#one day he will fall into orbit 💖

[nobodymitskigabriel]

Generally not a fan of baby!Jack but if Jack had had the chance to be a child then I like to imagine uncle Gabe doing that thing where you toss kids into the air and catch them again except because they're inhuman freaks, he tosses Jack all the way up to the clouds and Jack keeps screaming to be thrown higher.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Moth to a Flame

Firefighter!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,877

Summary: During a fire station training session, seasoned firefighter Joel Miller becomes entranced by a volunteer's poise and spirit. When you lose your cherished nanna's ring in the hustle and bustle, Joel seizes the opportunity to return it.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, male masturbation, soft but dom!Joel, light alcohol consumption, f!oral receiving, reader wears a dress.

Notes: Tysm @joelslegalwhre for being the most incredible human and beta 💖 tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider

In the golden embrace of the morning sun, the fire station pulsates with an electric anticipation. The air is thick with the scent of determination and the metallic tang of polished trucks standing at attention. Joel Miller, a firefighter with a decade of scars and stories etched into his soul, feels the familiar rush of adrenaline as he prepares for the day's training session with live volunteers. The heat, the weight of his gear, and the omnipresent smoke are his constants, his companions in a dance with danger that defines his existence. Yet amidst this orchestrated chaos, a new melody captures Joel's attention. You stand there, signing waivers, a vision of delicate strength wrapped in an aura of grace. Your eyes sparkle as bright as the ring on your finger with a blend of trepidation and thrill. There's an undeniable resilience in your gaze, and in this moment, Joel is certain, he yearns to unravel the story behind those eyes.

As you slip into character for the training exercise, your performance is nothing short of mesmerizing. You become the embodiment of someone caught in tragedy's grip, each flinch and strained breath echoing through Joel's heart like a siren's call. The world around him blurs into insignificance; all that remains is you—a beacon amidst smoke and shadows.

Joel watches you intently as you navigate through simulated wreckage with elegance despite your role as an injured victim. Your portrayal is hauntingly authentic; it stirs something within him that goes beyond professional admiration—it touches on something deeply human and profoundly connective. With every second that passes, Joel feels himself being drawn deeper into your orbit, captivated by your enigmatic presence and vibrant spirit that shines even in play-acted despair.

As Joel moves closer to you during these drills designed to hone their skills, he finds himself longing not just for safety but also for connection.

———

As the echoes of the day's training drills dissipate into the quiet corners of the fire station, a stillness settles over the scene. The once vibrant cacophony of shouts and machinery now gives way to a serene hush, as if the very building itself exhales a sigh of relief.

In this newfound calm, Joel's gaze falls upon a glimmering object nestled against the concrete floor. He stoops down, his gloved fingers encircling the small, radiant treasure. It's your ring—the same one you wore when you first walked in, its presence etched in his memory from when you signed those waivers with such care. The ring looks well-traveled, its metal worn smooth by countless days and nights on your finger.

With a sense of purpose, Joel secures the ring in his pocket. He hastens through his post-training routine, shedding the day's sweat and grime under the cleansing spray of the station's shower before gathering his belongings to depart. But there's an unfinished task that weighs on his mind, one that cannot wait until tomorrow.

Approaching Beatrice's desk with a warm smile playing on his lips, he prepares to make his request known. "Beatrice," he begins affectionately, "my favorite admin."

She looks up from her paperwork and returns his smile with one of her own. "Joel Miller," she says with a hint of playfulness in her voice. "What brings you to my corner of chaos today?"

He chuckles lightly at her jest and nods towards her computer screen where he knows she keeps all their records meticulously organized. "Actually," Joel confesses earnestly, "I need your help trackin’ down my victim from today's exercise." He gently takes the ring from the safety of his pocket and holds it up for Beatrice to see. "She dropped somethin’ quite precious during all that commotion.”

"No problem at all, Joel," she chirps, her voice as bright as the sun filtering through the station windows. "Just give me a moment."

"Thank you, darlin’," Joel responds gratefully, his own smile mirroring hers as he waits for the information that will bridge the gap between him and you. The seconds tick by in anticipation, each one carrying the promise of an imminent reunion that stirs his heart more than any fire ever could.

———

As Joel strides toward your neighborhood, the address scribbled on the post-it note seems to pulse with a rhythm that matches his quickening heartbeat. The discovery that you live just a few blocks away from him in this cozy enclave feels like a serendipitous twist of fate. With each step he takes, the anticipation builds within his chest, a fluttering sensation that's both exhilarating and unfamiliar.

The trees lining the sidewalk whisper secrets as he passes, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. He navigates the familiar streets with a newfound sense of purpose, each step bringing him closer to your front door—and to the mystery that is you.

Upon reaching your home, Joel pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. The facade of the house seems to reflect his own nervous energy back at him. He takes a deep breath and ascends the front steps, his heart pounding with an intensity he hasn't felt in years.

With a trembling hand, he reaches out to press the doorbell, but before he can, the door swings open. There you stand, framed by the doorway and bathed in soft afternoon light. Your yellow sundress adorned with white flowers accentuates your silhouette, while an intricate silver chain with two delicate pendant charms rests against your skin—a subtle allure that captivates him instantly.

"Hello?" you inquire cautiously, your expression one of mild confusion—a sign that perhaps you don't remember him as vividly as he remembers you from just hours before at the fire station drill.

"Hey there," Joel begins with an attempt at casualness that belies his racing pulse and slightly unsteady voice. He clears his throat and steadies himself before continuing, "I'm Joel from earlier today—the fire department training session." His hand instinctively lifts to present your ring between two fingers for you to see. "I believe this belongs to you."

Your eyes widen in surprise and relief as recognition dawns on your face—a beautiful tableau of emotions playing across it like sunlight dancing on water's surface. "My nanna's ring!" You exclaim softly while gently accepting it back into your care with delicate fingers poised between reverence and joy at its recovery.

The gratitude shining in your eyes is palpable as they meet his once more over this small but significant reunion of yours with such precious memories attached. Your words of gratitude hang in the air like a sweet melody, and with a gentle tug, you pull Joel into a warm embrace. "Thank you," you say softly against his shoulder, "you have no idea what this ring means to me. I thought it was lost forever."

As the hug comes to an end, you step back, your gaze drifting toward the interior of your home before returning to meet Joel's eyes. There's a sincerity in your voice that's impossible to ignore as you extend an invitation that catches him off guard. "I was just making dinner. Would you like to join me? It's the least I can do after you've returned something so precious."

Joel's hand instinctively moves to the back of his neck, a sign of his nervousness as he contemplates your offer. "Wouldn't wanna impose," he replies hesitantly.

"Not at all," you assure him with a reassuring smile. "It's just spaghetti and meatballs—nothing fancy."

The mention of a home-cooked meal stirs something within Joel. His demanding schedule often leaves him with little time for such simple pleasures, and the prospect of enjoying one now is unexpectedly enticing.

"If it's not too much trouble ma'am."

You catch the slightest wince in Joel's expression as the word "ma'am" slips from his lips, and you can't help but tease him a little. "Please, ma'am makes me sound like some old spinster," you say with a light-hearted laugh. You introduce yourself by name before extending your hand in greeting. You step back, holding the door open, an unspoken invitation for him to cross the threshold into the warmth of your abode.

Joel pauses, a momentary hesitation before he steps inside, his senses are immediately greeted by the intoxicating aroma of home-cooked food that fills every corner of the house. “Smells delicious," he remarks, his voice tinged with anticipation.

"Hope it tastes even better," you reply with a smile, gesturing around you. "Please, make yourself at home. Mi casa es tu casa, or whatever it is."

As you lead him through the foyer, he takes in the cozy living room, a space that feels both personal and welcoming. The walls are adorned with photographs—snapshots of your life, your loved ones, and cherished memories. A stack of books on the coffee table hints at your eclectic tastes, while a vibrant bouquet of fresh flowers adds a touch of elegance and freshness to the room.

You guide Joel to the kitchen, where he takes a seat at the island, a central hub of domestic activity. You head to the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of beers. "Drink?" you ask, holding one out for him.

You watch as Joel's eyes flicker with a hint of surprise, perhaps at the contrast between the expected glass of wine and the down-to-earth beer in your hand. "Didn't take ya for a beer girl," he comments, a playful challenge in his tone.

You let out a small giggle, the sound mingling with the clink of bottles. "My parents are the wine connoisseurs," you explain, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. "I keep beer on hand just to stir the pot. They turn their noses up at it, call it a 'poor man's drink,' but I love the simplicity. No need for fancy glasses or decanting—just open and enjoy." You twist off the cap and take a sip, your expression one of contentment. "It's my little rebellion."

Joel can’t help but smirk as he sips his beer. You lift your drink and take a refreshing sip before you set it gently on the counter. Turning your attention back to the stove, you tend to the sauce, stirring with a practiced hand, the rich aroma filling the kitchen and mingling with the yeasty scent of the beer.

Joel takes a long drink from his beer, the bottle cool against his lips as he watches you move gracefully around the kitchen. He's a sweet man, the kind who would offer the shirt off his back without a second thought. Yet, beneath that kindness lies a deep-seated longing—a desire to find someone like you to make his wife, to be the heart of his home.

As he observes you, his mind begins to weave elaborate fantasies. He imagines himself returning from a grueling day of battling flames, the anticipation building as he envisions you waiting for him in your charming sundress and apron, bent over as you retrieve dinner from the oven. In his mind's eye, you're sans panties, a detail that sends a thrill through him.

His pants begin to stir with this thought, an involuntary twitch that betrays his growing arousal. The fantasy escalates; he sees himself approaching you from behind with his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans. He imagines grabbing your hips and plunging into you with one swift motion, filling you completely as your moans of pleasure echo in his ears. The scenario is tantalizingly vivid, and it fuels the hardening of his cock, which now presses urgently against his denim confines.

The fantasy lingers too long—a delicious torment that has him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He takes another swig of beer in hopes of quelling the fire that burns within him, all while keeping his gaze fixed on you.

You're oblivious to the storm of desire raging across from you as you stir the sauce on the stove and speak over the hum of the fan. Your voice is soft and inviting when you apologize for the noise and offer Joel another beer from the fridge—a gesture so simple yet so full of warmth.

Then it happens; as if by some unspoken cue in this erotic dance between reality and fantasy, you bend down to take out the garlic bread you've prepared. The hem of your sundress lifts just enough for Joel to catch sight of what he's been imagining; no panties—a confirmation that sets his heart racing and sends a jolt straight to his groin.

"Shit..." he murmurs under his breath while subtly trying to adjust himself in an attempt to conceal his burgeoning erection beneath the tablecloth draped over your dining table. "Mind if I use your restroom?" Joel asks hurriedly, striving for normalcy despite feeling anything but normal at this moment.

You turn around with a smile that lights up your face like a sunrise over calm waters—warm and welcoming without even realizing how much more fuel it adds to Joel's fiery imagination. “Of course, just down the hall, first door on the left."

"Thanks," Joel manages to say, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he rises from his chair. He quickly exits the kitchen, his steps hurried as he makes his way toward the sanctuary of the bathroom. The door closes behind him, and in the privacy of this small space, he allows himself to feel the full extent of his arousal.

His hands find the cool wall in front of him, bracing himself as he tries to regain control over his body's reactions. But it's no use; the image of you, the fleeting glimpse of your naked flesh beneath that sundress, has ignited a fire within him that only one thing can quench.

With trembling hands, Joel releases his cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers, letting them fall to the floor. His fingers wrap around his length while his other hand presses against the wall for support. His thumb caresses his balls as he closes his eyes and loses himself in the fantasy of being inside you—your warmth enveloping him completely.

The sensation is overwhelming; with each stroke, he imagines himself thrusting into your wet cunt, feeling your body yield to him as pleasure courses through both of you. His breath hitches as he pictures your inner thighs slick against his hard cock, an image so vivid it feels like reality rather than mere fantasy.

His rhythm quickens; the sound of his heavy breathing fills the room as he chases release—a necessary escape from this fevered dream that has taken hold of him. With a final groan Joel reaches climax, spilling himself onto his hand in hot spurts while images of you dance before his closed eyes.

Once spent and with control regained, Joel cleans up and takes a moment to compose himself before stepping out into the hallway once more.

He reenters the kitchen with cautious steps; taking in every detail anew: how your hair sways gently with each movement; how gracefully you navigate around your own space; how utterly captivating you are without even trying to be so. Like an intoxicating drug coursing through Joel's veins—a potent mix that leaves him craving more.

