#tag and finding out all the things he’s been in that i hadn’t really connected the dots about

[oneguardian15]

apparently i have a celebrity crush on alan tudyk. why am i like this

[lifetimeoftired]

How to Adopt a Dead Kid in Three Weeks or Less (Part 2)

Part 1 || Part 2

As promised; part 2! I would like to apologize to Dick for the trauma I put him through, but honestly it was really fun for me. Also I love the idea of Danny actually trying to leave, but he keeps getting pulled back into family shenanigans because they decided 'mine now'.

Tag list: @tkiesai @sir-ghost-the-green @dreamingaboutsakuratrees @atinygracie @wolfeyedwitch Enjoy<3

Duke squints at the mop of black hair, just peeking out of the blanket. When did Tim get in last night? And really? A couch? He usually at least makes it to the batcave and sometimes even his actual room if he’s going to pass out. And what happened to his sneakers? They look weirdly worn and they’re tucked up under the couch instead of being put away properly. Alfred’s going to be really annoyed when he comes down and finds Tim like this. Duke considers walking away and leaving Dick and Tim to whatever the heck is going on here- it would serve Tim right for being so terrifying about his unhealthy sleep schedule. 

Yet, just as he’s going to walk away again, he notices that Dick’s not moving. He’s crouched there, staring at the sleeping Tim with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s… Unnerving.

“Dick? What’s wrong?”

“Tim’s not breathing.”

Is… Dick okay? The bags under his eyes aren’t as bad at Tim’s but he looks like he hasn’t slept. Duke can only stare blankly at him. Then at the has-to-be-sleeping Tim. Of course he’s just sleeping- it’s Tim! He consumes his weight in poison on a daily basis; there's no way he’s just gone. But the longer he looks at the should be sleeping form, the more Duke realizes the same thing Dick did. There’s no rise in the blanket. No accompanying fall to indicate that the body is breathing and alive. 

Panic wells up where his heart should be- having dug its way somewhere down near his stomach and was now useless beyond a frantic beating. Oh god oh god oh god- Bruce and Jason flash through his mind. Stephanie- Shit. 

“Tim- Tim wake up!” Unthinkingly, Duke grabs for him, unhearing of the noise Dick makes and- It’s only his bat training saves Duke from being flung head first into the wall. 

He twists, feet skidding along the floor and recovers in time to see Tim try to spring up from the couch. Dick snatches their brother mid-jump, and gets wrenched to the side so hard they flip over the back of the couch. Dick bends, ducks and rolls, ends up the other side with Tim in his lap getting the biggest cuddle of his life so easily in a feat that Duke would find impressive later when they all calmed down. 

“It’s us Timmy! Everything’s okay, you're safe.” Thankfully, Tim calms down pretty quickly and waits for his brother to get done with his bear hug.

It’s odd though. Tim doesn’t usually sleep if he’s in a bad enough way to freak out like that. Sure there’s a long list of cases that are ongoing right now, but that usually means so much caffeine Duke can feel his liver cringe in horror. Oh well, the only way to get answers is for their resident caffeine addict to talk, Duke knows he can only wait until their certified Older Brother™ gets it all out of his system.

Duke plunks down with a sigh, and grunts when he lands on something lumpy. Something that turns out to be a ratty old backpack that looked spiritually connected to those cranky old war veterans you see on sitcoms. Was it for a case? Tim’s not exactly a stereotypical rich guy (none of the Waynes were thank god), but any of them would have replaced this thing long before needing to duck tape the corners and shoulder straps like this. He looks over the couch to ask, maybe offer to help and hope Tim actually takes him up on it. But when he makes eye contact, the words die in his throat. Those are blue eyes (icy blue, wide, frozen in fear), and jet black hair (longer than Dick’s, stick up where he’d been nuzzled half to death, scruffy where he hadn’t, bangs styled forward in a way none of them had), but that’s most certainly /not/ Tim.

“Dick? That’s not Tim.” 

“What?”

Dick pulls away from the boy in his arms to get a better look at the wrong boy- Duke himself. Who quickly gestures back at the freaked out, curled up kid. This time, when Dick looks, it’s a much more proper look and notices all the reasons that’s not Tim.

“You’re not Tim.” Dick said stupidly. 

“I am not Tim!” The boy jazz hands awkwardly, his arms tucked close, and adds an even more awkward grin to puncture the statement. “You wouldn’t be the first person to think I’m him if that makes you feel any better.”

There’s a beat where none of them move, then Dick leans back with a long drawn-out groan. Before any questions can be asked, Dick ‘completely unnecessary acrobatics at any given time’ Greyson rocks them both back, laughing at the boy’s squeak, flips forward, and lands on his feet. Only then does he set not-Tim back on his feet with a friendly hair ruffle.

“What makes me feel better is that you’re okay. You gave us a bit of a scare there- I thought you weren’t breathing.” 

“I uh, y’know. Got a deep R.E.M. sleep?”

It’s a really dumb answer. Like, really dumb. It’s clear he never expected to be asked about whatever’s up with him and he doesn’t want to give a real answer. Moreover, it’s clear the backpack really is his because those clothes he’s wearing? Every bit as ratty. The shirt he’s wearing is less ‘white and orange’ and more ‘off white, suspiciously stained, and the logo is cracked to hell and back with very little indication of what it’s supposed to be’. Same with how many tears and faded stains are in the jeans. Also clear, from the way he angles himself, keeping both of them in view, that whoever he is, Duke knows better than he should about all the signs of a street kid.

“You guys weren’t kidding about Bruce’s adoption tendencies.” Duke quickly says. Distracting Dick so he won’t press too fast too soon and scare him off. The others (Jason excluded) are every bit as nosy as said serial adopter is paranoid and it can be a lot. Better to let the new kid acclimate to the manor so he’s not crawling out the window and disappearing into the night. Something Duke thought about doing every time things got to be too much. Which was no less than five times a day.

“I’m not being adopted!” When both Duke and Dick blink in surprise, not expecting the sheer amount of vitriol from Bruce’s latest, he winces and curls back in on himself. “I’m not staying, I mean. I didn’t even mean to wind up here- it just sorta, happened? In fact, I should probably get out of here. If you could just-” He makes a grab for the backpack, and Duke lets it go easily. “Thanks.”

“Hold on hold on-” Dick holds up his hands placatingly. “You haven’t even had breakfast yet! Alfred’s gonna be sad if you don’t join everyone.”

Dick gets a stare that says the kid thinks he’s insane- and Duke kinda can’t blame him. He also thought the Wayne’s were crazy. Because they were. For literally anyone else, random street kids they found pretty much dead on their couch weren’t usually invited to breakfast… At least their particular kind of crazy was nice.

“I know that that sounds, but Alfred really does love it when people appreciate his cooking. I’m Duke by the way.” Duke stands back up, holding out his hand with a smile. Seeing as not-Tim automatically shakes, he guesses the guy did have parents for the better part of his life. “Sorry for not introducing myself sooner.”

“... Danny.” 

Oh yes, a name really does make everything easier. Duke shakes Danny’s hand, and he even gives him a little smile.

“And everybody calls me Dick!”

“Well, people can be cruel.” 

Duke’s laugh desperately wants out both at Dick’s little puppy pout and Danny’s mortified expression, but he chokes it back very elegantly.

“You know, I’ve heard a lot of versions of that joke but somehow it always surprises me.” Dick says with a laugh, and another hair ruffle when Danny grumbles. “C’mon Danny. Let’s get some food in you, you can tell us how you met the old man. Then we get you some new clothes.”

“I like these just fine, thanks.”

“Sorry Danny,” Duke says apologetically. He’s been here long enough to know that stubborn glint in Dick’s eyes. He might insist he’s different than Bruce, and in many ways he is, but Dick’s mother henning is every bit as bad. “He’s going to pout and whine until you let him buy you something. Can we settle on a new backpack for now?”

It’s enough of a compromise for Danny to agree to be herded to breakfast. Bruce isn’t there, but Tim and Cass are. The real Tim is half asleep into his cereal (and grumbles about the bear hug he gets), and though Cass gives the new kid a curious look, she only stays long enough to grab an egg sandwich. Alfred is more than happy to put a big plate of the best food Duke knows he’ll ever eat in his life in front of Danny too- Much to his surprise. Did he really think Bruce would let him stay and not feed him? Hopefully he’d learn that Bruce was a pretty good guy after all and that he was safe here.

-

Over the course of the entire day, Duke learns a few more things about their new brother. 

For starters, Danny could eat. He was surprisingly good at hiding it too. Nibbling here and there and pretending he was eating slow and listening, but the second they pretended they weren’t paying attention, he’d stuff a good portion down his throat and refill his plate. Meaning he was able to eat almost four times the amount they would have reasonably expected out of a starving street kid while making it look like he wasn’t. It could only mean one thing; Duke knew he had to be a meta. No normal person could pull off either the speed or volume. 

The two other things he learned concurrently; That Danny was as accident-prone as he was kind.

Despite originally not really wanting to even go to the mall, with Dick’s good natured pestering and Duke mediating, they managed to convince Danny into not just the new backpack, but several new sets of clothes as well. In that time they saw him run into two separate doors- one of which broke his nose. His response? Crack it back into place and worry far more about the blood smear. Not even a few moments later, he was somehow roped into helping some little old lady carry her bags back to the front (they almost lost him there). Next, in the cafeteria, some unruly children knocked their tray and a good portion of it slapped Danny in the face. All he did was smile, clean himself off, and entertain the siblings with Dick’s help so their mom could take a small break and know nobody was in trouble. On the way out, Danny nearly got hit by an actual car helping some other shop-lifting street kids escape from the mall cop by pretending to trip in front of him. When the guy went tumbling into the street, Danny threw himself forward to push him out of the way of an oncoming car.

Getting back to the manor where Danny was moderately safer was a relief. It meant they could hand him off to a much more capable-of-dealing-with-this-crap Alfred and give Duke a moment alone to discuss things with Dick. The conversation went a little like;

“We need to make sure Danny is never on his own or he’s going to get himself killed. Meta or no meta. Agreed?”

“Agreed. I'll call the others.”

[lxclerc]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐝𝐫𝟑

summary... it’s never the right time for  you and daniel, always something pulling the two of you away from each other. requested... yes by literally everyone. yall were coming at me with pitch forks for this warning... age gap (7 years), emotional cheating, physical cheating, angst, angst, angst, light smut (more on fade to black) pairing... daniel ricciardo x horner! reader

note... i am tagging each and everyone of you who asked for a part 2 bc this fic has quite literally loomed over my head ever since i posted it a year ago. literally everytime i open this godforsaken app, someone is offering me their first born for the part 2 so yall better give me all the notes!!!

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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high tide came and brought you in

“if you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?”

the question caught you off guard as your friend drunkenly pondered over it out loud. where would you go? you were sober enough to say home, the most acceptable answer that would not invite any other follow up questions. it’s simple and doesn't need a discussion. the reason it caught you off guard wasn’t just that though but because your answer was instantaneous in your head. your answer isn’t a where but rather a who, came your bitter realization. 

and you knew that if you could go anywhere in the world right now, it’d be him you’d go to. he always lingers in the back of your mind, everything that reminded him of you tends to bring a certain kind of aching and longing you’ve grown to resent over the months and years spent without him. 

daniel sent you away and deep in you, you know he meant good. he’d done a selfless thing, loving you and setting you free. but missing him was unbearable, loving him all consuming and you resent him for doing this to you. you resent the world for making you fall for a man without letting you have him. 

still, you did as he told you. you went back to school, pursuing a career in a field you knew he’d be proud of, achieving your dreams and living your life as though a part of you hadn’t been left with him. 

your friends carry on with the party. half of university was partying which is a scene familiar to you. this time, it’s on the beach, the salty air and sound of crashing waves echoing with the sound of the music and chatter. still though, you can’t help but scan the place as though looking for him among the crowd of people the same way you always would. you miss the way you’d find his eyes already on you, pools of brown dripping like honey on your skin. 

but he’s never there and you feel dirty whenever another man looks at you, their gazes too eager as they look at you as though you’re a piece of meat, never gentle like his as though you’re aphrodite herself walking among mere mortals. 

you miss him is the ugly truth. you miss him so fucking terribly it makes you angry. you don’t want to miss him. you no longer want to love him. loving him hurts, as though he’s clawing at your chest and squeezing your heart together in a sick sort of torture. 

but even before he touched you, you were his. all he had to do was look at you. you exist in two places – here and wherever he is. 

eventually as the night progresses on, you move away from the party. you’re in some fancy country club and the tile is expensive on your feet as you step out of your heels and walked towards the beach, feeling the cool sand against your skin. 

in hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in a place like this but despite looking for him wherever you go, you’d never expect to find him. searching for him has become a comfort the same way longing for him has – in a sick, twisted and painful way. 

but he’s here now and in the one time you hadn’t searched for him, he found you. the moment you’d spotted his figure looking out at sea, he turned to you as though a gravitational pull connected you to him. 

one year, three months and fourteen days. that was the last time you saw him but he looked no different from the man who’d brought you back to your hotel room only to say goodbye. 

and then he smiled and it was as though the sun shone on you again. 

“honey,” he says and your heart trembles. 

daniel.

it was too early. and you’re drunk and you aren’t entirely sure if you were dreaming or not. 

but he stands before you, eyes of brown looking as though you’re aphrodite herself and he can’t quite believe he gets to stand before you. eyes of brown that seem to be sobbing without tears. daniel. 

you’re still not talking and he’s letting you, watching you so intently as though he’s memorizing your face. he looked the exact same but you know what he must be seeing. you look nothing like the woman he left behind. you’d cut your hair short and dyed it. long gone were your summer dress, replaced by tight fitting ones that showed off your body. you feel different and you tried so hard to make sure you wouldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. you hated seeing the woman who couldn’t make him stay. 

but in his eyes, you see your reflection and you recognize her well. 

“daniel,” you muttered as the crashing waves touched your feet. would you love me now? you wanted to ask. 

he smiled again. “you look beautiful as you always are.”

please touch me, you wanted to beg. soft eyes and soft soft hands. you’re lonely without him. 

you manage a grin. “sure, old man.”

the laugh that he let out echoed against your soul. “i’m being honest.”

you missed him. god, you missed him so fucking much. 

but daniel still would not let himself love you. not yet, not now that you’re finally building something for yourself. you have friends and have set goals. not yet. 

“y/n!” someone calls from behind you but you’re hesitant to take your eyes off of daniel, terrified he’d become a figment of your imagination the moment you do. but your friend's familiar calls force you to. “come on, we have to go.”

you ignore her, turning back to daniel and he smiles at you, offering his hand for you to shake. this is the best he can offer for now. “i’ll see you around, kid.” 

you wanted to cry, wanted to scream that it’s so unfair, but you smile sadly as he shook his hand, his calloused fingers so familiar against yours. 

“in a few years,” you say. 

and as the ocean brought him back to you, the waves must return to the sea. 

but you were still gone and gone, gone and gone

the next time you see daniel again, you were twenty four. you’re in your last year of university, applying for your doctorate. you loved academia, you loved your two cats and your little apartment downtown, you loved science and the galaxy it holds and you eventually realized that this is why he let you go. he wanted you to have this — be more than someone who just follows a man around country after country. 

he wanted you to grow, wanted you to find the things you really loved without influence from him. he wanted you to find your independence and learn to stand on your own two feet. 

max brought you here. it’s his first world champion and as his self proclaimed best friend, he refused to allow you to skip this one and so you pulled up your big girl pants and got on with it, arriving in abu dhabi on friday.

by some cruel twist of fate, he’s the first person you find the moment you enter the paddock. it would have been rude to ignore him and so you smile even though you can clearly see the woman next to him and the way she stands close. 

goddamn it. 

it hurt. it hurt seeing her there. it hurt seeing her cluelessly smile at you. the way he looks at you now, eyes of brown full of silent apologies, looking as though he wanted to reach over and touch you, to comfort you. 

you release a shaky breathe, raising your hand in an pathetic attempt of a wave before you walk past him. you aren’t the same young kid like before. now, you have enough self reservation to not actively put yourself in a situation that would only hurt you. you don’t need to play besties with daniel’s new girlfriend. 

the moment you enter the red bull motorhome, you hit max at the back of his head.

“what?” he exclaimed as you glared at him. 

“you’re an idiot,” was all you said before moving towards your father. you’d ignore daniel and his girlfriend. you’re here to support max – even if he is a stupid idiot – and there’s no need for you to obsess over daniel. 

but of course, you still do anyway. even as you watch the race, you’re watching him. he looks good, amazing, fucking edible. he looks like he stepped right out of your dirtiest dreams, all thick neck and stable arms. he looks beautiful, absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking and you selfishly want him just for you. but you’ve always wanted that and you’ve never been allowed to have him.

and then you’re watching her. she’s grace herself, really. she’s exactly the kind of woman he needed and you wonder if she knows about you and then you wonder what it is about her. what is it about her that made it so that daniel thought she’s good enough for him to love when he never could you?

“mate, it’s getting creepy,” max said as he took the seat before you. he looks tired but he looks determined and the way the hair falls over his face makes you smile. max is a very special person to you and you know that he always will. you hold him close to your heart and you know you’d move the earth for him. 

you reach over, fixing the collar of his red bull shirt. “shut up.”

“her name’s caroline,” max says. “if you want to get to know her then just approach her.”

you glared at him. you don’t want to know her name. you don’t want to know what her laugh sounds like or the color of her eyes. you don’t want to know what made daniel fall in love with her. you don’t want to know her. 

“shut up,” you say again. “i’m still blaming you.”

max laughed and you think him annoying you might just be his way of distracting himself from the race so you let him. you let him talk on and on and on the entire time till he’s needed back in the motorhome. you let him steal yur ice cream and tap your nose. 

but when you turned back to her, caroline, you find him staring right back at you, anger and jealousy in those brown eyes you missed so much.

and it was like you’re twenty again, petty and young as you glared right back at him. he had no reason to be jealous when he has her beside him. he has no right to be jealous when he’s the one who’s never allowed the two of you to be more. 

these hands had to let it go free

that night, he called you for the first time in three years. his name lit up your phone and your hand shook as you picked it up. his picture, smiling up at you taken at your twentieth birthday stares right back at you. 

“daniel,” you breathe out as you press the phone against your ear. you’d arrived back in your hotel room two hours ago smelling of champagne and victory. max’s world championship trophy is laying next to you after being forgotten because your best friend was far too drunk to grab it before his girlfriend dragged him out. throughout the party, you avoided daniel like the plague, keeping to your side of the room and never straying towards him. 

“i missed you,” he says from the other end, voice cracking and slurring. he’s drunk and you push back the blanket as you enter the bathroom, hand gripping your phone. “but fuck it, i don’t miss this.”

“what are you saying?” 

“he’s my best mate, y/n.” there goes your name. not sweetheart or honey. he says your name like it’s sacred, something he’s only ever allowed to say when he’s at his most vulnerable, completely raw and baring his soul to you. “and i wanted to fucking punch his face the entire night.”

you close your eyes. this is familiar to you. daniel and his raw honesty when he’s drunk. daniel and his jealousy of max. this is all so familiar to you that you feel twenty again. you feel young and out of control and so drunk in love with a man you can’t have that it physically hurts. he’s ripped you off the past few years where you’ve grown into yourself. you’re twenty again and so tragically in love. 

“i wanted to punch his fucking face because his touching you, because i’m not allowed to touch you,” he continues as you sink to the floor. 

“you’re the only one who’s never let yourself touch me, daniel,” you whispered on the phone, broken down from one phone call.

he laughs bitterly and you might as well not have said anything. “and here i am, can’t even sleep next to my damn girlfriend because i keep thinking of you. it’s so unfair.”

you wanted to laugh too. unfair? how does he get to talk about unfair when he’d been the one to create this mess for the two of you? how dare he talk about being unfair when he’s the one who’s with another girl? this is unfair. it’s unfair to you. he doesn’t deserve to talk about it being unfair. 

the night he left you in your hotel room on your twenty first birthday, you’d called his name again and again like a child. you hoped by some magical thing that he’ll appear. you were desperate. 

“you shouldn’t have come back,” he says. “not yet. we both weren’t ready.” 

you wipe the tears falling to your cheeks. “and when will that happen? when will we be ready? maybe it’s time to accept that it isn’t us.” 

you heard him let out a shaky breath. “don’t say that. don’t say it.”

“i’m so tired of waiting. if it wasn’t us then and it isn’t us now, why do we still believe that it’s us someday?” 

“ask me to stay,” he whispers. “ask me to stay and i will. ask me to drop her and i will. i will drop everything if you ask me to.”

you cry, pulling your knees against your chest. “goodbye, dan.”

struggled through the night with someone new

the next time you see daniel again, you invited him.  you’re twenty five, it’s two thousand and twenty two, you’re engaged and you’d gotten arrogant. 

you met your fiance, james, in university. you’re in the same program and the same friend group though you never paid much attention to him. for the most part, you never really paid much attention to anyone. six months later and he asked you on a date, one you’d declined without a second thought. it didn’t matter how many guys asked you out, you always declined, daniel in the back of your mind always reminding you of what you’re truly waiting for. 

but james never treated you any differently. he never made it awkward and never put you on the spot. for the most part, you both acted like it never happened. but you applied to the same doctorate program and coincidentally  ended up in apartments right next to each other. he was a comfort, a friend you already knew that you could rely on. he never made anymore advances towards you but it was inevitable to grow closer. 

he’s stability and curiosity. he never once pulled back whenever you touched him or apologized for liking you. it was a breath of fresh air – to be admired so freely. you did your thesis together, hands tightly clamped together as you defended it. 

you were the one to ask james out on a date, knowing he wouldn’t again in fear of making you uncomfortable. and after leaning on each other as friends for so long, transitioning to become lovers was so easy, you didn’t have to worry what anyone would say or think of you. you didn’t have to worry what your family would think. everything was easy with him. 

james was so different from the type of love you were used to. you could love him without guilt, without pain and longing. you could love him simply, easily. you didn’t need to ask him to love you back, didn’t need to wonder if he’d still love you tomorrow. it was so easy being with him and you’d gotten lazy. waiting and hurting and crying for daniel was exhausting. 

you wanted a love you didn’t have to fight for. 

you’ve convinced yourself that you no longer felt anything for daniel, gaslighting yourself into believing that you’d close that chapter and left it in the past. you can move on now. there was no need for you constantly being miserable and lonely waiting for him to be ready. 

and yet here you were, your fiance’s arm around you as you stare at the front door. you shouldn’t have invited him. there was no reason for you to do so but you wanted to prove yourself. you wanted to prove to yourself that he no longer affected you. daniel is in the past and you’ve told yourself repeatedly that you’ve let him go but now you wanted to show yourself that you have. 

if you’re lucky, maybe he wouldn’t attend at all.

“are you okay, love?” james whispered against your ear, having noticed your stiff posture. you spent weeks planning your engagement party, stressing over the smallest details but now you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself. 

you loved this about him – the way he’s able to read you like an open book. james knows there was someone before him – someone who’d left you broken and torn apart. he just didn’t know that person would be attending today. 

you nod, taking a sip from the champagne glass you’d been holding as an excuse to stop your hands from fidgeting. “just a bit nervous from the crowd.”

“don’t worry too much. it’s just friends and family.” he gives you an assuring smile, accepting your reasoning as he pulls you closer towards him to try and comfort you. 

you’re an idiot, the biggest one there is. max told you himself after you told him that you sent the invite to daniel. you’re a massive idiot and you’re in denial and you set your own trap, tempting yourself when there was no need to and now you were going to hurt james because the moment daniel entered the room, your breath was knocked out of you, heart beating furiously as though it recognized him. 

it was daniel. how can you be so stupid? 

his eyes meets yours and you missed the way those eyes of brown settle on your skin, grazing as though his soul was touching yours. but they’re sad this time – sad and exhausted and defeated and you can practically hear the way your heart shatters. it was daniel. it has always been daniel. it will always be daniel. how stupid were you to think otherwise? how stupid were you to believe you could ever forgot the way your heart and soul roars back to life the moment he enters the room. 

you’ll break james’ heart, you’re breaking your own and you’ve broken his. 

the entire time, you and james had stood before the door, greeting all of your guests and showing them where they can wait. you absolutely had no plans to greet daniel. it was bad enough that he was here, but james, sweet sweet james, who had no idea what he was doing dragging you towards the formula one driver, hadn’t gotten the memo.

he didn’t know that having daniel’s eyes on you so close would set wildfires in your stomach and he didn’t know how exhausting and difficult it was to contain those wildfires. he didn’t know that he was burning himself as he all but dragged you in front of him. 

“hey,” your fiance says cluelessly. “daniel ricciardo!” 

daniel is looking at you and you feel frozen under his gaze. it’s heavy. he makes you feel heavy, like you were cheating on james simply by looking at you. you feel nauseous but with guilt eating up at every cell in your stomach. but you shouldn’t feel guilty. he had no right to make you feel guilty for moving on. he moved on. last you him, he had a girlfriend. why aren’t you allowed to do the same? why can’t you go on with your life and build a future with a nice man that isn’t him?

“i’m a big fan,” james says cheerfully, offering his hand for daniel to shake and forcing him to tear his gaze away from you. 

daniel forces a smile to his face, moving to shake his hand and you know this is the part where you’re supposed to introduce him. daniel is your guest after all and so you clear your throat, hoping your smile isn’t as stiff as you feel like it is. 

“james, this is my friend daniel. daniel, my fiance james.” you manage to let out, gripping your champagne glass to avoid having to touch either of them the same way you avoid the way daniel’s eyes hardened when the word fiance tumbled from your lips. 

