This was different. The two of you, minus his life-saving hug, had never been so intimate before. Not physically anyway. Maybe emotionally sure. The occasional handhold when Ellie wasn't watching was all you both managed.

You took a sharp breath almost running to the opposite of the bed. He moved over to meet you sitting down slowly. “What was it about? Your dream?” he asked, his voice was sweet.

“Nightmare,” you corrected him with a small pout. He smiled sadly at you. “Alright, what was your nightmare about?” he asked looking you up and down. Your eyes fluttered slightly at his gaze suddenly nervous under his beautiful eye.

He must have noticed your sudden shift in demeanor and poor sweet Joel trying to help reached out his strong hand and placed it on top of yours. You felt a small flash of heat to your core as you tried not to think about how his hands felt. “It's ok, it's ok. M’ right here baby.” oh lord he had never used that word before.

It was most likely the early morning tired still in his brain. “It's not a big thing. It's silly really,” you whispered releasing a small amount of tension in your body leaning towards his form slightly.

He looked up at you from the bed, his puppy dog eyes seemingly able to think every thought before you thought it. He shook his head. “S’not silly. Now would ya please tell me what the hell is going on?” he asked, his voice low.

“I just was out there again. With you. And she and I don't know why or how but-but someone got us. They had a gun to your head Joel and it was so scary-” you started. Fiddling with your fingernails. His hand is placed over your hands, reminding you to stop picking.

He hated that you did that. ‘Tore up your damn hands’ he would always comment.

“I watched you die in front of me, but I couldn't do anything about it. I was so scared but Ellie I had to watch her. I don't remember much but all I know was I needed to get her out and I did and I woke up.” you rambled, and the words felt like they were slipping and pouring out of you.

Small tears prickled at your eyes as you tried to get a full breath in. It felt silly being worked up over a made-up tradegity. You let out an involuntary gasp, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you stated at Joel. His face fell his shoulder relaxing as he sat up.

“Hey hey c’mere.” he nearly commands, moving his entire body towards you. If it's a command or not you listen. Sobs wrack through your body as he once again consumes your body, mind, and soul. “Hey hey pretty none of this cryin’ ok? I'm right here,” he says, shaking his head, and pulling your body into his lap.

His warm chest collided with your face as tears streamed down your cheek. He shushes you slightly, his hand finding the back of your neck rocking you slightly. “I know it's scary but it ain't real, I'd never leave you or Ellie ever pretty ok?” Joel’s voice vibrated through his body and you could feel it.

It didn't matter how much reminding you that he was still here you still cried. You weren't sure how long but you did. After what seemed like a few minutes, you were just idly sniffling against his chest.

It was time for you to leave the comfort and face your now cold bed. You wiped your tears away and began to sit up. “Thank you,” you whispered. The bed creaked under your weight shifting. The air between you seems to stills as you attempt to leave.

“I was thinking maybe you stay. For tonight.” his voice cuts the silence. You stop in your tracks confused. You turn back to him. He propped himself on one arm, the other resting on his leg. “Joel. You don't know what you're doing,” you whispered to him.

“Yeah. I do,” he says looking at the empty bed space in front of him. You held your breath as you sat down. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” you hear yourself asking.

“Just to make sure you're alright. Been thinkin’ about it for a while now anyways.” Joel says. His words are confident but his face betrays him. His face was filled with worry. “It's just we've never shared a bed before. I can't just go back to normal, after doing something intimate like this,” you confessed.

“I-I know,” Joel said looking down for a second before looking back up again. “If you're ok with it,” he said, looking down again. You don't reply with words. You simply climb into the bed with him. His scent fills your nose.

Joel settles as a big spoon wrapping his arm around your stomach. Slotting against you perfectly. Neither of you said anything with words but placing a soft kiss on his wrist spoke volumes. As his soft kiss on your neck spoke in response.

To say that was the best sleep of your life would be an understatement, to say the least. You soon enter slumber and let it take you. And take you it did.

Joel felt you snuggle into his side. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he pictures a world where maybe he isn't so hard to love. Maybe the infected don't roam the earth. Maybe you're married and living somewhere in the suburbs. He has Sarah still, AND Ellie.

Maybe that isn't so fictional now he has both his girls in Jackson. You and Ellie that is. Maybe that's why he places another soft kiss, this time one on your hairline.

When you woke the next morning there was a severe lack of Joel next to you. Feeling your heart drop you now had to understand how on earth you were going to now have to face him. You were tangled in his sheets covered in his smell.

You sat up rubbing your eyes, swinging your legs over the bed, and yawning. You stepped quietly out of the room, letting the door softly click behind you. You heard the sizzle of food being cooked. You rounded the corner to find Ellie at the table scribbling away at her journal.