You pivot gracefully, two plates cradled in your hands, their contents a testament to your culinary prowess. As you sit down beside Joel, he watches you with an intensity that borders on reverence. Every subtle movement of your hair, every shift of your body captivates him utterly. It's as though he's discovered a newfound addiction, one that courses through his veins and leaves him yearning for more—more of your presence, more of this warmth that seems to radiate from you effortlessly.

The scent of garlic wafts through the air, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread and homemade sauce. It's a comforting symphony of scents that causes Joel's mouth to water in anticipation.

"Hope it's good," you say with a hint of modesty in your voice, "sorry it's nothing more interesting."

Joel shakes his head emphatically after taking his first bite of pasta. "It's perfect," he assures you, his words genuine and heartfelt. "I honestly can't remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal like this. It's delicious—quite the step up from frozen pizza."

Your smile is radiant as you accept his compliment with grace. "Well, honestly," you reply with a light laugh, "I'll be repaying you for a lifetime for finding this ring for me. Come by anytime you're in the neighborhood."

"Funny thing," Joel responds between bites, "I only live a few blocks from here, down on Anderson." This revelation sparks an animated conversation between the two of you—a sharing of stories and dreams that flows as easily as the beer in your bottles. You talk about everything: work and family; friends and interests, and even your favorite bad movies that are so terrible they loop back around to being entertaining again.

After a few hours filled with laughter and learning about each other over drinks the camaraderie between you is palpable as you prepare to introduce Joel to what is perhaps one of the most delightfully awful films ever made—a movie so bad it transcends its own terribleness into something truly special.

"I can't believe you haven't seen it yet! We have to watch it; I'm putting it on right now! It's the best worst movie there ever is or ever will be." Your enthusiasm is infectious; even if Joel has his doubts about such bold claims regarding cinematic quality or lack thereof, he can't help but be drawn into your excitement.

“That's a serious claim, dunno if I believe it." Joel's words carry a playful skepticism as he raises an eyebrow at you, clearly intrigued by your passionate endorsement of the movie.

"Trust me!" You reply with an infectious enthusiasm that lights up your entire face. "You'll never want it to end." Your conviction is unshakeable, and there's a sparkle in your eyes that speaks volumes about the joy you find in sharing this guilty pleasure with someone else.

With a swift, almost eager motion, you spring up from your seat and make your way to the couch, a well-loved blanket clutched in your hands. You turn to look at Joel, patting the spot on the couch next to you with a warm, inviting smile that seems to brighten the entire room.

"I can't in good faith let you leave until you've at least seen this movie," you tell him, your tone half-joking, half-serious. It's a playful challenge, one that Joel readily accepts with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He rises from his chair, crossing the short distance to join you on the couch. As he settles in beside you, the cushions dip under his weight, bringing the two of you closer together. You can't help but smile as you pull the blanket over both of you, a cozy shield against the outside world.

The movie's opening credits roll across the screen, but Joel's attention is divided. He's acutely aware of your presence beside him—the warmth of your body, the soft rhythm of your breathing, and the intoxicating scent of vanilla and coconut that seems to envelop you both. As you snuggle into him, resting your head on his arm, Joel feels a surge of desire tempered by a wave of uncertainty.

His mind races with images of you—bent over, moaning beneath him, your body tightening around him as he imagines himself thrusting deep inside you. The fantasy is so vivid that it takes all his self-control not to act on the impulses that course through him. But then you shift closer to him, nestling into the crook of his arm with a contented sigh that makes his heart skip a beat.

Joel's arm hovers in the air for a moment before he gathers the courage to wrap it around your shoulders. The gesture feels natural yet charged with an electricity that hums just beneath the surface. You respond by snuggling even closer, your arms encircling his torso in a silent embrace that sends shivers down his spine.

This newfound intimacy is both exhilarating and comforting for Joel; it's as if he's found a sanctuary in the warmth of your embrace—a safe haven from the tumultuous desires that wage war within him. His heart rate begins to slow as he holds you gently but firmly against him, savoring the softness of your skin and the trust implicit in this quiet cuddle on the couch.

The thought of kissing you crosses Joel's mind more than once. Your lips look so inviting—soft and sweet like ripe fruit just waiting to be tasted. He imagines what it would be like to close the distance between you two; to feel those lips yield under his own; to explore every single curve and contour with an urgency born from longing and restraint.

But despite this overwhelming temptation, Joel remains cautious—mindful not to scare you away with his crippling desire.

As the movie plays out, Joel's thoughts drift further away from the screen. The plot, the characters, the absurdity of it all—none of it can hold a candle to the vivid fantasies that dance through his mind. The desire that has been simmering beneath the surface since he first walked through your door now threatens to boil over, fueled by every innocent touch and shared laugh under the soft glow of your living room.

His cock twitches with a life of its own, straining against the fabric of his jeans as the images of you flood his senses. He imagines cupping your breasts in his hands, feeling their weight and warmth; tracing the contours of your neck with his tongue before capturing your lips in a searing kiss; teasing your nipples with his teeth until they're as hard as the erection that throbs insistently beneath the blanket.

The need for release is overwhelming, and despite his best efforts to remain still and composed, Joel's arousal is becoming increasingly difficult to conceal. The blanket tented above his groin is a clear indication of his body's betrayal—a beacon signaling his unspoken desire for you.

He holds his breath, praying that you won't shift your hand any lower lest you discover just how much he's struggling to maintain control. But what Joel doesn't realize is that you've already noticed—it would be impossible not to with such an obvious bulge pressing against the fabric that separates skin from skin.

The knowledge that you are aware of his predicament only serves to heighten Joel's arousal. And then, without warning, you move—your hand grazing the top of his thigh before inching higher and higher still until it hovers just below where he needs it most.

Joel gasps as you begin to palm him through the denim barrier. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through him. His moan is soft but audible in the quiet room; a testament to how much he craves your touch—how much he craves you.

As you continue to explore the contours of Joel's body with your touch, he feels a shiver run down his spine, a visceral reaction to the electricity that seems to arc between you two. The desire that has been building within him since he first stepped into your home now threatens to consume him entirely. He aches for you—for the taste of your lips, the softness of your skin, the warmth of your embrace. Every moment in your presence only fans the flames of his longing, and he finds himself teetering on the edge of restraint.

Your hand glides over his thigh, each stroke sending jolts of pleasure through him. His cock strains against the confines of his jeans, a testament to how much he wants you—how much he needs you. His breath hitches in his throat as he fights to maintain some semblance of control, but it's a battle he's losing quickly.

You see Joel's eyes flutter shut, a silent admission of how deeply your touch affects him. The evidence of his arousal is plain to see beneath the blanket that does little to hide his desire for you. His grip on reality—and perhaps more importantly, on the couch cushions—tightens as he struggles against the tide of yearning that threatens to sweep him away.

But you have no intention of letting this moment pass by unexplored. With deliberate intent, you move your hand higher still until it grazes the head of his cock through the denim that separates you. The sound that escapes from Joel is part sigh, part plea—a clear indication that his control is hanging by a thread.

In one swift motion, Joel captures your wrist, halting your movements and drawing your attention back to him. His eyes are dark with need as they lock onto yours; there's an unspoken question lingering in their depths—a question that hangs between you both like an invisible thread.

You give Joel a small nod, granting him silent permission to explore his desires. Without missing a beat, he leans in, his lips brushing against the tender skin of your neck. He lingers at your pulse point, his gentle suction sending waves of pleasure through you. His hand finds your thigh, caressing it with an up-and-down motion that makes your legs tremble with anticipation.

A soft whimper escapes you, and you bite down on your bottom lip in an effort to stifle the urge to scream out his name. Joel's fingers trace a path under your dress, moving upward with agonizing slowness. His smile broadens as he feels the warmth of your flesh beneath his fingertips.

He carefully lifts your dress off your body, casting it aside in one fluid motion, leaving you completely exposed and naked before him. Standing up, you take his hand and lead him towards the stairs that ascend to your bed. Joel is taken aback by your assertiveness—it's not what he expected from you—but his surprise quickly gives way to desire. All that matters is that he wants you, needs you. So he follows without question as you guide him upstairs to the intimacy of your bedroom.

You walk backward towards the center of the room, drawing Joel along with you. You gaze into his eyes and see pure desire shining back at you—a look that matches the yearning within yourself. In this moment, there's no room for doubt or hesitation; there's only the two of you.

In the dimly lit room, the air is thick with anticipation, each breath you take laced with the scent of desire. Joel stands before you, his silhouette a study in masculine beauty against the soft glow of the room. With a measured pace, he grasps the hem of his shirt, the fabric straining against the defined muscles of his body. As he lifts it over his head, the light dances across his tanned skin, highlighting the rugged contours of his chest and the salt-and-pepper dusting of his happy trail.

The sight of his broad shoulders and the solid expanse of his chest leaves you momentarily breathless. His physique is a canvas of hard work and dedication, each muscle carved from years of physical exertion. The soft dusting of hair trails down his toned stomach, leading your gaze to the waistband of his pants.

With a swift, almost impatient motion, he frees himself from the last of his clothing. His movements are a symphony of strength and grace, and as his pants slide down his powerful thighs, you catch your first glimpse of his manhood. His cock stands proud and erect, a beacon of his arousal, the skin stretched taut and flushed with the heat of his desire.

The sight of him—unabashedly naked and utterly desirable—sends a jolt of heat straight to your core. His cock is a testament to his masculinity; thick, with a defined shape that beckons your touch. A bead of moisture glistens at the tip, a clear sign of his readiness, and you can't help but imagine the warmth of his skin against your palm, the weight of him in your hand.

Joel's cock is a marvel of male anatomy, the veins tracing intricate patterns along its length, pulsing. It's a sight that is both primal and beautiful, the very essence of his maleness on display just for you. The coarse hair at the base only serves to accentuate its impressive girth, and you find yourself drawn to him, eager to explore every inch of his rugged, manly form.

As Joel hovers over you, his gaze rakes over your body with an intensity that sets your skin ablaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his appreciation evident in the hunger that darkens his eyes.

He takes a moment to explore, his rough palms gently cupping the softness of your curves, his thumbs teasing your hardening nipples. The contrast of his rugged hands against your delicate skin sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and a soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging him to continue his sensual exploration.

You feel the weight of his body as he settles between your thighs. The coarse hair of his happy trail brushes against your sensitive skin. With a reverence that makes your heart flutter, he lowers his head, his lips tracing a path from your navel to the soft curve of your breast, his breath hot against your skin.

As Joel lifts himself, the muscles in his arms and shoulders ripple with the movement, casting enticing shadows across his skin. He leans over you once more, his gaze filled with a mix of adoration and unbridled lust. His lips trail a scorching path down your stomach, each kiss a tender promise that sends shivers of anticipation through you.

You arch your back, your body instinctively responding to his touch. Your breath hitches as he reaches the delicate juncture of your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. He licks and nips at the sensitive skin along your inner thighs, each touch of his mouth stoking the fire within you.

A smirk plays on Joel's lips as he reaches your clit, a knowing glint in his eyes that tells you he's fully aware of the power he holds over you in this moment. With exquisite tenderness, he flicks his tongue over the engorged bundle of nerves, each lick sending jolts of pleasure radiating through your body. You squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

His fingers part your folds, exposing you fully to his ministrations. He thrusts his tongue into you, exploring your depths with a hunger that leaves you gasping for air. His movements are deliberate and skilled—circling, probing, and sucking in just the right way to make your clit twitch erratically with need.

Joel's own excitement is palpable; with each moan that escapes your lips, his cock grows impossibly harder. The sight of him so turned on by pleasuring you only adds to the intensity of the moment.

As he continues to suck and flick his tongue around your glistening cunt , you can't help but voice your pleasure loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. You push yourself further up the mattress, seeking friction against his relentless tongue as you chase the elusive wave of your orgasm.

"I'm gonna come," you pant out between ragged breaths, "please don't stop." Your world narrows down to the feeling of his tongue against your clit—a maddening rhythm.

As the words tumble from your lips, Joel's eyes flash with a primal hunger, and he knows that you're on the brink. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue working with a renewed fervor as he hears the desperation in your voice.

"That's it, such a good girl," Joel growls against your sensitive flesh, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking beautiful.”

Just as you're about to cum Joel pulls away and Joel's dominance takes center stage. He looms over you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there's a wicked glint in them that promises an escalation of pleasure and intensity.