“it’s really nice to meet you, mate,” james says with a massive smile. god he’s so nice and sweet and you hate what you’re doing to him. 

daniel says nothing, only smiling and you end this entire interaction the moment you get a chance to. pointing at the snacks table, you turned to him. “there’s food over there and max is around here somewhere. nice seeing you again, daniel.”

you were lying through your goddamn teeth. thankfully, he seems to have taken the hint, walking away without saying another word. 

the entire night, you feel his eyes on you. even as james makes his speech declaring his love for you, daniel stares at you with hooded eyes. he looks pissed and sad at the same time and you wanted to scream. stop looking at me! you couldn’t take anymore of this. he’s looking at you as though you’re under a microscope – staring into your soul like he could reach you there. 

you’re an idiot and now that he’s in the same room as you are, the illusion has left you. you’re not over daniel because you can never be over him. he’s engraved in your soul, his fingerprints all over your heart. he was, and still is, the sun that made your universe turn. you’re choking and you needed to get away lest you burst.

daniel is overwhelming. he’s terrifying and addicting and you hate him but you’re madly in love with him. and worse of all, you’ll spend the rest of your life being in love with him. you’ll spend the rest of your life wanting him and hurting for him and and longing for him and that’s a goddamn fucking tragedy. 

you manage to get through the party, practically dissociating yourself. eventually the guests leave one by one, only your family and closest friends left. you sit on the foyer with max, the dutchman watching you drink champagne straight out of the bottle.

“you shouldn’t have invited him,” he tells you quietly. “you were fucking yourself over.”

you roll your eyes. you stare inside the house where daniel is talking to your father. your dad offered his home for your engagement party. you know he likes james. your mother too and your little siblings can’t get enough of him. that fact almost makes you want to throw up. 

“i thought i was over him,” you say.

it’s max’s turn to roll his eyes. “you’re just a good liar. you’ll never be over daniel and he’ll never be over you. even i know that.”

you glared at him. you already know what he’s telling you and quite frankly, you had no desire to hear it again. “i hate you.” 

“neither you nor dan would survive this long without me.” max laughed and you threw the throw pillow at him. 

not that he’s lying. you met max the same time you did daniel and you clicked immediately. he knows everything, comforted you many times as you pined over dan. he’s your best friend and he’s also daniel’s best friend. he knows more than anyone how deep the connection you two shared. 

“go home already,” you tell him. you’re tired and slightly drunk and you just want to go to bed now. “and make sure you take him with you.” 

max laughed at the way you said him like it’s a bad taste on your tongue but did as you said anyways. 

that night, you laid on the bed you and james shared, you couldn’t sleep. he’s fast asleep next to you, his arm over your stomach as you lay wide awake. you shouldn’t have invited him because now he’s turned your world upside down again. everything you’ve built for yourself was gone the moment his eyes met yours. he’s a plague, sucking all the happiness out of you. 

eventually though, the restless night was about to get worse as you picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts till you found his name. you stared at it for a while, knowing that you shouldn’t but you’re rattled and your self control is at an all time low. you shouldn’t have been trusted to make any types of decisions. 

you come back to what you need

daniel was waiting for you when you parked your car outside his apartment building, hand gripping his phone as he watched you step out of the vehicle. four years since he first let you go and one year since he last saw you and you look as beautiful as you ever were.

he shouldn’t have told you to come but he’s so exhausted from staying away, from waiting for the right time. there will never be a right time and tonight, he’s done holding back. he wants you, he always has and he no longer has the energy to stop himself from wanting you. 

“i shouldn’t be here,” was the first thing you said as he opened the door for you. 

a lazy, almost mocking smile covered his lips. “and yet here you are.”

you glared at him but daniel’s heart was soaring. it’s been so long since you were this close. he can smell the perfume that followed you and the scent of your shampoo. he’s so so tired, he just wanted to hold you. 

he’s going to make this as hard as possible, you realize. you’re no longer a child, he doesn’t need to play nice and easy with you anymore. you’re a woman now and he’s going to treat you like one. but you just need to get over this. you need closure. you need to put him in the past where he truly belongs so you can go about your life. you need him out of your system. 

daniel may be everything you wanted but it’s time to accept that he’ll never be what you need. 

“why did you come?” you asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as you can. three years pining for him in red bull and four years of longing for him and everything leads you here. 

daniel cocked an eyebrow. he’s done with playing nice. “you invited me.”

okay, you walked right into that one. “you still shouldn’t have come.” 

daniel wanted to laugh. “i guess we  both like doing shit that we shouldn’t do. now the question is, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” 

“i’m getting married, daniel,” you whispered. “we need to accept that it isn’t us.”

“i thought you did that in abu dhabi.”

he’s being an asshole. “you’re the one who told me to leave. you don’t get to be mad that i’m moving on.”

“you’re not moving on,” he laughed, leaning against the wall. 

you glared at him. “yes, i am. i’m getting married!” 

he looked at you as though you said something hilarious and you wanted to punch him in the face for it. “and yet you’re here.” 

“for closure.”

he stepped towards you and you found yourself holding your breath. from this close, you can see the freckles on your cheeks, the ones you used to spend all your time trying to memorize. the curve of his plump lips and the intensity in his eyes. and when he touched, it felt like the first drop of rain after a million years of dessert. his hand perfectly fitted on your hips, warm and so achingly familiar. 

his hand snaked from your hip to your legs, finger light on your skin as he ever so slightly tugged at your shorts. you need to pull away but your body needs him closer. you want him. you want him to get closer. you want him to touch you more, to feel his skin against yours. you can have every single inch of his body pressed against yours and you’d still begged to get closer. 

his lips graze your cheek before it reaches your ear, even breathes in contrast to your desperately shaky ones. “is that really what you want, baby?”

with every ounce of sanity you have left, you forced yourself to nod and you can feel the way his lips formed into a mocking smile against your cheek. 

“really?” he mocked. “then why are you clutching my shirt like you want more?”

you hadn’t even realized the way your fist is holding on to his shirt, pulling him closer towards you like you’re terrified he’d disappear right between your fingertips. 

“fuck,” you muttered, the heat of his skin against yours dizzying. james is nowhere near your mind as your hand slips under his shirt, self control flying out the window as you feel the curves of his abs. you want him. you’ve always wanted him so desperately that you’re willing to go to hell for it. “fuck me.” 

he kissed you then, fire in his lips as it finally finally touched yours. this is all you’ve ever asked for and it’s worth the damnation you’d be paying in return. you pull him impossibly closer, going on your tiptoes. you need to get closer. closer, closer, closer. 

like an addicted chainsmoker to cigarettes, you can’t get enough of his kiss. you want to inhale the fumes of his breath, of him, deep into your lungs. he tugs at your shirt and you pull away enough for him to get it off. 

you grunt in complaint when he pulled away from you, only to swallow it back as his lips attached to the skin of your chest, licking and nibbling as it slowly made it way down. 

“oh,” you breathe out as he lips attached to your breast, your fingers tugging at his curls as his tongue circled your nipple. 

you should have stopped him the moment his hand unbuttoned your shorts but as he bent you over and his hand slipped between your folds and he trapped your moans with his mouth, you were far too gone. god be damned, morality be damned. you’d crawl through hell for this. 

but eventually, reality comes knocking and morning comes and your bliss ends. you woke up from your phone ringing, cocooned in daniel’s arms. 

“don’t answer it,” he mutters but sleepily, you grab your phone from the nightstand, seeing james’ name on your screen. 

and that snaps you out of it, being reminded of what happened the night before and what you did and you all but jumped out of his arms as though his touch burned you. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you hurriedly put on your clothes, daniel watching you still naked from his place on the bed. you turned to him, “this never happened.”

you watched as anger slowly filled his eyes. “are you being serious right now?” 

“i’m getting married, daniel!” you’re panicking now, screaming as your phone rings again. 

“then why the fuck were you knocking on my door at two in the morning?” 

you ignore him, gathering your things. “it was a mistake.”

he’s glaring at you now, looking like he wanted to start screaming. but he remains silent, only glaring as you gather your things and put on your clothes. 

you look at him again, apologies and sorrow in your eyes. “i’m sorry but this isn’t me. this can’t be me.”

and then you left, not allowing yourself to look back as you ran to your car. maybe in a parallel universe or a different world, you sit next to each other at the kitchen table and go over the grocery list, but for all the universes and worlds there are, this one was not enough, not for now and not for you and daniel. 

when you finally arrive home, your father is in the kitchen, eyeing you up as you walk past him. “where were you? james was looking for you.” 

you grimace. there’s a knowing look in christian’s eyes as though whatever you reason he already knows will be a lie. and unfortunately, he’d be right. “i was out with friends.”

“at seven in the morning?” he narrowed his eyes and you hated his timing. of all times, did he have to question you now? 

“breakfast.” 

you all but run to your room before he can question you further, thanking all the gods that james isn’t there. for a moment, you stood stunned, reeling from the past twenty four hours as the guilt settles in your chest. you need to get as far away from daniel as you possibly can. you can’t be the type of woman who cheats on her fiance. you refuse to be. you refuse to break a good man’s heart like that. 

and yet as you finally calm down enough to try and fix yourself, your phone buzzes, his name appearing on your screen saying he sent you a text message. 

daniel i’ve loved you in every way i can. i loved you selfishly and so i tried loving you distantly, i tried loving you selflessly, i tried loving you correctly but i just want to love you now. if i could do it all over again, i would love you better but i can’t love you more than i do now.

this love came back to me

the wind is chilly as you step foot in hungary and the dress you wore is definitely not meant for it but still, you persevere, finding your way to the red bull motorhome and greeting your father. the last time you attended a grand prix was abu dhabi 2021 and yet it still feels like home. 

“there’s my biggest fan!” max cheered the moment he saw you, immediately wrapping his arms around you. he hasn’t seen you for nearly a year and he missed his best friend. to be fair, no one has seen you for nearly a year, disappearing from the face of the earth after your failed engagement. 

after the night of your engagement party, the guilt ate you alive as you realized that you were exactly the kind of girl you didn’t want to be and so you came clean to james. he screamed and cried and said you could work it out but you were exhausted from lying to yourself. as long as there was daniel, you can never be happy with anyone else and no man deserve to be someone you simply settled with. 

you realized then that you’d lost yourself. you don’t know who you are, don’t know who you’ve become and so you left everything you know, ignoring everyone’s calls as you attempt to find yourself. 

“actually, i’m supporting ferrari,” you joke once max finally lets you go. 

“i’ll disown you!” your father screamed from across the garage, making you and max laugh. 

“have you seen him?” max asked, whispering as though he’s telling you a secret.

you shake your head. coincidentally enough, or ironically, the first gp you attend in a while, daniel is announced to race in. and max, quite frankly, is far too excited for the two of you to see each other again. he’s had enough watching you both be stupid. 

after catching up with max and the mechanics you still know, you find yourself in a cafe with your father, talking about everything and nothing at all. christian watched your every move and you can see the worry in his eyes. he’s part of the people you ran from and you know that it was a cruel thing to do to your father. 

and then he was there and you’re all too familiar with the feeling of your world freezing the moment your eyes meet. he looks better, happier and you’re sure you look different too, hopefully more grown. 

“you’re here,” he says, unbelieving. 

you smile, genuine and free this time. “i’m here.” 

and this time around, you were both tired of fighting it. it’s him. it’s always been him. there was no point denying it. he’s the only person you’ll ever want. you are totally and irrevocably in love with him – the kind of love that’s so intense it feels like an explosion of fireworks throughout your whole body. the love that leaves you sleepless but exhilarated, speechless but poetic, lost but exactly where you're meant to be. 

and in that moment, your lives flashed before your eyes – marriage, children, growing old together. 

daniel ricciardo is the defining moment, the collision of stars that slammed into you so hard it tore your heart in pieces and only he can put it back together again. 

he smiles at you and you smile back. 

hello, love, welcome home.

and finally, finally, it felt like the world isn’t burning anymore. 

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr @xjval @gridbunny

@heyoooo1111 @littlefreaksatellite @imxthunderstorms @o0itsjustme0o @bigdickdannyric1 @hellomumitsme @llarue @ironmaiden1313 @magic-s0ul @lynnthinksthings @vainbimbo @3khaos @chimchimjiminie16 @lost-heartbeat @thxtmarvelchick @s4dgir1jaehyun @dreaminofpoison @lewishamiltonstuff @mk15x @angywritesstuff @that-aesthetic-chic @artemis-medusa @capbuckybuchanan @moonvr @softsakusas @closhelby @

[papurgaatika]

Scarcely Can Speak For My Thinking, What You’d Do To Me Tonight

Pairing: VA! Joel Miller x f! reader 

Minors DNI with my work please!!

A/N: howdy howdy my lovelies. I know what yall are thinking: papaya didn't you post a fic literally less than two weeks ago? And to that I would say yes, yes I did. However, I have been working on this one for a while and somehow managed to finish it on the plane! Thank you as always to my lovely beta readers @carlynkurin and @joelsdagger The title is a Hozier lyric (are yall really surprised?) This is officially dedicated to my beloved @joeloverture and despite my darling vetty's step off of tumblr, she truly deserves the world. also if you're mean to her i will find you. that is a threat

I hope y'all enjoy the read, and that the filth keeps you going in times of need. Peace and love on the planet Earth from me!!! Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!!

Tags: Erotic voice actor Joel! AU, Young Joel, No outbreak AU, smut, condescension, degradation, f! masturbation, praise, squirting, smut, LOTS of dirty talk, oral (f receiving) friends to lovers, fingering, voice kink, Joel loves thighs, Joel Miller arm appreciation, the reader is a mess, no use of y/n, Joel can pick reader up but he’s HUGE so it makes sense, no description of reader, 18+ Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: you have been using audio erotica to get off for a month, and manage to accidentally let it play in Joel's car, leading to an awkward night in 

You let out an exhausted huff as the dim light of your phone reflected on your face. Your headphones connected, your vibrator was charged, but in some godforsaken twist of fate, there was not a single thing worth listening to on the newest audio erotica page you could find. Videos hadn’t been doing it for you, the ethical concerns were too high for you to be horny, and as much as you liked a good fanfic, you had gone through most of the ones you liked and needed something new.  You click on a post with semi intriguing tags, immediately rolling your eyes and exiting out of it when you hear the all too familiar vocal fry of men trying to sound hotter. News flash: you don't. 

You were moments away from calling it a night and opening your backlog of smutty ao3 fics when another post caught your eye. You let out a snort at the username save_a_horse and glance at the tags. Okay you were definitely interested now, a degrading instructional… you hit play with baited breath, prepping for the worst, but you were so mistaken. 

“Filthy little thing aint ya?” the voice rings in your ears, heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly quickly. “Must be so pathetic if you’re clicking on a mean stranger's voice to get ya’self off” his voice was like hot honey. Sickly sweet and keeping you waiting for his every word but with an edge that stung in the best way. You shuffle yourself back onto the pillows and throw your covers off, fully prepared to enjoy this rare gem. Your breathing picks up, heavy with want as the man in your ears calls you a desperate little slut. 

“Go on, get your toy wet slut” his voice croons out at you “know ya have one, too fuckin’ needy not to.'' Always eager to please, your lips find the base of your curved g-spot vibrator and let the soft plastic fill your mouth, drawing sounds that were almost too debauched for you to be sitting in bed alone. “Bet you love havin your mouth filled like that.. Lord, I'd love to have your pretty little lips around my cock” your eyes practically roll back at that, spit running down the base of your toy before he finally tells you to put it in.  

“Atta girl, such an eager thing” The toy sinks into your sopping cunt with ease as the voice envelops your mind, solely focusing on him. You listen with intense obedience as he tells you how deep, how quick, how much you were allowed. “Go on then, fuck yourself on it. We both know you want to” 

You let out a soft cry as you slip the toy in and out, the curve just hitting the spot that makes your back arch. Your breathing hitches as you press down on the button to turn the vibrations on. “Creamin’ all over yourself I bet,” it was like he could see you. Like he was able to see your arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, how the damp sheets clung to your thighs as they shook and twitched with pleasure. 

“Bet you’re so damn close.. Go on then slut, cum while listenin’ to me'' he taunts slightly as your orgasm washes over you in waves. “Gonna ruin ya,” his words are assertive, less of a promise and almost a threat “ain’t gonna cum unless it's to my voice anymore. Good fuckin’ girl”  You take a few steadying breaths as the audio clicks off, and you blink up at your ceiling unsure of how to go on from there. You glance down at your phone which has made its way to the opposite side of your bed and move to grab it.

You hit play on another audio. 

As the weeks go on, you and the mysterious cowboy in your ears have an immensely good time together. You practically spend every night listening to every one of his audios, leaving silly comments on the ones that make you cum particularly hard. It might have been an issue, how often you found yourself waiting for him to upload, how quickly you would pause your tasks to listen to new updates, but you were having fun and it wasn’t like you were hurting anyone in the process. 

You had just finished an audio before the blaring noise of a horn outside your door rattled you. The clock on your phone taunts you as do the several missed calls and texts from your best friend. “Fuck. fuck okay” you grumble, grabbing a towel and wiping yourself off before tossing a pair of comfy shorts on and grabbing your bag, and heading outside “have you never heard of a virtue called patience miller?” you quip as you slide into the passenger seat of his truck 

“Had it for the first five minutes, but about 10 minutes after that, I was damn ready to break your door down myself” he scoffs “what took you so damn long?” he rolls his eyes as you fiddle with the bluetooth in his car, not wanting to be stuck with what you call ‘old home music’ 

“I was just finishi-” your words are cut off when the sound of a moan plays over the speaker. Just your luck. You kept the grumpiest man alive waiting and then played porn in his car. Hooray for you. “Jesus fucking-” you squeak, fiddling with your phone and closing out of the app “Joel-” you start, cheeks burning and excuses already at the tip of your tongue, before he silently shakes his head and puts the car in reverse. 

The ride back to his house is awkward to say the least. “Joel listen I didn't mean for-” you mumble out meekly, but his sharp gaze on yours has you clamping your mouth closed immediately. You fiddle with your fingers, thinking about playing music, but it just doesn’t feel right anymore. The grip Joel has on the steering wheel is practically iron-clad, his knuckles almost white with the tension as he pulls into his driveway and puts the car in park. You walk into his house with a huff, your weekly game nights off to a bit of a rocky start, but you’ve had to deal with worse with him. Joel had given you moral support when your menstrual cup had gotten “stuck” during one of your first times using it, he could deal with knowing you listened to porn. 

You plop down onto his couch, stretching your legs out on the coffee table while he gets you a glass of iced tea. You take a sip of your drink and mentally prepare yourself for how bad he was going to tease you about this, but are met with shocking amounts of silence. For a man who is ruthless on game nights, the lack of trash talk and absolute avoidance was almost irritating you. Finally, after you beat him in uno for a third time in a row, you snap “What is your issue tonight miller?” you groan, placing a +2 card down “Listen I know that was awkward but we’re both adults I don't see what the big deal is'' 

Joel groans and places another +2, changing the color (much to your annoyance,) “just drop it, nothin’s the issue”  You, petulant and stubborn as ever, did not drop it. You huff as you have to take like 5 cards from the deck before getting one that you can play, and narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bullshit” you move to sit cross-legged on the couch “I never beat you in this game, something is wrong with you tonight,”  it was almost as if nobody had ever taught you not to poke a sleeping bear. Or maybe you figured that the bear was your best friend and probably wouldn't bite your head off… probably. 

“Just drop it peaches,” his words are terse, hands gripping his, now slowly diminishing, uno cards much tighter than he needed to. You groan again when you have to get another few cards. The irritation at his childish behavior, coupled with the stack of 20 cards in your hand makes you more of a menace than you probably should. 

“Don't be such a baby, Miller,” you poke his leg with your foot knowing full well he hates it, a yelp leaving your lips as he grabs your ankle and pulls you forward “Joel!” Your cards fly out of your hand 

“Told you to fuckin’ quit it peach.” His voice is a low timber, stirring something deep in your belly. “Never fuckin’ listen to me” 

You just snort at him when he releases your ankle, moving to pick up your cards, “you suck at uno today Joel” you hmph, rising to your feet “'m gonna get something else” you hear Joel protest and try to grab at your arm but you’re too determined and he’s far too comfy to get up quick enough.  You manage to make it to his spare room, swinging the door open, imagining you’d see a shelf with his board games only to stop dead in your tracks, “what the fuck-”

What you had always assumed was just his spare junk room or random linen closet, was what looked like an at home recording studio. A desk with a PC and speakers, full microphone set up, and what you could only assume was something to help with soundproofing  “What the fuck Miller?” Your voice is slightly full of awe, “are you recording shitty male superiority podcasts now?” you tease, a sly grin on your face. 

Despite how pleased you are with that crack at him, he looks absolutely unamused. He practically clomps over at you, big finger poking your ribs ``you know damn well I ain't doin’ that shit.” He rolls his eyes at your teasing. The idea of Joel Miller getting on the internet to talk about women in a way that wasn't him sitting at his desk going ‘they’re the best damn thing’ was laughable. He was a perfect gentleman to everyone, except maybe to you, but frankly you deserved it for all the shit you gave him. 

You squeak when his finger prods at your skin “okay, okay well what creepy shit are you doing in here then?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, sauntering to his PC set up. The computer and speakers were calling out to you like a siren, and you did not have the common sense to plug your ears. 

Joel knew you. He could read you like a fucking book with how close the two of you were. He used to say that the one braincell you had spent fifty percent of its time inside his mind with how predictable you were to him. “Peach do not fuckin’ dare-” his voice is low, warning you. 

If you had better self preservation skills you would have probably heard the alarm bells ringing in your head telling you that he was serious, or paid better attention to the way his sweats were a little more tight. But you unfortunately were a complete menace, so neither of those items really registered to you. You clap your hands in an evil little giggle when you move the mouse “still no password? Shit you make my life so fucking easy-” you grin as you see the different clips of audio layered together in whatever program he uses 

Joel has somehow silently appeared behind you, his hand pulling you away from the computer. “Quit it peach, I’m not fuckin’ around,” he grits out, the hold on your wrist almost impossibly tight. He means business this time, and despite how much of a hellion you can be to him, you didn’t have a death wish. 

You scrunch your nose at him trying to pull your wrist out of his grip “okay jesus chri-” you yank your hand away from his, elbow bumping into the keyboard and are cut off with the sound of a gravely moan coming out of the speaker. Both you and Joel look like deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes flick between Joel, whose face has gone impressively red, and the screen of his computer.  “I- joel this is-” you stumble over your words, unsure of what to say in this situation. 

“Not a fuckin’ peep.” he practically growls at you. Your mouth clamps shut as he leans over you and presses pause on the audio. Your mouth is drier than it had ever been. That was a clip of your best friend, the one who was looming over you at this very moment, moaning into a microphone. You were certain that if you had listened any closer you would have been able to hear the sounds of his hand stroking his cock. The slight creak of his chair, the wet noise of the lube, or was he a spit guy? He however, was not interested in sharing any more of the audio with you, and you would deny it if anyone asked, you were a little disappointed. 

You need to say something, you had to, and despite your better judgment telling you not to, you do. “I mean you sound nice-” You sound nice?? You were so fucking ridiculous, even you knew that wasn’t the thing to say. Joel’s eyes darken at your words, and for a moment you fear he’s going to kick you out, to get truly pissed off at you for the first time since you finished his Dr. Pepper stash.  “I didn't mean-” you try to backtrack “I just meant- it... You sounded like you were enjoying yourself at least-'' you were actively digging the hole that you were in deeper, rambling and stuttering, all while Joel just stared at you silently, his eyes burning into you

You swallow hard, his eyes still not leaving yours “listen I can go I'm sorry I shouldn't have-” you go to make a beeline out of the room but a firm hand pulling you back into the chair stops you. You fall back with an oof and look up at Joel, who by all accounts looked pissed but there was something else. His pupils were blown and his eyes trace every single one of your movements. The bear had managed to lock in the own cage you had set out for him. 

“Didn't tell you to leave.” he practically grunts at you. Ladies and gentlemen, your best friend, always the most well spoken person in the room. You move to protest again, but the look he gives you stops the words before they even form on your tongue.  you bite your lip and fiddle with your fingers unsure what to do “think I sound nice peaches?” his voice cuts through the anxious rambling in your brain and you're almost certain you've heard him wrong 

“Huh?” you look back up at him through your lashes. He was leaning against the wall where his microphone was set up. His sweats were riding low on his hips and his hoodie covered the toned muscles of his arms, that if anyone asked you had never stared at. The tanned skin you never dared to fantasize about in your bed. The hair that covered his arms, the veins that often made more appearances when you asked forced him to do manual labor that you refused to do yourself. 

“Asked if you think I sound nice, Peaches?” he hums, raising a questioning brow at you. your mouth opens and closes ridiculously a few times before you simply just nod at him  “that's good..” he muses as he comes back up to you “do you think about me?” he prods, a patronizing pout on his lips as you gape up at him. “when you're listening to those dirty little audios and lettin’ your fingers touch that needy cunt?”  you can't help but squeak at his words. the way he said them, the way he spoke was just so… familiar  “come on, pretty peach, tell daddy what you think about when you're fingering that slutty little pussy” he practically grins at you and it fucking clicks. 

Daddy. Daddy. It was him. The stupid cowboy, the random man whose voice sent your tummy into knots, the one who had been getting you off for weeks now was your best friend.  “Joel-” you practically whimper at him. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and also very distinctly between your legs. “Listen i didn’t know it was you-” there’s a shit eating smirk on his face, one that you would have told him to wipe off his face before you smack it off in any other scenario. 

“No?” he hums at you, his brow quirked up as he towers over you in that stupid recording chair “didn't know it was me when you were commenting all those pretty little reviews?” You whimper out a noise, somewhere between a no and a general sound of timidity, as his hand tilts your chin up to meet his eyes  “Lemme see if I can remember what it was you said before I got you in the car today peach?” he takes a moment to obnoxiously tap his forehead mocking the way you recall things “what was it you said? ‘This made me late to see my friend, but it also made me ruin my sheets’? Was that it peaches?” 