Joel was the one over the stove. His eyes met you. His face softened and a small smile overtook his concentrated features. He didn't look mad. “Oh guess who decided to join us,” Ellie said with a smirk, closing her notebook.

You roll your eyes at her, pulling the chair next to her. “Good morning to you too kiddo,” you said ruffling her hair. She grumbled fixing her hair. “Woke up just n’ time,” Joel said softly, holding a pan of what you assumed was scrambled eggs.

You pulled an empty plate from the stack of three sitting in the middle of the dining table. That was new. It's not like Joel excluded you from eating or something but he never exactly made a meal for all three of you. Minus when you guys tracked across the country together.

You smile up at him with messy hair and an empty plate. His gaze softens even more if that's possible, taking his utensil and shoveling a heavy amount of eggs (called it) and some sausage links onto your plate. “Thanks, Hun, Oh shit when did you pick these up?” you asked, picking up some utensils for you and Ellie.

You set them next to her and she hardly acknowledged it as Joel shoveled some onto her plate too. “Oh uh picked them up this morning,” Joel said nonchalantly. You smiled softly as she began to shovel food at lightning speed. Joel’s eyes look at his daughter before looking back at you.

You both shared a knowing look as you began to eat and Joel started to plate his own food, setting the pan back into the stove. “Where were you this morning?” Ellie asked, between gulps. “Uhhh.” you started as you were about to take a bite.

Joel’s eyes shoot up in panic. You blow a quick breath out before shoving food into your mouth. “What do you mean sweetheart?” you mumbled through your food gathering more food with your fork.

Joel follows suit and chooses to not say anything. “Well, I tried, to wake you up today so I could use your bathroom because the main one gets cold as shit, PLUS Joel doesn't clean up the water after he showers so my sock gets all fucking wet,” she says through heaves of food.

Joel’s face blushes a slight pink, slightly embarrassed by Ellie’s words. “I must have just been in the bathroom or something I don't know,” you said shrugging. The rest of the breakfast is spent in relative peace and quiet until Ellie finishes and stands up abruptly.

“Seconds if you want 'em’” Joel says to her nodding to the stove. “Fuck yeah,” she says before checking her watch. “Oh shit. I gotta go.” Ellie says, realizing the time. She places her dish in the sink. Before running off to her room.

“Hey. Where are you running off to?” Joel shouts after her. She doesn't respond, instead she comes bounding out with her pack in hand frantically looking around for her jacket. “Fucking jacket,” she mumbles.

You smile to yourself remembering what it was like to be a teenage girl. She slips it on running to the door. “Hey where are you off to?” you ask, turning around in your chair. She turns back out of breath.

“Friends. I'm gonna go see friends,” she says, placing her on her hip. She must think you were born yesterday. “Oh friends huh?” you say scrunching your eyebrows.

“Yeah. Friends.” She reasons. “You sure you're not going to see Cat?” you ask tilting your head. “I-am not getting into this with you,” she says, rolling her eyes and promptly leaving. You pierce your lips together and look at the man sitting across from you.

He stays silent as you both eat. Shying away from eye contact. But he didn't seem mad. “Got you somthin’ for ya, when you're done w’breakfast I’ll give it to ya,” he says nodding, still unable to look you in the eye.

“You could give it to me now, right?” you say with a slight smirk. A smirk tugs on Joel's features as he caves. He walks over to his jacket hanging up on a coat rack. He shuffles through the pocket and reveals a small bag of something.

For being a man who has survived this long it was almost funny seeing him sheepishly hand you chocolate. You gasp as you take it. “Joel!” you say immediately taking a piece out.

He doesn't say anything, just smiling to himself at your reaction. “If I didn't know any better I'd think you're being sweet on me,” you said placing the piece in your mouth. Joel continues not to say anything just staring at you trying his hardest not to smile.

His silence causes you to look up. “Oh my god you are being sweet!” you said. “Saw it when I was picking up breakfast stuff today and figured it would make you happy,” he said, placing his hands on his hips like it wasn't a big deal.

“Joel Miller has a crush on me!” you sang while taking another piece of chocolate. “M’ a little old for a crush don't you think?” he asked. “You're never too old for a crush Joel,” you said smiling.

There was a pause. Your eyes met each other and a certain electricity filled the air. It made your stomach erupt with butterflies. The beat of your heart doubled, and he took a slow step toward you. You leave the chocolate on the table, standing up.

“Yeah? M’not too old?” he asks as his body approaches yours. He was referencing the crush joke but you knew his words were deeper than that. He was asking you if he was too old. He sure as hell wasn't.