"You like that, don't ya?" he rasps, his voice thick with lust. "Feelin’ my tongue on your wet cunt, makin’ you squirm and beg." He punctuates each word with a roll of his hips, his cock rubbing against your sensitive flesh in a way that makes your breath hitch in your throat.

"Yes," you admit breathlessly, the admission spilling from your lips without hesitation. You're past the point of being coy or reserved.

He grabs your wrists with one hand, pinning them above your head as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "I'm gonna make you scream my name until all your neighbors know exactly who owns this tight little pussy. "You're mine," he asserts, his voice a possessive rumble in your ear. "This little pussy is mine to fuck, mine to pleasure, mine to own.”

The raw intensity of Joel's words sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His dominance is a potent aphrodisiac, stoking the fire within you to a fever pitch. You're helpless against the onslaught of sensations—the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the feel of his calloused hands restraining your wrists, the heat of his breath against your ear.

"Say it," he commands, his voice a low growl that resonates with authority. "Tell who this pussy belongs to."

"It's yours," you gasp, the words spilling from your lips in a rush of submission. "All yours, Joel."

A satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he releases your wrists, only to grip your hips with both hands. He positions himself at your entrance, the blunt head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. The anticipation is almost unbearable; you can feel every ridge and vein of his impressive girth as he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your opening.

"Please," you beg, your voice laced with desperation. "I need you inside me."

With a grunt of approval, Joel gives in to your pleas, driving his cock into you with one powerful thrust. The sensation of being filled so completely takes your breath away, a mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping for air. He doesn't give you time to adjust to his size, instead setting a relentless pace that has your body arching off the bed with each forceful stroke.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Your pussy feels like heaven wrapped around my cock baby."

You can't form coherent words anymore; all that escapes your lips are inarticulate cries of pleasure as Joel claims your body with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the room, punctuated by your desperate moans and his low, guttural grunts.

As he continues to fuck you with wild abandon, you can feel the familiar tightening in your core, a sign that your orgasm is imminent. Your inner walls flutter around his cock, gripping him tightly as he plunges in and out of your soaked pussy.

As the intensity of your shared passion builds, Joel's gaze locks onto yours, his eyes dark with desire and command. "Look at me," he orders, his voice a low, insistent growl that cuts through the haze of pleasure clouding your senses. "Wanna see you when you come for me."

Your eyes meet his, and in that moment, something profound passes between you. It's as if he's reaching into the very depths of your soul, claiming not just your body but every part of you.

With each powerful thrust, Joel drives you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sight of him above you—his muscles straining with exertion, his skin slick with sweat, and his eyes burning into yours—is more than you can bear. You feel yourself teetering on the brink, a prisoner to the exquisite torment that is building within your core.

"That's it," Joel encourages, his voice ragged with need. "Come on, baby. I gotcha."

As you surrender to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm takes hold, and you can't help but cry out his name. The sound of it reverberates through the room, a testament to the raw, unfiltered pleasure that Joel has coaxed from your very core.

In the midst of your climax, with your body trembling beneath him, Joel's voice breaks through the fog of ecstasy. "So damn beautiful when you come," he murmurs. "Seein’ you like this, feelin’ you tighten ‘round me—it's the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed."

His praise washes over you, amplifying the intensity of your orgasm. The knowledge that he finds you beautiful in this unguarded moment of pleasure adds a new dimension to the experience—a sense of being cherished and admired that goes beyond the physical.

The combination of his words and the relentless rhythm of his hips proves too much for Joel to withstand. With a final, powerful thrust, he reaches his own peak, his body shuddering as he empties himself inside you. His groans of release mingle with your cries of pleasure, creating a symphony of shared ecstasy that fills the room.

Joel's laughter suddenly fills the room, a warm, hearty sound that wraps around you like a comforting blanket. He pulls you close, his arm a secure band around your waist as he tucks you into his side. You can't help but smile, your heart fluttering in your chest as you press your face against the solid wall of his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is a soothing counterpoint to your own rapid pulse and heavy breathing.

The reality of tonight's events still feels surreal to you. Here you are, nestled in the sanctuary of your bed, with a man who has managed to ignite a fire within you that you didn't even know existed. The thought flickers through your mind that this is something transient, something that might not be meant to last. But in this moment, none of that matters. All that matters is the connection between you and Joel—a connection that feels as real and as solid as anything you've ever known.

After several moments of comfortable silence, Joel's voice breaks through the quietude of the room. "That was perfect," he says, his words laced with genuine admiration and wonder. You can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm—it mirrors the joy bubbling up inside of you. Turning in his embrace, you find yourself lost in his deep brown eyes—eyes that seem to see right through to your very soul.

Leaning in, he captures your lips in a kiss that is both tender and passionate—a slow, sweet melding that sends shivers down your spine and makes your lips tingle with delight. You part your lips slightly, granting him deeper access as his tongue sweeps against yours in an intimate dance that leaves you breathless and yearning for more.

His hand finds its way into your hair, fingers gently tangling in the strands as he cradles your head with surprising gentleness for someone with such strong hands. Every touch feels electric—each caress igniting sparks beneath your skin until it seems like there's nothing else but this perfect moment suspended in time.

As the kiss comes to a gentle close, Joel pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes, his own reflecting a mix of satisfaction and reluctance. His attention shifts momentarily to the alarm clock on your nightstand, its glowing digits announcing the arrival of midnight.

"Fuck," he sighs, the word a soft exhalation against your lips. "As much as I'd love to stay here with you, I really gotta head home and try to get a few hours of sleep.”

You offer him a smile that's both understanding and a little wistful, nodding your head in silent agreement. Leaning in, you initiate one last kiss—a sweet, lingering press of your lips against his.

"Guess it's true what they say," you murmur, your voice soft yet teasing, "heroes never rest. Go on, Mr. Fireman, get some sleep. But do me a favor and text me when you get home. I need to know you made it safely and weren't murdered on the way.”

Joel's chuckle is warm and genuine as he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheekbones in a tender farewell. "I wouldn't dream of leavin’ ya worried," he assures you before capturing your lips in one final kiss.

With a reluctant groan, he extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and bedding, rising from the bed. You watch him dress, the moonlight casting shadows across his toned body, and you can't help but appreciate the sight of him—a man who embodies strength, courage, and unexpected tenderness.

Once he's fully clothed, Joel turns to you one last time, his eyes drinking in the sight of you lying there amidst the rumpled sheets. "I'll see you soon, pretty girl," he says, his voice filled with quiet determination. And then, with a final wave, he's gone—leaving you with the lingering scent of his cologne and the memory of his touch to keep you company through the night.

True to his word, your phone buzzes a short while later, the screen lighting up with a message from Joel

Made it home safe and sound. No murderers lurking in the shadows tonight. Sweet dreams, beautiful. I'll be thinking of you.

[volklana]

Wish I Didn't But I Do, Remember Every Moment On The Nights With You.

Part II

Read Part I Here:

Title Comes From This Song:

You leave your small hometown behind, along with the man you loved. What happens when you are forced to reunite?

Dedicated to the amazing @whitedarkmoonflower because I do not think I would have ever written this without you love 💖💖

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse and heavy drinking.

CowboySihtric! x Reader

You touched a shaking hand to your lips where Sihtric’s ones had been a little while ago, his words from last night replaying over and over in your mind "I just hoped you loved me enough to return to me one day.”

While you had been closing your heart off to everyone and everything, especially Sihtric, he had always kept a little place in his heart open for you, and it made your own icy heart defrost just a little.

He was sleeping soundly on the sofa in Uhtred’s living room and you had returned to the dying embers of the bonfire to watch the sunrise, sleep long evading you, wrapped in one of Gisela’s shawls.

Every nerve in your body was telling you to run. While everyone was sleeping. Before you got caught up in Sihtric’s orbit again. Before you stepped wholly into your friends lives again , only to once again find the strength to tear yourself away.

You did it once and it almost killed you..

You weren’t sure you could do it again.

Almost as if he could read your mind a weary looking Finan appeared across the fire from you, before coming to sit by your side, with a heavy sigh.

“I don’t want to tiptoe around you,” he began “So I'm going to just out with it.”

He rubbed a hand over his tired face and tugged slightly at his beard.

“If you're going to leave again. Do it now. Do it while there’s not so much at stake.” 

“You know.." you began "Everyone has always blamed me for leaving,” you cried, chest rising angrily with the unfairness “I didn’t choose to leave Sihtric, he was the one who chose to stay. To cut off all contact with me. To fucking marry someone else. I’ve copped the shit for years for a decision that was sprung on me at a bus stop while the bus was approaching...A decision that wasn’t mine.” 

“But it wasn’t just Sihtric you left behind,” Finan cried and you realised it didn’t matter the intricacies or the ins and outs, you were always going to be the one who left them all behind.

“You left us all without a second look, and it broke my fucking heart,” he admitted honestly.

“Is that why you cut me out?” you asked honestly “Because you felt like I had abandoned you?”

Finan looked at you with a pained expression “You were my oldest friend. My first kiss,” he laughed and you choked out a laugh too “The person who always kept me together, and everything was just falling apart, you didn’t see the way Sihtric went down, and the one person who kept us all together was the one who blew us apart.” 

You stared distantly out into the morning, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and Finan rose gently.

“I’ve said my piece,” he sighed “And I won’t speak out of place again, but please,” he begged, “If you are going to leave us again..please don’t draw it out because I couldn’t take it again.” He lingered for a second, and you nodded softly,but when you didn’t reply he made his departure and the red hot tears finally slid down your cheeks and you buried your head against your forearms. 

Gisela was cooking breakfast for everyone and it wasn’t until she called everyone to grab a plate that anyone realised you were gone.

You were crying, firing clothes into bags not even bothering to fold them when you heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs and Sihtric burst into your bedroom, his huge eyes betraying the hurt he was feeling.

He pulled the clothes out of your shaking hands and cupped your face in his hands, eyes wildly searching yours for answers. 

“What is this?” he begged and you sagged against him.

“I can’t do this,” you sobbed, shaking your head wildly, and he was nodding frantically.

“You can. Yes you can,” he was countering over your protests and you flailed in his arms trying to free yourself from his grasp until he pulled you to him and you collapsed into his embrace.

“Talk to me,” he urged softly and you finally lifted your gaze to meet his.

“I feel so lost,” you confessed. “I’ve spent all this time building up this hatred for you, closing off all the tender parts of me and then I come back here and you’re this amazing, gentle guy and I’m gonna hurt you and lose everyone again. And if I stay, everyone is going to be watching me, just waiting for me to mess it all up again. And if I leave then that’s it, there will never be another chance, not for us, not with our friends.”

“I’m sorry doll,” he said softly “If you felt like I was rushing you for answers last night, I never intended it to come across that way. I just wanted you to think about it.” 

He brushed his thumbs across your cheeks and placed a quick kiss to your forehead, tucking your hair softly behind your ears.

“I’m not expecting you to have all the answers. I’m not expecting us to just pick up where we left off when we were teenagers, or to just jump into something new now. I just want you to stay here a while and fall back in love with this place, even if I’m not included in that equation.”

He said it so honestly that your heart nearly broke in two.

“I can take a step back,” he suggested “I’m happy to be your friend and if something happens, then I will be the happiest man alive but if it doesn’t I will be glad just to have you back in my life. All I’m asking is that you please give this place a try, can you promise me that sweet girl?”

Your expression softened, eyes glimmering with the use of his old nickname for you, his eyes were searching yours for some sort of understanding and you nodded slowly as he hummed softly, out of habit you reached for the hammer amulet he wore around his neck and swiped your thumb along the intricate carving.

“I want to stay,” you finally found the bravery to say, and you meant it honestly, Finan’s words had shook you, made you want to run, but Sihtric’s made you want to root yourself into the ground and never let go.

It took a lot of persuading to convince Aldhelm that you could successfully run your end of the business from the ranch.

“I’ll travel up once a month and I can link into any meeting through video call,” you were trying to reassure, but you could feel his anxiety through the phone.

“It’s not going to be forever,” you promised but immediately felt a pang of guilt as you looked through the crack in the bedroom door where Sihtric was sleeping soundly. 

He had only just got you back and you were already talking about leaving again.

He stirred in his sleep and my god if he wasn’t the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“I can’t do this without you,” Aldhelm eventually sighed and pulled your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“It’s not forever,” you promised again but somewhere deep down inside you knew you didn’t mean it.