You take a shaky breath, your skin burning under his intense gaze, chin still in his hands. You nod softly at his question, knowing that if you didn't, he would just push you until you did. His grin turns wolfish at your confirmation, and you feel him shift his legs between yours, pushing them apart “yeah peach?” he tuts at you “made me wait for almost 20 minutes outside your house. just so you could cum to my voice… ain’t real nice of you” You take a wobbly breath at his words and try to reply, unsure of what you would even say. An apology maybe, an explanation? But before you can even move to open your mouth he’s cutting you off again 

“Woulda just given you the real thing baby,” he tuts at you “all you had to do was ask.'' His voice is low and almost condescending. You shouldn’t let it turn you on, you should tell him to fuck off, but you feel yourself gush at his tone, your bottom lip getting caught between you teeth. He whistles at the look on your face, his cock practically straining against his sweats, “bet you’re just creamin’ in those slutty little shorts baby'' his words aren’t a question, he’s stating it like he can read you like a book because he knows he can. His legs shift to press your legs further apart until your knees are bumping into the arm rests, your eyes unwavering from his.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he leans down to you, his lips pressed up by one of your ears “Listen to me like this peaches?” he whispers into your ear, a warm breath making you shiver before he moves to the other side “like having me in your ears with your legs spread?” 

“Yes.. fuck yes yes I do-” your words are rushed and lustful as you feel his hands dip into the waistband of your panties. Your hips jolt up into his touch, panties absolutely drenched with your arousal. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, lips parting with a silent cry of pleasure. 

“Knew she’d be droolin’ all over” he hums as he brings his slick covered finger up to his lips and tastes you with delectable pop when he pulls off. “Tastes like I fuckin’ imagined. Like a fuckin’ peach” he groans and for a moment you swear you could cum just like that. 

“Shit Joel please-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head and a shushing noise, as he steps away from you. Your legs are still spread against the chair and you practically whine when he moves away from you, flicking on his recording set up. “Joel what-” he shushes you again, giving you a look that leaves no room for argument. 

“Quiet,” he mumbles, fiddling with the mic and pulling the rolling chair closer to it. “Like listenin’ to me so much, thought i’d use you for better effects. You okay with that peaches?” he asks, looking down at you. Despite the teasing and the mockery, you knew he would stop if you told him you didn't want it. But the idea of him stopping, even for a moment was going to make you explode. You nod, maybe too eagerly for someone about to get fucked on microphone, and he grins. 

“God always knew you were fuckin’ desperate for it” he kneels between your legs, and you stifle a giggle when his knees pop.  “Quit it you menace” He swats at your thigh playful smirk on his lips, making you jump slightly. “Gotta stay real quiet for me, understand?” you watch with bated breath as he moves the mic so it rests delicately in the tension filled space between your spread thighs and his face. 

You nod, lips parted, pupils blown, cunt practically dripping for him. He lets out a soft hum of approval, lips pressing a soft kiss to your thighs “nothing fuckin’ softer than a pair of soft thighs” he muses, half to himself, half to you and the mic “could just live between them forever, die happy if a girl pretty as a peach would let me bury my face there.” You feel yourself clench around nothing, feeling maddeningly empty all of a sudden. You shift to try to gain some friction, the chair giving a slight creak at the change in position. Joel looks up and glares at you, your body going still immediately under the intensity of his eyes. 

He sticks his hand out behind him, pausing the microphone from recording. “You need to stay. still.” he grits out at you “don't need the whole internet hearing how much of a desperate little thing you are.” You nod at his words, hands gripping the armrests so hard your knuckles turn white. He flicks the mic back on and his lips find your thighs again. Nipping and kissing the soft flesh just below the hem of your shorts. He slides his hands further up, popping the button open and you have to bite down on your fist not to moan when he drags the zipper down with his teeth. He shimmies you out of your shorts, leaving your bottom half clad in your embarrassingly wet panties. 

He lets out a growl at the sight of your cunt, clothed and practically dripping for him. “Look at her… practically creaming already and I ain’t even touched you yet” He lets his thumb press against the wet spot the slight pressure just barely teasing your sopping hole dragging a breathy sigh out of you. You look down at him, eyes hooded and lips parting, practically begging for him without uttering a damn word. 

He looks up at you as he slides your panties to the side, blowing a stream of cold air straight onto your clit, making you jump. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy…” he practically salivates at the sight of you “nothin’ fucking better than seein’ a drippy, needy, little cunt in front of me…” he presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right next to where you want him, where you need his lips 

You feel a shiver run down your spine at his words. Somehow it felt filthier being able to see the look on his face, the absolute need he had to taste you. The grip he had on your thighs was bruisingly tight, not helping your arousal die down in the slightest. His mouth finally finds your slit, tongue licking a hot wet stripe at an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a guttural moan and practically salivates at the taste of you. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet” he groans, tongue dipping back down to taste more of your slick. One of your hands leaves the armrest of the chair and moves to cover your mouth when his lips place three gentle kisses around your clit before relenting and wrapping his lips around the aching bud, with a quiet hum. 

You bite down on your hand to stifle the moans threatening to spill, desperate and eager to please him. Your thighs shake when he slips a finger into your dripping cunt and curls them to hit that spot. He lets out a chuckle, lips still sucking on your clit. The vibrations of his warm breath on your aching clit elicited a desperate wine from your mouth, despite how hard you were trying to be quiet for him “Ffffuck-” 

He raises a brow at you, not even pulling away from your skin, his baby eyes just gazing at you from between your legs as his fingers work at you. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth in an effort to stop your sounds, but your attempts seem futile as your climax starts to draw near. Joel slips a second finger inside of you with embarrassing ease, the sound of his fingers curling inside you, joined only by your soft little breaths and his lips on your clit. His fingers stretch you in ways your fingers never have, scissoring and sliding inside of you with practiced precision. “Atta fuckin’ girl..” he growls as your toes curl instinctively, heels digging into his shoulder blades as the coil inside of you finally snaps. You feel yourself gush on his fingers, your thighs clamping around his head as he works you through it “squirtin’ all over daddy’s face huh like the needy thing you are.” 

He pulls your legs off from his legs and hits save on the audio, before glancing back at you with a smirk. “Ain’t posting that anywhere..” he whispers, the gentleness a shocking turn around from the filth he whispered to you earlier. Your breath is still coming out in shaky pants, looking up at him through hazy lids “keepin’ that all to myself” he hums, pressing a little kiss on your head. 

He scoops you up like you’re a ragdoll and practically clomps over to his bedroom, throwing you onto the bed. His fingers work deftly at the tie of his sweats, pushing them off. You squeak softly when you see the trail of hair going down his pelvis, the lack of boxers making heat rise to your chest. You work your top off, while he throws his hoodie across the room, a guttural groan leaving his mouth as he sees your breasts. “Fuckin’ perfect..'' His words aren’t necessarily for you, his thoughts just find themselves being voiced aloud. His calloused hands grope and knead at the softness of your tits before he presses wet kisses to each of your nipples. “Need to be inside ya” he practically begs, cock hard against his stomach leaking pre-cum. 

You could salivate at the sight, hell you truly might have a little bit. “Fuck me, Daddy, need you to fuck me Joel, please i can be good im ready, I'm on the pill-” your words were babbled, fast and rushed together, your intense desire for the man in front of you the only thing your brain could comprehend. Your legs part on the bed, your arousal dripping down your thighs calling to him like flowers call to a honeybee. 

“Christ, baby,” he groans before grabbing your legs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He fists his cock and slides it through your aching pussy, both of you letting out simultaneous cries of shit when your wetness coats his length. He slides into you with gentle thrusts, letting you adjust to his size slowly, before sinking in all the way with a soft whimper “take me so good…” his words are quiet and breathless, almost as if he was in awe of how your body made room for him. 

“Oh my god-” you cry out, your hands fisting in the dark sheets under your skin. “so fucking big joel..” you clench around him, body on fire with how good he felt inside you, with how perfect it was. It was like you were made to take him like this. His thrusts get faster and your legs curl around his waist, pulling him in as deep as you possibly could. The feeling of his hand pressing on your lower stomach has you arching your back into his touch. 

“Perfect fucking thing,” he grits huskier than usual, with a thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. “Feel me peaches?” he thrusts into you again and presses on your tummy “right fuckin’ there.. Right where I god damn belong…” his words were lust filled and hazy, his own need and orgasm clouding all judgment. Your hips roll against his, the coarse hair brushing up against you, and your head lolls back into the mattress as his thrusts get sloppier. 

“Inside, Joel fuck-” you whimper at him, eyes wide and pleading as your second orgasm builds in the pits of your belly “please cum inside me, wanna feel you please..” for a moment he swears he’s died and gone to heaven. The sounds of your pretty little moans and begging are like a dream come true for him. He just nodded and shifted so he was practically cradling your body under his, cock buried so deep inside you that you knew you’d be feeling it for days afterward. 

He grinds his hips lazily against yours while his thrusts are shallow and pointed. Your legs shake while you meet his lips in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as you both fall apart practically molded together. “Jesus christ-” his breathing is ragged and hoarse “takin’ me so damn good, gonna fuckin’ fill you up” he gives a few more thrusts before he pulls out of your quivering pussy, your own orgasm sending stars into your eyes. 

You both stay like that for a moment, Joel's forehead resting softly on your shoulder as his cum spills out onto his bed. You shift softly to pull him next to you and curl into his touch, giving him a cheeky smile as you tilt his face to meet your eyes. “You…” a breathless little laugh escapes your lips “how long did you know I was commenting on your posts?” you ask softly, brows raised at him. 

He snorts at the question and flicks your forehead gently, earning a playful pout to be thrown in his direction. “Bout damn near two weeks ago” he replies, classic shit eating grin plastered to his face. “Figured it was you when you came over lookin’ like you’d won the damn Powerball and some little fan called peaches_and_cream left a comment about cummin’ three times to one damn post” you let out a muffled groan and bury your head into his chest, mumbling something about him being an asshole before you both shift into a comfortable silence. 

He moves, patting your hip and telling you to go use the bathroom after a few minutes, preaching his favorite safe sex speech and you roll your eyes at him before you saunter over to his bathroom. “Oh and Joel-” you call out before you walk in, eyes meeting his as he waits for you to finish your sentence “send me that audio, would ya?” 

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. Silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist.

PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. 

Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[sweetiebarnes]

Twisted Pairing: Step Dad!Lloyd Hansen x Step Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 600+

Warnings: stepcest, voyeurism, female masturbation, nudity, implied future anal, minor daddy kink, dubcon/noncon if you squint, reader is early twenties, age gap.

Request: Lloyd Hansen, Step Dad, “What’s the matter? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a naked man before.”, and anal. Requested by: anonymous

A/N: I'm sorry I've been so slow with writing these. January has proven to be much more difficult than I had anticipated. I promise the stories are coming, and I am looking forward to doing your requests. This isn't my best work, but I still had fun writing it. It has not been beta read, so any mistakes are my own. As always my work is intended for adult audiences so 18+ only! Minors DNI. Pay attention to all tags and warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Writing Event Masterlist (still in the works)

From the first time Lloyd saw you he knew he needed to have you. That’s the thing about Lloyd Hansen, he always gets what he wants. He’d only married your mother because of the connections she provided. With her he’d be able to spread his business out throughout the country. What he hadn’t expected was the delicious present she had been hiding. 

Tonight your mother was out with friends from college. Lloyd knew this was the perfect opportunity to get what he’d been craving. You. He could picture you up in your bedroom reading one of your countless books. It was cute how you always seemed to find ways to avoid him. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he knew you felt something too. There was a magnetic pull between the two of you, and tonight would be the night he finally gets what he’s needed.

Lloyd makes his way up the stairs and stops outside your bedroom door. He’d expected to hear nothing, but instead he could hear what sounded like quiet whimpers. His eyes flutter shut as he leans in closer hoping to be able to hear you better. “Oh… Oh fuck, Lloyd.” There was no denying what he heard that time. You were in there touching what belonged to him. Without giving it a second thought, Lloyd quickly began to undress himself. This hadn’t been how he planned to do this, but when the opportunity presents itself how could he say no?

Once undressed, Lloyd opens your door. It takes you a moment to realize he’s standing there, and boy was he thankful for that. For that meant he was able to get a full spread eagle view of your soaked cunt. He watched as your finger meticulously rubbed your clit. The little moans that left your mouth were like music to his ears. It was when he let out a small grunt of approval that your eyes finally opened. 

The look of embarrassment washed over your face. But that look quickly turned into confusion and horror when you spotted that he was naked. Your eyes traveled down to his hard cock which was now between his large hand. Lloyd’s smirk grew when he saw that your eyes appeared to be glued on him. “What’s the matter? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a naked man before.” His eyes never once leave yours as he slowly strides across your bedroom. “Oh come on, sunshine. We both know what you were just doing — who you were thinking about. Come on, be a good girl, show me.” 

The more he talked, the more your body seemed to tremble from nerves. “I - I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lloyd.” He rolls his eyes at your attempt to play dumb. He wasn’t going to allow you to continue your charade of being so called innocent. “You really want to play that game? Fine, show me. Prove to me that you’re not soaked right now. Because you and I both know that your little pussy is dripping for me. Dripping for your step-daddy.” His words cause a small to leave your lips.

Maybe just this once you can give into your desires. Maybe just this once you can be bad. 

Lloyd could hear a semblance of a plea when he watched you lay back on your bed. Your legs spread wide, inviting him to come give you both what you need. But Lloyd lets out a small tut and shakes his head. “Sorry, sunshine. That pussy isn’t what I’m interested in right now. I’d rather fuck your untouched hole. Turn around now.”

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring Pt. 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

(Aka minors do NOT interact with this post)

A/N: Sooooooo… did ya miss me?? Heh. My down stairs brain has been exercised, that’s for sure. Took five but now I’m trying to change lives 💪

Anyways, as always, all interaction, especially commentary/tags, is extremely appreciated! It really makes my day to hear that people like what I’m putting out there.

Content Warning: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ If you thought the last one was diddle-that-skittle-worthy, this one… I think I’m going to need to take a cold shower. I mean, my man doesn’t stop talking. I will say he’s really sweet to the reader. A few things he says sound more like him in canon, but overall he’s really sweet. Look, guys, life is lifing rn so I just needed a sweet hot old man to talk me through it 🤷‍♀️

****************************************************

Previously on The Fun Kind of Sparring

"Good girl," he praises, and it's all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there's no way. "Well, what l'd do next... that's simple. I'd fuck her until she cried, and then I'd keep going. And I'd keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she's gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me," he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I'm losing it. I can't think straight. And yet- he's still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

"O-okay," I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. "And if that hypothetical girl was me?" We both know it's me, I just need to hear it.

"Well in that case I think l'd be the luckiest bastard who ever lived," he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That's it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

A strand of spit connects our lips when we part, and if I hadn’t heard him say all those dirty things I’d think it was the most erotic thing imaginable. It’s certainly a close second, though.

He crashes his lips back to mine once the strand breaks, demanding access that I could never be strong enough not to give. He explores my mouth with great fervor, silencing the small whimpers and whines trying to tear themselves from my throat. Once he’s sure I’m breathless he moves down, planting a row of kisses to my jaw before kissing down my neck, biting and sucking dark marks at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

But through the lust induced haze that’s already clouding my brain I can only remember one thing.

“Uh, Ben?” my voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high.

“Yeah?” He says into my collarbone where he’s been leaving more love bites.

“What about you? Don’t you get to come in the story?”

“Oh, you’re sweet on me, huh, baby? Don’t you worry about me sweet girl, that’ll come later- no pun intended.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumble, tugging him up by the hair so I can kiss him again. “I could kiss you forever,” I say. And it sounds stupid, but his plush pink lips are just too good to be true.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss me again. There’s just no feeling like it. I reach for the hem of his grey sweatpants, but he grunts, pulling away. I look at him, eyes wide with confusion.

“Sugar, as much as I’d love to give some sad sap the chance of walking in on this, I think it’s better we move this to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” I concede.

“Trust me,” he says, almost… shifty? Whatever. I’m too horny to decipher his gaze at the moment. I let him all but pick me up off the floor, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror embellished wall: my face is sweaty and splotchy, hair already a wreck, hickies everywhere on my neck and shoulders. Holy hell. I haven’t even gotten laid yet, and I look like I went nine rounds in a porno. Motherfucker. Me-fucker, in a minute. Good god.

“I think I’m an artist,” he says smugly from behind me, admiring the blues and purples on my neck and shoulders, and catching my gaze in the mirror. He presses his bulge to my ass, at which I gasp. He’s huge. I can already tell. How the fuck does he even-? I don’t even know how I’m going to finish that question.

“C’mon sweetheart, my room ain’t far.”

“Okay,” I mumble, stuck on the absent feeling of his bulge against me. “But the floor was so hot,” I pout.

“Don’t I know it, sweets,” he grins. “But I’ve got big plans for you, if you remember.”

I moan softly at the memory of his dirty words

“Attagirl.” The shit eating grin from before is right back on his face. “Now c’mon, sweets,” he tugs my hand in his, practically dragging me out of the gym. Before I know it I’m laying on my back in his soft bed, him over me. He somehow kisses me both soft and slow, and rough and fast, and it’s almost impossible to breath. Especially as he adds more to the canvas he’s made of my body.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I nod, and pulls it up over my head, obviously enjoying what he finds under it.

“Of course my pretty girl has pretty tits too, I shouldn’t even be surprised, but”-he kisses the tops of each of my breasts-“damn, baby.”

I blush at his praise, unable to help myself. “Can I take off this cute little bra?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I say, hoping that he’ll just rip it off. But instead of being raucous he gently unclasps it from behind, teasing it off of me. He trails lower with his lips, lavishing my breasts in attention that leaves them perky and alert once he leaves them for my stomach.

I can’t help but start giggling at the feeling of his scratchy beard on my stomach as he continues his trek of kisses and such southward. “What’s funny?” he asks, obviously amused by my laughter. I can only giggle harder because he seems to catch on, now intentionally scratching at me with it. He starts kissing lower and lower, and eventually my giggles dissolve into moans as he nips at the juncture of my thigh and pelvis.

“So sweet,” he mumbles, tugging at the waist band of my shorts. He pulls both them and my underwear off in one go. “Oh, sweets,” he breathes. “You this wet all for me?”

I squeak, unable to respond to the dark, lust-filled look in his eyes as he asks. Thankfully the question is rhetorical, because my brain is already starting to get fuzzy.

He gingerly pulls off my shoes and socks, before pressing featherlight kisses to and massaging up my left leg. Just as he reaches my sopping heat does he stop, biting the squishy flesh of the inside of my thigh before returning back down on my right leg.

“Ben,” I whine impatiently, unsure of how much more of this teasing I can take before I just come without him doing anything.

He just tuts at me before continuing his ministrations. And good grief does he know what buttons to press, because my legs already feel like jello in his hands.

Finally he bites my other thigh, and I’m all but shaking with how eager I am for him to do something, anything to me. And he seems to be more than happy to comply.

“Listen, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he says roughly, sincerely, as his cheek rests against the inside of my thigh.

“O-okay?” I say, my tone far past breathy.

“That’s my girl,” he grins before diving in.

It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It feels like he’s lit orgasmic fireworks, like far too much and not enough all at once, like… it’s fucking inexplainable. Especially while I’m physically squirming from how good it feels, while he only needs one big hand splayed over my stomach to keep me down. I couldn’t even tell you what I’m moaning between the incoherent mess of his one syllable name and the whines he’s pulling out of me.

It’s incredible. And he’s so methodical, so good at it. Eighty odd years of experience will do it to you I guess, but this is like, next level.

And before I know it my stomach is tightening in on itself, and I try to warn him. I really do. But he doesn’t even need me to warn him. Instead he takes his hand off my stomach and places both on either of my thighs, locking me in place around his head. And before I know it, his tongue thrusting in and out of me and his nose and facial hair rubbing on my clit have me coming with a loud cry of his name. I’m physically shaking by the end of it from how he continues to fuck me through it, lapping up every last drop.

The thing about Ben is that he does everything with great fervor. Passion, really, except he thinks that’s too feminine a word. There just has to be a certain exceptionality to the way he does things. When he snorts a line of coke, the line had better be four times longer than anyone else’s. When he performed back in the day, it had to be more grandiose than Queen, more ostentatious than Madonna. When he eats pussy, it has to be fucking leagues ahead of any other man or woman in the entire world.

And man oh man does he deliver. I think I come again, but it’s hard to tell from how intense the initial orgasm was and how fuzzy the overstimulation is making my brain. But he eventually pulls back, once again resting his stubbled cheek on the inside of my thigh, my come glistening on his jaw and mouth. It’s a sight of debauchery in its purest-or should I say filthiest- form. I’m panting, trying to ground myself as he smugly smirks at me, his greens eyes sparkling like cut emeralds.

“Y’like that, sweetheart?” he asks, knowing damn well I do. And yes, he’s cocky as fuck, but… he’s not wrong.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Good girl,” and at that I clench around nothing. And he does not fail to notice.

“Aww, my sweet girl likes being a good girl,” he observes, languidly running a knuckle through my folds. I gasp, and he chuckles. “Easy.”

He surprises me by thrusting one finger in- and like he said, it wouldn’t do much with how wet I was. So he gives me a second, and I start to feel it, especially when he hits my g-spot on every languid thrust, eliciting tinny moans from me. The tinny moans get louder when he starts scissoring his fingers inside of me, opening me up as far as he sees fit. “Gotta get you ready for me,” he explains, spitting on his other hand before brining his thumb to my clit. I’m beyond fucked once the rough pad of his thumb meets my sensitive bud, gasping his name and arching my back.

“You’re taking ‘em so well, sweet girl. Gonna give you another,” he tells me before adding a third finger and rubbing on my clit even faster. I barely last three minutes of this before I come for the second-third?- time with a weak cry of his name, still ready for more. I’m flustered from how easy it was to make me come, and his words certainly don’t soothe my blush.

“Oh, look at this pretty pussy gushin’ f’me, she’s too good to me,” he groans, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out to prolong my bliss. “Aww sweet girl, why’re you embarrassed, huh? I think my new favorite color is pink cause of your sweet cheeks. My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

My mind is so fuzzy. Ben- Soldier Boy- is literally praising me whereas he calls anyone else a disappointment or a whore. And he’s making me feel so good, not only because of the incredible sex but with the way he’s treating me.

He kisses me again before he stands up, and I can taste myself on him. I don’t mind though, because his lips, his tongue… I can hardly account for my senses, much less comprehend the taste of myself. He stares at me and finally takes the waistband of his sweatpants in his hands. I can’t help the way my jaw drops as he finally pulls them and his boxers down, and naturally he gives me his signature smirk.

The bottom line is that he’s even bigger than I had thought earlier. Like, this is a size I thought only dildos came in, not the real thing. It’s long, it’s thick, and it’s rock hard. His eyes are trained on mine, so naturally he catches me gaping and laughs. Jackass.

“You know that not all of that is going to fit, right?” I ask, a little nervous.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, cocksure. I can’t help but gulp involuntarily, but once he brings his lips back down to mine I’m right back into my whipped frenzy, pouting and following his lips like a puppy when he pulls away, rummaging in his bedside drawer but talking all the while.

“Don’t worry, m’gonna give you what you want, just gotta ease you into it, okay? Ain’t gonna treat you like a loosened whore, I could never. My sweet girl. Didn’t bring you in here for nothing, wanted this.” He holds up a small bottle, and that’s when I get it. He needed the damn lube. That’s why he wanted to come back here. Not a big connection, but for someone who’s ready to let him doin all sorts of unspeakable things to her and thank him for it, it’s a revolutionary revelation.

“Oh-oh,” I say, my voice breaking when I watch him fist himself a few times.

“Gonna make it feel so good for you,” he mumbles, rubbing a generous amount of lube up and down his length. As if it hasn’t already been beyond good. “Tell you what, baby, I want you to ride me, just to start. Y’can adjust on your own time, take it as slow as you need, okay sweet girl? ‘Cause if I’m on top… I don’t think I can make any promises.” At least he’s honest. The horny part of me wants him to just go ahead and rail me within an inch of my life, but the small, annoying, rational part of me recognizes how huge he is. He sits down next to me on the bed, comfortably resting against the pilos and the headboard. His legs are splayed, showing off the endearing curve to them.

It takes a lot out of my already fucked out self to move two inches and straddle him, but I do. He smiles, genuinely smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Take it easy, sweet girl,” he tells me. “We’ve got all night. You just take all the time you need.” I’m so turned on by how sweet he is, I genuinely can’t even help it.

“Okay,” I mumble, reaching for his cock, feeling it in my hands. It’s just a little thicker than the grip of one of my hands- definitely thicker than anything I’ve ever had, but not as scary as I thought. I rub the leaking precum over his tip, because even though he’s already poured a more than generous amount of lube on himself I can’t be too sure. Not to mention the delicious gasps he’s making at every touch are enough to just do this for the next six hours.

But finally, finally I’m ready. I position myself over it, my arms encircling Ben’s wide, freckled shoulders.

And then I slowly, ever so slowly sink down on the tip. We both moan at the newfound sensation, and I physically have to stop for a second. He’s just so big. All of him is, from his ego to his overall stature, but inside me? He’s huge, and the stretch is beyond satiating.

“You okay, sweets?” he asks, recovering quicker than me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he kisses me on the lips. The distraction of the kiss lets me move more comfortably down his length. I make it a little bit more before I have to stop again. “You’re squeezing me so good, this pussy was made for me,” he groans when I stop, and I hide my own noises into the crook of his shoulder.

“Ben?” I mumble.

“Yeah?”

“I need help,” I whine, keeping my face hidden to hide my embarrassment.

“Aww, sweetpea,” he lets out a small laugh despite himself, furthering my angry red blush. “C’mere, look at me,” I do as he says, my thighs sore from keeping me up as I do so.

“No need to be embarrassed with me, sugar,” he says softly, before bring my lips to his, a big hand cupping the side of my head. I barely notice his other hand on my hip until he slowly starts guiding me down on him, lifting me up and down where I’m and pushing me down further and further as he does so. He muffles my whimpers and whines into the kiss, kissing me so long that I forget what it’s like to breathe.

Once he’s bottomed out and I’m properly seated on his lap does he pull away, letting me moan as loud as I need to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his own voice strained.