“You can never be too old, not to me at least,” you whispered. You tried to be full voiced but it didn't come out that way. Joel's eyes seemed to go darker as he stopped in front of you. There was a split second of hesitation before you felt his lips crash onto yours.

“Mmmm Joel,” you whispered against his lips. “Shh I know,” he whispered back. His rough hands find the sides of your face. His lips were surprisingly soft as they met with yours.

After a moment or two, he pulls away, resting his forehead on top of yours. Joel wasn't good with words, never has been, and probably won't be. This was a big change for him. Allowing himself to love you. God, it felt so good.

“M’gonna be late f’patrols.” He whispered, not moving. “You should probably leave then,” you replied as he pulled you into him. “Yeah. I will. Just need to say goodbye s’ all.” he offered you. That wasn't it and you both knew it.

Who knew Joel could be such a softie? You were glad either way. “Goodbye Joel,” you whispered with a smile. He let out a huff, pulling away and while you tried to remain stoic in the moment the loss of his warmth was such a tragic feeling.

Joel grudgingly got his things together and set out to the stables. His mind swirls with thoughts of you. Jesus he needs to get a grip he isn't some teenage boy who's just had his first kiss. But he sure feels like it.

The days seem to fly by you both as trying to get a handle on your life in Jackson is taking time. It's been four days since Joel kissed you, and you haven't had a moment alone since. Both of you work different patrolling shifts, or Ellie was there, and the only time to sneak in some hugs or touches was fleeting and Joel wanted to be a gentleman about the situation.

That doesn't mean you two weren't talking, however. As Joel came back from a later patrol shift covering for someone he found you and Ellie curled up with a book. “So wait, why doesn't Jo like Laurie?” he heard Ellie asking.

“Because sweetheart it's not that simple-” you started. “Ugh, whatever,” Ellie said, cutting you off. Joel rounded the corner. “Oh hey, the dinosaur is back!” Ellie said with a smile before looking at you. You poorly held back a smile as Joel rolled his eyes.

He plopped next to you on the couch wrapping his arm around your body. Ellie mindlessly snuggles into your side. It was so uniquely domestic. Joel wishes he could find an opportunity to talk to you about all of this. An opportunity doesn't come.

You don't miss his kindness, however. Every day when he cooks breakfast for you or leaves a secret note (which is adorable by the way). Telling you about how he needs a moment alone with you and it almost becomes a race to find it.

To find the time to exist with no eyes to find you. To explore what you two were before making things ‘public’. You agreed. Your feelings feel like they are spilling over into your whole life.

One night as it takes you and Joel every ounce of being not to jump across the table to be with each other Ellie is oddly quiet. “What's up kiddo?” you ask. “Uh, there is a sleepover at Cat’s house,” Ellie said as casually as she could.

Joel dropped his fork over his plate. Your eyes met. “Oh? Anyone else… gonna be there?” you ask her to try to be calm. The thought of Ellie going over to her girl… friend’s house for a sleepover would raise the heart rate of any parents but especially Joel.

“Oh yeah Jessie and Dina will be too,” she said, nodding secretly crossing her fingers. “A boy? No. You're staying here tonight.” Joel said firmly, re-picking up his fork. “What? Are you fucking kidding me?” Ellie said, annoyed.

Joel raised his hand about to explain to her why exactly she couldn't go but you interjected. “Joel,” you said calmly. “Maybe she should go.” both of them shoot you bewildered looks. He begins to shake his to disagree with you. “Joel Cat’s house is a short walk and if there are other people there it will be safe right?” you ask looking over at Ellie.

She shakes her head admitly. “Yeah, totally safe.” She reasons. He clenches his jaw, brow furrowing. “Fine. But if I find out any funny business happened so help me god m’ never letting you leave this house again,” he said sternly, warning her with a finger.

Eventually, Ellie scarf down all of her food and comes out with a little bag full of sleepover stuff and just about runs out of the house. And for the first time in days, it's just you and Joel.

You turn the big overhead light off sticking to the lamps in your room. You had just gotten snuggled into your bed when a small knock on your door disrupts you. “Come in,” you say and the door creaks open.

Joel in all of his domestic glory walks in. “Hey.” you breathe out with a smile. He turns to shut the door, his head held low. He sits on the edge of your bed. “Needed to talk to ya. W’out Ellie hearing.” he reasons gesturing in the air.

This wasn't what you thought was going to happen. “Joel? Baby? What's wrong?” you asked scared of why he was acting the way he was. He turns to face you slowly. His eyes were sad, his lip pouring and quivering slightly.

“Hey-” you said, setting your book down, moving to capture him in a hug. He turns looking down. You can see the tears start to fall from his eyes. You waste no time crawling down your bed and wrapping your arms around his shoulders trying to comfort him.