You made your way into the room where Sihric was sleeping and gently swept a stray curl from his forehead, relishing in how peaceful he looked when he slept.

True to his word he hadn’t tried to kiss you since the night at Uhtred’s but you had been spending every single moment on the ranch together, helping him muck out horses and feed cattle but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to get up on the saddle just yet. 

“Y/n?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“I’m here,” you giggled running your fingers across the scar on his face, “I’m here,”

“Here with me,” he smiled in his sleep, reaching to clasp your hand in his, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you pulled it out to see a message from Uhtred.

“Sihtric!” you shouted, shaking him ferociously “Sihtric, wake up! Gisela has gone into labour, your Godson is on the way.”

You never saw a man rise, dress and ready quicker than Sihtric in that moment and you had to remind him to slow down multiple times on the way to the hospital. 

You were plaiting Gisela’s hair while Uhtred lifted her swollen feet gently onto a footstool, mindful to slide her slippers off carefully.

Sihtric was cooing and gently swaying baby Uhtred in his arms and your eyes followed him around the room, smiling absentmindedly to yourself as you continued your ministrations on Gisela’s hair. 

Uhtred (Senior) followed your line of sight and sent you a knowing smile, you felt the colour rush to your cheeks but seeing Sihtric holding the little bundle in his arms and sing him little songs made you wonder, maybe if you had stayed all those years ago, if it had been you that Sihtric married, perhaps if would have been a little Sihtric he was holding in his arms at the moment. It was stupid line of thought but you couldn’t help it.

You massaged Gisela’s shoulders gently and she hummed, her eyes slipping closed.

“When was the last time you had more than an hour’s sleep?” you asked them both and they shook their heads in unison. Uhtred junior was two weeks old and both of them looked absolutely shattered.

You and Sihtric shared a look and he nodded, “Go get some rest we’ve got Uhtred tonight.” 

Gisela turned to argue and Uhtred shook his head “We can’t ask you to do that!”

“You didn’t ask,” Sihtric cut in, “We offered.”

“Besides,” you countered “Do you really think you are getting that boy out of Sihtric’s arms tonight?” you laughed and Gisela laughed wearily too.

“Go get some sleep,” you urged and within an hour, you were laughing at Uhtred’s snores upstairs, as you washed dishes and stuck on load of dirty bibs and babygrows in the washing machine for Gisela. 

You were wiping down the counters when you heard whispered voices in the next room and a sheepish looking Finan appeared in the kitchen.

“You are a really good friend y/n,” he said softly, and you stilled all actions, frozen and unsure what to say, so you muttered a thank you.

“I uh- I wanted to apologise for what I said the last time we were here.”

“Finan,” you cut him off with a smile “It's alright. Your heart was in the right place. You love Sihtric, you were just trying to protect him, and you were hurt too”

“I was,” he admitted. “But I just wanted you to know that if you choose to stay here, none of us will let you go without a fight again. It wasn't just Sihtric who lost you the last time, and I don’t plan on losing you again any time soon,”

You burst out from behind the counter and pulled Finan into a hug that nearly choked the air out of his lungs, and he returned it with such a force you were sure your ribs would be bruised. 

Weeks passed and you were coming into your busy period at work.

You would be lying if you said it wasn’t an adjustment trying to run your side of things from the ranch, it meant a lot of late night phone calls to Aldhelm while you hammered out deals and a lot of answering emails and random phone calls during the day and Sihtric was bang smack in the  middle of calving season, so you were seeing him less and less, and as much as it was shocking to you you missed having him around.

Sometimes you would catch a glimpse of him walking by in his blue wranglers, sweat on his brow and muscled arms bursting of white t-shirts or checkered shirts and your mouth would run dry.

True to his word he hadn’t touched you or tried to kiss you since the morning he stopped you packing your bags and running for the hills but you found yourself really wishing that he would.

You couldn’t stop picturing those eyes, those beautiful big mismatched eyes that always seemed to be on yours. You’d known him intimately when you were teenagers but he had aged like fine wine, his toned body, as strong as the work he did but his gentleness was unyielding.

It was pathetic how much you were longing for him, and craving his attention so much it was actually distracting you from your work, and as you sipped your morning coffee on the porch watching him work, you were once again interrupted by the shrill of your phone ringing and you genuinely considering throwing it off the porch before you conceded and answered. 

It was almost midnight and you stood in the warm balmy air of Sihtric’s porch, contemplating whether you should knock or not, you fidgeted with your hair, and bit your lip before you actually worked up the courage to knock gently. You were filled with nervous energy and your heart was hammering in your chest as his door swung gently open.

His confused eyes raked over your shivering form in nothing but your nightdress, hair flowing freely and he was about to ask if you were okay when you surged forward and pressed your lips to his.

You’d caught him by surprise and barely given him time to respond when you were breaking away from him “Sihtric, oh my god I’m so sorry! Do you even- do you still want me?” you were so embarrassed you couldn’t even meet his eye.

He cut you off by pulling you to him and fisting his hand into your hair and attaching his lips to yours again. 

He backed you up against the wall and attached his lips to any piece of skin he could find, hands running up your sides, bunching the soft material of your dress in his fists, as he worshipped your neck with his lips, and you made quick work of pulling his shirt off his body, running your fingers along the tight muscles of his torso and you arched your body into his touch, as he parted your legs with his knee.

“Please,” you begged, surprising even yourself and suddenly Sihtric’s eyes were boring into yours with a ferocity you had never seen there before. 

Your doe eyes were enough to finish him before he had even begun and then you were undoing his belt buckle and any resolve he had melted.

Sihtric worshipped every single inch of your body, taking the time to take you apart with his fingers and tongue before you climbed on top of him.

He thought you were a goddess sent from above, as he held you in place, thrusting up into you at a pace that had you seeing stars, and just as you were about to reach your climax he suddenly flipped you over to switch positions, and you ran your fingers up his chest, along his neck and he commanded you to look at him.

“Listen to me when I tell you this,” he whispered, lowering himself back into you as you gasped, “I will always want you. Always.” 

“Sihtric,” you whimpered and he fucked you so gently you couldn’t hold back anymore, falling apart around him, and he followed suit immediately after, collapsing an exhausted sweaty mess onto the mattress beside you.

“I never thought I would get to do that again,” he said softly into the darkness and you turned to examine him with a shy smile, he was staring up at the ceiling and you nestled into his side, a strong arm wrapping around you to pull you closer.

Sihtric was not the skinny teenage boy you had left behind. He was broad shouldered, chiselled muscles and quietly confident now. In many ways being with him felt a bit like being with a handsome stranger who still had all the best parts of your Sihtric. You had to admit that you were slightly intimidated by the physicality of this Sihtric, he had always been the quiet, shy type but somehow now he carried an aura of strength and where you had always been the pillar of strength before, somehow it felt as though the power dynamics had changed and maybe, for once in your life it felt okay to let somebody look after you.

Sihtric pulled the blankets up around you both and before you even had time to overthink, your eyes were slipping closed, you barely even registered the words Sihtric was whispering into the night.

“Always.” 

“Today is the day,” Sihtric mused, pressing a kiss to the side of your hair as you munched on your bowl of cereal.

“No,” you protested and he laughed loudly.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Chestnut is saddled and I have the picnic packed, you have no choice but to ride with me.” 

He was so gleeful, that despite the nerves in your stomach, you couldn’t fight the smile that stretched across your face. 

“Don’t let me fall,” you squealed as Chestnut began to move.

“Never,” Sihtric promised faithfully, arms locking tighter around you, as you rode off across the horizon.

Sihtric hopped down first to lay down the picnic blanket, before he lifted you carefully down, lying you down on the blanket and stealing a shy kiss from you before he retrieved the picnic bag from the saddle bag. He snuck a glance at you and shook his head in disbelief. It had been weeks since that night you spent together but he still couldn’t quite believe that he had his girl back. His heart hammered in his chest as his fingers fumbled with the buckles of the saddle bags.

You made love on that very picnic blanket, under the scorching desert sun, arms pressed above your head, captured in Sihtric’s strong hands as his Thor hammer amulet glistened under the dusty light, and the words were spilling from his lips before he could stop them.

“I love you,”he rasped  and the tears glistened in your eyes as you said those words back. The very ones you had locked away and denied for years, you loved him too. 

Weeks went by in a haze of bruising kisses, and aching muscles from making love to Sihtric.

You made no attempt to hide it from your friends that you were seeing each other again and Gisela told you every time she saw you that you were glowing. It felt illegal to be this happy.

It was initially a bitter pill to swallow that the life you had forged for yourself could not compare an inch to the life you had left behind. The love you had left behind but with Sihtric in your arms the past never quite seemed to matter so much.

“So that’s it done?” you asked Osferth, signing the spot he had starred for you to sign.

“That’s it, you’re free,” he grinned at you and reached out a hand for you to shake, but instead of taking his hand you pulled him into a hug.

“Finally free,” you sighed and he squeezed you.

“When are you going to tell him?” he asked with a grin as wide as the moon on his face and you shook your head, “Tonight.” 

As soon as you had gotten through your admin load for the day you closed up your laptop and checked your phone again.

Sihtric had been radio silent today but you didn’t think too much of it, he never was the kind of guy to be stuck to his phone. Many mornings you’d woken up to his phone ringing on the nightstand, where he’d simply left it behind, all that is to say it wasn’t unusual to not hear from him while he worked. 

When you’d been in town earlier, you had bought yourself a new sun dress and cowboy boots, it was how you used to dress as a teen, it was the smalltown girl that Sihtric had fallen in love with and you thought you had been so unfair to that girl, she deserved a little bit of love too.

You tucked the envelope full of important papers into your purse and sat off down towards his cabin.

“Sihtric,” you sang as you burst in through his cabin door, but your heart sank down a million miles to your toes when he pulled his hand out of the grasp of the woman he was sitting across the table from. 

Your eyes darted between them before settling on the fact that her free hand was settled on a very pronounced baby bump and Sihtric followed your line of sight, gulping when he saw you had put two and two together.

You were backing out of the door apologetically “I can- Oh god I can come back later it’s fine. I’m fine!” you rushed before backing out the door quicker than a bat out of hell. 

You paced the tiles of your kitchen floor relentlessly, heart thumping in your chest as you forced yourself to breathe, but feeling nothing, too numb to cry, too shocked to fully process anything.Just numb.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before Sihtric sheepishly appeared before you.

“She wants to give it another go. To be a family.”

“Of course,” you replied, void of emotion, very practically “Of course, that makes sense.”

Sihtric had never wanted anything more than to be a father, you had known it ever since you were kids, kissing under country skies, and even more so now since Uhtred Junior arrived, and you would never stand in his way of having the family he so desperately craved ever since he was a child.

“All I’ve ever wanted was a family,” he cried and you were nodding, but still unable to meet his eye, “And you..But I can’t have both” he finished, and your eyes suddenly shot to meet his and he wanted to crumble at the emptiness there, you were shutting down and it was physically painful.

You were stood before him in the fucking stupid sun dress you had bought for him, in a place you had swore you would never come back to, opened up all the closed wounds you had spent years stitching over, laid yourself bare for him and allowed him to climb back into your heart and now he was telling you it was all for nothing.

“I understand,” you nodded, even though your heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. “You need to choose your family,” you told him and his face crumbled, “I have no choice.”

“There is no choice to make Sihtric, you have to pick your family. Just promise me one thing? This time I want to say goodbye to our friends, I’m not going to slip away again into the night.”

“You don’t have to leave?” Sihtric cried, reaching out for you but you pulled away from his touch.

“I will wish you all the best, but I cannot stay and watch Sihtric. It’s too painful.”

He surprised you with an outburst of tears, and he gripped your arm “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry!” you cried, gulping back tears of your own “I’m sorry that I got on that bus, and I’m sorry that I turned up here too late, and in some ways I’m sorry that I ever came back.”

Sihtric pulled you into a bone crushing hug and you relished in his scent, savouring every last moment you got to spend in his arms, and the last time you would feel secure in his arms.

"Well I will never be sorry that you came back, for the time we spent together. I will remember it for the rest of my life," he promised and you didn't reply, because what could you possibly say to that.

You weren’t even sure why, but it was Finan and Eadith’s house you turned up at, sobs wracking your body so hard that you could hardly get your words out, his huge arms locking around you as he whispered into your hair that everything was going to be okay.

When you finally got your words out Finan sank back into his chair in shock, and Eadith ran her fingers through her hair in disbelief. 