“Full,” I mumble, because it’s true. He’s so all consuming in this moment, all I can concentrate on is how he fills me to the brim.

He twitches inside of me at that, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothin’ baby, you just can’t be throwing around words like that,” he groans.

“You asked,” I protest.

“I know,” he retorts, kissing me again. After a few moments of sitting there on his lap, I tell him I’m ready to move a little.

“You need help, sweets?” he asks, giving me a knowing look. And I want to say no, that much is probably written on my face. Want to show him that I’m capable of bouncing on his enormous cock, but I sincerely don’t think I am.

“Maybe,” I concede sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby,” he smiles gently, grabbing me by the hips. He slowly lifts me up his length, and I can feel my walls trying to contract around him as he moves me up, clenching him like a vice. A soft groan leaves his lips whilst various whimpers leave mine.

He keeps this gentle pace, so slow that I can feel every single inch of him slide in and slip out. Slowly the burn from the initial stretch disipates into pure pleasure that leaves me whispering his name every time he bottoms out. But eventually it’s not enough, because the thoughts of his promises creep into my empty mind, his promises of fucking me. Until I cry, until I can only remember his name and nothing else.

“Ben,” I mumble, my head still resting in the crook of his neck as he eases me up and down. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, pretty girl?”

Jackass. He knows damn well what, I can hear it in his voice. “I don’t want to say it,” I whine. He pulls me back so we’re eye to eye, resting me on his lap.

“I think you’re gonna have to,” he’s grinning ear to ear.

I pout, my hands resting on his chest.

“C’mon baby,” he prods, thumbing my lower lip. I take his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it. It clearly takes a lot out of him to take his finger out of my mouth, he seems to be turned on by the action.

“Fine. I want you to fuck me,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“You’re lucky I like you so much. If anyone else were acting this bratty with me I think I’d have to teach them a lesson,” he smirks, the cocky promise clear in his eyes. Before I can retort he slips out of me, and I whine at the emptiness. I don’t like it.

Thankfully I don’t have to wait long because he lays me down, resting over me in a plank just as he was when we were “sparring.”

“Y’trust me?” His thumb comes up to meet my pulse point, his other fingers grazing across the bitten flesh of the juncture of my neck and shoulder, creating the most delicious sting. I nod frantically. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. His presses down barely a fraction harder, and yet it’s already enough to set me off even while being empty.

“I need you to promise me something, gorgeous,” he says, making the most intense eye contact I’ve ever seen from him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” His eyes are slightly wide, indicating how important to him this is. It’s easy to say: “Okay,” he has all of my trust. I kiss him for good measure, and we’re back. Fireworks gone off again halfway through as I take initiative to deepen the kiss before he can. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s stronger and so all consuming, and before I know it my mind is blank again. Blank and wanting one thing: him.

He gets up and I whine, not wanting him away from him. “Miss me already? My clingy girl,” he says affectionately, grabbing a pillow and putting it under my hips, kissing my stomach.

Settling above me once again, he lifts my legs up so that my ankles are resting on his shoulders, nearly bending me in half. But I let him, I’ll be as malleable ad he needs me to be if it’ll help him deliver on those promises.

“You sure you want this, sweets? Last chance to back out,” he tells me. I can’t believe he has the audacity to let the thought of me wanting to back out cross his mind. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want him.

“I’m so sure. Fuck me, please,” I tell him. This is the strongest my voice has been this far, and I think he gets the memo.

“As you wish,” he grins, before sheathing himself in me in one go. I scream his name, but the noise is cut off by all air leaving my body as he thrusts into me at a literal superhuman pace. The sounds are ungodly, with every thrust a broken moan and the occasional grunt from him. He finds my g-spot with ease, slamming into it with every thrust ad he pounds me into his mattress.

“You sounds so pretty, maybe we should look into making one of those Internet videos.” I moan at the idea. I didn’t think starring in a porno would be my thing until he and his transatlantic 1950s accent suggested it.

“Yeah, everyone would want a piece of this pussy. But she’s all mine,” those last three words are punctuated with particularly hard, possessive thrusts that leave me gasping his name.

He brings his hand up to my throat once more, and the moment his thumb grazes my pulse point as it did before I realize just how much I want to come. “You like that, huh. Such a good girl,” I clench around him as he presses light pressure to my throat, and even though he’s not even done anything with my clit and it’s been maybe two minutes I’m coming hard and all-consumingly. It washes over me in waves that match Ben’s pace, seemingly getting more intense as he keeps fucking me.

“Oh sweetheart, you look so gorgeous when you make a mess of my dick. I’m hopin’ to see that five more times before the end of the night,” he tells me, but I barely hear him, too engulfed in my pleasure. He somehow adjusts the pillow under me while continuing his incessant pace and his grip on my throat and the new angle has me crying from how good it is.

“Aww, what’s the matter sweets?” he coos, knowing damn well what the matter is. It’s just too good.

“You’re so deep,” I sob, unable to gain my bearings because of how full I feel.

“Don’t I know it,” he groans, going impossibly harder. Eventually he takes his hand from my throat, and I whine, until he brings it down to my clit.

“Make it a good one, beautiful,” he winks with a click of his tongue before skillfully rubbing circles into my sensitive bud.

“Ben, it’s too much-,” I protest, but all it takes is a few more circles and I’m coming undone around him again. I’m both hyperaware of my tears soaking my face and the burn from the position of my legs but also on the verge of unconsciousness with how good it all feels. My legs are quivering around him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, taking it so well,” he mumbles against my lips, kissing away my tears. I’d never had a lay so good that the guy had to reassure me that I was okay because I was shaking and crying uncontrollably from just how good it was. But then again, prior to tonight, I’d never had a lay with Ben.

He quickly brings me to the edge again, his fingers fast on my clit and his thrusts deeper than ever. When I come I can’t say his name, I can’t say much of anything because my mind is blank. Fuzzy, syrupy, I feel almost soft while the only noises I can make are little whimpers as he just keeps going. And I fucking love it.

“‘m gonna come,” he warns, and I muster enough of my bearings to tell him ‘please.’ He gladly obliges, coming with a loud grunt of my name, bottoming out so far inside me that he may damn well be in my cervix. I can feel it leaking out of me, and even in my fucked out stupor I can remember to moan. It’s the hottest feeling I’ve ever felt. He slowly pulls out then, gently easing my legs down.

I look up at him with questioning eyes, wondering why he doesn’t go for another three like he was planning to.

“Don’t want to break you on the first night, sugar,” he says, sweetly cupping my face in his hands. “I know you don’t feel it right now but you’re gonna be real sore in a couple hours.”

I pout, unsure of how to react to that. My legs are still shaking and while I do feel tired I’m still turned on.

Okay, maybe there’s dull ache.

“Oh, don’t pout. There’s other nights, and I’m gonna take care of you,” he smiles softly.

“Okay,” I whisper, finally regaining enough sense to talk.

He leans down to kiss me, softly this time. I melt into the kiss, and that’s when I realize: I don’t just want Ben. I think the feelings might be deeper. Maybe I… love? him.

But hey. There’s other nights.

****************************************************

As a bonus, cause I love y’all: if we can get 250 notes on this post by the end of the poll time then I will do a spicy soldier boy fic with whichever of these gets the most votes. If we can somehow get to 400 I’ll do the top two! No kink shaming, okay? 🥹🎀

In the meantime, if you want more Soldier Boy try Taming the Supe!! <3

For fans of Big Sky!Jensen, part two of 2SC (aka my favorite project thus far) should be coming out next!

And don’t forget, asks/requests/thoughts/thots are always open!!

[belovedmusings]

“You have to trust me.”

18+ Explicit Smut 🚫Minors DNI🚫

You and Satoru get into an argument before he heads off to face Sukuna. You worry for his safety since the incident of his sealing is still fresh in your mind, begging him to let the others help, but he insists he has to do it alone. Hot, emotional sex follows.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader w/minimal gendered language, reader with no defined characteristics for inclusivity and realism, angst, hurt/no comfort, before Ch 236, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary/mating press, intentional baby making

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Privilege (The Weeknd), lovely (Billie Eilish), Lo Vas Olvidar (Billie Eilish, ROSALIA)

A/N: I have a follow-up to this where he survives the fight so that you can have some comfort after this hurt. I’ll link it at the end :’) for now enjoy some angst.

Expand to read:

“Satoru, please,” your voice tapers off at the end, the ache in your heart stinging with its intensity. “Please, don’t do it alone. You can have help. Yuuta—”

“This isn’t his fight,” Satoru insists, “I don’t want to involve innocent kids in this if I can help it.”

“So you’re just gonna go off and get yourself killed instead?”

His brows furrow, eyes frozen on your face. His lips part in disbelief, and after a moment of being stunned, he laughs incredulously.

“Seriously?” He asks you, “Do you really think that lowly of me? You think I’m marching off to my death right now?! You think I’m some weak little twerp or something? That’s all I am to you?!”

As he raises his voice, you start to feel guilt rising up in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it like that. Here he is, about to fight for the sake of the world and you’re belittling him and undermining his strength. You’re telling him you expect him to lose, even if that wasn’t your intention. You’re supposed to be his support pillar—he doesn’t just let anyone in.

The anger fizzles out of you like ice water on hot coals. Instantly, you feel cold.

“No, Satoru,” you shake your head, remorse bubbling up so violently tears spring to your eyes. This is the love of your life, the man who has been nothing but sweet, patient, and kind to you. Sure, back when things were normal, he used to tease and get on your nerves, he had to work a lot and his time was stretched thin as a result, but he always made time for you. He always thought of you, brought you your favorite treats from his missions, latched onto you when he came back because he missed you.

Apparently you started sobbing at some point while you thought about all of that, because the next thing you know, he’s wrapping his newly thickened arms around you and pulling you into his sturdy chest.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” his voice is subdued now, full of guilt. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It’s just that—”

“That’s not…” you sniffle, shaking your head as you try to find the strength to get a full sentence out in the midst of your break down. “I believe in you, Satoru, I do, I didn’t mean—didn’t mean to say that…”

He hugs you tighter, rubbing up and down your arm. You continue.

“I’m just so fucking scared, Satoru, I’m scared.”

More sobs wrack your body and he can only sigh heavily, trying to hold you as close to himself as he can.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” his voice is thin, like he’s trying hard to keep it even. “I hate that I can’t give you a normal, easy life with me.”

You huff, wrapping your arms around him. “That’s not…I wouldn’t trade what we have for the world, Satoru, for the world…”

“I just hate that this is causing you so much pain,” he replies. “I’m supposed to be taking it away, not making it worse. God, I really am the worst, aren’t I?”

You shake your head in disagreement, planting a kiss on his neck to protest his statement. His breath hitches, and the next moment, he’s raising your chin up with his index finger, ducking to connect your lips. You make a small noise in the back of your throat and kiss back, arms winding around his neck to draw him closer. You feel him hug your waist, and go willingly when he backs you up.

The backs of your legs meet the edge of his bed, the one that you’ve become so familiar with it’s more comfortable than your own at the place you rarely sleep anymore, and you realize that this might be the last chance you ever get to share it with him.

Another sob escapes you before you can stop it and you grab the collar of his shirt tightly, pulling him down with you. You fall onto the mattress, Satoru catching himself so he doesn’t crush you as he kisses you passionately.

You trail your palms down his chest, down his abdomen, over the tight black shirt he has on, then back up again just to feel him. Satoru is here right now, in your hands, on top of you—you need to cherish this while it lasts.

You break the kiss as your crying worsens, unable to stop lamenting the fact that you can’t freeze time in its place right now.

“Shh,” his sugary voice hushes you, “Shh, focus on me. I want this to feel good for you, okay? We can’t have you crying your way through it, silly, then you won’t remember a thing.”

You sniffle, trying to wipe at your eyes. “I don’t want to just r-remember you…I need you to be okay.”

“I am okay,” he says, pecking your brow bone sweetly. “I’m right here. Just feel me. Nothin’ else. Don’t even think right now, thinking’s not useful.”

You huff shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his mouth go for your neck. He scrapes his teeth over your jugular to shock pleasure into your senses, successfully distracting some of the anguish right out of you.

“That’s it,” like this, his voice sounds almost like a purr, and you shiver, arms wrapping around his shoulders to grip at his back. He leaves a wet kiss where his teeth were and swipes his tongue over the spot, starting to suckle. You give him a soft noise in response, relishing in the fact that you know he’s leaving a mark on purpose. It’ll be there at least for a few days, or more if he really tries.

“Make it dark,” you breathe, “Give me as many as you can, please.”

“You don’t have to beg me,” he murmurs below your ear, sending heat pulsing downward. “I’ll give anything you want from me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. “Anything?”

At your eager question, he chuckles lowly, lifting himself up to meet your eyes. “Hmm. You have something specific in mind, don’t you?”

Your face heats up involuntarily, but the urgency of the situation has you forcing your bashfulness down. This might be the only time to ask. You had wanted to wait until the two of you were settled, maybe married if that’s what you agreed on, but now there might not be another moment. This could be it. And you know that if you don’t tell him what you want now and something happens, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.

With that thought, you take a deep breath and raise your hand to cup his face, brushing a few strands of his fringe away from his eyes.

“I want your baby, Satoru.”

You see the moment the words register in his brain. His eyes light up with something you’ve never seen before, and he smiles as if you just gave him the sweetest, most sincere compliment he’s ever heard.

“Yeah? A piece of me forever, huh?”

You nod, a grin tugging at your lips even as droplets continue to spill down your cheeks. “Yeah. Our love personified.”

He chuckles wetly and you think you see his eyes turn glossy, but he’s kissing you again before you can confirm it.

“It’s yours,” he says against your mouth. “All yours.”

You lose yourself in the long kiss that follows. All you can feel is him moving on top of you, tongue dancing with yours so intimately it would have the angels in the room blushing.

You raise your hips when he tugs at your pants, taking your underwear with them. He sits back on his haunches to slide them off your legs, eyes gentle as he gets between them and pushes his hands up underneath your shirt.

Sitting up quickly, you allow him to lift it off of you, discarding it behind himself. Now, you’re completely naked, but he’s still clothed.

“No fair,” you say, eyeing his shirt like it’s offensive, and he laughs.

“Say no more, say no more,” he replies, “Just lay down for me.”

Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you do as he tells you, looking up at him kneeling between your legs. You watch as he crosses his arms to peel his tight shirt off of his sculpted muscles, smooth, fair skin coming into view. He’d put a Greek god to shame, you think. He’s so tear-jerkingly beautiful it threatens madness in your mind.

“Like what you see?” He taunts mischievously, standing up to untie his pants and push those along with his boxers down his hips. His reddened erection springs free and you stare unabashedly at it, never having got used to the sight fully. He’s huge, both long and thick, all smooth skin except for a prominent vein on the underside. You used to joke with him early on in your relationship that it was the main reason for his cocky attitude, that you’d probably act the same way if you had a dick like that, and it always made him laugh. You love making him laugh. God, you love Satoru so much.

“Oh, you definitely like what you see now,” he snorts, climbing back onto the bed. “Gotta admit, it’s hot as hell to see you objectify me like that.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I’m nothing but a glorified sperm donor, mistress.”

You make an incredulous face. “What? I’m not—you don’t even—”

“Shh, I’m just teasin’,” he grins at you, leaning down to peck your lips. “I know you love me.”

You blow out a puff of air like a deflating balloon. “Satoru, I swear to god.”

He chuckles, shutting himself up by kissing you again. “That’s just how I show love.”

You chase his lips, hearing his words for the ‘I love you’ they truly are, threading your hands in his hair.

His big palms find your hips and he centers them for himself, lining up and grinding his stiff member against your wet core.

“Mmh,” you moan, moving with him, “Satoru…”

He sighs shakily, grabbing the crook of your knee to push it up, giving himself more room to move. His grinds become more forceful and it has you stuttering little gasps, nails digging into his back.

“Already scratchin’ me up?” He asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But I haven’t even put it in yet.”

The laugh you reply with is half-assed, need distracting you, and you find his eyes. “What’s stopping you?”

“Oh? Someone’s impatient,” he chuckles, stamping a kiss to your nose. “All right, all right. Better give you what you want.”

He takes ahold of himself and lines up, breathing a heavy sigh as he sinks into you. As soon as he does, you make a noise in the back of your throat, hugging him closer to you. As he bottoms out, you can’t help but press more chaste kisses wherever you can on him—his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. You just love him. You love the feeling of his body on top of yours, the warm weight unique to him, how he fills your arms up, tangible and strong. You breathe in deeply, the sweet musk of his skin filling your senses. It’s your favorite scent in the entire world.

He pulls back and rocks forward again slowly, taking care to get you used to his size. So much has happened lately that you haven’t been able to get intimate a lot, so you have to let him ease you back into it.

As he works you open on his cock slowly, you take to caressing the smooth skin of his back, eyes closed to revel in the sound of his heavy breaths, strained with the effort to control his movements so as not to hurt you. You love how solid he is under your palms. You could touch him forever. If he survives this fight, you swear that you’ll never let go of him again. You plead mentally with any deity that may hear you to protect Satoru.

You kiss the soft underside of his chin and hold him closer, holding onto that thought. Protect him. Keep him safe. Keep him alive. I love this man so much, just please don’t take him away from me.

He chooses that moment to start picking up the pace, the dull ache it gives you enough to thankfully keep you from spiraling further. You sigh, bending your knees further to give him more room. Your legs then wrap around him, ankles crossing at the base of his spine, and he responds by going faster. The room begins to fill with the sound of your bodies meeting over and over, his length molding you to his shape with every push of his hips into yours.

On a particularly hard thrust, you gasp, tightening around him, and it causes him to groan right after you. His voice is so sweet. It was one of the things that stood out to you about him when you had first met him—the way he always seemed to have perfect control over it. He speaks with ebbs and flows to contour the meanings of his words, to give them his special nuance that perfectly colors in his personality. He’s just so animated when he speaks. If he’s annoyed, you’ll hear it. If he’s playful, you’ll hear it. If he’s happy, you’ll hear it.

Right now, as he works through stuttered breaths and hitched moans, delivered exhales of your name weaved into declarations of his bliss, you hear the pleasure you’re giving him. That control starts to slip and words start tumbling from his lips, voice thin and shaky, a tone reserved just for you.

You turn your head to lay a kiss on his lips, landing on the corner of his mouth, but he understands what you need, sweeping you into a languid, passionate make out session as he rocks in and out of you. You hear him make a sort of wet noise before he doubles down on his efforts, pushing deep inside of you and starting to roll his body.

“Satoru,” you hiss in surprise, mouth falling open as his abdomen grinds against the sensitive bud above the place he’s buried inside of, heightening the goosebumps that break out on your skin. Your head falls back and he takes the opportunity to start making as many marks on your skin as he can with his mouth. Like this, you feel yourself getting close, and that has you remembering what comes after this.

He’s going to leave, and he might not come back.

This might be the last time you ever get to have him.

“I love you,” you say, just needing to get the words out, needing him to know. “You’re so important to me—thank you for everything, Satoru.”

His breath catches in his throat and he finds your gaze, reaching up to cup your jaw in his palm.

“Thank you for everything,” He replies sincerely. “Thank you for loving me. For dealing with all my bullshit and sticking by me.”

“Always,” you shake your head, eyes filling with new tears. You sniffle, feeling that choked desperation start seizing your chest again. “Always, Satoru.”

He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those beautiful luminescent oceans only reflect the deep sadness the both of you feel, and to see it glaringly obvious in his gaze breaks your heart. He can’t fake his happiness this time, not even for you. He’s human too, and being here with you like this in what might be the last time threatens to undo him.

Satoru swallows thickly and concentrates on his movements to distract himself, forcing himself to focus on the noises you make as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. He wants this to last forever just like you do, but you both know he’s needed by more people than just you.

Your climax approaches and with it, your emotions swell up inside of you. You remember meeting him for the first time, you remember when he started pursuing you, how happy he was when you agreed to a date, how hard he’d tried to win you over yet how effortless he made it look. Every time you two shared a laugh, every time he was there while you cried, how he always managed to put a smile back on your face. How sweet of a man he is to his students, how proud you can tell he is whenever he talks about them, and how his eyes light up whenever he eats a treat he’s fond of. God, you just love him.

“Satoru,” you whimper, orgasm hitting you abruptly. “Oh god, I love you so much.”

He exhales forcefully as he feels it, managing a few sloppy thrusts before he’s cumming as well pushing as deep as he can go in effort to fulfill your earlier request.

As you start to come down, the fear and despair come back tenfold, overtaking you in a fit of sobs. He wraps his arms around you and buries his nose in your hair.

“I’ll win,” He whispers to you, “I will. I’ll come back and we’ll raise the little shit we just made together, okay? They’ll probably grow up like me but I hope they’re more like you, baby.”

You hiccup loudly as you cry harder, clinging to the image of a happy family with him for dear life.

“It’s gonna be okay. You have to trust me,” He insists, inhaling slowly. “I have to go now.”

You hold him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut to commit this to memory before he’s pulling away, lifting himself off of you and grabbing his clothes quickly.

He dresses in silence, your cries the only thing echoing around the room. All you can manage to do is put on one of his button-ups from the foot of his bed, wiping furiously at your eyes.

Too soon, he’s clothed again, and it’s time for him to go.

He walks over to you again and takes your chin gently in his hand, tilting it up so that your eyes connect. He smiles softly at you.

“You know that I love you, right?”

A deep ache seats into your chest. He’s said it in a million ways before but never in its original form, those simple, crater-heavy three words. You nod, sniffling as another wave of lament threatens to pull you under.

“I do,” you confirm, forcing it out in a strained voice. He nods to himself, leaning in and pressing his soft lips to your forehead.

You feel the moment that he uses his technique to flash himself out of the room, because his warm presence that naturally takes up a lot of space vanishes and leaves absolutely everything feeling cold and sterile.

You break down again, head falling into your hands.

Shoko had told you where everyone would be watching the fight take place. You want to be there, and you will go, but you need to be alone first.

You just hope with all of your might that you won’t be left alone with only a piece of him to succeed his legacy. You want him to be there too. You need him to be there.

You need him to be okay.

—-

A/N: i gave myself an ouchie on the heart while writing this. whoops. also wow is he gorgeous in that picture at the top?? anyways here’s the second part where he survives bc i should be gege instead so he’ll be okay :-)

[dovesdreaming]

hello my love! i saw call it what you want on your song prompt list and immediately thought it would work so well with our dear bucky barnes! also your blog looks so cute im in love!

Call it what you want (to)

Hi!! Thank you! And thank you for this request I loved writing it so much, bucky was who I was picturing when I put it on the prompt list so I hope I did it justice! (especially since I think Bucky is quite a complex character) If you want a version relating to more of the lyrics instead of just the necklace line I am down to do that!

Warnings: none + reader doesn’t have specified race picture is just for necklace!

Bucky had been through a lot. Everything he once knew as reality was ripped away from him . When he joined the avengers he had to start his life from the beginning, he had no belongings and no sense of self anymore. This meant that when he got new possessions he became protective over them not wanting to share them in anyway, he was resource guarding.

His most protected item of them all were his dog tags, the only connection he has to the man he was before hydra. He wore them around his neck at all times, grabbing them between his fingers as a soothing action when he’s in a state of panic. His real name dented into the metal: James Buchanan barnes. Yet when you entered his life he couldn’t find it in himself to be as protective of them anymore. He used to bat peoples hand away when they reach for them during conversations with him. Yet when you sat with him and took them between your hands he didn’t feel anything but love for you. His heart increased ten times when he saw how much love you had for past him and present him. It healed parts of his well-being he didn’t knew he needed to heal.

Bucky even surprised himself when he had put the dog tags round your neck when you both had been cuddling in bed catching up on one of the many movies he had missed. He had been hesitant to touch you within the start of your relationship but you both took it slow, you understood what he had been through and never pressured him. You didn’t react much when he put the tags round your neck you only smiled lovingly at him, slowly leaning in to peck his lips. Bucky never took his dog tags back and they became your soother in moments of panic having a reminder of bucky close by. He fell impossibly deeper in love with you that day he gave you them and everyday since. He got to see his name round your neck everyday but it wasn’t a possessive thing, no he didn’t own you but it was a reminder that he really knew you inside and out and you the same for him. He would runaway with you any day if you ever asked, he would follow you to the ends of the earth.

Extra scene:

Bucky like the look of his name round your neck so much that he went out and bought a necklace that had the initial j on it. He organised a fancy dinner in your favourite restaurant on the balcony over looking the city at night. You didn’t need to say much to each other anymore you both knew near enough everything about each other. Most of the date was spent with small talk and comfortable silence while holding hands over the table, staring into each others eyes. When it neared the end of the date Bucky pulled out a black box and slid it across the table to you. You slowly opened it to reveal the perfect little necklace to match you dog tags. Bucky got up and tied it around your neck for you, moving any hair that was in the way. He told you that it was his version of a promise ring, that he promised he would spend the rest of his life loving you if you let him. With the mix of champagne and copious amounts of love from Bucky you were overflowing with happiness, content with where life had taken you. You knew that Bucky hadn’t given you the necklace as a sign of ownership to other men, he gave it you because he really knew you. You didn’t need to save each other anymore, you would runaway with him any day.

Thank you for reading!

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Do You Believe in Soulmates, Darling?

poly!mikaelsons x reader

summary: after waiting a thousand years to find their soulmates, the mikaelsons find it in mystic falls. one thing though - they all share the same lover. | request

word count: 7k (I don’t know how this happened)

tags: soulmates, fluff, human!reader

It is Kol that sees you first. He is standing in the town square, observing how people are in the twenty-first century, and how much has changed since he’d last been undaggered. He hadn’t really planned on being out that day, but Klaus was getting unruly in the mansion, needing quiet time to paint. Kol wasn’t in the mood to be on the receiving end of his anger again, so he scurried out the door and decided to explore the town. 

It’s peaceful and no one bothers him. No siblings, nor vampires, nor townspeople. For once, the inhabitants of Mystic Falls mind their own business. 