He leans into your touch as he cries. It's the first time you have ever seen him cry before. “Joel,” you whisper, sliding your hand to his face. “M’just too scared to lose ya. If we keep this up this little dream we have. I could lose it all. Me. M’ not fast enough, O-or I move too slow- ill me the cause of losing the two people in this world who love me back.” he confesses.

The words weigh on your chest like a thousand bricks. You opened your mouth to try and help but nothing came out. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing almost to try and ground him.

A sob wracked through his body. “Joel, I am here because of you,” you said at last. He doesn't move, just inhaling a stuttered breath. “For the entire time I have known you I have not doubted your abilities for a damn second,” you reassured him. He finally looks up.

His sad puppy dog eyes make your heart hurt. Your hands find the sides of his face. “I am here because of you. I am safe because of you ok? And Joel even if something did happen it wouldn't be your fault. You're not responsible for us, ok?” you tried to reason with him.

“I am. I'm supposed to protect what is mine I-” he stops himself, his eyes flashing with fear. “Maybe it's our turn to protect what is ours Joel,” you whispered to the very broken man in front of you.

“And you are ours.” you finished, sitting up away from him. “Don't even know why m’here m’sorry,” he says standing up. Your hand reaches for his arm. You shake your head slightly encouraging him to sit back down.

He doesn't respond, only cautiously leaning in. You fill the space for him, your lips meeting in perfect harmony. This kiss, unlike your first one, had a need. An urge to be close. And as you slowly leaned back Joel followed you almost chasing you so far your head hit your pillows.

His bigger body practically cages you in. While you loved the kissing you needed more and you knew the salt-and-pepper-haired man needed it too. Your hand left the side of his face and trailed down to his belt buckle. You pulled it slightly.

The mischievous interaction left Joel practically melting in your hands. You decided to continue your humor. Your hand trailed down further meeting his bulge. Was he hard from kissing? Cute. Your fingers dragged over his member.

“Hard already?” you asked, slightly teasing him. With your flirty voice. His dark eyes glanced up from his forehead. “I ain't hard yet darlin’,” he said through an amused chuckle.

He does not miss the way your jaw gapes openly slightly. Shit, he was big. “And you're this big? Old where Miller.” you quipped after picking up your jaw. He chuckled slightly, a small pink tint forming on his tear-stained cheeks.

You smirk, continuing to massage his dick over his clothes. Continue to open your mouth and kiss him as you feel the warmth under your hand slowly grow hard. “Mmm fuck, you are making it hard to leave darlin’,” he said out of breath.

“Good,” you said, going back in for a kiss but this time on his jawline. You continue to pepper them down to his neck, sucking and nibbling as you go down. “You're so warm Joel,” you murmur, pulling away. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, biting your lip deciding you couldn't take any more teasing. Your hand finds his and slowly brings it to your torso, his eyes seemingly glossing over at realizing what you were doing.

“I need you, Joel,” you whispered. “I gotcha, promise, I've gotcha,” he said using both of his hands to slowly pull your sleep pants and panties down. The cold hair clinging to your warm skin.

“Fuck baby,” he said looking at your perfect glistening cunt. “I need you Joel please,” you begged. “Shhh I'll give it to ya jus’ gotta be patient.” he reprimanded, sliding his hands up your shirt. His hands were warm as he slowly groped your tits. You whined feeling yourself ache in between your legs.

Your arousal oozes out, tempting Joel. “Sit up,” he demands, gesturing with his fingers. You eagerly sit up. He removed your shirt quickly, his eyes marveling at your naked form. He'd seen a few women in his lifetime and none of them were as beautiful and breathtaking as you.

He must have been staring for too long because your voice broke him out of his trance. “Joel?” your voice was so sweet it could have killed him then and there. “Yeah…” he said trailing off finally peeling his eyes away from your tits and to your face.

“Can you take your shirt off too?” you asked so politely. Joel looked down to see he was still in his clothes, feeling his now hard cock strained against his pants was a suffocating feeling but Joel was a gentleman and there is no universe he would cum before you.

“Course’,” he said, discarding his flannel, his shirt goes next. You let out a moan looking at his beautiful body. Broad strong shoulders and arms down to his little old man tummy. Fuck.

Your hooded eyes filled with love (and lust) must have done something to him because those same strong arms and hands connected to your naked thighs. Rubbing them up and down.

You both stayed silent as he slowly encroached on your sensitive bundle. Eventually, his hands made it all the way up as he observed the way you clenched around nothing. “Joel I'm ready please I need you.”

That was all he needed to slowly start rubbing your clit. You were slick with arousal, his finger eventually dipping in, and your leg shook with the feeling of him adding another finger.