“She’s been ruining his life since the day she turned up here,” Eadith spat and Finan sighed.

“It’s almost like she could smell that he was happy,” he agreed. 

“I can’t stay,” you finally mustered up the courage to say and Finan’s face turned into a pleading expression, “It’s not going to be like before,” you promised “I’m part of your lives now, I will stay in contact and I’ll come back to visit…when it’s not so raw.”

“I can’t believe it,” Finan was suddenly angry “All this time I’ve been warning you against hurting Sihtric, warning you against leaving and this is how it turns out.”

“I should have never come back,” you cried but reached out for his hand “But if it was for nothing else but to fix our friendship, it was worth it.” 

He suddenly lunged forward and pulled you to him which such a ferocity it knocked the air from your lungs, Eadith rising to wrap her arms around the both of you.

Goodbyes were said and Gisela begged you over and over to come back and you promised her faithfully that you would, but it didn’t stop the tears that nearly blinded you as you drove away.

Taking a final moment to take in your surroundings you climbed into your car and descended up the very dirt track you had driven down seven months before and a lone figure in the reflection of your rearview mirror tipped his cowboy hat to you as you drove up the lane and out of his life once more. 

And he didn't know it yet, but on the table of your Grandfather's kitchen was an envelope with his name on it, with the deeds to the whole ranch, you had agreed to stay for long enough to figure out just what to do with the ranch and despite what had transpired you had no doubt in your heart who the ranch belonged to, it just so happened that your heart belonged to him too.

Tagging:

@canyonmoon-2 @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon

@acdassenza @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

@troyottonick @alexagirlie

a-beaverhausen nebulamorada izzydlb knight-of-flowerss

justcuriousandbored

[dameronscopilot]

Boiling Point

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x f!reader

Summary: A spur of the moment invitation leads you to underestimate what years worth of sexual tension with Rooster will amount to when placed within the stifling square footage of your humble apartment.

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, oral sex (m!receiving), thigh riding, unprotected p in v, rough sex, praise kink, table sex

Part of you knows that if you gave Rooster an inch, he’d take it. If you softened your hard edges just enough to be pliable beneath his callused hands, ones that you can only imagine would trail across your skin with the same deft precision that he utilizes in the cockpit, he’d take you apart piece-by-piece. 

Prompt: The only two people without plans for Christmas might as well spend it together (dedicated to @frankiesbadlanding 💖)

DECK THE HALLS MASTERLIST

“You can’t spend Christmas alone, Bradshaw.”

While you’d certainly meant what you’d said to Rooster days ago as you were trudging across the base—both of you breathing hard and covered in sweat after hours of intensive drills in the air—now that he’s standing here in the middle of your living room with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he observes the collage of artwork spread across your walls, your apartment suddenly feels too goddamn small.

—too small for this.

In the years that you’ve known Bradley, the stifling air that lingers between the two of you has been taut with a simmering tension, spread far too thin to weather much more of the tightrope of uncertainty you’ve both been carefully traipsing across day in and day out. Long before you enrolled in the naval academy, you vowed not to fall into the trap of distractions in the form of tall, handsome pilots with soft eyes and easy smiles—a rule made specifically for men like the one currently trailing his fingertips over the small piano by the window. 

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw is the definition of a goddamn distraction, through and fucking through. 

For all that you’ve done to earn the designation of “Specter,” a call sign born from your uncanny ability to get the drop on your teammates with a near ghostly grace, Rooster is the one person that makes you stumble without fail once your feet are firmly planted back on the ground. Sometimes, you don’t think he’s even aware of it, the way he catches you off guard with his barking laugh, the way your nerves are set alight whenever he lowers his sunglasses and offers you a lopsided grin from across the room. The way your steady hands will tremble from a mere brush of his fingers. 

It should bother you, really, how easily he gets under your skin. 

How effortlessly he draws you into his orbit. 

How he unceasingly invades your thoughts.

It’s a testament to every adamantly stubborn bone in your body that the two of you haven’t fucked it out yet.

Part of you knows that if you gave Rooster an inch, he’d take it. If you softened your hard edges just enough to be pliable beneath his callused hands, ones that you can only imagine would trail across your skin with the same deft precision that he utilizes in the cockpit, he’d take you apart piece-by-piece. 

He’d work his way into each and every crevice of your being with a white-hot intensity that would rival the manner in which he burns across the skies. 

Bradley would ruin you for anyone else.

Later, after you’ve eaten dinner and left the dishes to soak in a sea of suds in the sink, the last frayed edges of your paper-thin charade are helpless when Rooster speaks up from where he’s casually leaning against the doorway, eyes tracking your movements across the room. 

“Why’d you invite me to spend Christmas with you, Specter?”

You come to a stop beside the kitchen table, fingers briefly drumming across its wooden surface. Too many answers flirt across the tip of your tongue, so you settle on the easiest. “Because I know neither of us have anyone left to celebrate with.”

Pushing off of the wooden frame, he strides toward you, coming to a stop a few feet away. “Is that all?”

Biting your lip, you roll your eyes as you evade the question with one of your own, “Did you really have to wear a Hawaiian shirt on Christmas?” 

He glances down at himself as you gesture toward his pink and green top, which he’s predictably left unbuttoned, aviators snugly tucked into the neck of his white t-shirt. Moving closer, he tilts his head to the side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I think I did.”

Another step.

“Are you sure?”

Another.

“What do you want, Rooster?”

Your backside presses against the lip of the table as he comes to a stop in front of you.

“I want to know why I’m here.”

It’s a fucking loaded question, one that leaves your blood thrumming in your veins as your mind tries to unravel the implication behind it. The unspoken, shared knowledge that you’ve both traversed this liminal space of willful ignorance for far too long. 

This invitation wasn’t just about the holiday, and he fucking knows it. 

You tell him just that, your response nearly a whisper. “You know why.”

Though you try to focus on a spot over his shoulder, eyes sweeping over the strings of brightly-colored lights strung about in the room beyond, you can’t help but turn your head to meet the weight of his gaze as he replies evenly, “I want to hear you say it.”

Even with the hot caress of his breath dancing across your cheek, you still dig your heels into the tile floor beneath your feet, dizzy as you sway at the precipice of the edge you've always skirted. “Say what, Bradley?”

You swear you can hear the hitch in his breath as his real name leaves your mouth—a rare occurrence. 

He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, biting his cheek and tousling his hair. “Say you’re tired of acting like you don’t want this. Because I sure fucking am.”

Your skin prickles with heat, his words dragging down your spine and reverberating in your ears. Without blinking, you let go—

“I am, too."

Rooster goes entirely still for a moment when you finally relent, eyes widening a fraction in something like surprise, and then his mustache twitches at the behest of the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Good,” he murmurs, before leaning in and capturing your lips in a long overdue kiss. 

Your body relaxes into Rooster’s solid form as he slots his mouth against yours, and while one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, the other slides down to grasp at your hip, steadying you as your limbs go pliant under his scorching touch.

There’s no uncertainty in the way he holds you, no awkward fumbling of limbs—rather, there’s a deliberate familiarity in the press of each finger against your skin, a whispered reminder of the trust you already share. In the air, there’s a peculiar harmony to be found in the way the two of you fly side-by-side, rhythmically anticipating one another’s moves through the clouds. And here, now, with your feet planted firmly on solid ground, you’ve finally come to realize that this will be no different. 

You tilt your head, and his nose nudges your cheek while his tongue flirts with the seam of your mouth, beckoning you to part your lips for him. When you do, Rooster deepens the kiss, pressing his body firmly against yours and splaying a hand across your lower back. You melt into his body heat, a keening sound escaping your heaving chest at the thrill that runs through you when you press into the muscled thigh he’s planted between your legs. 

Rooster’s fingers slide lower, grazing your ass, and he breaks the kiss, muttering against your lips, “You like that?”

He adjusts his leg, the denim of his jeans rubbing against the apex of your thighs, and you can’t help but nod, letting your head fall against his shoulder as he uses his grip on your backside to increase the pressure. 

“You look so pretty like this,” he observes, kissing your cheek softly as you arch your back, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Keep going.”

And so you do. Pulling him in for a needy kiss, hands tightly grasping the hairs at the back of his head, your teeth clash as you drag your clothed cunt down his leg.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the thumb that’s fluttering across your jawline swipes across your bottom lip. 

There’s something innately shameless about riding Rooster’s thigh in the middle of your kitchen, like you always knew it’d come down to this somehow. There’s no time to waste being shy at the feeling of the sticky pool of arousal gathered in your underwear, and when you reach down to hike your dress up, Rooster’s hands swiftly slide up your thighs and bunch up the skirt, his thumbs digging into your hip bones.

“Bradley…” you whine as you chase the sparks of pleasure with each thrust—it’s not enough, and he knows it.

He groans into your mouth as you say his name again, taking your bottom lip between his teeth when your hand trails over the erection straining against the front of his pants. You make quick work of the button and zipper, slipping a hand inside, and he rolls his hips into your touch when you wrap your fingers around his hard, throbbing cock. His lips messily slide off of yours and run across your cheek as you pull his shaft out and begin to stroke it. In turn, one of his hands leaves your hips, tugging aside your soaked underwear to swipe two digits through your slick folds. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out when he realizes just how wet you are, the tight walls of your cunt easily giving way when he begins to slide his middle finger into your entrance. He quickly inserts another as his mouth finds its way to your neck, nipping and lapping at the sensitive skin there while he begins to pump his fingers in and out of you. 

At the feeling of you eagerly rocking your hips into his hand while tugging at his dick, Rooster chuckles, grazing his teeth over your earlobe. “You want more, Specter?”

“Please.”

“Right here?”

“Yeah, on the table.”

“Tell me how you like it,” he croons, crooking his fingers inside of you as he runs his tongue along the underside of your jaw. 

You pluck his sunglasses from where they’re still dangling precariously from the neck of his shirt, dropping them onto the table. “You don’t need to be gentle.”

No sooner than the words have left your lips, he spins you around, and you find yourself bent over the tabletop, your cheek pressed against the cool wooden surface as Rooster’s hands trail over the globes of your ass. 

He folds his body over yours for a moment, his cock nestled between your cheeks as his mouth hovers near your face. “I should have known you’d like it rough.”  

When stands back up, he nudges your legs further apart and teases your dripping folds with the head of his cock, wiping your arousal along his shaft. He notches himself at your entrance for a moment, and just as you go to take a breath, he plunges inside of you without warning. Both of you moan in unison at the feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate him as he buries himself inside of you, your cunt both weeping and tingling at the thick intrusion splitting you open. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans as he pulls his cock almost completely out of you, only to slam it back inside, his balls smacking against your ass.

A choked out sob of pleasure leaves your mouth in response as your muscles tighten at the feeling of Rooster’s shaft massaging your inner walls while he begins to set a punishing rhythm pounding into you.

“Harder,” you pant out.

The feet of the table grunt in protest, skidding a few inches backward as he drives his length into your pussy with fervor, recklessly rutting into you at a brutal pace. Your fingers are in the midst of reaching out to grasp for purchase along the smooth surface of the tabletop when you feel both of your arms being tugged behind your back. Rooster wraps a hand over your wrists, pinning your hands against your lower back as he ravages your hole. 

Sounds of wet, smacking flesh fill the room, and you squirm in his grip as the growing ache between your thighs begins to spread. Noticing the way your legs have begun to tremble, he leans in, using his free hand to toy with your swollen clit. At the feeling of Rooster’s fingers rubbing circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves, the tight coil of pleasure writhing in your gut explodes, your cunt clenching down on his shaft as your orgasm washes over you.

As you relax slightly, Rooster releases your hands, grasping his cock as he slips it out of your hole. You push off of the table, turning around to find him fisting his length, and you drop to your knees, taking him into your mouth.

You hollow your cheeks as you take him deep into your throat, his length coated in your juices. Rooster’s hand comes up to cup the back of your head, and he groans as you suck his cock, one of your hands planted at the base as the other cups his balls. His imminent climax finds him between one breath and the next, his shaft pulsing on your tongue as you swallow down the hot, thick ropes of cum he spills down your throat.

Breathing hard, you pull your lips off of Rooster's spent cock and plop backward onto the floor, stealing a glance up at him to see that he's already on his way down to meet you on the tiles. And even with the lingering traces of his release still lingering on your swollen, spit-soaked lips, he takes your face into his hands and kisses you hard. 