By nearly three o’clock, he still occupies the square. Klaus was probably over his anger hours ago, but Kol finds he quite likes the scene. Despite enjoying the time away, though, he knows he should go home soon before a sibling catches up to him. One cannot escape the family for too long; that’s the blessing and curse of family. With a sigh, he stands up to leave, sparing one last glance to the park before him. 

Thank god for that last look. Had he not taken it, he wouldn’t have noticed you. That would be a missed connection never known, but to secretly haunt him forever. 

You, with your gentle smile as you look at the girl to your left. The way your eyes roll at something she says. The way you walk gracefully towards him, though he knows that’s not where you’re headed. Suddenly, something inside him wishes it were. Something fluttering in his chest; something that starts to beg for your attention. He stares at you as if his gaze would somehow attract yours. 

“Are you daft? Kol! Hello?!” None of the words register to him. However, the swift hit to the head does. 

Kol whips around to see his sister. Her hands open to him in frustration. 

“I’ve been calling you for ages, standing right beside you. What are you even looking at?”

“Nothing,” he says, almost stutters. 

“Certainly not nothing to have your attention like that.” Rebekah scoffs, then tries to follow his line of sight.

By then, you had dipped into a store. Kol secretly curses his sister for the distraction. 

“That bird over there, you were seeing?” There’s a bluebird standing where you just were.

“No.”

“Then whatever in the name of-”

“Just a girl, Bekah. So like I said, nothing.”

“Oh? A girl’s caught your attention?” She snickers, “tell me, is she pretty?”

“Can you bugger off?”

“Why don’t you just answer?”

“Because I-” he stops upon seeing you again. You and Caroline tumble out of the store laughing, clutching onto each other’s shoulders. He listens to the words he sees leave your lips. 

“That was so weird,” you mutter.

“People here are so strange sometimes,” Caroline agrees with your statement. 

“Because you what?” Rebekah’s voice cuts back in. When Kol doesn’t answer, she follows his gaze again. “Caroline Forbes?”

“No, the girl beside her.”

A tease is prepared on the tip of her tongue, but upon seeing you, it’s gone. The two Mikaelsons are quiet for a moment as they watch you and Caroline continue to laugh. 

“My, she is pretty,” the blonde finally admits. “Go talk to her.”

“Do you really think it’s wise for me to go over there with Caroline Forbes right there?”

“Well if you don’t now, you could lose her forever!”

“Or I could lose my life when her blonde friend rips my head from my neck!”

“You never know until you try.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea what will happen if I do that.”

“Caroline won’t kill you because then she’ll lose brownie points with our brother.”

“Fair point, Bekah, but-” He’s interrupted by two ringing phones. Specifically, his and his sister’s. “Bloody hell. Almost went all day without a summoning.”

“Who’s calling you?”

“Klaus.”

“Elijah’s got me. Guess we have to go back now. Wish your pretty girl farewell.”

Kol rolls his eyes at her words. He steals one last glance at you before following his sister to what he hopes isn’t some new brand of chaos. 

◇◇◇◇

“So is it true?” You turn to your best friend.

“What?”

“That Klaus has a thing for you?”

She slouches in her next few steps, “really?! Y/N! As if I hadn’t had this conversation so many times.”

“Well, is it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know! I think he does, but trust me, I don’t feel anything for him back!”

“Aw,” you joke, “why not give him a chance? He could be your soulmate for all you know?”

She lets out a sharp laugh, “no way! In fact, Klaus has no soulmate, and do you know why?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer before saying, “because I don’t think he even has a soul.”

“Caroline!”

“Am I wrong?”

“I- I don’t know, I’ve never met the guy!”

“Well good. Avoid him. He can be charming, I’ll give him that, but it doesn’t take away the fact that he’s a killer.”

“He can’t be that bad. We’ve all killed once or twice.”

“First of all, yes, he is. Second, no, we haven’t. I have. You have not, and that will stay that way.”

“Maybe I have, you don’t know that.”

She snorts, “You’re too sweet for that. And besides, even if you have, you’d tell me right away with your guilty conscience.”

“I do not have a-”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Fine, I might. But don’t mistake that for me not having fire, because I can assure you, I do.”

“Oh I know you do. That’s what makes us such good friends. But you need to remember that you’re human, so you still need to be careful.”

“I know, I know!”

“Which includes talking about Klaus, because he could be listening.”

“Sorry,” you try to hide your smirk, “I won’t ask about the big bad vampire again.”

“Good.” Caroline’s not at all convinced that this’ll be your last question about them, but at least it’ll be the last for today. 

Ever since the Mikaelsons have arrived in Mystic Falls, you’ve been curious about them. It’s hard enough keeping you out of the Salvatore drama, but that difficulty increased tenfold when the original family came into play. With you and Matt being the only two humans left in the friend group, they’re very protective of you. You, even more-so than Matt. Matt’s met most of them by working at the grill, but the girls do their best to hide your existence from the four siblings. They all swear that if they ever find you, nothing good would happen. 

◇◇◇◇

“You two have been out all day, where could you have possibly gone?” Elijah questions as soon as he sees his two youngest siblings enter the mansion. 

Kol already has his answer ready, “well seeing as Klaus was about ready to kill us all this morning, I decided it would be in my best interest to get away from him.”

“He’s been steady since one. It’s past three now.”

“Lost track of time, I guess. Tell me, what is it you wanted?”

“Why? Have something to get back to you?”

Rebekah, who had left to fetch a glass of bourbon, replies, “yes, actually. I was quite occupied before you called.”

“You two? Together? Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” the eldest raises his eyebrows. “Hopefully not planning a kill in the square?”

“On the contrary, dear brother. But unfortunately for you, it’s none of your business. So again, what is it for which you called?”

“Ever so fiesty, Rebekah. Worry not, we just wanted to make sure you weren't starting anything."

"What? That's it?"

"What kind of older brother would I be if I don't check up on my younger, more troublesome siblings?"

"You called us both home for that?"

"What’s got you so bitter, sister? Mystic Falls isn't so interesting that you should be so upset."

"Not to you, but this time, we actually did find something interesting, thank you!"

"Oh, do tell, Rebekah," her other brother asks as he fetches his own drink.

"Doesn't matter now that we'll never see her again," Kol mutters, sharing an annoyed look with the blonde.

"Her?"

Rebekah glares, "yes, a girl. But Kol's right, doesn't matter." She swallows down the rest of the liquor in one gulp.

The two eldest brothers are too confused to question further. Kol takes this as a chance to retreat to his room, while Rebekah, after one more look at Elijah, leaves to hers. 

"What girl could have stolen the attention of our two siblings so quickly?"

"Doubt there is one at all. They just wanted a reason to get away," Klaus snaps with a tone full of anger. 

Elijah detects a hint of jealousy, but says nothing. Nor does he share about his curiosity for this supposed girl that infatuated them both. 

◇◇◇◇

Two days later, you’re spotted in the square again, this time, by Elijah himself. At first glance, he makes no connection between you and whomever his siblings saw, but rather takes in the sight of you. You are sitting by the fountain, legs crossed on the cement, and a hand reaching into the water. A stack of books are in front of you, the one on top open, and a notebook to your left. You pay no attention to them, though, and keep your eyes trained on the small waterfall. The sight of a human so seemingly relaxed in such a busy and perilous town has him unable to draw away his attention. He watches you carefully from the square’s metal bench, far enough that you could not catch his eye. 

Only a mere five minutes pass before you have company. A girl Elijah recognizes - April Young - touches your shoulder lightly. You turn to her with a smile as she starts to speak. Curiosity kills him, so Elijah tunes in to listen. 

“If someone finds you out here, they’re not going to be happy.”

“I don’t care, April, I’m so bored. I can’t be inside all day just because they’re scared I’m going to encounter vampires.”

“Shh! You know they could overhear you, right?”

“It’s fine! They have no reason to hurt me, I’m just minding my own business.”

“They don’t need a reason to hurt anyone, Y/N, they just do. They drink blood, remember?”

“Okay, sure, point taken. But since I apparently have a team of protectors, I should be fine, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And, hey, you’re human. Why are you allowed to talk to them? Who’s the girl again? Rebekah?”

“Y/N, be quiet! Yes, I talk to them, but it’s because they found me first and dragged me into all this. And Matt’s been dragged in almost since day one. You haven’t been discovered by them yet, and we all need to keep it that way.”

“So boring! I want to be in on the fun.”

“It’s not fun, Y/N. I’m serious. None of them will be gentle if they find you; they’re all dangerous.”

You sigh, giving up on arguing with the girl.

“You know what they say, ‘curiosity killed the cat’,” April says.

“Okay, but they also say, ‘satisfaction brought it back’,” you finish, eyebrows raised. 

April rolls her eyes, “stay out of it. In fact, I’m texting Caroline right now that you left your house if you don’t go back right now.”

“I’m not going back, I’m studying here.”

“Study at home.”

“No.”

Immediately, she starts to dial Caroline. In an instant, you pack your books back into your bag. “See you later, buzzkill.”

The girl hangs up, but doesn’t leave until you do. You know better than to try and win a fight against both of them, so you head home, missing the square already. 

Elijah knows he shouldn’t follow you. Caroline could be on her way; April’s in the distance. Yet, he can’t watch you walk away, either. He must at least know your name, or else it might kill him. At the very least, he could compel the conversation out of your mind as soon as he hears it. 

He waits until you’re alone to approach. Probably not the best way to do it, but he doesn’t know how many there are keeping you hidden in your supposed “team of protectors”. And this way, it would be easier to compel, should it come to that. So, as you travel down the sidewalk, humming to yourself, he suddenly calls out to you,

“Excuse me, miss.”

You turn quickly towards the voice. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the handsome stranger. “Um, hi.”

“I mean you no harm, but I saw you in the square just a little bit ago, and I have to know your name.”

You hesitate, unsure if you should give it.

He continues, “I know this is quite random, but I truly do not wish to frighten you. I saw you by the fountain, unbothered by the world around you. The screams of children, the barking of dogs, but nothing disrupted your focus from the gentle flow of water. I could tell it brought you peace, and I could see the secret you harbored to jump in and enjoy it. It was beautiful, not to mention the beauty that you are, yourself. So, apologies if I am crossing a line, but I can’t help but wonder what name to put on this delicate soul that has imprinted on my own.”

You stare at him, speechless from his words. Never has anyone said such beautiful things to you, and in such an alluring accent, no less. 

“My apologies, love. I fear I have said too much.”

“N-no! Forgive me, I’ve just never had a man tell me I’m beautiful before.”

“That is quite a shame. Sure they just have never told you out loud.” He walks closer to you, feeling a bit more confident that you’re not afraid. 

A blush rises to your cheeks, but you’re still unable to form a response. “I-I, um… Y/N. My name.”

He repeats your name, tasting it on his tongue. “Lovely name. Lovely name for a lovely girl.”

“Thank you. And what’s yours, may I ask?”

Elijah hesitates. It hurts his heart knowing he’ll have to compel this conversation from your mind, but at least, he can give you his name before he does. “Elijah Mikaelson.”

“You- you’re a Mikaelson?”

“Afraid I am.” He scans your face for fear, which he wholeheartedly expected. However, nothing. 

“You’re the first I’ve gotten the pleasure to meet. I’ve been curious, I’ll admit, but my friends tell me to stay away,” you pause, “which you probably found out from my conversation with April a few minutes ago. Oops.”

“It’s alright, love. I won’t tell a soul of your secret.”

“Thanks,” you smile, “I hate being cooped up in the house all day. You were right - I did want to jump in that fountain.”

“You should’ve. I bet the joy on your face would have been unmatched.”

You swallow hard. You’ve never been good at taking compliments. Especially not those given to you by a handsome man who has lived long enough to see thousands of beautiful things. Never would you have expected to be one of those things. “I think I should’ve, too.” 

Suddenly, you get a text. In a brief glance, you see it’s Caroline. “Oh crap.”

“Is everything alright?”

You sigh, “it’s Caroline, asking me to send a picture of myself in my kitchen, with an egg in my hand, and a spoon on my head. I guess I have to go.”

“Such an odd request,” he wonders out loud.

“She likes to put me up to things like this to prove I’m at home. It’s something I won’t have in my pictures already, and have to do that instant. If I don’t get it done in five minutes, she comes over.”

“Well I guess I better let you leave, then.”

“Unfortunately, yes. But I liked meeting you, Elijah.”

He smiles, “you too, Miss Y/N.” He steps forward and takes your palm to kiss it. In a deep breath before he starts to compel you, you suddenly interrupt him. 

“Wait! I’m way more than five minutes away. Crap! She’s gonna catch me.”

He shouldn’t offer. He shouldn’t know where you live. Yet, the idea of you getting caught out of your house worries him. He may never see you again if that happens. “I could, perhaps, take you home? Could get you there much quicker than if you were to walk.”

“You would do that?”

“I owe you that little, being the reason you might get caught otherwise.”

You blush at the thought of him picking you up, but try to force it away. “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He picks you up bridal style, and before you know it, you’re on your porch. 

“Thank you.” You smile, then check your phone. “Oh, shoot! Two minutes left.” You’re quick to unlock your door and throw it open. “Come in and help me find an egg!”

Surely you know the rules about those words pertaining to vampires and one’s home, yet you said them without hesitation. You didn’t stick around for him to question you, either, and instead ran to complete the quest. Slowly, he tests the entryway, and enters with no resistance. He then finds you in your kitchen digging through the fridge, then pulling out an egg. As quickly as you can, you take a selfie and send it to Caroline. 

“Whew!” You breathe out, then notice him, “hi.”

“You completed your challenge?”

“Hopefully! But she might still come by because it was April that called her.”

“So I should probably leave.”

You bite your lip, not wanting him to go. 

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you invite me inside?”

“Because I needed you to find an egg. Which I found myself, so thanks,” you joke.

He smiles, but only for a second, “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know, I trust you.”

“Why? I’m a Mikaelson. The very family that your friends told you to avoid.”

“Well maybe I don’t like being told what to do. And maybe you don’t seem so bad to me.”

“I would like to prove your feelings right. I wish I could.” He says truthfully, catching your eyes. 

You start to look back, but then his words hit you. I wish I could. You straighten, then look away from his gaze. “Don’t compel me.”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare compel me to forget this. I don’t want to forget this. I don’t want to forget you. You, or your smile, or the things you’ve said. Please don’t take it away from me.”

“Y/N-”

“Please.”

He takes a deep breath. It must be done, but he hates it. He doesn’t want you to forget. In fact, he wants to know you deeper. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t. I won’t tell, I promise. If anything, compel me to never forget.”

“Y/N-”

“‘Lijah, don’t.” 

The nickname you’ve already given him weakens him. It renders him unable to finish the task; there’s no way he can force himself to compel you now. “Alright.”

“Wait, really?”

“If you’re sure you want to remember, but you’re sure you’ll never tell.”

“I promise. And I won’t say that I invited in a Mikaelson, either.”

He chuckles, “that would be wise.” He kisses your hand again. “I hope to see you again, Y/N.”

“You too. And thanks for taking me home.”

“Of course, love.”

After he leaves, you collapse on your couch, head swirling with thoughts of him. The words he said: how he described your time at the fountain, the beauty he saw in you. His own appearance: kind eyes, small wrinkles under them from a lack of sleep or hundreds of lifetimes lived, or both, a perfectly neat suit, the dark blue ring fitted on his finger. The way he watched you take Caroline’s picture with a smile on the edge of his lips. How he kissed your hand gently as a parting. 

Your cheeks are hot with blush, not to mention the heat you feel throughout your body. Butterflies are alive in your stomach. It all makes you feel so silly, but some part of you whispers that it’s love at first sight. 

◇◇◇◇

The minute Klaus hears the door open, he’s already yelling, “another sibling spending hours out and about in Mystic Falls. Where in the bloody hell have you been all day, Elijah?”

Elijah enters the room to find Klaus standing beside another painting, while the two other siblings sit on the couch. All three have glasses of bourbon and are sipping carefully. “What’s going on?”

“For once? Nothing. We all just happen to be here.”

“Where have you been, Elijah?” Rebekah turns around in her seat to question him. 

Before he can answer, Klaus chuckles, “let me guess! Out with a girl. You only wear that smile when you’ve found a girl to fancy.”

“Niklaus, I have not-”

“Oh don’t try, I’ve known you for a thousand years!”

“Better not be my girl, mate,” Kol mutters, though his tone isn’t rough like Klaus’. 

“Your girl is my girl, too, Kol. Remember that.”

“Heaven’s sake, you all are idiots.” Klaus turns back to his work, ignoring the three. 

Elijah ignores him right back, and instead looks down to the others. “Describe this girl you saw. Everything you remember.”

So, Kol and Rebekah do. Everything from your appearance, to the sound of your voice, and to the way you walked. The more they described, the more it sounded like the ‘you’ Elijah was with all day. When he admits this, their faces pale. 

“There’s no way all three of you idiots have fallen in love with the same girl,” Klaus mutters, still listening despite his annoyance. 

“It’s happened before, brother. Remember Mary?”

“I remember, Bekah, but that doesn't mean it’s plausible to happen again.”

“I think it is entirely plausible,” Kol admits, “in fact, I think this goes deeper than it did with Mary.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Something draws me to her. And it’s like I know her, yet I don’t at the same time. Do you guys feel this too, or is it just me?”

“No, I definitely feel it,” Elijah says, “and spending time with her today felt so natural. Like it was something I could never tire of.”

“You three sound so stupid. Talking like this girl, that two of you have never actually met, is your soulmate or something.”

“Well maybe you need to see her, Klaus. You’ll be in love instantly, I promise.”

Klaus rolls his eyes one more time at his youngest brother before going back to his painting. He refuses to admit the curiosity he feels towards you, and instead plays on animosity. His siblings don’t give up, though, and continue talking about their feelings for you until they all part to go to bed.

The following day, Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah actively seek you out in hopes of inviting you to dinner. They spent the morning planning that they’d find you and convince you to come over, where they could all gain your trust and get to know you better. The difficult part of this was getting you alone to talk. Elijah had warned his siblings about what you had said and told them to keep a close eye on their surroundings. He did also mention how excited you were to meet a Mikaelson, though, and said to use this to their advantage if one of them finds you instead of himself. 

So, in three different parts of the city, the siblings fan out and keep their eyes peeled for your presence. Shouldn’t be that hard to find; they’ll just follow the pull of their hearts. 

◇◇◇◇

For ten minutes, you’re able to sneak away, just long enough to visit your favorite store on the street corner. After meeting Elijah yesterday, the thought of being stuck in your house all day sounds miserable, and you are prepared to risk your friends’ wrath to see him again. Granted, inside the little shop is probably not the place you’d find him, but being out in the open at least makes it seem possible.

You are looking at a row of necklaces when a man comes up beside you. You don’t see his face, yet he doesn’t seem threatening to you, so you’re not too worried. 

“That color would look beautiful on you,” he says aloud. 

“Me?” You glance around to see if he’s talking to someone else.

“Yes, darling. I mean you.”

You blush instantly. “Thank you.”

“Let me get it for you.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t. It must be expensive!”

“Not a problem for me. I happen to come from a well-off line.”

“Oh do you now?” You turn to face him fully. “And what line would that be?”

He smiles at you, then plucks the necklace from its place and brings it to the counter. Immediately after buying it, he’s fastening it around your neck. “As expected, you look beautiful.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“How could I not? It was made for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You reach your hand out for him to shake, “Y/N L/N.”

Instead of shaking it, he presses a kiss to the back, “Kol Mikaelson.”

He watches your eyes light up, just as Elijah said they would. “Mikaelson?”

“So you’ve heard of me?”

“Heard of you? Definitely.”

“And I heard you met my brother yesterday. God, he would not stop talking about how beautiful you are.” 

You blush deeper at the thought of Elijah talking about you to his family. Either that, or it’s because Kol’s still holding your hand gently. You’re not sure. 

“Say, Y/N, would it be possible I could invite you to dinner? I would love to get to know you better, and I know Elijah would love to see you again. Bekah, too, has a curiosity.”

“I, um…” you so desperately want to, but fear your friends finding out. “I want to, but I don’t know if I can.”

“If it’s Caroline Forbes you’re worried about, I bet we could fake an alibi.”

“It’s not just Caroline, it’s all of them. But, if we could think of a good enough alibi, I bet I could escape for a little bit.”

“Perfect, I will let my siblings know. This is our address, but if you need one of us to pick you up, my number’s on there, too.” He slips you a piece of paper. “I look forward to seeing you again, darling.”

“I do, too, Kol,” you smile. 

With one last kiss to your hand, he disappears from sight. 

You show up on the Mikaelsons’ porch at seven in one of your best outfits, playing with your hair nervously after ringing the doorbell. When the door swings open, the girl - Rebekah - is on the other side. 

Before you can greet her, she looks you up and down, “wow… you are gorgeous.”

The redness rises back to your cheeks, “thank you.”

“No wonder my brothers are smitten with you.”

“Don’t lie, Rebekah,” Kol’s voice rings through the house, “you know you are too.”

She rolls her eyes, “come inside, dear. We promise we won’t bite.”

You follow her into the house, smiling as you pass the threshold into the mansion. “It’s beautiful in here.”

“Not as beautiful as you, darling.” 

You’re starting to pick up on the affectionate nicknames that each gives you. Elijah calls you ‘love’; Kol calls you ‘darling’; and Rebekah just used ‘dear’. It’s one thing that they’ve all called you beautiful, but they all have nicknames for you, too. If they get any more romantic, your heart will flutter right out of your chest. 

Just as you think that, they do. Elijah and Kol both kiss your hands as they greet you, making you weak in the knees. 

“Thank you for coming, love. I’m glad you could join us.”

“Thank you for inviting me. About that alibi, Kol, I’m gonna need it tomorrow. No doubt I’ll get some kind of spoon-on-head, one-nail-painted-black kind of challenge that I’ll fail, and have to find an excuse for.”

The boy laughs, having been told by Elijah about Caroline’s antics. “We will certainly come up with something. But for now, are you hungry?”

“Yes, actually. And I’m excited to know what you guys eat when you’re not drinking blood,” you joke. The giggle fades out once you see the kitchen table, though. From end to end, it’s covered in dishes. “Holy crap.”

“Only the best for a woman such as yourself,” Kol sends you a wink. 

Rebekah pulls a chair out for you. “Stick around, and you’ll find we actually have quite the appetite for more than blood.”

“Oh that was just a joke,” you say, afraid you’ve offended her.

“No worries. I know it was.”

Soon, you’re all seated, except for the head of the table. “Um. Don’t you guys have another brother?”

“Niklaus, yes,” Elijah smiles at you, “he’s painting at the moment, but he should be here shortly. I apologize for his absence.”

“It’s okay! I was just curious.”

Speak of the devil, Klaus enters the room not a minute later. Elijah gestures to you immediately, introducing you. Klaus, still skeptical as to why his siblings are so obsessed with you, has a threat prepared that sits on his tongue. The three wait for it to come out, expecting it, and ready to defend. However, as soon as he looks at you, his mind is wiped of all things foul and offensive.

“Hello, love,” he says instead. 

All four of you are caught off guard. The tension in the room was thick; you were expecting an insult, too. Not to mention how Caroline speaks so poorly of the man. 

“Hi,” you respond, voice smaller than you’d like, “nice to meet you.”

“You as well.” He sits down with a newfound attitude towards you. “Tell me, how do you like Mystic Falls?”

After you answer his question, the five of you talk for the next two hours, sharing every bit about yourselves. They learn how you’ve lived in Mystic Falls your whole life, and have barely traveled out of the town. You discover they were born in Norway, but were turned in this very town, some thousand years ago. You find common ground in the parents’ department, none of you having the best relationships with your parents, especially your fathers. Though you get a glimpse into the abuse that they all faced from their father, and feel an indescribable rage towards the man you’ve never met. This part of the conversation helps you understand each of them better, including how that fear and anger has made them into one of the most dangerous families - a term they admit describes them well.  

“Dangerous,” Rebekah says, “but fiercely protective over those we love.” 

“Quite exactly the reason we are so dangerous,” Elijah adds to her statement, “we will do anything to protect whomever we love.”

Hearing the word from their lips makes your body shiver. A thought passes through your head wondering if you’d ever be someone that they’d protect that much. Something deep in your soul tells you that you already are. 

After the childhood topic, conversation moves onto lighter subjects. Everyone’s favorite foods, shows, and pastimes are shared. You learn the birth order of the four siblings in front of you, and discover that there’s three others not present. One of them, alive, but so disgusted that they’re vampires that he refuses to associate with them. This, in turn, gets a truth out of you, 

“Well you don’t have to worry about me, I think vampires are sexy,” you say before covering your mouth. Too much wine, you suppose. “I mean, I just think they’re cool. There’s a reason the gang tries to keep me in the dark about everything that goes on in the town.”

Eyes go wide, but maybe for the sake of your embarrassed gesture, the topic moves onto the so-called perfect group of miscreants. After, it shifts to your alibi that will be used to explain your disappearance. 

“You were bored and went to a restaurant to study. Lost track of time,” Kol tries his best.

“Ran to the store for a much needed grocery trip,” Klaus provides after his brother’s failed idea.

“Or,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, “you just fell asleep.”

“Watching a movie and falling asleep,” Elijah finishes, “so that you have about an hour to be engrossed in the movie, but then you nod off into a deep sleep.”

“I think Caroline would buy that. She always does get after me for not answering immediately.”

“Perfect,” Klaus concedes, “now I would like to know more about what you think makes vampires so sexy,” he says, smirking at you. 

You blush for a second, but then can’t help spilling the truths stacked on your tongue. 

◇◇◇◇

After that night, you stay in contact with the Mikaelsons, and even visit their mansion for several more dinners. In time, you find yourself getting close with each one. Most nights, Rebekah walks you home, and always kisses your cheek before leaving. Sometimes, too, she’s in your kitchen, making coffee or tea when you wake up. Kol visits you everytime Caroline puts you on “house arrest”, and tries to help you study to the best of his ability. That, or he distracts you completely, begging you to watch a movie with him instead. You almost always give into him. Elijah keeps up his charms of kind words and gentle touches. The moment he learns what your favorite flower is, he brings you one every time he sees you. 