He pumped slowly but steadily, hitting that soft spot just right. “Oh fuck Joel.” you gasped. It had been so long since you felt this from anyone, well maybe something similar… you had never felt this good with anyone else ever before.

“S’that feel good?” He asked me to bring his thumb to rub your clit. You frantically nod. “Please come kiss me.” you begged him. He eagerly bent down to you. Devouring all your moans as he continued his ministrations.

You felt the familiar feeling in your belly, like a coil snapping as your breath became frantic and your whines increased. Joel knew your climax had reached when you clenched around his fingers. You let out a loud moan as you pulled away for air, legs shaking violently.

Joel watched with admiration as your face contorted with pleasure. He slowly pulled out of you, if he felt like he was melting before he had to be a puddle by now.

You looked up at it and you couldn't help but smile. Your hand reached out for his belt. You tugged on it, he took a deep breath trying to prepare for what he has wanted to since he met you.

“So needy mm?” he says undoing his belt and tossing it to the floor. His jeans follow suit, his erection slapping against his tummy.

Precum leaked for the tip. He was eager. “Only for you Miller.” he chuckled, placing his hand above your head as he aligned himself with you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort. He didn't find any. “I'm 100% sure,” you reassured and spread your legs as best you could. Using the headboard as an anchor he slowly pushed into you.

“Fuck.” whimpered as your warm soft walls clenched around him. A piercing pain filled your body as he bottomed out. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“You need me to stop? It's not too late.” he said, reassuring you. You shook your head. “Joel I need you to fuck me,” you demanded. He understood and began to do exactly that.

You moaned out for each other. Nails scratching his beautiful back with every movement. If it had been a while since you'd done this it must have been decades for Joel because he felt like he was gonna let go at any moment.

“M’ not gonna last,” he whispered in your ear, tugging slightly. “Me either.” you whimpered back. As your bodies collided your coils tightened and tightened.

“God dammit. Fuck, you are so fucking tight baby. Squeezing me as you love me huh?” he growled from on top of you. “I. Do. Love. You.” you squeaked after his thrusts. And that must have been what he needed to hear because his hips stuttered and he practically kissed your cervix with his cum.

Which was enough for you as you clamped down on him. After a minute he pulled out of you gasping for air. “Fuck Joel you're so good.” you praised sitting up and rolling on top of him. He peppered your face with little kisses.

“I love you too baby.”

—

“Hey Ellie, me and Joel have something to tell you,” you said, approaching her as she sat at the table. “Oh shit what's up?” she asked. “You can start using my bathroom so you won't have to share,” you said and she cocked her head to the side.

“Well, actually you can use that whole room…” you said with a small smile forming on your lips. Your eyes darted to Joel who had been stressing out over having this conversation.

“Because me and Joel are gonna be sharing a room ok?” you said plainly. She looked between you two for a moment then smiled. “Oh shit! Congrats!” she said before going back to her book. You and Joel begin to walk away but not before Ellie has the last word.

“Just don't let me hear you guys.”

“Ellie!”

#joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic

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mullermilkshake · 2 days ago

Text

A lasting impression - Part two

Part one

Part two

Sukuna takes matters into his own hands.

MINORS DNI 🔞 - Tags: Yakuza AU, Fem!reader. Hanami the muscle mummy, Graphic depictions of violence, gore, murder, eye gouging, stabbing, disembowellment, blood, eye gore

Yakuza!Sukuna

Sukuna knew exactly who had taken you, or for certain which family.

It wasn’t the fact that someone had taken you, this was way past that now. It was the point that someone had dared to touch you, struck you- hit you. Someone had the absolute gall to leave a mark on your body and cause you pain.

And Sukuna would not have it.

He paced down the street and called a taxi, on his way over, he managed to remove the blood from his face at least. Not the most presentable, but enough not to scare off the driver when he got in.

"Where to, sir?"

Sukuna gave the address and sat back in the seat with his arms crossed.

"That's quite far, is there a special occasion?"

Despite Sukuna just not liking people, it was admittedly neutral not to hear from someone who knew who he was. Or the man was incredibly blind not to see the blood on his clothes. Nor that he was Yakuza.

It was most probably because it was getting dark out. Still, his voice wasn't completely annoying.

Sukuna observed out of the window at the passing signs and open food stalls with one goal in mind. "I'm going to a boxing match."

Better for now than announcing that he was going to take a life tonight.

"Oh! You must be one of those famous boxers or something. Well good luck tonight!"

"Sure."

Sukuna listened to him ramble on the entire way over, almost banging his head against the glass and the longest story anyone could ever tell.

He must have thought more than a handful of times just to kick the man out of the taxi and drive himself over to the family office. It would have been faster than whatever this was.