A burning smell begins to fill the kitchen, and you belatedly realize you forgot to set a timer on the oven after tossing in the pie that he'd brought over.

"Shit, the pie—"

Rooster makes a sound of protest as you pull your mouth away from his when you turn to look at the stove.

"Fuck the pie," he mutters, turning your chin back to face him and capturing your lips with his once more.

—

Comments, reblogs, and/or asks are always appreciated!

» BRADLEY BRADSHAW MASTERLIST

[beanghostprincess]

Sometimes I scroll through your blog just to Vibe and Turn Off The Brain bc Safe Space Energy, and every single time, I go "Yeah this is great, nice and chill, no thought, head happy-" and then I get SLAMMED with ideas for fics.

Like. Your opinions and takes and tastes are PEAK and so full of inspiration,,,,,,

I am currently in an AroAce Luffy Mood so accept my crew x Lu ideas

ZoLu as a partnership where they call one another Their Boyfriend, and they pass as a romantic relationship. Luffy doesn't really Get Romantic Feelings but he DOES love. He has squishes on his whole crew, but Zoro is His Zoro.

Zoro, for his part, is aromantic or some flavor thereof where his devotion to Luffy is maybe romantic love, maybe platonic love, who cares, he'd do anything for his captain.

Simultaneously, Luffy has a queer platonic relationship with most people on the crew, they are HIS and the only boundaries he'll respect at the ones they establish. Who cares about propriety? They're PIRATES!

After different arcs, Luffy gets Clingier to certain people - it's either New Friend Fawning or Not So Hidden Abandonment Issues Cropping Up. Sometimes it's just a need for comfort, either on his end or for one of his people.

Sanji spent a long time keeping everyone... kind of at arm's length. Ussop and he wind up falling into orbit, and life isgood, is beautiful, Sanji is so happy - but he also is so terrified.

He will follow his captain to the end of the world, and he loves his crew, his friends, with everything he has. There is no where on the planet he'd be safer than there, with them. But Luffy's eyes, so dark and searching and Seeing - they make him antsy. It's alright in passing, in energetic moments. It's unbearable during those rare moments of calm examination. Sanji makes it clear very early on that he's not into that.

It's only after WCI that Luffy grabs Sanji into a tight hug late one evening, them both sitting up, awake and alone in the small kitchen. It's then that calloused rubber hands cup a stubble dotted jaw, a forehead pressed to forehead, and brown-black-red eyes meet blue and Luffy just... waits.

And Sanji? Oh, he's tired. He's tired, he's sad, he's hurt but he's safe and-

He's Luffy's.

He is baptized under that gaze that night with hot cocoa in their tongues and warmth in their hearts and Sanji lets himself have this. It doesn't matter if he deserves it, it doesn't matter if it's alright, all that matters is that It Is, that he can claim it for himself.

Just. Idek where I was going with this honestly. Just AAAAAAAAAAA

You can't just say I'm a comfort blog for you and not expect me to start crying 😭😭💖💖💖 That's the nicest thing ever, please,,, Sobbing. I'm glad you like my posts <33 And I'm always in an aroace/aroaspec Luffy mood so PLEASE tell me your thoughts 💛💛

Aroace Zolu is so funny to me. They're a third secret thing. It's like they are not boyfriends but they are boyfriends but actually that's just how first mates/captains are with each other but they're special and unlike anybody else and-- You get me.

And I agree btw I think Luffy has QPR relationships everywhere in the crew (I mean. Mostly east blue crew but yeah) because his way of loving is more than just friendship but it's not romantic love either? And they don't need a word for that because they are pirates so it doesn't matter at all what labels they use as long as they're happy with it.

The last part btw????? Do you want me to CRY?????? Aghhh. I love Sanji opening up and accepting the love Luffy has to offer him. It's my favorite flavor of Lusan.

This was great,, Awesome incredible even,,, Made my day <33

[daimyosprincess]

Do you think Boba would ever fall for someone who is shy but can bring out the sass once in awhile once they feel comfortable? And maybe who is quite sensitive? I don't know. I keep looking for Boba x reader fics for different types of readers and keep coming up with the same themes which are often quite triggering for me. I am in a writing slump or I'd try to write it myself, but I think maybe I just misunderstand him. I know this is fandom and fun, but I also care about the character and want to get him right and maybe he just doesn't care for someone like that. What are your thoughts on the kind of people Boba would love?

Alright my beloved anon, I have been sitting on this ask for a bit because I really wanted to give it some thought and give it the answer it deserves 💖

In short, yes! I totally think Boba would fall for a shy person, and the sass when they open up would be a bonus for him but definitely not a requirement. I write sassy/bold/loud and proud readers because that's how I am irl but by no means is that the only type Boba would go for. My thoughts on OT!Boba and Daimyo Boba below the cut.

Ok so OT!Boba is much more rough around the edges than he is as an older man in TBOBF; he's driven, angry, and one big ball of pressurized emotion during the Empire era. He the best of the best and he does everything to make sure it stays that way, guarding his reputation with as much ferocity as he goes after his bounties with. He doesn't bother giving energy to things like "love" or "feelings," preferring to work out his frustrations and tension with a (preferably) nameless partner who feels the same. Anything else is too risky, too soft, too vulnerable. He's a lone wolf by choice.

HOWMSTEVER, when he comes across of his highest-paying repeat client's quiet daughter (just choosing for pronouns, def can be gn), he's struck by you. The way you move, quiet as a whisper and soft as a sigh, unseen and unheard by the ruckus around you. He notices you though, he sees you. And he knows you see him too, your watchful eyes flitting over him beneath your lashes when you think his helmet is pointed elsewhere.

You make him curious. Curious as to why a quiet little thing like you would so much as glance his direction twice. He pushes the thoughts away time and time again, but they refuse to be banished, coming unbidden to him in his bunk or during the long hours in hyperspace. What thoughts are swirling in that head of yours? Do you sneak looks at anyone else? Is your voice as sweet as he imagines?

It's nonsense really, he tells himself. You're just some girl, a tender flower who shies away from the sun. He would crush you, break your leaves and trample your petals. You're not made for men like him... so why does he watch you bloom under the moon's light, gentle and perfect? He would only be your ruin.

But oh, what it would be to be the one you blessed with inner light, to be the one who you found deserving of everything you kept to yourself. Maybe even be the one you trust. He certainly doesn't deserve it but, maybe, one day he could.

Boba aches for a balance to his tipped scale. That might look like an outspoken, smart-mouthed partner to match his fire with their own, corralling his blaze by channeling his pent up energy into them. A sun for a sun, a tandem orbit instead of careening through the galaxy.

Just as likely, however, his sun could be balanced with a silver moon, reflecting his light back on him and mastering his violent tides with undeniable, quiet strength. This partner might seem small or nonexistent in comparison to him, impossible that they would attract his desire. That is surface-level thinking--just because the moon goes through phases where it wanes and disappears doesn't mean it doesn't exist. In fact, while the sun sets, the moon never does, it's always there if one pays attention.

I think OT!Boba would admire and find himself attracted to the way a shy, sensitive partner is able to feel and experience their emotions in a way he does not allow himself to. Furthermore, as a man of few words who is in his own bucket more than anything else, he would understand solitude in both its necessity and its pain. There would be a learning curve if the two of pursued a relationship and Boba would undoubtedly hurt your feelings as he tries to learn to navigate his own, but ultimately, the two of you would find reward in each other.

ALRIGHT now onto Daimyo Boba. He's older, wiser, and more keyed into his feelings than his younger self even if he still has a LOT of work left to do in that department (my green tincan man is bunch of repressed emotions walking around in beskar and I love him ok). No longer is he a lone wolf fighting his way through the galaxy, now he's found his pack, his tribe, and he's able to open up to the possibility of having someone at his side.

Now, just as before, that person could be a fiery and bold or reserved and more delicate or anywhere in between. What I believe the theme here is his partner's sense of power. Whether that partner already feels a sense of empowerment or needs support to find it, Boba wants his cyare to appreciate everything that they are and will nurture his partner. It gives him pleasure to care for another, to be in a position to give rather than take, restore rather than destroy.

He is strong man, confident in his power, and wants the same for his partner. The sassy ones need a soft place to land and the shy ones need place to shine, and whichever end of the spectrum his beloved falls on, Daimyo Boba will happily provide them a safe haven.

I hope this coherent and what you were looking for anon 💕 for a shier, sensitive reader fic, I recommend @thirsty-boba-fett-posts Princess Saga series. It's beautiful and touching and isn't one of those stories where the protagonist is "fixed" by becoming an extrovert, but rather focuses on the character's growth and healing.

divider by @saradika

[angelsdean]

💖 another angelsdean fic rec list 💖

ok so jenna @bloodydeanwinchester asked me for fic recs and i kinda went overboard ? so i’m making it a proper post. 

jenna enjoyed fics like Strandlines +Crossing Lines so here are some other stanford era / time-travel shenanigans fics:

a turn of the earth by microcomets - 95k | M | - Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

A Different Kind of Monster by roadtonowhere (lastoryx) - 89k | E |  - When an accidental encounter puts an as-of-yet-unknown monster in the passenger seat of his car, Dean decides to ice him, taking his dad's old adage to heart: a monster is always a monster. Unfortunately, Dean can’t seem to figure out what kind of monster "Castiel" is and he certainly can’t shake him.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases - 46k | M | - Dean’s investigating a faith healer and strange miracles in a small town and meets grad-student-Cas who’s in town researching the faith healer’s community as part of his graduate thesis and quickly falls into his orbit. Together they investigate the community and discover things are not as they seem. 

the little angel (stay all day in the sun) by rhinestoneangels (almondrose) - 18k | T | - Little Mermaid AU ! - Dean is alone and lonely. Cas is an angel intrigued by humanity and makes a deal to live among them, but loses his voice.  

In Due Time (Dean Winchester is Saved) by caelum_writes- 11k | T | - A 26-year-old Dean is transported to 2021 and confronted with the unfathomable - a future where he is happy, safe, and loved.

jenna enjoyed Silver Linings so, some Dean + trauma / mental health fics:

carry on 'verse by foolondahill17 - 128k | M |- Post-canon Dean coping with past trauma, mental health, and alcoholism. God is dead. Sammy finally has what he always wanted. The kid is alive again and trying to figure out the whole human schtick. Cas – Cas is complicated, like always. And Dean is barreling headfirst into a mental breakdown. It’s the end of the road so far, and the future never looked so frightening.

About Five Times The Distance by KelpietheThundergod - 70k | E | - It's been months since Michael unexpectedly let Dean go, but he's still dealing with the mental and physical repercussions, some of which have turned out to be permanent. A case fic that follows Dean and Cas as they develop their relationship and establish intimacy, and while there's angst, the story is focused on healing and closeness

Brighter Than Sunflowers by nessarose_thropp - 61k | M |  - Dean healing post-Michael possession featuring artist Dean. Dean has spent the last six months drowning in his own mind until one day he's finally rescued. He's free now, but that doesn't mean he's okay. Faced with overwhelming changes to his life, he has to find new ways to keep going.

More below, losts of AUs. 

if you like when one of them has a kid 

The Place Where I Belong by tricia_16 - 300k | E |  -Yes this is a LONG one! Well, it’s a series of two long fics. But I remembered I devoured these very quickly. 

Dean Winchester is a single man with a bad reputation for being the 'love them and leave them' kinda guy. When he meets his new neighbor, Castiel, and his daughter, Claire, he forms an instant connection with the toddler that makes it more important than ever before to prove to Castiel that he wants to stick around. Castiel, on the other hand, is a single parent who has only ever known pain when it comes to love. Can they work through their combined baggage together to really let one another in and become the family they both dream of belonging to?

Kinda Like Family, Kinda Like Love by followyourenergy - 122k | M | - MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE TO LOVERS. I want more of these. Such a good trope. Different from fake married because they are for reals married! Anyways - Cas has wanted nothing more than to have children of his own. But when he finally gets his chance after years of disappointment, a strict set of rules almost dashes those dreams. Enter Dean Winchester: eternal bachelor, friend, and suddenly, Cas’ fiancé. Join Cas and Dean as they navigate marriage, adoption, and something that starts to feel kinda like love.