Between the siblings, Klaus is the least trusting and the last to give into his desire to know you. Though the more he sees you with the others, the more jealous he becomes, and eventually, he cracks. His first gesture towards you is a painting of you standing in the Mikaelsons’ ballroom. He says he could picture you dancing in it, someday, in a beautiful dress made tailored just for you. After that, he’s now just as smitten as his siblings. 

You love being with all of them, separately and together. One thing though - you find your heart being torn in four different ways, and it scares you. You can’t break one of their hearts, nor do you want to, but there’s no way you could be with all of them. Look how that went for Elena and the Salvatores.

Oh, and speaking of Elena… you still haven’t even told your friends that you’re even hanging out with the Mikaelsons, much less that you’re in love with them. You feel bad keeping secrets from them, but you know how they’ll react if they find out. Even if you can prove the family has been nothing but kind, they’ll be overprotective and most likely try to ban you from seeing them entirely.

“Maybe I can just tell one of them,” you wonder out loud one night. Tonight was easy to get out of your house; everyone went to the grill to drink and you played the ‘too tired’ card. Little did they know what you were actually going back to the family’s mansion.

“Who would you start with?” Rebekah asks from behind as she plays with your hair. 

“Caroline, maybe? I’m closest to her. But with Elena, I could use the excuse that she’s dating a vampire who’s almost just as dangerous.”

Klaus scoffs playfully, “almost as? Love, he doesn’t come close.”

“Well I know that, but some people think he’s pretty dangerous.”

“Oh he certainly is. But when it comes down to it, my family will always come out on top.” 

You remember the conversation from your first night meeting them. How you wondered if you’d ever be one they’d fight to the death to protect. Klaus answers this for you now. “Like we said before, we protect those we love. That includes you, little one.”

Your eyes snap up to him. “Me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We open our home to you; share our deepest and darkest secrets. We don’t do that with just anyone. There’s something different about you.”

“He’s right,” Kol comes beside you on the couch to sit down, “you’re one of us now.”

Elijah clears his throat, a little worried the two will scare you away, “if you’re comfortable with that, of course. Do not feel pressured in any way. We will not be upset.”

As he’s talking, you reach your hands out for Kol to lean against you. The youngest boy does, putting his head on your shoulder, while you wrap your arms around his neck. “Pressure? No, I don’t feel pressured. I love hanging out with you guys. I love-” you pause, blinking. You’re not sure what to say. 

“Y/N?” Elijah starts. 

“I’m… I don’t know… I’m confused, and I feel awful for it, but I… I don’t even know what to say.”

“What’s wrong, girlie?” Rebekah kisses the top of your head gently. The boys focus their attention on you fully. “I promise, whatever you say, you don’t have to feel awful.”

“Bekah’s right, you can tell us anything.”

“I just… I love you guys. I love being with you all as a family, but then, I don’t know, I love you all separately, too.” They say nothing, so you continue. “And it’s not just a friendly thing, either. It’s like blushing, butterflies in the stomach, wanting to be with you kind of love. Which would be okay if I fell for only one of you - well, actually, it wouldn’t, because then I’d hurt the rest of you - but it’s not just one. I love all of you like that.”

Elijah’s first to speak. “Why do you think that would be wrong?”

“What?”

“Why is that a bad thing to you?”

You stare at him, “I can’t have a thing with four different siblings. That’s crazy, right?”

You can’t see her face, but Rebekah’s smiling wide. “Are there any rules when it comes to love?”

And before you can answer her, Klaus follows up, ���crazy pretty much defines this family, I don’t know what you’re worried about.”

“Hold on,” you put up a finger, even more confused, but now for a different reason. “You are all okay with this?”

“We may have had a talk,” Elijah says, sitting down, “the night after you first came here. You see, we’ve all shared lovers before, so this is nothing new to us. However, usually they rotate. Start with Klaus, move onto Kol, have a fling with Bekah, start something with me, and then they go. But, as you’ve heard us say plenty a time, you’re much different.”

You nod, “so what was the talk?”

“Well, dear Y/N, none of us can quite keep our feelings about you to ourselves. Nor do we ever think we could tire of loving you.” Elijah’s slow and cryptic talk is making you antsy. Apparently, it’s frustrating Kol, too.

“Do you believe in soulmates, darling?”

“Soulmates? Um, ish? I mean, Caroline and I used to entertain the idea as kids.”

“Would it be absolutely crazy to entertain the possibility that you’ve met yours? And perhaps it to be in the form of four siblings to whom you’ve just admitted your love?”

“I-” slowly, it hits you. His words sink into your head and your heart at the same time. A fire burns, heating your palms, reddening your cheeks. 

“Because polyamory was a thing with the Ancient Greeks, though it’s not too common anymore. But then again, here you have four siblings who love you just as dearly. In that same ‘butterflies and a warm feeling’ that you described.”

“I, um…”

“If you had let me explain it, you wouldn’t have scared her,” Elijah chides his brother. 

“You were taking too long. I’ve been waiting a thousand years to tell this girl I love her.”

Hearing the three words finally broke the dam. Whatever fear you did have melts away instantly. “It’s okay,” you mutter. “It’s clear to me now. I do love you. All of you. As crazy as it sounds, I can’t deny my feelings; I don’t want to. I love you.”

Immediately, Kol spins around so he can kiss you properly. You kiss him back, relaxing into his hands which hold onto your face. As soon as he breaks it off, Rebekah mutters that he needs to move, and then she kisses you, too. 

“I just have one question,” you pant, out of breath from the excitement. 

“And what is that?”

“How do I know this isn’t going to end terribly, like how Stefan and Elena’s relationship did ever since she fell in love with his brother?”

“Because,” Klaus zips across the room to put less distance between you two, “we all love you and are quite capable of sharing. We’ve lived thousands of years together, and have been looking for you for thousands more.”

“Besides, there’s this cool thing called communication that we do that the Salvatores like to ignore. Take it from someone who’s slept with both,” Rebekah adds. 

You crinkle your nose at the information, “no more sleeping with Salvatores.” You pull her back in for another kiss, “you’re mine now.”

When you let go of Bex, Klaus steals his turn, and then Elijah. It’s a little overwhelming, but your worries are overpowered by how much love you feel from them, and by how much you want to give them in return.

After you all settle down, you let out a giggle. “I had nearly given up on the idea of finding my soulmate. Little did I know I’d be so lucky to have four.”

“Not as lucky as us,” Elijah claims the last word, “to have found our girl after thousands of years of searching.”

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hi there!

I have been looking in vain for fics with Non-verbal Dean or Castiel. I've read a couple but haven't been able to find anymore and the tagging system only seems to give me junk results not actually related to that.

Thank in advance for your help!

Hey! Here are a few fics we could think of:

All Cats Are Gray After Dark by squirrelofcelestialintent (Explicit, 19k words)

1992, NYC. Dean is a Gulf War veteran working in the grimiest ER in the city, and he’s holding his life together. Kind of? Maybe. But he’s got secrets. No one at work knows that he’s not physically mute due to a war injury, but rather selectively mute from way back in the day, because that is almost impossible to explain. Nobody but Sam knows he’s a rare, male Omega, and the discovery of that secret was why he got kicked out of the army. And nobody, absolutely nobody, knows that he occasionally sneaks out to have anonymous sex with men. Until he meets Castiel freaking Novack - anonymous hook up turned new boss - who in less than a month manages to find out all three.

Casicorn by everandanon (Explicit, 56k words)

When Detective Dean Winchester suddenly finds himself with a new roommate, a mysterious man who doesn’t speak but seems to somehow be connected to the department’s recent vigilante problem, he has no idea what he’s in for. The guy doesn’t know how to work a TV, brush his teeth, or even take a shower, and he stares at Dean all the goddamn time. Not to mention he insists on sleeping in Dean’s bed. While Dean is in it! Weird, right? Except the longer Cas sticks around, the less Dean starts to mind; the more he kind of dreads Cas leaving for good, actually, even though nobody really knows who Cas is or where he came from. And then, one night, Dean happens to witness their vigilante firsthand and realizes he knows Cas even less than he thought . . . (Loosely inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Finding You In Every Sign by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 99k words)

Castiel was content with the constant flow of his life. He had his brother Gabriel, had his coffee shop and the weekly book club meetings as well as a small but solid group of friends. If there was one thing his hateful family had taught him, it was how fast things could go wrong if he let too many variables shape his life. So when he met Dean, a gradual regular at his shop, Castiel knew he was trouble, because Dean was like a comet, beautiful but beyond reach. Ever since his father died, there wasn’t a single constant in Dean’s life. Moving on, never stopping, never getting attached to one thing for too long had made him a drifter for the past seven years. Being the only hearing person in his family hadn’t been easy with a father like John Winchester, so as soon as Dean saw an escape, he took it. Settling down to open his flower shop was anything but easy, especially when he met the elusive deaf owner of the coffee shop next door. The more he discovered about Cas, the louder the voice in the back of his head whispered that maybe Castiel was the person finally worth staying for. And maybe, just maybe, Dean was willing to listen now.

Hear You Me by through_shadows_falling (Explicit, 84k words)

Castiel is a college graduate stuck in two dead-end, part-time jobs. Oh, and he’s Deaf…which to his oldest brother Michael makes him something to constantly fret over. It’s not Castiel’s fault that he doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, right? Not like it’s Michael’s business anyways. Enter Dean Winchester. A chance encounter with the man has the power to change Castiel’s life - and in the end, maybe, just maybe, it will help him finally understand and accept who he is and what he’s meant to do.

i saw the light by LoversAntiquities (Mature, 14k words)

“Sam, you gotta hear about this ghost story I found the other day,” Susanne says over the speakerphone, just as loud as she has been for the last half hour. For the most part, Castiel ignores her—or tries—and concentrates on the beads dangling from between his fingers, centerpiece pressed to his forehead. Praying doesn’t work, but some mornings, when the coffee doesn’t get him going and the walls feel more like a prison than a home, he sits at the library table and whispers empty words into the crucifix, like Jesus can ease the festering ache in his chest. He can’t—no one else can either.

late july by thanks_tacos (Explicit, 26k words)

'I would like to take in your most abused one,' Castiel says, looking at the rows of doors in the yellow corridor. 'Give him a good home.' After his accident, Castiel needs someone to help him around the small brick house he lives in and the bookstore he owns. So, he adopts Dean; an omega who barely survived being dumped in a ditch and left for dead. Dean doesn't talk, but that's fine; they learn to live together in the quaint, rainy city surrounded by a green forest. Castiel just wants to give Dean a peaceful life he deserves, and maybe also - become his mate?

Looking for a Sign by emwebb17 (Mature, 70k words)

Dean can't figure out why the hot guy on the train is ignoring him…that is until he realizes that the man is profoundly deaf. After an unpleasant misunderstanding, the two become friends. It isn't long before Dean wants more, but Castiel sticks steadfastly to his rule about not dating hearing people. When Dean starts to date other people to try to get over him, Castiel starts to wonder if maybe Dean is the exception to the rule.

No Words by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 112k words)

On the run from his very powerful family, Castiel does his best to get lost. Because if he doesn’t know where he is, his brothers won’t be able to find him very easily either. He ends up in Silverton, a small mountain town nestled deep within the Rocky Mountains where he meets Dean Winchester, a very beautiful and very grumpy omega.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and up, 4k)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

Still Waters Run Deep by thisisapaige (Explicit, 41k words)

In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak. It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood. In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate. Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

The Hanged Man by orphan_account (Mature, 87k words)

After Park Ranger Cas Novak saves a mysterious stranger named Dean from an attempted murder in the woods, he finds himself drawn into the man's secretive life. Someone tried to kill Dean, but he's not telling who. In fact, he's barely speaking at all. If he's going to have any hope of helping Dean, Cas will have to convince the man to trust him — all while trying not to fall in love with him along the way.

We also have a mute tag with more fics like these. Also if you search for 'selectively mute dean' or 'mute dean' (or cas if you prefer cas) on ao3 you might get lucky as well.

[jinkoh]

being selfish

jacob x gn!reader

part of my soulmate series

summary: jacob doesn't need a soulmate, after all he has you. so why do these marks have to show up on his body now?

tags: soulmate au (sharing bruises), established relationship, angst; SFW, warnings: vague non graphic descriptions of bruises

wc: 1.1k

a/n: i know i mentioned about sang being up next but then i finished jacobs part in time for his birthday so ofc he had to come first~

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When he spotted small bruises here or there, Jacob thought nothing of it. He must have bumped into something without noticing, these things happen. After all, he was already 27. If he had a soulmate, he would have known by now. And it wasn’t like he wanted one—he’d already found his home in you. He didn’t need fate to tell him that you were the one, he knew that well by himself.

However when a huge bruise appeared on his back, it got a little hard to find an explanation for it that wasn’t a soulmate he hadn’t been aware of. It threw him off, because he had long come to terms with the fact that he didn’t have one. He’d been a little disappointed about it as a child and a teenager, jealous of his friends who seemed to have these connections he could only dream of. But when he’d met you a few years ago, it almost seemed lucky, because you were the same, because you could find your soulmates in each other even without any shared bruises. But now it suddenly seemed like his long buried desire for a fated love was being answered to, way too late and without the choice to opt out. 

Jacob didn’t know what to do. What was the right path for a situation like this? He knew he had to tell you sooner or later, but the consequences scared him. Was it okay to stay with you despite having a soulmate? Would that be unfair to them? Would that be unfair to you? Jacob didn’t know.

To his dismay he couldn’t hide it for long. You were attentive enough to notice that he stopped changing in front of you and you saw the difference in the way he was looking at you. So really, it was a trick question when you let your fingers trace over his lower arm one evening, asking where the small bruise came from that he hadn’t even noticed himself yet.

He stared at you like a deer caught in headlights. It was quiet for a good five seconds before he could finally muster a reply. “I don’t know. Just…somewhere.” 

You gave him a small sad smile. “It’s someone else’s, isn’t it?”

Jacob pressed his lips together, unable to confirm it even when you clearly already knew. It pained him to see you look at him like that and he felt guilty for not having the courage to tell you first, putting you in a position where you had to puzzle the pieces together by yourself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why are you sorry? Isn’t that good news? You have a soulmate, that’s a beautiful thing.” You clearly tried to smile, but your voice was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. Jacob felt like he was going to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated and his own voice sounded strained and unfamiliar.

“Isn’t it better to find out now? Imagine we would have gotten married already, that would have made things so complicated.” It was a horrible attempt at gallows humor, and the fact that Jacob had a small velvet box hidden away in his nightstand, waiting there from before he’d started noticing the bruises, only made it worse. He wanted to cry. Maybe he already was. If only he could have kept the secret a little longer, if only he could have lived in the pretense that there was only him and you for a few more weeks. Then he could have daydreamed about asking you to marry him instead of having to return the ring to the shop. He could have imagined what your wedding would be like and how you’d smile at him brightly while walking down the aisle. But of course you wouldn’t want to marry someone who had a soulmate waiting for him. It would be so unfair to expect you to stay with him while someone else’s bruises showed up on his skin. And it would be unfair to his soulmate too, because maybe they were eagerly looking forward to the day they’d meet and how awful would it be to find their soulmate already happily married? Maybe ending things was the only right thing to do, regardless of what Jacob wanted himself. 

He dropped his face into his hands, screwing his eyes shut in hopes not to cry, but his cheeks were already wet with tears.

“It’s okay,” you assured, your voice soothing even through your own tears. “I’ll be okay. And I’ll make it easy on you, I won’t make a scene.”

If he’d had a little more courage he would have said that he wanted you to make a scene, he wanted you to be angry and to fight and to tell him not to go. He didn’t want you to accept fate this easily and he couldn’t tell if it was your selflessness or if you couldn’t bear the thought of staying with him if a soulmate was part of the equation.

“How could it ever be easy on me?” He pressed out, lowering his hands to look at you.

“I know,” Your lower lip was trembling and your fingers found his wrist to rub circles into his skin that were either meant to soothe him or yourself. “I know. But just this once, think only about yourself, about what you want. It’s okay, Jacob. You can be selfish now.”

“Can I really?”

There were tears streaming down your face, but you still smiled when you gave him a small nod and the sight of it tore him apart inside. 

“Okay,” he said, cupping your cheeks and catching your tears with his thumbs, “I’ll be selfish.”

Then he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours so carefully as if it was your first time.

“What are you doing?” you whispered in confusion when your lips parted.

“Being selfish,” he replied before he leaned in to kiss you again. “Didn’t you tell me to think only about what I want?”

“I did, but—”

“And what I want more than anything is to be with you. I don’t care about soulmates and shared bruises or whatever. It can never be worth losing you. So I’m staying.” He leaned his forehead against yours, “Please let me stay.”

At his words, new tears were welling up in your eyes and you barely managed to stop the sobs wanting to escape your throat. All this time, this had been what you wanted more than anything, but you’d been too scared to voice it, too worried about ruining his chances at happiness. But maybe this was enough for him, maybe he’d already found his happiness here with you.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. “Yes,” you pressed out through your tears, “Please stay.” 

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[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 14 ⬅ch.13

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | lil nsfw. wc 3.6k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | sorry this took so long!!! next ch will be out very soon because i am foaming at the mouth writing it..

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭��𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

one thing you hadn’t really given much thought to was the fact that your relationship with your lieutenant would be frowned upon. 

everything about the two of you was forbidden. he was your direct superior while you worked on his team. he was in a much higher position of power than a measly cadet or even a sergeant. if others found out, you were risking your position. you might even get switched to a whole new division. of course, simon would be fine given his importance to price and shepherd. but you? you were expendable. you could be replaced. 

simon read your thoughts as they crossed your mind that following morning. “feelin’ regretful?” you had fallen asleep beside him that night, locked away in this little bubble the two of you had created. once you stepped out of his room, you’d be hit with the harsh reality of the complexity of your situation. the forbidden fortitude that stood between the two of you. 

“no, i…” your words trailed off as you shifted on the balls of your feet. you had to get to the infirmary for your shift, but an invisible force was telling you not to leave this room. that when you crossed the threshold, everything was going to fall apart. or you’d be jolted awake, everything that had happened between the two of you last night would all have been a dream. 

simon wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to do this if it was too much for you. but if he voiced that, there was a very real possibility you would take his words and resonate with them—that he wasn’t enough for all this trouble. and he was selfish , so he stayed quiet.

you twirled your hands anxiously together as you debated walking through the door. simon approached you from behind, his shadow sending a shiver down your spine. he wore sweats and a fitted exercise shirt. his hand brushed the tendrils of hair away that hung on the back of your neck, making goosebumps rise in their wake. 

he had never been a very touchy person. he didn’t need physical contact to know someone cared about him, or vice versa. but after feeling you against his body—the warmth of your skin, the softness of your hands, the silkiness of your hair—he had a desire to always be touching you. ever since that night in the bar bathroom, the feel of your plush skin beneath his, he was entranced. he felt like he had a pulled muscle in his hand ever since, his body just itching to have you connected back against him. 

“no one will find out, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout,” he said, wanting to reassure you. 

you turned to face him, his hand falling to your hip. the words were right there, but they felt tight in your throat as you gazed up at him, his eyes locked on yours. he was always so intense. 

“you don’t know that.”

his lip quirked at the corner ever so slightly. “no one’s gonna be thinkin’ i’m foolin’ around with ya.”

you tilted your head. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

his fingers tightened their grip on your hip. “need me to spell it out for ya?” 

you scowled at him and his eyes danced between yours. 

“you’re sweet n’kind, makin’ friends with everyone here. ‘n i’m…” he paused, and you were able to fill in what he meant. he was a scary, hardass. “no one’s gonna look twice if they see us together in the hall. no one will be thinkin’ there's anythin’ happenin’ here.”

“no one would suspect you of being with me because i’m so…what? innocent? and you’re not?” you crossed your arms in annoyance, but you knew he was onto the right idea.

he chuckled and your heart stopped for a brief second. “kinda. yeah.”

“i don’t think you know how their minds work.”

“no?” he questioned, a dark look in his eyes. he backed you up so you were pressed to his door, trapped in his arms on either side of you now. “tell me. what would they be thinkin’, then? since you seem t’know them so well.”

you swallowed hard as simon’s eyes trailed down to your lips, his face leaning in quite close to yours. “you… uhm. well… you’re seen as what every guy here wishes they could be.”

“that so?” he said coyly. 

“you know… you’re more skilled—more feared—than any other man here. they all wish they could be you.”

“they’d regret it the second they got their wish”

“i’m serious,” you said, trying to get him to listen to your words fully. “they admire you in an i-wish-i-was-as-badass-and-as-feared-as-he-is sort of way. and that kind of admiration carries on into all aspects. they definitely all think you’re better than them beyond what they can see.”

“where is this goin’?” 

your hands reached out and grabbed onto his shirt, pulling his waist closer to you. simon’s eyes flickered down to watch, then back up. 

“they think you get all the women you could possibly want. and then some. because that’s what they’d imagine for themselves if they were a war hero.”

“hero s’bit of a stretch.”

you rolled your eyes. “so we may be on different… calibers. but they probably think you’ve fucked every girl on base already. i’m just another check on your list.”

“s’not true.”

“i didn’t say it was. just what they think.”

you were looking at his chest as you spoke. 

“that make y’jealous?”

your eyes darted to his. “what? no.” your cheeks were suddenly ten degrees warmer. 

“s’not against the rules to sleep with ya. i don’t see the problem.” right. they couldn’t technically stop you from sleeping with teammates, but they could put a stop to things if it went beyond that.

“all i’m saying is they might suspect something if we’re around each other too much.”

he hummed in acknowledgment. though, you suspected he understood what you meant long before that moment. 

“so i jus’ won’t do this out there, then,” he said before crashing his lips against yours. 

you made a squealing noise in the back of your throat, not expecting his kiss. your hands clutched his shirt tighter in your fists as he attacked you. he rolled his hips against yours in desperation and you heard him grunt. it took everything in you to break away. “i–i have to get to my shift,” you said breathlessly. 

he kissed you again before taking a step back, letting his hands fall to his side so you could open the door. you felt a bit dumbfounded at his stark switch, his clutch on you disappearing almost instantaneously. “oh, okay,” you muttered, understanding he was letting you leave. 

was he annoyed at you?

you turned the door handle but his hands were faster as he spun you around. you yelped in surprise. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke. “i’ll find you tonight.”

and with that, he let you go and strolled over to his bathroom, likely to shower. 

you blinked several times from the whiplash before grinning like an idiot and heading out of his room.

your hand ticked with anxiety as you typed medical reports into your computer in the office of the infirmary. tomorrow you were accompanying the crew on another mission. price had seemed to think you fit in well enough to keep working with the guys. 

you misspelled the same word several times, sighing as you repeatedly hit the backspace on your keyboard. this meant that you were going to be in close quarters with all the men for the foreseeable future, no one quite knowing how long things would take hunting down hassan. and currently, your relationship with simon had to be kept a secret. the overwhelming anxiety about someone finding out filled you to no end. 

“shit,” you mumbled to yourself as you, miffed as you screwed up another set of numbers. 

you finally pushed away from your desk and let your hands fall to your lap, taking a quick breather. 

not only were you worried about hiding this thing between you and simon, but you had an unsettling feeling that things might be… weird between the two of you. it was only yesterday afternoon that you thought he hated you—when he was messing with your head. and suddenly you were his girlfriend? it was happening so fast you weren’t sure how to digest it. 

what if you didn’t do the things he expected from you? what if he ended up changing his mind and deciding you’re too awkward to be with? did he expect you to sneak off to sleep in the same spot as him while in the field? did he want you to talk to him during travel time? or would that make things too obvious? or did he simply want the peace and quiet? 

so many things muddled your brain. 

“you alright?” one of your medic friends asked you. 

you spun in your wheely chair to face her. “peachy.”

she smirked, writing something down on the clipboard she was holding. “nervous about leaving tomorrow?”

you brushed some imaginary lint off your uniform. “i mean, i’ve gone with them multiple times now.”

“i didn’t ask you how many times you’ve gone off with them, i asked if you were nervous.”

your eyes darted to hers. “maybe a little…”

she sat back against the counter and rested the clipboard on her upper thighs. “shit. i would be too if i was responsible for keeping 141 alive.”

you rolled your eyes. “very comforting.”

she smirked. “i’d also be giddy as hell if i were you. some of us never see action… not that that’s a bad thing. but, i know for a fact some of the others are jealous price picked you out of all of us.”

“they are?”

“mhm. think he’s playin’ favorites.”

“what?” your eyes widened in defense. “price definitely does not favor me. besides, it’s scary as hell. i mean, you know what happened to me last time…”

“no, i get it. i’m on your side. but to work besides the captain? and ghost? yeah, some of these men would kill for that opportunity.”

“oh. i didn’t realize…” you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat. “maybe the captain would reconsider someone else going in my stead. i don’t mind…”

she shook her head at you, pushing herself away from the counter. “i wasn’t tellin’ you all this to try and get you to fold. fuck those guys. you earned your way there whether they like it or not. what you’re doing is amazing and kind of crazy.” she grinned. “you know what you should do? smile at them when you walk by. that’ll piss them off. its not your fault they’re so incompetent price had to pick a woman .” she gave you a sarcastic grin with her last words, mocking what she had heard the other men around her saying about you out of frustration. 

she reminded you of all the things soap had said to you—all his words of encouragement. you felt stupid needing praise in order to get by. you remember ghost asking if you were expecting a good job and a pat on the back for doing what you were supposed to. 

he was right. but still, you appreciated your friend’s words.

“thanks,” you said as you stood. 