The only saving grace to him was Sukuna's pent up rage seeing you as you were. By now, Uraume would have taken you back to headquarters, probably bathed you and wiped the red from your face.

Just the thought of another mans blood on you made Sukuna physically sick. The viscous liquid he painted on his fingers that were an extension of his arm touched you and contaminated your skin.

He would never forgive himself.

Maybe he would forgive it when he confronted the person he knew was responsible for this transgression.

Jiro Awasaka.

The bald headed fuck.

Just from those words you spoke. Tallest woman you had ever seen.

"Here's your stop sir, good luck on your endeavours."

Sukuna slid out of the car and just dropped plenty of notes on the man's passenger chair to which he yelled out with joy. It didn't matter how much was there, not really.

The light was on in that office like a beacon, beckoning Sukuna towards it like a moth fluttering by. The Awasaka family knew Sukuna was far from unsuspecting though decided to piss him off anyway.

Idiots.

He wandered in without a care, the empty lower levels weren’t a shock to see but suspenseful to say the least. Sukuna took the stairs with his hands in his pockets and just trudged up to the third floor where the office door was already open.

"Sukuna. I'm surprised to see you here."

Awasaka was hidden behind his desk, fingers laced together as though he was subconsciously hoping Sukuna would turn right around and leave and believe this pathetic front he was producing.

"I'm not interested in you just now, Awasaka. It's her I want."

Hanami. Awasaka's half witted guard.

The tallest woman anyone had ever seen. A rose amongst thorns in the Yakuza world. That's why she was so easy to identify.

Usually she her full arm and shoulder tattoo sleeve of roses and vines were visable. They were covered up in a black suit jacket clinging to her body and her tie at her next was done up to the top, that only a petal of ink peeped out over the collar by her neck.

She stood in the corner, suited more fashionably than her boss in her fitted pant suit, fluidly showing her attributes along the tight material across her arms.

Her height and muscles alone were nothing to deter Sukuna though.

"Her? What's she done?"

The fact that this man was questioning Sukuna's inteiilgence was laughable. "Did IQ's drop since the last time we met, Awasaka?"

Nanami said nothing, she stood by his side looking through Sukuna like he was nothing. And he was far from nothing.

'Nothing' was Awasaka. 'Nothing' was this entire clan and their chairman.

Noritoshi Kamo.

Yes. the very same Kamo.

"Oh... that meeting with your wife? Well she attacked two of my men, one is dead. All Noritoshi wanted to do was talk with her, but she caused so much hassle."

Upon hearing that, Sukuna couldn’t have been more proud of you.

He also wanted it be known that Choso Kamo was plucked from the same tree Noritoshi grew, yet became nothing like him. he had his reservations, but it was better the kid grew up under Sukuna's watchful eye instead of that ungrateful bastard.

Noritoshi Kamo was nothing to Sukuna, he was far superior in every way and never once actually saw Noritoshi as a threat.

"My bet is you wanted to ransom her off, right? How much is my wife worth to you, Awasaka?"

Sukuna ket his eyes transfixed on Hanami. The coward behind the desk suddenly became mute.

"Be concise and perhaps I won't kill you," if that wasn't enough to get his toes curling, this definitely would be, "or did you forget what happened to Zenin?"

He noticed Awasaka visibly swallow yet kept his smug look somewhat steady. "A hundred mil."

It was that easy to extract information from him and Sukuna hadn't even pulled any finger nails yet. How disappointing.

In honesty, you were worth far more than this little empire Sukuna had built. He'd trade it all in a heartbeat.

"The fact you think that a lousy one hundred mil would equate to my wife's worth, just shows how small minded you are. You bet too little on her head and quite frankly, I'm insulted."

One hundred million yen was 'nothing'.

You were everything.

"Sukuna-"

"I'll take compensation for the suffering you have made for a civilian. That does not come in monetary value. It comes in blood. Her blood."

"Hanami will do no such thing."

"Hanami will if she values you as her superior. Or perhaps I should start with you instead, Awasaka."

Sukuna had not moved from his spot in the office, the office door still open behind him. His age was becoming more evident, but his senses were not dulling no matter how much his opposition wanted to think.

"If you want more blood spilled, by all means, let your men down the hall witness my bare fist rip your stomach out."

"Wait... Leave us be- leave the building!" Awasaka called to no one and the movement tickling Sukuna's ears fell silent.

"You made the right choice, man," Sukuna made his move to the desk before both living bodies could register, "though I don't give second chances."

He grabbed the back of Awakasa's head and brought it down to the flat of the desk, the satisfying crunch of a broken nose set Sukuna’s instincts into overdrive.