Crashing In by followyourenergy - 77k | E | - Cas is a gay man living in a rented, one-room cottage in the same small coastal town he grew up in, just getting by as the owner of the same convenience store he was practically raised in. The most excitement he gets is chatting with the locals or maybe, if he’s unlucky, oversleeping and rushing to work. So when a baby is left at the Safe Haven drop-off at the local fire station, he takes the opportunity to step in for the child temporarily, at least until suitable parents, plural, can be found.Life certainly gets more interesting.And it gets even more interesting when a handsome man comes crashing—literally—into his life.

What Baking Can Do by cowlovely - 63k | T |- Dean’s a baker. Cas is a pediatrician. They meet after Dean takes in foster baby Jack. Dean keeps bringing him pies and things. It’s very cute. 

Say Cheese by DragonSgotenks - 50k | E | - Dean suddenly finds out he has a daughter when he’s granted custody of her. Cas is an aspiring nature photographer who works at a portrait photography place in the mall to pay the bills. When a handsome father brings in his grumpy little girl for pictures Castiel thinks it will be just another photo shoot. He's wrong.

if you like when one of them is famous and running away from their lives to a small town

(Crashing In also belongs here: see above) 

The Complete Works of Emmanuel Allen by violue - 56k | E | - Dean Winchester, reluctant business owner, reluctant homeowner, and reluctant cat owner, is striking up a very promising friendship with the author of his favorite book series. And he has no idea. (Slight And This Your Living Kiss vibes with the whole falling for your favorite author unknowingly) 

Autumn in His Eyes by Desirae - 50k | E | - Castiel worked his ass off to escape his family and make a name for himself in the art world. However, when his name gets tarnished after a scandal involving his brother and the paparazzi won’t leave him alone, Castiel goes into hiding, moving into an inherited property of his beloved grandmother’s in the cozy little town of Bear Claw, Vermont-where he meets one Dean Winchester. Dean, though not without his own baggage, is a kind and generous soul who unlocks something in Castiel. 

Arrested by Love by teacass (Fushigi) - 41k | E | - Running away from an affair gone wrong, famous musician and media darling Dean Winchester flees to the only place small enough to offer him security: his hometown. Holing up in his father’s old cabin, he plans to wait out the storm in relative peace. Until he meets the new sheriff, Castiel Novak, who seems to be the only person in town immune to Dean’s (many) charms. 

misc. fics you may like: 

Dateverse by aeli_kindara - 47k | E | - Set in Canon Verse, s15 - Dean finally asks Cas out on a date. Neither of them really know what they’re doing. Three fics following three dates alongside trying to stop god and save the world. 

Every Song is About You by Speary - 45k | M | - BAND AU. Enemies to Lovers !! They have history! I still think about this fic all the time. Castiel, a successful musician with the band Fallen, lost everything that he thought mattered. Grieving the loss of his band after a tragic accident, Castiel decides that he doesn't need to make music anymore. Crowley, his manager, is not okay with this plan. Enter Dean, the former member of the band, Winchester, who needs something to help fix what's broken in his life and his career. He has his own internal demons to fight, and the fact that Castiel still hates him after all these years isn't exactly helping anything. Despite all that, they form a new band together and slowly unravel the past.

Paper Moon by robotsnchicks - 43k  | E |  - By the time he hits thirty-three, Dean's given up on the apple pie life, accepting that a serious relationship isn't in the cards for him. But when he meets Cas everything falls into place. Now he’s happily married, hopelessly in love, and they’re about to buy their first home together. It almost feels too good to be true.It turns out it is. His world comes crashing down when he wakes to find that he’s been a subject in a virtual reality simulation gone wrong. His life with Cas really took place in less than a week and, back in the real world, Cas is nowhere to be found and no one’s heard of him. Still, Dean is determined to find him and give their relationship a shot in the real world. 

Finding Home by Desirae - 42k | E | - When they were kids, Dean witnessed his best friend Cas get kidnapped before his eyes. Now, years later, Dean is runs a bakery and lives a quiet life, reluctant to leave his hometown in hopes that his best friend may one day return. His heart has remained closed for years, haunted by the loss of his friend, until Emmanuel James Milton breezed into his life; waking his sleeping heart with a complete lack filter and achingly familiar eyes. An author, with no family and traumatic past of his own, Emmanuel never felt like he belonged anywhere until he walked into The Honeybee Bakery and met Dean.

Don't Tell the Groom by followyourenergy - 30k | E | - Idiots in love ! Best friends to lovers ! FAKE WEDDING ! Such rom-com vibes.  Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have a love almost as long as their twenty-year friendship—not that they’ve told each other that, of course. Each of them yearns to have it all with their best friend, and both are convinced it’ll never happen. So when watching a reality show about clueless grooms who plan weddings on a budget for their brides without the brides’ input, talk naturally turns to planning weddings. In a terrible (or perhaps wonderful) moment of spontaneous boastfulness, Cas declares that he could plan a wedding for them without a problem, since he knows Dean so well, and in an ill-advised (or perhaps well-advised) challenge, Dean dares him to do it. 

[glittertrail]

Happy astromonday!!

Today I wanted to talk more on Saturn and about his satellites!! I want to talk about what I think are two of the most intriguing.

Titan (left) is the second-largest moon in our solar system (bigger than Mercury), discovered in 1655, and is the only one out of over 150 known to have a dense atmosphere since the 1940s. Part of the Voyager I mission launched in 1977 was specifically to explore it. And Voyager I's readings showed a high possibility of there being lakes on Titan's surface!! The Cassini mission landed the Huygens probe on Titan in 2005, and this probe found liquid methane, and it is thought there is an ocean of liquid water under the crust!!

The small moon Enceladus (right), while not the best-known of Saturn's moons, is an intriguing satellite. Discovered in 1789 by Herschel (who also discovered Uranus), he orbits in Saturn's E ring, much closer to Saturn than Titan.

Enceladus has fewer impact craters than other moons, and the Cassini mission found hydrothermal activity under the icy crust, with geysers of water shooting up, most of the liquid falling back to Enceladus as ice. The ice explains why he has no impact cratering and also why he is so reflective. But water that doesn't fall back to him, actually forms the E-Ring of Saturn!! Enceladus is such an interesting moon, because while not a shepherd moon, he contributes to the E-ring in a unique way!!

I have a question for you this week!! Is there a deity (from any pantheon) that you'd like to see a satellite named after? What characteristics would this satellite have in common with the deity?

I hope you have a fantastic day!! 🪐

Happy astromonday juno 💖 hope you're having a nice restful day after all the excitement of this weekend 😊

Let's go with Chloris (or Flora), she'd probably be a little swayed to one side inclined by winds and gravitational force since in the myth she was abducted by Zephyr, the god of the west winds

Maybe she'd have mysterious forms of vegetation (was i inspired by that one barbie movie in space? maybe but i'm still enamored by both flowers and the concept of alien plants and mentally I'm about twelve so 🤣)

[telomeke-bbs]

BAD BUDDY RERUN SEASON – EP.1 (NOTES ON THE REWATCH)

When GMMTV announced the rerun of BBS on channel GMM25 (every Sunday starting 4 Sept 2022, 8.30PM Bangkok time) I was initially blasé – surely every superfan's already rewatched it dozens of times (if not more), and we don't need an official rerun as an excuse to rewatch. 🤷‍♂️

Yeah, so as it turns out it's as good a reason as any to tune in again, and here I am once more obsessively rewatching. And as opposed to rewatching only my favorite bits over and over again, watching it in sequence does highlight things you missed before (because now we have so much more context), or that you noticed but then forgot because it's PatPran in the very next scene coming at you with more things to think about. 💖

So with the benefit of hindsight, this post is a list of (some of) these Ep.1 items, jotted down when they zapped electrically with meaning onscreen because our minds are now able to connect the circuits with other things elsewhere in the series. 😊

At Ep.1 [1I4] 2.33 we are told Pran has a special friendship with Wai – he's pretty nonchalant about Louis being beaten up (dismissing it with "He gets himself into a fight every day" at Ep.1 [1I4] 2.30), but when he hears that it's Wai who needs defending, Pran immediately changes his mind about getting involved.

(above) The light switch suddenly flicks on in Pran's eyes at Ep.1 [1I4] 2.33

This shows that Pran and Wai have a deeper connection that pre-dates the current time in their first year at university, and helps to explain why Pran was so persistent in trying to mend fences with Wai in Ep.9. The most likely explanation is that Wai was Pran's best friend (and likely protector too – see this analysis here) when Pran was exiled to boarding school – Pran sort of confirms this at Ep.1 [3I4] 7.21 when he tells Pat: "…Wai has been my close friend since before I transferred here." (If Pran and Wai were close friends before Pran was sent away, Pat would have known about it, so Pran must be referring to boarding school here.)

When Pran leaps to Wai's defense in the fight at Ep.1 [1I4] 3.56, his flying kick lands somewhere in the general vicinity of Pat's abdomen, and Pat falls clutching his ventral area in pain.

But then we are shown Pat clutching at an area to the left of his chest instead (Ep.1 [1I4] 4.00).

Pran re-entering his life is sending shockwaves right to Pat's heart. 💖 And we see him go from grimacing at the pain of the initial impact to a moment of strange calm, as though something has changed within him, before his fighting anger returns.

Their first unblinking looks at each other (after years apart) – are filled with recognition and perhaps incredulity, but not hatred or aggression (because they were never really enemies behind the scenes).

(above) Ep.1 [1I4] 4.14: Don't I know you?

When Pran and Pat conspire to dupe Wai into apologizing at Ep.1 [4/4] 1.04 and bring about peace between their friend groups, it is not something new – they were manufacturing their rivalry as kids (we know this because in Ep.12 we are shown that as kids they would come back home and then chat using their tin can phones, meaning their childhood enmity was all for show).

As Pat and Pran draw closer into each other's orbits in Ep.1 however, we see them bickering in their interactions but there is more prickliness on display from Pran than Pat. At Ep.1 [4/4] 3.28 he says "Things don't end well whenever I'm close to you" which Pat takes as a reference to Pran being sent away after their collaboration on the Christmas song contest – he mentions immediately "At least, no one gets transferred somewhere else this time." Pat possibly looks at Pran's constant pushing him away as fearfulness of being sent away again. But it goes deeper than that for Pran; we have to remember that throughout all of Ep.1, Pran is in love with Pat (and has been since high school). In every scene, now that he's back in contact with Pat, Pran is battling with himself not to let the slightest hint of that love show (so it's likely he's overcompensating, and coming across as standoffish and hostile).

Except for the flying kick at Ep.1 [1I4] 3.56, all physical contact between the two (totally non-sexual, so let's not get into issues of consent) is initiated by Pat, not by Pran. For example, he initiates the fist bump both times at Ep.1 [4/4] 1.38 and Ep.1 [4/4] 4.01.

Pat covers Pran's mouth when he goes to Pran's bedroom to negotiate calming the Archi-Engine enmity at Ep.1 [3I4] 6.01, and he puts his hand on Pran's mouth too when they hide from Korn, Mo and Chang (at Ep.1 [3I4] 1.13). These are about the only times when Pat initiates non-consensual contact, but both times it's to protect Pran, not for Pat's gratification or benefit in any way.

Pran also asks to be let out of the car after being rescued (at Ep.1 [3I4] 2.04). We see Pat open to closeness with Pran, but we see Pran retreating and avoiding.

There also are hints of what Ming and Dissaya had been doing to Pat and Pran since their childhood. When Pran says of Pat "Doesn't he look like a cheater like my mom said?" at Ep.1 [1I4] 5.24 we get a sense of the kind of drumming hysteria that Dissaya must have subjected Pran to every time Ming or his family were mentioned, so much so that "Ming the Cheater" (entirely justified) had somehow become conflated with "Pat the Cheater" (at odds with the overall portrayal of Pat, mostly devoid of malevolence even if he's capable of scheming behind the scenes – in cahoots with Pran most of the time, it should be said 😊).

When Pat confirms that he'd been voted Engine Class President, Ming says at Ep.1 [1I4] 12.26:

In this, we are given a glimpse of Ming's treatment of Pat – instead of congratulations or validation, his achievement is downplayed and another target is set, suggesting that Ming was always pushing Pat to do more, no matter what he'd managed to accomplish.

The flashback scene of Pa's near-drowning is significant because it shows us the moment that broke down barriers between Pat and Pran, and drew them into closeness behind the scenes. But there is also a heartwarming nugget of information about Pat and Pa as well, and it reveals the love that binds the chaotic Jindapat siblings. When Pat and Pa race to the lake on their bikes, Little Pat says "Who gets there first doesn't have to wash the dishes" (Ep.1 [3I4] 3.45) and Little Pa replies "I'm the only one who does it every day." This makes it clear that gender roles were fixed for them early on in Ming's traditional and patriarchal household. But there's more to the scene – we see that Pa is so far behind she has to call out to Pat to slow down (at Ep.1 [3I4] 3.43). And instead of racing ahead, Pat actually slows down and lets Pa win.