“girls gotta have girls’ backs, right?” she smiled before walking back out into the wing to attend to patients. 

it was getting late as you stared at the clock’s hand on the wall. your shift was about to end and you were feeling a little anxious about what to do. was simon really going to find you tonight? would he knock at your door knowing your roommate might be in her bunker? was he expecting you to go to him? 

you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, going to exit the infirmary wing. maybe you’d stop by his room… or would that seem too clingy? you hated how much you were overthinking everything. you hadn’t done this in any of your previous relationships, so why now?

your overactive mind was cut off when you strolled out of the room, crashing into a large body. you looked up, a little astonished and in disbelief, as the masked man looked down at you, his hands steadying you. 

“simon? what are you doing— oh, shit —sorry. i meant ghost…” you looked around the hall to make sure you were alone and no one overheard you saying ghost’s real name. that would just raise suspicions. 

his large warm hands squeezed your shoulders. “would y’relax?” 

your head turned to look up at him, his soft balaclava covering the scars you had now known were spread across his face. 

“i’m sorry, i just… i don’t know what i’m doing,” you said, taking an interest in your feet. 

his hand slid under your chin and tilted it up. “neither do i.”

“well, that certainly is a recipe for disaster,” you said softly, earning a chuckle from simon. 

his eyes bore into yours and you felt the need to fill the silence. “my roommate will be in my room.”

simon dropped his hand. “mhm.”

“i’m just saying, you can’t come there.” 

he nodded. “i know.”

your fingers pulled at a loose thread of your uniform as you spoke. “and we leave early tomorrow, someone might see me leaving your room if i stay there…”

“quite observant.”

you scoffed, a bit of the pressure leaving your shoulders at his playful tone. “what i’m saying is, what are you doing here?”

he pushed his mask up to reveal a smirk on his lips. you gasped and looked around the hall again. “simon, what if someone—”

he cut you off by grabbing your cheek and turning your face towards him. he immediately crashed his lips to yours. a brief swooning feeling filled your chest as his thumb brushed soft strokes to your cheek. your body melded against his perfectly, his hand holding your lower back, dragging you into him. all of the anxiety momentarily fled from your body as simon consumed your every sense. 

his soft stubble ticked you as he moved his mouth gently against yours. you whined unconsciously as he went a bit harder, his tongue desperate as it slid into your mouth. his hand on your cheek caught the wall behind you, preventing you both from falling as he pushed against you, your body obeying his every move, your back arching into him. 

he groaned softly as he pulled away. it was almost painful for him to stop so soon, but he knew how risky this was. you panted as you caught your breath, his arm still clung around your lower waist.

his eyes danced between yours, his face still dangerously close to yours. “didn’t wanna g’to sleep without doin’ that first.”

your face warmed. “i didn’t take you for such a romantic,” you lightly teased.

he smiled before pulling his mask back down and standing straight up. the loss of his body against yours was something you didn’t expect to feel so vehemently. “there's a lot of things y’don’t know ‘bout me.”

simon traced the smile on your lips as you stared up at him. he felt like he didn’t deserve any of this. his hand tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and he gave you one last lookover before turning to walk away.

you called out to him before he could get far. “are you okay with me coming tomorrow?” he stopped in his tracks. “i mean, are you okay after what happened….”

his hand balled into a fist before he looked over his shoulder at you. “can’t say i'm thrilled with the idea.”

“but you’ll be there,” you added. he was going to be there to watch you. not that you needed it, but if he was worried about you getting taken again, or hurt—

“m’not a hero. i can’t always be there to save you.” there was something harsh lingering in his words. it wasn’t directed at you, but himself. as if he was to blame for not being able to control fate.

his eyes averted your own. 

“i know that. i was just saying—”

“i know what you’re sayin’” he snapped. you swallowed hard and he took a breath. “no, m’not glad you’re comin’, as much as i wanna see you. m’worried m’gonna be so focused on you the entire time, makin’ sure you’re safe, i’ll mess somethin’ up. get someone else killed.” he took a frustrated breath, seeing the hurt lingering in your eyes as he spoke. “and if something were to happen t’you…” he paused briefly. “i was there last time, and look what happened.”

“simon, that wasn’t your—”

he stepped closer to you, his hands on his hips as he towered above you. “jus’ promise me you’ll be careful. diligent.”

with your lips slightly parted, you nodded. 

“good.”

his fingers found your chin, his thumb stroking across the soft of your lips. and it seemed like there was something else he wanted to say, something he was contemplating. but he just gave you one final look before taking off down the hall. 

you woke to vigorous knocking on your door. your roommate rolled over in her bed, “what the fuck.”

you quickly got up, eyes blurred, and opened it to find soap. “soap? what time is it?”

“we gotta go, lass. grab your shit.”

“wait, what?”

“leavin’ earlier than expected. el sin nombre’s having a…” he searched for the word,  “ party in las almas tonight.” his eyes looked behind you briefly. “that your bag?” you turned then nodded. “grab it and let's go.”

you changed frantically and slung your bag over your shoulder before hustling down the barracks to the port. 

it was two in the morning, the sun a long way from coming up. you stepped outside onto the gravel, several men throwing things into the humvee you were to be taking. 

you came up beside price who was saying something to gaz. “iaso, good, you’re here.”

“course, captain.”

he gestured his head to the back of the vehicle. “get in. we’re departin’ in two.”

johnny came up behind you and patted your back. “lookin’ good,” he mocked, referring to your disarray. 

“sorry, i didn’t exactly have the time to get dolled up.”

he chuckled before climbing into the humvee. he stretched out a hand and heaved you up. you quickly did a head count, noticing a certain skull-wearing man was missing. 

you sat between soap and graves. you nervously looked over at him and said “hi,” settling your bag between your legs. something about graves always made you a bit on edge. and having him here, right now, made the hairs on your neck rise. he would usually meet on location. he didn’t typically travel with the team very often.

he glanced at you and gave a polite nod. soap leaned over to speak quietly in your ear. “we’ll be meetin’ alejandro there.”

“right.”

like a sixth sense, you could feel him looking at you. ghost stepped onto the humvee and sat across from you, his eyes tracing you intently. you smiled at him and shifted uncomfortably under his watch. it was so hard to read what he was thinking under that mask. eventually, he looked away, staring at something else that caught his attention. 

it felt so weird. everything about this felt weird. you were… dating your lieutenant. that sentence sounded so strange, like it wasn’t supposed to be strung together. 

and here he was, his knees mere inches from yours, and you had to pretend like everything between the two of you was strictly professional. 

you listened to the rumble of the humvee and the soft words soap muttered to you. it would take hours to get to las almas. eventually, you fell asleep, the sky still dark and filled with stars. it was a restless sleep absent of dreams. 

the rumbling of the motor came to a brief lull, shaking you from your nap. you sat up, realizing your head had been resting against graves' shoulder. “oh my god,” you said rather faintly. “i’m sorry, i didn't mean to–”

“s’okay,” he said. “would never complain having a pretty lady falling asleep on me.” 

your face warmed and you heard soap chuckle on the other side of you. “i know yer depraved, but she’s off limits,” soap joked. 

graves shook his head, likely thinking back to soap’s similar words that night in the bar. he nodded at you, then got up and left the humvee. 

you turned to soap, whispering. “what was that about?”

soap adjusted his tac vest. “what’dya mean?”

“ off limits ,” you mimicked. your chest tightened, worried soap had already somehow found out about you and lt.

soap stood up and stretched. “i was jus’ tryna help you. but, hey, if that’s the road y’wanna go down, be my guest,” he said, holding up his hands. he smirked at you before getting out. 

you quickly gathered your bag and stood, your chest colliding with ghost’s. “s-sorry,” you muttered, looking up at him and then quickly looking away.

“you’re makin’ it obvious by tryna not be obvious,” he mumbled so only you could hear him. 

“right,” you said. you nodded at him, similar to the way graves had respectfully nodded at you, and you climbed out of the humvee into the early morning light. 

ghost’s hand clenched as he watched you. sure, he was possessive—a bit overprotective too—but this feeling of jealousy was a new feeling for him. or, rather, it was a feeling he hadn’t experienced to its full extent in years. 

but watching you rest on graves' shoulder, nothing he could do about it… filled his chest with rage he knew he had to subdue, and fast. the last thing you all needed was a messy mission. 

chapter 15 ➡

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 2: "Of Drinking and Dishonesty"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.9k

a/n: Enjoy the next little angsty installment for this series! I've been having fun writing a bit more about the college period than expected and our next installment gets angstier. Because who does Matt date in college? Yup. She's here. You can find the entire list of installments for this series here. Feedback is always appreciated if you're enjoying the series as well!

Tag list: @theetherealbloom @rotscinema

“Okay, okay, so I took Punjabi and didn’t learn anything. Big deal!” Foggy said, waving a dismissive hand. “At least I got to talk to that really hot chick in class.”

“But that’s all you did,” Matt pointed out. “You never even managed to get her number.”

Foggy let out a sigh, a faraway look on his face as he gazed just past Matt’s shoulder. You giggled at the sight; you’d heard the story about the girl Fog had taken Punjabi just to talk to many times before, but it never failed to amuse you how little he’d actually learned because he’d been distracted by her instead.

“So what about you?” Matt asked. 

He turned in your direction, leaning his elbows along the table and drawing himself closer to you. Your fingers were fiddling nervously with the beer bottle on the table in front of you, absently peeling the label from it. The way Matt was focused on you with that little grin on his mouth in the dimly lit bar had sent your heart racing, the weight of his sightless gaze on you behind his dark glasses making you nervous. For a moment your eyes lingered on his lips, wondering just how great of a kisser he might be. How it might feel if he just leaned a bit closer towards you and connected his mouth to yours. Or what it would be like to curl up with him in your bed after this, feel his tongue in your mouth and his hands roaming your body instead of someone else’s…

You cleared your throat, shoving those thoughts quickly away. You flushed when you realized you’d been staring silently at Matt, his brows having started to rise curiously onto his forehead at you.

“What about me?” you asked awkwardly.

“I never hear you talk about going on dates or taking classes just to meet a guy,” Matt said, that grin still on his mouth. “I think it’s your turn to spill some embarrassing stories.”

You met Foggy’s eyes on your other side, his smile faltering at Matt’s question. Swallowing hard, your gaze quickly dropped down as you focused on your beer bottle in front of you again. You shrugged in response.

“Guess no one’s caught my eye,” you lied.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Matt shaking his head. Looking back up at him, you noticed his grin had widened on his perfect mouth. Immediately you frowned at the sight.

“Come on, be honest here,” Matt pressed, leaning even closer to you as one of his dark brows rose up onto his forehead. “You’ve never taken a class just to talk to someone? Or anything like that?”

You exhaled slowly, eyes falling away from Matt. It’s not like you could be entirely truthful here. Maybe you hadn’t taken a class to get to know someone you’d had a crush on like Foggy, or asked for assistance to intentionally get some one-on-one time with someone like Matt had often done. But you had become best friends with the guy you had a thing for. Rearranged your entire schedule to fit his so you could see him almost every day despite how utterly pathetic it often made you feel. 

But you certainly couldn’t admit that .

“Don’t tell me there’s no one you have a thing for,” Matt urged after a moment. “I won’t believe you.”

His arm slid across the table to nudge yours in a friendly, playful gesture. Your eyes instantly dropped down to where he’d touched you, your arm feeling like that single, brief touch had sent a burning fire through your entire body. But when your eyes darted back up to Matt’s face, your attention was drawn to just over his shoulder. There was a young woman in a group of a few others back at the bar, and it was obvious how her attention kept shifting back to Matt, checking him out.

Shoulders slumping, your head dropped low as you focused back on your beer bottle. That jealous, dejected feeling washed over you. It was one you’d become familiar with lately, feeling it whenever Matt was flirting, or being checked out, or out on a date, or clearly out having sex with someone. 

“Not anyone who’d ever notice me,” you muttered.

“Oh well now I’m sure that’s not true,” Matt said good-naturedly. “How could someone not notice you? You’re amazing. Right, Fog?”

Your head flew up, eyes going wide at Matt’s compliment. He’d called you amazing. Matt had never said anything like that before about you. Your mind suddenly was spiraling in a different direction for once, thoughts quickly running through your mind one after another.

Could Foggy have been right? Was it possible Matt maybe did have an interest in you? Maybe all this time all you’d needed to do was just tell him how you felt. Maybe he’d never asked you on a date before because you weren’t forward with your feelings like all of the other women who’d very openly flirted with him. 

Maybe it was just as simple as that.

“I tell her that all the time,” Foggy agreed easily. “And I’m sure whoever this guy is sees it, too.”

He shot you a pointed look before his eyes darted meaningfully across the table to Matt. Slowly your gaze followed where Foggy’s had, attention returning back to Matt. He had focused back on you as well, that beautiful charming smile of his on his mouth. Biting your lip, you contemplated thinking up some way to just tell Matt how you felt here and now and put everything out there in the open. Especially before the girl making eyes at him could come over and steal him away for the night. But before you could open your mouth, Matt was continuing on.

“You should really give yourself more credit,” he told you. “Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.”

Hope was quickly rising in your chest, your body suddenly feeling weightless. “You–you think so?” you asked him cautiously.

“Absolutely,” he answered, one hand coming up to readjust his dark glasses on his nose. “You’re a sweet, intelligent girl. And you’re funny as hell. Honestly, I was not expecting you to be as hilarious as you are.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

Beside you, you noticed the way Foggy’s wide eyes were darting back and forth between you and Matt like he was just waiting for the moment one of you admitted feelings or something. It felt like your stomach was filling with hundreds of anxious butterflies all flapping about inside of you as that hope only bloomed further in you. 

“Oh, definitely,” Matt said with a nod. “You’re like a female Foggy. Which is high praise, because Foggy is the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.”

Instantly you deflated as if Matt had just punched you in the gut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

Mouth dropping open, you sat there dumbfounded and hurt. Every ounce of hope that maybe you’d misread the situation–maybe he didn’t see you as just a friend–immediately dropped into your half finished bottle of beer and drowned. Your chest felt hollow as Matt’s smile briefly faltered before you. 

Attention returning back towards Foggy on your left, you saw him shooting you that all-too-familiar sad smile again. You wanted to crawl under the table and cry at the sight of it.

“You’re both suddenly really quiet,” Matt pointed out, his tone a bit nervous. “Did I–I say something wrong?”

You couldn’t look at him, your gaze dropping yet again to the table before you. Tears pricked at your eyes as you tried to fight them back, clearing your throat as you blinked hard a few times. 

“No,” you answered softly. “Thanks, Matt.”

“You–you sound upset,” he pointed out. “What’d I say wrong?”

“Dude,” Foggy began immediately, “you just told her she was best friend material when you were supposed to be giving her encouragement that she is more than that.”

“What? No,” Matt said quickly.

Your eyes caught sight of how fast his head turned in your direction out of your peripheral. That hollow feeling felt like it was only growing in your chest the longer you sat here. Maybe you should just call it a night and head back to your dorm before it swallowed you whole.

“That’s not what I meant,” Matt said earnestly. 

He said your name, his hand reaching out and feeling along the table before it eventually landed on your wrist. Your eyes snapped shut, your jaw clenching at the contact of his skin on yours when his fingers encircled your wrist. It wasn’t helping.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you were just friend material,” he continued. “That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong.”

“It’s fine, Matt, I get it,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“No, hey, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot,” he said in a rush, his hand holding tighter to your wrist. “Please don’t get upset. I just meant you’re a really great person, one of the best I’ve ever met. I’m sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“Yeah, alright,” you said with a nod, desperate for him to just stop.

“How about this,” Matt said, his tone picking up to something brighter, “you bring me with to meet this guy, and I’ll be the best wingman ever." 

You slipped your wrist out from Matt’s hold, no longer interested in sitting here and finishing your beer. Walking home in the cool evening and crying sounded vastly more appealing. Abruptly shoving your chair out, the legs of it making an irritating screech along the floor that was audible over the pop music playing, you slipped out of your seat.

“You heading back already?” Foggy asked, that knowing look on his face.

“Yeah, early class tomorrow,” you answered.

“Wait, hang on,” Matt said, pushing his own chair back as he turned in his seat towards you. “If you’re leaving because I upset you, I’m sorry.”

You sighed, pushing your chair back into the table so he wouldn’t end up tripping over it when he inevitably got up. “I’m leaving because I have an early class in the morning, Matt,” you deadpanned.

Your eyes caught the brief twitch of his eyebrows on his forehead as if he somehow knew you were lying. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could try to apologize yet again. That, too, wasn’t helping. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” you said quickly, shooting Foggy a wave as you took a step back.

“Dining hall for lunch tomorrow?” Fog asked hopefully.

“Sure,” you answered, shooting him a tight smile. Turning, you muttered under your breath, “If I even have an appetite by then.”

Weaving your way through the fairly busy bar, you eventually made it to the exit. You pushed the door open, stepping out into the chilly late spring evening. You felt a bit of the tension easing from your body already, the street noise of the city vastly preferable to you than being in Matt’s proximity right now. You couldn’t sit there any longer listening to him apologize to you for viewing you as only a best friend. 

You were an idiot to have thought there was hope for something more between you both. Of course he was only saying nice things that a friend would say to another friend to make them feel better and build them up. It was the same thing he’d probably say to Foggy if he was interested in a girl. How stupid you were to think of it as anything else. 

Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date.

You laughed bitterly at his comment, your arms hugging tight to your chest as you made the short trek back to campus and towards your dorm. Any guy except for Matt would be lucky to take you on a date, that’s basically what you gathered this evening. Matt was probably going to be hit on by that girl at the bar in a matter of minutes. You were positive he’d end up in either her dorm or his shortly afterwards. But you were not someone Matt would take on a date.

A frown twisted your mouth downwards, tears stinging at your eyes. You didn’t want to think about yet another conquest for Matt. It felt shitty that Matt would sleep with almost any girl on campus except for you. Not that that’s all you wanted from him–because you wanted vastly more than to just fuck him–but it made you feel like there was something wrong with you. 

Why weren’t you good enough? What was so different about you that Matt didn’t want you like he did with those other girls?

A tear slipped down your cheek and you reached a hand up, wiping it away. Seconds later you heard your phone ringing in your pocket and your frown deepened. You reached down, pulling it out and looking at the caller ID. Matt’s name was on the screen. Your eyes closed as you came to a stop on the sidewalk. You didn’t want to talk to him, why the hell was he calling you?

For a minute you considered letting his call go to your voicemail and ignoring it. You could always just tell him later that you’d had it on silent and didn’t realize he’d called until the next morning. How would he know you were lying? 

But you felt guilty at the thought of ignoring him just because he’d unintentionally hurt you. It’s not like Matt could control who he was or wasn’t attracted to. That wasn’t his fault. With a sigh you flipped the phone open, bringing it to your ear.

“Hey, Matt,” you answered, trying to keep the waver out of your voice.

He greeted you with your name, his voice sounding a little out of breath. You frowned.

“What’s going on? Something happen at the bar?” you asked, brows furrowing.

“No, not exactly,” he answered quickly. “Fog saw this girl he likes there. I think her name is Marci? Figured I’d leave him to it and check on you, actually. Which is why I called. How far from the bar did you get? I was trying to catch up.”

Biting your lip, you turned on the spot, stepping out of the way of a small group of college kids walking past you. A little ways back you could make out Matt’s form heading down the sidewalk towards you, his cane tapping away in one hand, his other hand holding his phone to his ear. Shoulders dropping, you realized you were going to have to walk back with him. Which was the last thing you’d been wanting to do right now.

“You didn’t need to leave on my account, Matt,” you told him.

“You seemed upset, I didn’t want you to walk back alone like that,” he replied. “So how far away did you get?”

Sighing, you began walking back the way you’d come. “I can see you, I’ll just turn back around and meet you in a minute,” you said.

Both of you exchanged goodbyes before you hung up, slipping your phone into your pant’s pocket before you once again uncomfortably wrapped your arms around your chest. It took you about a minute to reach Matt and you greeted him once you did, watching as his head darted in your direction. That damn charming smile slipped onto his face instantly and you hated the way it made you feel.

“Was hoping I’d manage to find you,” he greeted you back.

“Congrats,” you muttered. “I can walk you back to your dorm, if you want.”

“Well now that defeats the purpose of me walking you back to your dorm,” Matt countered cheekily.

You rolled your eyes, unable to fight the small smile snaking its way onto your lips. Reaching out, you placed Matt’s outstretched hand in the crook of your arm. His warm fingers curled around you, that hollow pit in your chest suddenly growing larger as you began to guide him back towards campus. 

For a little bit neither of you spoke, your body tense as Matt held onto you while the pair of you walked back towards your dorms. His cane tapping along the pavement mixed with the noises of the city, the sound lingering heavily over the pair of you.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, eventually breaking the silence.

His question caught you off guard, your lips pressing together as Columbia came into view. Once again, it’s not like you could be truthful with Matt. You couldn't tell him you had feelings for him–had them for months–and that him calling you a female Foggy had deeply hurt you. You’d only embarrass yourself and ruin your friendship with him.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his head turn swiftly in your direction. Your teeth ground together under the weight of his attention. 

“Can you be honest with me this evening?” he asked.

“Who says I’m not?” you countered.

“Because I know you,” he answered immediately. “You sounded close to tears earlier before you left the bar. You’re not telling your usual jokes or laughing. You’ve been pretty quiet most of this evening, especially during this walk. You’re just giving brief responses when I know you love to talk.”

Your eyes remained fixed on the sidewalk before you as you led the pair of you down a different path, one that would bring you towards the residence halls. Internally you cursed Matt and his astute observations. 

“Was it what I said at the bar?” he pried. “Because I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.”

“Can we please stop talking about that already?” you snapped.

Heat flooded your cheeks immediately after your outburst. You hadn’t meant to snap at him, but you were tired of hearing his apology. And you certainly didn’t need to hear him offer to be your wingman again.

“So it was what I said,” he replied. 

His head turned, his attention once again on you as you both continued to walk. Your gaze remained fixed ahead of you, though.

“Why did that bother you so much?” he asked gently.

“Because I–” you stopped instantly, unsure of how to navigate this conversation without giving everything away. You sighed, shaking your head. “Because I’m always the friend,” you admitted weakly, tears stinging at your eyes again. “And I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Matt said earnestly. “Why would you even think that?”

You shook your head, glad when you saw your building coming into view. You were desperate for an excuse to get out of this conversation. Especially because you felt the threat of tears growing stronger.

"It doesn't matter, forget I said that," you replied.

Matt pulled you to a stop on the sidewalk instantly. Surprised, you turned towards him, beginning to blink back the tears threatening to spill forth.

"It does matter if it's got you this upset," he pushed. "I meant what I said earlier. Any guy would be lucky to take you on a date. And if whoever this guy is has got you feeling this down on yourself, he's probably an asshole."

You couldn't help the humorless laugh that fell out of you. Little did he know he'd just called himself an asshole and you couldn't help but see the humor in it. The sound of your laugh only caused Matt’s brows to furrow though, his fingers tightening their hold on your arm. 

"What?" he asked. "Why is that funny?"

Because it's you, you idiot.

"It's not funny," you answered instead. "I just feel stupid."

He said your name softly, shaking his head. "Hey, you're not stupid" he assured you.

You couldn't stop the tears that fell, that ache in your chest only deepening with every nice word from his mouth that didn't mean what you desperately wanted it to. Matt's head tilted to the side at your silence, but the moment you couldn't fight back a choked sob, he was quickly pulling you in towards him.

One of his arms wrapped around your back, the other gently drawing your head towards his solid chest, cradling you carefully against him as his fingers lightly stroked their way through your hair. Your own hands easily wrapped around him, holding tight to him as you cried into his shirt. His hand along your back began rubbing a soothing pattern, managing it somehow even with the cane still held in his hand. His comforting presence only had you fisting his shirt tighter in your hands as you became overwhelmed with your emotions, crying harder when you felt him rest his chin along the top of your head. Somehow his hands held you even closer to himself. 

You'd often imagined what it would feel like to be in Matt's embrace so many times before; what it would feel like to be in his arms, breathing in that warm, familiar scent of him. But you’d never pictured it like this. Never because you were crying over not being able to be with him while he unknowingly comforted you for it.

"Maybe he's not the right guy," Matt whispered. "If he can't see how great you are, maybe he's not the one worth feeling like this about."

"He's not an asshole though," you choked out, voice muffled against his chest. "That's the thing."

"You'll find someone," he assured you. "Someone who will see every wonderful thing about you. Someone who won't make you feel like this about yourself."

"He usually doesn't," you muttered. 

"Usually doesn't what?" he asked softly.

"Make me feel like this," you said, turning to rest your cheek against his chest. "Usually he makes me feel good. Happy." Your fingers tightened their hold around his shirt as you sniffled. "Special. But–but he doesn't know how I feel and I am positive he doesn't feel that way in return. And that's what hurts."

"How do you know if you don't tell him?" Matt asked.

Matt’s words at the bar ran through your mind again and your eyes snapped shut. 

You’re like a female Foggy.  

…the absolute best friend anyone could ask for.

"Believe me, I know," you answered stiffly. 

Forcing yourself to release your hold on Matt, you stepped back as he untangled his hold on you in return. You wrapped your arms uncomfortably around yourself yet again, your attention on your feet. 

"Sorry, this was stupid," you mumbled. "I can finish walking to my dorm myself, Matt. But thanks for uh, trying to help."

He took a step towards you, concern clearly written on his face. "I can walk you the rest of the way. It's not–"

"I want to be alone," you told him firmly. 

He stared at you in silence for a moment before he finally nodded. "Okay," he replied. "I'll see you tomorrow though, right?"

You sighed heavily, eventually nodding. Because you knew you were too weak to give Matt up. You knew that despite how much it hurt to see him with other women all the time, the thought of him permanently missing from your life hurt worse.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, Matty," you whispered. 

Turning, you made your way down the path towards your hall, tears still silently streaming down your cheeks. You ignored the stares of passing students, wiping away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand as you walked. 

These feelings would eventually fade. They had to.

[norinenglish]

Stardew Rancher AU - Intro cutscene

Here's my first piece for the Stardew AU challenge.