This was nothing compared to what happened with Naobito Zenin.

Hanami finally made her own move, trying to block and break the closeness between her bleeding boss and Sukuna. Far too slow for someone hired to protect and just as clumsy when Sukuna avoided her fist and swinging arm upwards easy enough.

He swung and moved with enough speed to kick his leg out and temporarily topple Hanami in the awkward space behind the desk. Next, he pulled Awasaka from the chair and threw him to the ground to the point his stomach was now exposed under his shirt.

That's where the little ball point pens went from the stand on his desk. Two in deep enough to make the man squirm. Hanami grabbed Sukuna from behind and yanked him away.

She was slick enough to assume she had Sukuna in a bind, pulling him up and using the crook of her elbow at his neck. She never did see the two bull point pens in his hands.

Sukuna moved and utilised the almost two foot height different to his advantage and slipped out of it easy enough, practically climbing her and peicing her eyes with enough pressure that they popped.

She screamed out and stumbled around the room unti her body hit the wall with him still attached to her.

"An eye for an eye, but let's take interest until I'm satisfied," he twisted the pens and let them squelch the mass inside the eye sockets, "flesh from your skull ought to do that, maybe it'll teach you not to touch who you do not have any right to."

She said nothing, just yelped in pain some more until she slipped down the wall.

"Come on, don't be shy when you were so confident earlier hitting a civilian," He pushed the pen shaped metal in deeper until Hanami stopped moving. "Consequences have actions and I do not let things slide. Not when it comes to her."

No one got away with touching you in any way and got to walk out without losing a body part.

And now to take out the trash.

Awasaka still laid on the ground right where he was, gurgling away from his broken nose and most probably a punctured lung. Sukuna knelt down at him and watched the pathetic waste struggle.

"This will certainly be a sign to Noritoshi to take me on and I hope he does. Maybe then I'll find someone actually worth fighting, though I highly doubt that."

Pushing his fingers through the gouge in his stomach he made, Sukuna opened it further and noted the spray from Awasaka's lips as his hand disappeared inside his abdomen.

There he pulled out whatever he could get his hands on and yanked it from his body, it was practically still throbbing and steaming in his closed fist when it was tugged away.

It slumped on his skin and formed a neat pile over his chest, like a bow for a present. That should have been enough to question Noritoshi Kamo and coax him in for a 'little talk' about how his lieutenants were going unchecked.

It wasn't the last time he'd do this. It wasn’t as though Sukuna had eradicated the danger for you, but he could sleep sounder tonight knowing one less evil was at large.

They were all filthy nobodies not worth their salt.

And soon Sukuna would ensure they all met their graves in a timely manner.

Just for you.

#yakuza au #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #Hanami the total muscle mommy

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raekensluver · 24 hours ago

Note

Not sure if you're taking requests. But If you are? Can I get something with Spencer Reid. Where reader is a bookstore owner, who has weekly events for children. JJ brings the boys, then becomes friends with reader and eventually sets her up on a date with Spencer. The date can go however you like, leading to smut or just make it sweet and fluffy. It's up to you.

Thanks for reading.

i love this idea!! thank you for your request!! (also this is not proofread!)

"you can do this," you murmured to yourself, your hands clutching the warmth of the ceramic mug. the scent of freshly ground coffee beans wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of the sugar cookies displayed tantalizingly at the counter. you glanced at your watch for the umpteenth time, feeling the butterflies in your stomach dance in time with the ticking seconds. it was just a blind date, you reminded yourself, no pressure. just a friendly setup by jj, who swore by her uncanny matchmaking skills.

as the door to the quaint little coffee shop chimed, your eyes darted up, scanning the newcomer with a mix of excitement and nerves. a tall, slender man with a gentle gait walked in, his eyes scanning the room with an air of uncertainty. he had a kind face, framed by a mess of curly hair that added to his slightly disheveled but utterly charming appearance. he was dressed casually, yet with an understated elegance that spoke volumes about his personality.

the man spotted you and offered a tentative smile that grew into a warm grin as he approached. "are you the one jj's been raving about?" he asked, extending his hand. "spencer reid," he introduced himself.

his voice was a soothing melody, and his grip firm but gentle. "yes, that's me," you replied, your cheeks flushing slightly. "she's been keeping me in suspense."

spencer chuckled, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "jj does have a flair for the dramatic," he said, settling into the chair opposite you. "but she has good intentions. she's quite fond of you."

you couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious under his gaze. "what exactly did she tell you?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

spencer leaned back slightly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "just that you're the heart of the neighborhood with your little bookstore," he replied. "she said that her boys adore you, and that you have a knack for finding the perfect book for every little soul that walks through your door."

you couldn't help but chuckle at her description. "well, i try," you said modestly, taking a sip of your coffee. the rich, dark liquid coated your tongue, the heat seeping into your chest. "so, you work with jj?" you inquired, eager to learn more about him.