Little Pat isn't hung-up on the gender role thing (or at least he didn't start out that way), but out of sight of his father he is willing to wash the dishes this one time, willing to be beaten by a girl, just to make his baby sister happy. 💖

It's also interesting to see how Pat and Pran's childhood personalities contrast with what they grow into. In later episodes, we see that grown-up Pat is quite the man-of-action, always reaching out, showing initiative and pluck all the time (e.g., helping Pran with LogTech, pleading with Ajahn Pichai to let them participate in the Freshy Song contest, taking on the role of Riam in the Archi play, etc.). Pa's near-drowning was a key turning-point that galvanized their development, but interestingly their roles at the lake are the reverse of what we see later. When Little Pran rescues Pa from drowning at Ep.1 [3I4] 4.27, he gets shoved aside and Pat forgets to thank him.

This is paralleled in the scene where Pat rescues Pran from being beaten up by Korn, Mo and Chang, and Pran storms off without thanking Pat (Ep.1 [3I4] 2.26), which also highlights the reversal of their roles after childhood.

At the lake, it was Pran acting first, but with Pat frozen into inaction. In later episodes, it’s always Pat reaching out and acting first, with Pran hesitating and second-guessing himself. Something happened along the way to change them, and for Pran at least I think it was being sent away to boarding school. After Pa’s rescue at the lake, we see Pat’s energy directed outwards (possibly it always was, and at the lake he was just too stunned to react), but with Pran’s exile Pat’s energy to the world turned darker, as though he was raging to establish a connection with something or someone outside of himself to fill an emptiness within (e.g., when Korn refers to Pat’s uncontrollable anger at Ep.1 [1I4] 1.25, and when he whacks Mo upside the back of his head at Ep.1 [2/4] 5.05). Pran on the other hand directed his energies inward and closed in upon himself, putting up barriers to the outside world.

When Pran asks Pat to take his chat ID (Ep.1 [4/4] 6.52) – and due credit to Nanon's acting here – it's ostensibly so they can coordinate and keep their fighting friend groups apart. But remembering that even at this moment Pran is deeply in love with Pat and has been since high school – it's also clearly so that Pran can have a direct, private line of communication with Pat, whom he loves so much.

Pat is none the wiser, but for Pran this is a big thing, and is confirmed by his happy little micro-expressions starting from 8.41 as their theme of togetherness Our Song sparkles joyfully in the background (only we didn't know the significance of the music during the first time around watching this).

(above) Man quietly in love

Once Pran knows he's safely alone, the contrast with his previous demeanor is striking, as he smiles to himself while Pat walks away into the distance, and the smile doesn't leave his face.

This is telling, but what we also discover about their inner selves is surprising. If you were to ask who was the happier of the two throughout the series, almost everyone would say Pat. But we don't actually see many signs of happiness on display from Pat in Ep.1. And although Pran is mostly serious in this episode, when he's alone and thinks no one is watching, he allows little secret smiles of happiness to peek out – and it's his memories of Pat that trigger this.

For example, he smiles wistfully when he looks at the beat-up wristwatch Pat returned to him (Ep.1 [2/4] 4.38).

It's not a smile of great joy. It's a smile tinged with sadness that you allow yourself when something reminds you of happier times.

And Pran smiles the broadest after getting and saving Pat's chat ID in his phone. His heart is probably leaping here.

He also smiles at the end when he looks at the watch again at Ep.1 [4/4] 9.17, before he puts it on and smiles some more at 11.34, 11.44 and 12.01.

This is Pran in private: taking whatever little happiness he can get. It's not Pat fully in his life, it's not any kind of romantic relationship, but it's Pat back in his life after years of pining. And he allows himself the quiet happiness of enjoying just that.

When he's not alone, Pran does smile, but it often has a performative/communicative aspect:

He smiles to show Pat that their ploy to dupe their friends into ending the warfare seemed to be working (Ep.1 [4/4] 2.20);

He smiles at the dining table because it is in keeping with the atmosphere of gentility (Ep.1 [1I4] 11.48);

He smiles when walking with his friends at Ep.1 [2/4] 4.50, but this seemingly cheery moment is undercut with irony – Safe is pointing at Louis/Wai while saying "Are you making a serious face? Well it's not normal" (which is Google's translation of the Thai dialogue), and you can't help thinking that the opposite might just be true for Pran;

His smile takes on a derisive tone at the childishness of Pat's chat ID (Ep.1 [4/4] 8.04) and getting Pat to add him as a friend (Ep.1 [4/4] 8.23) – this is more of him tossing barbs at Pat, but the underlying reason for his smiles was probably his happiness at re-establishing contact with Pat.

The scene at the end of Ep.1, that shows Pat and Pran walking to their student apartments is a bit of an OMG reveal, saved up as a final flourish to end the episode. It's actually out of sequence – after Pat and Pran exchange their chat IDs outside the pharmacy, we see Pat leave to seek solace in a popsicle (a sign of his kid-at-heart nature, and also his need to look outside himself for validation/comfort). The scene then cuts to Pran in his student apartment, and we see him put on the watch that Pat returned to him in childhood (that is so precious to him he kept it stashed away for more than ten years and brought it with him when he moved out of the family home).

So at the end we see Pat walking down the corridor with his popsicle (Ep.1 [4/4] 12.07), and then after he disappears into his apartment, we see PRAN walking back (as he smiles to himself once more). This looks like them returning to their apartments after their pharmacy encounter – they're wearing the same clothes.

Maybe Pat took a long time to get that popsicle? And Pran went out again and what we're seeing is his second return to the apartment the same night? This is unlikely, because Pran is not wearing the watch.

So the final scene upsets the linear sequence, and is more a flashback meant to surprise us (emphasized by the peppy music) – by some strange twist of fate, they've ended up staying across from each other (after growing up in neighboring houses – that coincidence is analyzed here). It's been set up for revelatory impact – but it was already foreshadowed by Pa at Ep.1 [2/4] 2.33 when she said "Well, well. We better talk about you. You guys have been apart for three years but brought back to meet eventually. I call this 'soulmates.'"

This is also why I think there's a sense of the Red Thread of Fate entwining Pat and Pran. It's like they were meant to be together despite all the opposition swirling around them. 💖

[Afterpost Edit: for notes on the rewatch of other episodes, see these links here: Ep.2, Ep.3, Ep.4 and Ep.5. 😊]

[meyhew]

i can’t leave a comment like this on ao3 or send it thru dms so here is a.... really obnoxious and way too long of a comment for u @mediawhorefics ✨🧚🏽‍♀️💖

right so. it seems as though i may have a penchant for reading your stories at significant times in my life. i read tired tired sea when i was going through some hellish moments — left a very long comment that probably sticks out. i mentioned losing some people and resonating very much with harry in a lot of ways. today marks the two year anniversary of my sister’s passing, which i didn’t realize was creeping up when i started reading the murmur of yearning. TTS harry carved such a special place in my heart and so did this harry.

i like going bit by bit when i really enjoy a fic, so here’s another obnoxiously long comment

“With each layer peeled off, he feels like he can breathe a little easier, the costume of the dutiful and devoted so heavy Harry has felt like he might collapse under the weight all day.” the symbolism here is….. well. i don’t need to explain your own words to you, but the visual of harry shedding his grief layer by layer was not missed and i think there’s something really poetic and impactful about the way you wrote this bit. having niall take all these mourning clothes off piece by piece and just letting harry breathe is a nice, succinct description of their relationship. i love it

“So, he allows himself a few minutes of rest, breathing deeply in and out, left hand on his chest as he feels it rise and fall…” i don’t know why this hit me as hard as it did, but it happened. maybe because i could picture our harry on stage, eyes closed, left hand on his chest right over his heart, basking in the moment. that’s nothing like what harry’s feeling in this scene, but something about it feels so Real :(

“‘Pardon me, I did not mean to startle you’” Mr Petty-FitzMaurice adds, reaching for Harry’s shoulder with ease, with a familiarity, that makes him want to take another step back.” | “Harry is thinking of five different excuses to get away at the same time, skin itching underneath his shirt and jacket where Mr Petty-FitzMaurice is still holding him in place.” | “I’d like you to be more undressed than that when Hockley comes in.” | there’s more for sure but every fucking time this migraine inducing bitch touches harry, i physically recoiled and felt harry’s discomfort in my gut. all the obvious references to the toxicity and abuse from harry’s previous marriage, coupled with this asshole’s incessant obsession with harry + the utter lack of BOUNDARIES is so enraging. go d. but you nailed it. the way harry flinches, the way he instinctively moves away from petty’s touch or the other man that one time at a reception… i felt it in my soul. and ive never been married for four years so our experiences have nothing in common, but the kind of trauma he’s carrying… no matter how much time passes, little piece of it stick. it broke my heart, but it was also oddly comforting to see harry slowly slowly build the courage to ultimately stand his ground against petty.

“Harry closes the novel he was reading, folding the corner of his page in a way that would have enraged his husband” the way this made me so gleefully proud…….

“‘No,’” Harry interrupts urgently, bending down to pick up Louis’ jacket. ‘Let’s go now,’ he says firmly, handing Louis the jacket before leaning in to button his shirt.” not to be like. super dramatic. but i could write several paragraphs about the POETRY that is this little visual. chef’s kiss

“Days and weeks and months and years… Years where Louis was right there, with all his kindness and his bright soul, in the shadows, the two of them orbiting each other and never meeting.” the fuckin novel…. goin on and on abt how the characters were in love all along and could’ve been together so much earlier… i Knew that was a parallel and would come back 😌 love being right

“Why can he smooth the wrinkles of rage from his face away easily, swallowing it back down and burying it deep within himself to let it kill him slowly? Why can’t he do the same for the way he feels for Louis?” i think this is such a powerful little passage. the former is a way for him to keep himself in check, something he’s had to do all his life, so after years and years of practice it’s almost second nature to suffocate his anger (until the one time he allows himself not to and it comes bursting out). the passage reminded me of smth i read a few days ago and it screams everything harry is in this story:

You hate yourself so loudly. You hate yourself at the top of your lungs. Your loathing for yourself permeates your speech. “‘Sorry I’m just rambling.’ ‘Don’t worry about it.’ ‘Just ignore me.’ ‘Sorry if I’m annoying you.’ ‘Sorry I don’t make sense.’ ‘Sorry about that.’ Sorry, sorry, sorry. You act as if you have to beat everyone else to the punch. As if the punching bag is you. If you hate yourself first, if you hate yourself loudest, then nobody will hurt you. You clapped your hands over your ears and shut your eyes and balled yourself up so that you’d never have to experience people’s loathing for you. And it meant you never heard their love. You drowned it out. You screamed your hatred over it. And you never got to hear it.

i think that’s harry to a T. he says the phrase “it hardly matters” three times and yeah that not a lot, but three times is a pattern. he’s so used to disregarding his own feelings and needs and its so hard to watch.

on the other hand, he’s used to giving love. he’s used to giving, because it’s only way he can feel something good — even when the ppl he’s giving to don’t seem to appreciate him much. giving is for the other person’s sake and he hasn’t found anyone he enjoy giving to as much as louis, so it’s impossible to contain the love :( someone give him a hug :(

anyway going on a lil tangent entirely my own, i fucking LOVE harry & niall’s friendship. it’s so genuine and the ferocity of niall’s loyalty to harry is such a great foil to hockley’s blind loyalty to the dead guy. i’d read a spinoff focusing on niall alone bc truly i find him fascinating. and gemma’s baby 🥺 would love to know more abt her family someday. harry being so excited to read her letters like bro hard same i too love babies. he’s so cute :( anywho . im very proud of harry’s development. the way he slowly lets his guard down with louis, slowly learns how to stand up to petty, ultimately shuts up the evil bitch... it’s so fulfilling. i know we don’t see much of hl’s relationship until we’re well past the halfway point but honestly??? my fav fics are the ones that focus on establishing characters first and let me know what they’re like and let me really get a grasp of who they are and that’s done beautifully here. i have more passages highlighted and little notes written in my ibooks app but i think this is a good place to leave this. have a lovely day kudos on such a marvelous story 🌻💛