"yes, i do," spencer said, his expression lighting up. "i'm with the bau – the behavioral analysis unit. it's… intense, but rewarding work."

his job intrigued you, and you leaned in slightly. "so you catch bad guys?" you asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"in a manner of speaking," spencer said with a small smile. "we profile and analyze criminal behavior to help catch unsubs - unknown subjects. it's more about understanding the mind than the physical chase, though."

his words painted a vivid picture in your mind, and you found yourself awed by the depth of his work. "that sounds… intense," you murmured, trying to imagine the kind of cases he must deal with on a daily basis.

spencer's smile grew a bit solemn at the edge. "it can be," he admitted. "but it's also incredibly fulfilling, knowing we're making a difference."

his words hung in the air, and you nodded in understanding. the conversation flowed from there, a gentle stream of words that grew into a river of shared experiences and laughter. you talked about your love for books and how you'd turned your childhood dream into a reality with the bookstore. he spoke of his passion for knowledge, and how it had led him down the path of criminal psychology.

spencer had a way of speaking that was both engaging and insightful. he listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered at that moment. his curiosity about the books you loved and the stories you cherished was genuine, and you found yourself sharing more than you had planned.

you spoke about the quiet joy of reading a book to a room full of children, their eyes wide with wonder, as you brought the words to life. the magic of seeing a young mind grasp a new concept or feel the depth of an emotion for the first time. he nodded thoughtfully, sharing his own memories of getting lost in the pages of a good book as a child, finding solace and adventure in the quiet corners of his local library.

spencer leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "i've seen the way jj's son's light up when they talk about you," he said. "they adore the stories you tell, the way you make the characters come alive for them."

you felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "they're pretty special kids," you said, your heart swelling. "i've always enjoyed spending time with them."

as the coffee grew cold and the shop began to empty, spencer checked his watch and sighed. "i should get going," he said, regret lacing his tone. "i've got an early flight tomorrow."

you nodded, feeling a strange mix of disappointment and relief. the evening had passed more quickly than you could've ever imagined. "yes, i should be getting home too," you agreed, collecting your bag.

spencer stood, his movements graceful despite his height. "let me walk you home," he offered, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation.

you considered it for a moment, the warmth of his presence making you feel safe. "i'd like that," you said finally, smiling.

the night air was crisp, a welcome change from the cozy confines of the coffee shop. the street lamps cast a soft glow over the sidewalk, illuminating the way to your apartment. your conversation didn't falter as you stepped outside, the cool breeze playing with the leaves of the trees lining the street. you talked about your favorite authors, the books that had shaped you, and the ones that had left an indelible mark on your heart.

spencer walked alongside you, his long strides matching yours easily. his gaze was thoughtful, as if he was piecing together the puzzle of who you were, and you found yourself doing the same. you noticed the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his work, the passion that colored his voice. it was clear that he was driven by a desire to understand the complexities of the human psyche, to unravel the mysteries that lurked in the shadows of the human mind.

as you approached your apartment building, the anticipation grew. the night had been more than you could've hoped for, and you didn't want it to end. the bricks of the building looked warm under the amber street light, a beacon of comfort and familiarity. you stopped in front of the entrance, the light from the lobby spilling out onto the sidewalk.

spencer turned to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was to come. "i had a wonderful time tonight," he said, his voice earnest. "i hope we can do this again soon."

you felt your heart flutter. "i'd like that," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "it's been a while since i've felt this… connected."

spencer's smile grew, and he took a step closer. "me too," he murmured, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. his touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

his eyes searched yours, asking for permission, and you found yourself nodding, your heart racing. he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. your eyes fluttered shut, the anticipation building.

his lips met yours, gentle at first, as if testing the waters. the kiss grew more insistent, a silent promise of what could be. his hand cradled your cheek, and you leaned into the touch, feeling a connection that was more than just physical. your hands found their way to his chest, his heart beating in time with yours.

the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you standing on the sidewalk, lost in a moment of pure, unbridled emotion. the air was thick with the promise of something more, and you felt your breath hitch as spencer deepened the kiss, his other hand coming to rest at the small of your back, pulling you closer.

finally, you broke apart, smiling up at him, your eyes shining with a newfound fondness. "i should really go in," you said, your voice breathy. "but i had a wonderful time."

spencer's grin was wide, his eyes never leaving yours. "so did i," he replied. "can i see you again?"

his question hung in the air, and you felt a thrill run through you. "yes," you said, the word escaping before you could second guess it. "i'd love to."

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