If you want to take part too, use the #traffic stardew au tag (You can also use the banner I made). On my blog, I will be using #stardew ranchers au as well.

The writing is under the cut.

>> Next Part

I hate this life.

Jimmy doesn’t remember a day in the last year he has not thought this. He’s staring at a computer screen, as he has been for the last seven hours, when it hits him. He hates this life. In fact, it could barely be qualified as a life. 

He misses nature. Running around in the grass, playing, talking to people… He turns his head around to look at the window, but there isn’t even any on the office walls. He looks around him and only sees rows and rows of cubicles with other lifeless people slaving all day. The clicking of keyboards and mouths, the buzzing of the neon lights, it’s all too much.

I can’t stand it anymore, he thinks to himself. I need a way out.

Suddenly, he remembers a conversation he had with his grandpa, when he was young, about the burden of modern life. He hadn’t really realised what it had meant before today. Jimmy, like his parents, had dismissed it as the stubbornness of an old man who was made to live in the countryside. But it must have stayed on the back of his mind, because he kept the letter. 

In fact… 

He opens the drawer of his desk and there it is. A fancy old letter with a fancy purple seal. 

(He’s definitely not going to think about the fact that he kept it in his drawer at work and the possible implication of that. Nope.)

With shaky hands, he breaks the seal and opens it. The swoosh of the paper unfolding is the loudest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

The letter says: 

Dear Jimmy, 

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong. 

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: The Ranch. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life. 

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honour the family name, my boy. Good luck. 

Love, Grandpa. 

PS: If the Sherrif is still alive say hi to the old guy for me, will ya? 

He puts the letter down and looks up at the ceiling for a second. 

In all the emptiness he feels, it’s like he’s just grown wing. 

🌿 loading🌿

The bus startles to a stop and Jimmy wakes up. 

“Pelican Town!” The driver screams. 

Jimmy looks around. There’s no else on anymore. He quickly grabs his travel bag and gets out. He says his thanks to the bus driver who just hums unhappily. Guess he really didn’t want to go that far out for just one person. 

On the side of the road is just a small clearing, with broken fences and dirt path. Someone is waiting for him, though. A man with cyan blue hair and an easygoing smile. 

“Hello, you must be Jimmy,” he sayswith a cheerful voice. “I’m Scott, the local florist. Mayor Grian sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s there right now, tidying things up for your arrival.”

It takes a second for Jimmy to find his words. The reality of what he’s done hitting him finally. He quit his job. He moved out of his appartment. He sold his things and bought a ticket for this small town in the middle of nowhere to become a farmer. 

“Nice to meet you, Scott,” he says after swallowing. “I…”

Gosh, he cannot screw this up. This isn’t like in the city. The people he meets are going to be the community he’s going to live with. He wants to make a good impression. 

Scott smiles, tilting his head to the side. He looks Jimmy up and down with mischief in his eyes in a way that makes Jimmy blush a little. He must be tired. 

“The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Jimmy nods and follows him on the dirt path until they reach an area with a… house. Supposedly. 

“This is the Ranch,” Scott announces, waving his arm around to show the land that stretches before them.. 

The Ranch is an old building made out of wood. It looks like it’s been built in the last century. The farmland around, which was included in Scott’s gesture, is littered with some kind of forest. There are different types of trees, dead wood on the ground, bushes, and even some rocks! Is this really the farm his grandfather loved ? 

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks in a light voice. He’s got his arms crossed in front of him and an air of challenge about him. “Sure, it’s a bit overgrown, but there’s some good soil underneath that mess! With a little dedication, you’ll have it cleaned up in no time.”

He turns back towards the house itself. Jimmy notes that there’s plenty of firewood on the side of the house. Someone must have stacked it for him. That thought settles in his chest, fluttering like a bird. He won’t sleep in the cold tonight, and that’s thanks to strangers. 

“... And here we are, your new home,” Scott says. 

Just like his words summoned him, a man opens the door and gets down the few steps of his porch to stop in front of them. He pulls the sleeves of his red sweater back to his writs and offers his hand to Jimmy. 

“Ah, the new farmer! Welcome, I’m Grian, the Mayor of Pelican Town.”

Jimmy shakes his hand and introduces himself. Grian nods, seemingly satisfied. 

“You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. It’s quite a big deal.” He turns to look back at the house. “So… you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage. It’s a good house… very ‘rustic’.”

“Rustic?” Scott chimes in. “That’s one way to put it… ‘Crusty’ might be a little more apt, though.”

“Rude,” Grian says under his breath, his eyebrows frowning. “Don’t listen to him, Jimmy. He’s just trying to make you dissatisfied so that you buy one of Gem’s house upgrades.”

“Gem?” Jimmy asks.

“She’s the local carpenter. She lives north of the valley, near the mountain.”

Gem, the local carpenter. Jimmy tries to mentally catalogue. She makes house upgrades.  He turns his eyes towards Scott. He doesn’t remember if he said what he was doing. 

“Anyway… You must be tired from the long journey,” Grian says, looking back at the house. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow you ought to explore the town a bit and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

He turns to leave and sees the box placed next to the mailbox. 

 “Oh, I almost forgot. If you have anything to sell, just place it in the box here. I’ll come by during the night to collect it. Well… Good luck!”

They are gone before Jimmy can really say anything else. But it might be for the better, because he’s exhausted. 

“I’m here,” he says to no one. Maybe to himself. Or maybe to his grandfather. 

Going into the house is a blurr. He barely have time to register the small table with one chair, the fireplace that was lit up for him and the bed. He just melts into the mattress and passes out.

[australiancarisi]

Mike Dodds ~ Family

"Can you please write a SVU x BB crossover where Mike Dodds finds out his new girlfriend is the youngest child of the Reagan family as they hadn’t met via work and neither wanted to bring up their connections and enjoyed the relationship being one that is just themselves and not because of their name etc. " Words: 1451

Anon thank you so much for requesting this, I don't really get requests anymore, I don't really write anymore but ugh this was just amazing to write and made me so happy so thank you :')

“Would you still be with me even if I was a worm?” Mike’s hand that had been slowly running up and down your spine stopped. You were both lying on his couch, him on his back, you lying on top of him on your stomach. 

“We were having such a nice time” You shot up quickly making Mike groan as you move your weight into his stomach 

“That’s a no!” 

“I never said no” Mike pointed out 

“You didn’t say yes either” 

“Sweetheart-“ 

“Say it” 

“y/n-“

“Say. It.” you huffed crossing your arms and pouting like a child. Mike sighed. 

“Yes I would still be with you even if you were a worm” 

“Thanks Mikey Moo back at you” you grinned and leaned forward to give him a kiss. 

“I don’t know where you think of these things” Mike laughed moving you off his lap so he could get up and go to the kitchen. 

“It’s the youngest sibling in me, you wouldn’t get it you’re the eldest child” you playfully rolled your eyes. You and Mike hadn’t been dating long, about 3 months. You’d met in central park, both of you had been on a run and almost like you were in the movies you ran into each other. 

Literally.

You a bruise on your wrist from where you landed. Your brothers kept making handcuffs jokes at Sunday dinner. 

“Riiiiiiight” Mike opened the fridge and pulled out a beer as your phone pinged on the coffee table. You groaned it was your brother Danny telling you about a case he’d just picked up, all hands on deck. 

“I have to go, got a case” you jumped up, quickly going to Mike for a kiss.

“Be safe” he pecked your lips “are you coming back here?” 

“I’ll see where I end up” you shrugged, kissing him one last time before scrambling to grab your stuff as your phone rang. “yes yes I’m on my way…” 

Mike laughed and shook his head as you headed out the door. Although the relationship was new he knew he was in this for the long haul. He never saw himself with another cop, not when his father was a chief. He always had to prove himself 10 times more than anyone else that the idea of also having a partner be in the NYPD was not on his radar. He’s managed to keep his family out of the relationship, come to think of it neither of you really spoke about your family, his was highly dysfunctional, Mike was just assuming yours was the same or you just weren’t that close. 

Whatever the reason, Mike quite liked that it was just you and him right now. The rest of the SVU squad knew he was in a relationship, there just hadn’t been a chance to introduce you to them yet. He was looking forward to it though. 

It was Mike’s turn to groan as his phone vibrated this time, a message from his dad reminding him of the gala night on the weekend that his presence had been demanded for. He hated these nights. He wished he could have had you be his plus 1 but that would mean meeting his father and Mike wasn’t ready to pop the bubble the two of you had been in. 

....

Mike quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket to send you a text while his dad was distracted by someone. You and Mike had been playing phone tag since you left his apartment earlier in the week. Your case had turned into a big one and you hadn’t had a moment to yourself since and Mike was drowning in paper work. He’s been at this gala for over an hour, shaking hands and being introduced to many people. People his father wanted him to make a good impression on to move up in the ranks. Mike slipped his phone back into his pocket as his father’s attention turned back to him and they continued the rounds around the room. 

“Alright Mike get ready for this one” William nudged him and steered him towards a table. “Commissioner Reagan, nice to see you again” 

“Dodds” the commissioner held his hand out and the two shook hands. “and it’s Sargent isn’t it?” 

“Yes sir Sargent Mike Dodds, nice to meet you Commissioner” Mike stuck his hand out to shake  his hand. 

“Please call me Frank” Frank smiled and shook his hand “I hear you are at SVU now with Captain Benson, good squad” 

“Great squad” Mike said “Definitely different to what I’m used to but learning a lot” there was noise from behind the commissioner who rolled his eyes. 

“Well Dodds you introduced me to your kid I guess I better introduce you to mine, they are being loud enough, you’d think as adults they would mature but apparently not” Frank moved slightly to show the table behind him. 

Mike’s eyes widened. 

“Chief and Sargent Dodds meet my children. Detective Danny Reagan, ADA Erin Reagan, Sargent Jamie Reagan and my youngest Detective Y/n Reagan” 

...

“Oh my god can you put your phone away for one night?” Erin rolled her eyes at you. You were sat at a table with your family at some gala for the NYPD. Being the commissioners kid meant you had to show up to all these events even though all you wanted to be was curled up on the couch with Mike. Sure Mike could of come but that would of meant outing yourself as the commissioners kid and that’s not your idea of a fun date. There was an asterisks next to your name. No matter how good of a cop you proved yourself to be there was always going to be someone who said you only got there because of your family. And not that you think Mike would be one of those people, you weren’t ready to have the family conversation just yet. 

“She talkin’ to her boyfriend” Danny smirked 

“Boyfriend since when?” Jamie questioned 

“Since none of your business” you shoved him “how did you find out?” 

“Overheard you talking to Baez about him” Danny shrugged “so when do we get to meet him?” 

“If I’m lucky, never” you huffed. Your siblings started to gang up on you, you hadn’t even noticed your father had started talking to someone else. 

“Well Dodds you introduced me to your kid I guess I better introduce you to mine, they are being loud enough, you’d think as adults they would mature but apparently not” your dad said making all of you be quiet. You felt your heart stop as you looked at Mike. “Chief and Sargent Dodds meet my children. Detective Danny Reagan, ADA Erin Reagan, Sargent Jamie Reagan and my youngest Detective Y/n Reagan” 

Wait.

Dodds. 

Chief. 

As in Chief Dodds. 

You mentally face palmed yourself as you made the connection. How had you not put two and two together? You stayed quite as everyone said hello, your dad and chief Dodds began talking about something else. You excused yourself to go get another drink. As you stood at the bar you felt a hand on your lower back. 

“So…commissioners kid….” Mike whispered “didn’t see that one coming” 

“neither did I, son of a police chief” there was a moment of silence “we aren’t very good detectives if we couldn’t put this together” 

“yeah maybe let’s not tell anyone, they might demote us to traffic stops on Staten Island” Mike

smirked making you laugh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it’s just a lot to throw at someone. It’s not easy to tell the person you are dating that your father is their boss and I really like you Mike and I love spending time with you and it’s just been so easy and no drama and my family is all drama let me bloody tell you and it’s been so refreshing to just get to be me, y/n. Not a Reagan, not the commissioners kid and-“ Mike cut your rambling off with a kiss 

“I get it” he whispered against your lips. “Son of a police chief. I get it” 

“You’re not mad?” 

“Of course not. How could I be mad? I didn’t tell you about my dad” Mike kissed you again. You heard Erin call out your name. You both turned to see your siblings and both your fathers and your grandfather looking at you. “I guess there’s no hiding my love for you now” 

“I…your…what” you looked back at him “what did you just say?” 

“I love you y/n” Mike smiled down at you “even if you are the commissioners kid” 

“I love you too Mike Dodds, son of a police chief” 

[guudak]

andante, andante

[epilogue] - allegro

click here to read the original fic i.e. the rest of it as this is only the epilogue chapter. Also cross-posted this on AO3.

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining chapter warnings: mentions of / direct references to sex but no smut or descriptions of it. word count: 4,490 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

And honestly? It doesn’t take long. 

Your first date you both labelled officially as a couple had been bowling. Which you, by the way, had royally sucked at, but it at least gave you an excuse to ask him for a demonstration (i.e. a chance to have him pressed against you while he guided you during your turn) - sly, but clearly not sly enough since he called you out on it. Subtle had never really been your thing, but at least he’d played along. No, you had always been a master of the art of un-subtlety. You never had any shame in saying things without thinking too thoroughly or (respectfully) staring, as well as being the one to make the first move, owing to the amount of flings and almost-relationships you had prior to Jungkook. 

He’s always been handsome. Truthfully, he isn’t your conventional type. As in, not the typical guy you used to go for, but you’ve always known he was handsome. But back then, it hadn’t been in a butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way, but in an objective sense, because if you uploaded a photo of him on prettyscale.com it would have given him a 90% but if you did the rating yourself you’d give him 100. Now that he’s yours you could stare at him all you want without it being weird and he’s a total dreamboat, and you could finally say it. You don’t hide it from him either because you remind him every chance you get, and you revel in the satisfaction from the way his cheeks tinge pink when he notices you giving him the eyes. 

The thrill of seeing him blush under your gaze never gets old. You catch him trying to suppress his shy smile when he notices, pretending to focus on something else entirely, but the corners of his lips betray him every time.

“You’re not subtle, at all.”

“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your tone light and teasing, “With a face like that, I’m just appreciating the view. And I like seeing you all blushing and flustered.”

“I’m not blushing,” he mutters as if offended, but the grin he hides says otherwise.

Though the dynamics of your relationship have shifted, the essence of your connection remains beautifully familiar. He’s still your best friend, only now, there's a deeper layer of intimacy woven into the fabric of your bond. It feels like a gentle, inevitable progression of the love that has always simmered quietly between you. There's a newfound softness in the way you look at each other, a tenderness in the touch of your hands that find their way together instinctively, drawn by a magnetic pull when you're close. He’s always been there, and maybe, you have since concluded, a constant is what you want. What you need. 

Over time, you’ve come to realise that Jungkook's steadiness is like a gentle glow that doesn't rush to overpower, but instead slowly illuminates what surrounds it. His reliability isn't loud or showy, and it doesn't need to be. It's in the quiet moments, the consistent support, the unspoken understanding. With him, there is no dramatic shift in your world, just the comforting assurance that no matter where you turn, he is there, like a lighthouse guiding you back to shore. And in the chaotic blur of your own life and your thoughts, his enduring presence has become something grounding, anchoring you back when your head is in the clouds.

When it comes to your love life, you've always kept things simple, governed by a single, steadfast rule: the six-month timeline before saying the L-word. That monumental declaration wouldn't escape your lips before month six. That has always been your rule. A timeline not just drawn from caution but from a lack of conviction about what it truly felt to love someone in the all-encompassing way that other people seem to romanticise. Your previous relationships, hovering close to that mark, dissolved before the pivotal sixth month. But you stand by your belief in the saying that when you truly know, you just know, without any second-guessing.

You had been upfront with Jungkook about this from the very beginning, laying your cards on the table with the kind of transparency that leaves no room for misinterpretation. He took it gracefully, in that dignified way of his because that’s just how he is but you knew he’d understand. With that stoic composure of his that masked the depth of his feelings - feelings that had matured over time, unlike yours that were still forming, and still tentative. 

He’d confessed his love for you again one moonlit evening on the beach. It was the midst of winter, and the air was bitterly cold as you both walked back from a party. On a whim, you had taken a detour, ending up by the seafront. Each of you held a handle of a grocery bag, the one that carried your leftover bottles of gin and toffee vodka from the night. The waves crashed nearby, their rhythm mingling with the crisp sea breeze and the sand crunching beneath your footsteps. His breath formed little clouds in the frosty air, and you could see the shine in his eyes reflect in the moonlight. You’d huddled closer as both of you sat side by side on the sand.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he said, his voice carrying over the waves. “You’ve been my best friend even longer than I’ve loved you. But I love you to the point I would have been content if we’d never changed a thing - anything to have you around in my life and seeing you happy, even if it was with someone else. But being here with you now, like this, is more than I could have ever hoped for.” His words were as raw and vast as the ocean before you, and surrounded by the echo of waves and winter’s chill, you felt a warmth that only he could kindle. His words were as sincere as the first time, but this time clarified, unlike his drunken confession that he barely remembered, but still heavy with the weight of emotion he had harboured for so long. But with it came a gentle reassurance: he didn’t expect, nor did he need, an immediate reciprocation. “And I know you don’t feel that way about me. But I’m here, no matter what it is you feel towards me. I’m happy just being with you.” 

You’d melted at that. You gave his hand a squeeze, interlocking your fingers with his. “Jungkook, being your best friend is one of the easiest things in the world. What I feel for you, sometimes it confuses me, but whatever it is … and I know I’m not fully there as you are yet. But it’s real, and it’s deep, and it’s growing each day. I’m getting there.” Your words had hung between you, a tethered promise in the making. 

You’d known he was content to wait, giving you the space to let your feelings blossom naturally, unforced and genuine. It had been this patience, this unwavering steadiness of his love, that touched you deeply, challenging every preconceived notion you held about love and its mysterious timeline.

.

“I think I have feelings for you,” you tell him one evening, as you both lay sprawled across his bed, one of his playlists softly playing in the background. His room is dimly lit, the glow of his lamp spilling a warm amber. The ambient lamp was a recent addition he bought since you were spending more time in his room and him being familiar with your spite for overhead lighting. 

Jungkook blinks, taken aback by your suddenness. “What made you reach that conclusion?”

“Well,” you start. “I can say I like a ploughmans sandwich, and I can also say I really like a ploughmans sandwich, and I know what that feels like, but I can’t exactly say I have feelings for a ploughmans sandwich, you know? And what I feel, I know I like you more than just really liking you.” 

His eyes soften as he processes your words, the corners of his mouth curling into a hesitant smile. 

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice a mixture of hope and surprise.

“I am,” you affirm. “It's different with you. You're not just comfort food. You’re the homemade kind but you’re just better, better than a sandwich I impulsively make just because it’s my favourite and it's 2 A.M. and I need something. Does that make sense?”

He laughs softly, his initial shock giving way to a warmth that radiates from his eyes. 

“It makes perfect sense.” He reaches across to squeeze your hand. It’s a sweet, genuine moment, wholesome in its simplicity. Jungkook is a touchy lover. Yet, you noticed how sentimentality always seemed to kindle a spark of desire in him, a stirring deep within that brought a slightly more insistent touch to his hands and a need in him to take your clothes off. This had been a pattern - a very amusing pattern you’ve noticed in him.

“Ugh, you’re so handsy.” You roll your eyes but the bells of your laughter give you away while he pulls the edge of your shorts. But with him it never took much for you to be persuaded, charming and handsy as he is. His fingers linger with playful intention, tracing a line so light and teasing along your waist, that it has your back arching to have him closer to you.

“Behave,” you murmur, even as your voice and your body betray you. His grin widens, eyes glinting. 

“I'm trying,” he says, his voice low, but not exerting any effort to sound convincing.

You draw him in, giving him a kiss that was deep and profound. And for the second time during that evening, you lift your shift over your head. 

.

You thought you knew him well, but soon you began to notice the little things. Jungkook, though sweet, showed his competitive and mischievous sense of humour more after you started dating. It was like (as said by Shrek) peeling the many layers of an onion and uncovering the deeper facets of his personality (except, of course, Jungkook isn’t an ogre). At the indoor crazy golf course, his modesty disappeared and he delighted in teasing you whenever you missed a shot, suggesting a scoring system where points were awarded for missed holes instead of successful ones. Of course you hit his ankle with your club after that but despite his playful jabs, it was difficult to resist his charm.

When it approaches the fifth month you begin to question your timeline. The pace at which you caught feelings for him, and the depth you’re plunging into, is admittedly terrifying. Despite you approaching this relationship with an open-mind, it’s a sobering and an almost embarrassing realisation. What is it that you’re scared of? That’s the question that’s been bearing down on your mind.

You’ve been invited for drinks at the beach in the evening. A friend of a mutual friend’s birthday, of whom you couldn’t remember their name but assume it’s the guy wearing the glittery party hat and sash that says Birthday Bitch on it. It’s unlikely Jungkook could make it tonight as he has a deadline due at the end of the week, but promised he’ll come down later if he inevitably becomes sick of staring at his computer screen. In the meantime, you try to find familiar faces. 

You spot Yerim, sitting criss-crossed and staring at the sea. Her hair is slicked-back into a ponytail, no longer the bleach blonde you’re so familiar with, instead a lovely sheen of black, which is definitely a change. In the time you’ve known her she’s never had her natural hair, always dyeing it, but she’s just as pretty as she’s always been. It’s been a while since you last spoke to her but she greets you warmly, standing from the sand and dusting herself off to pull you into a hug when you endeavour for her eye contact. 

You talk to each other about many things, catching up with what you both missed from each other’s lives. Truth be told, you stopped talking as much after her and Jungkook broke up. When they distanced from each other, you saw Yerim around less and less. 

She’s on her fourth can of beer, and her face is a warm flush. “I miss having him around, you know,” she admits later on. “That’s probably the main thing. Not the gifts, or the attention, or the sex. Just him. And I never properly said thank you … to you. I know how close you were to him and I know you distanced from each other on purpose when I dated him.”

“Well, would have made it easier than having a conversation with you telling me to fuck off, you know. But I get it. I do.”

You had done it out of respect for her, and her relationship with Jungkook. You had told him that you couldn’t be with him alone like you used to, and if you did spend time together, other friends would be present if Yerim wasn’t around. You could tell at the time he was a little upset, but ultimately could see your reasoning. It made sense. He invested a lot in his and Yerim’s relationship. He wanted to make it work, so badly, but she broke it off. 

Yerim shifts uncomfortably, opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again. She looks like she’s summoning the courage to say something, and you have a sinking feeling you know what it is. 

“Are you and Jungkook together now?” 

And there it is.

“Only for about five months,” you tell her. You’re honest about it, you owe her that much. 

She nods slowly. “Did he ask you out?”

“Uh … well. We kind of both did, in a way. He was tipsy, then the messy, awkward stuff happened where he tried to avoid me for weeks and couldn't look me in the eye, etcetera, etcetera, and then I confronted him about it. Then I thought, we’re already friends anyway so why not? And here we are.”

You exchange a knowing look, then share a small, relieved laugh.

“That’s really great,” Yerim finally says. “I mean it.” Her smile reaches her eyes, and the expression on her face is all soft lines, free from malice or hidden jealousy. It’s what you’ve always admired her for, and why Jungkook was drawn to her in the first place. She’s a kind person, not just seeing, but finding the good in circumstances and in people. When she broke up with Jungkook, he was devastated and turned to you for comfort. It took him time to heal, because he just couldn’t understand where he went wrong. 

“Yerim…” you begin, nerves tightening your throat while she looks at you with quiet expectation. “Why did you break up with Jungkook?” 

To your surprise, she giggles.“To fully answer that I have to go through the entire emotional turmoil I went through. I was so torn about it, I hope you know that. I didn’t want to break up at first. To put it simply, and I know this is so fucking cheesy, but I thought to myself - if you and I were hanging off the edge of a cliff, and Jungkook could only save one of us, who would he pick?” She gives you a small, knowing smile. “Even in that impossible situation, I knew it wouldn’t be me.”

“No, Yerim, he would have tried to save both of us.” 

She turns away, her gaze settling on the sea instead. “Maybe. But it’s always been at the back of my mind. It always would have been at the back of my mind. I know it was partly me being insecure and I know you drifted yourself from him for me so I wouldn’t feel that way, but I knew what you meant to him. He was such a good boyfriend, but I didn’t have him as a best friend the way you did. And I realised I could never really get past that.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looks at you, her expression gentle. “Don’t be.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she finally says, her voice steady. “I always knew he deserved someone who could be everything for him. A best friend, a partner, someone who really understands him. And that was never going to be me, not completely.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You were so important and meant so much to him, Yerim. You still are. He was so happy with you.”

She nods, her dark eyes shining with something that looks like acceptance. “I know. And that’s enough. I want him to be happy, and if that’s with you, then I’m genuinely okay with it. I have always been okay with it.”

The sincerity in her words touches you deeply, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed. The love, the loss, and the resolution that seems to settle between you.

“Thank you,” you say, meaning it more than you can express.

She reaches out, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Just take care of him, okay? Keep him in line. All drunk phases of him.”

You exchange a laugh, and you both sit there for a moment longer, the unspoken understanding between you finally at peace.

Jungkook comes down to the beach about two hours later. 

There's a strange flutter in your stomach as your eyes search for him. His gaze sweeps the area, scanning for you amidst the crowd. A few people greet him as he arrives, including Yerim. You know they haven’t really had a chance to talk since the breakup. Not like this, where they can genuinely connect. You notice the subtle tension in his posture as they exchange a few words, his shoulders stiff at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax. You stay back, letting them have their moment. 

When he finally spots you, his face lights up.

“Yerim’s not blonde anymore,” he says, his tone wrought with disbelief. She had been bleach blonde the entire time he knew her, and the change seems to have caught him off guard.

You laugh at his astonishment. “I know right? I think black hair really suits her.”

“It does,” he agrees, nodding slightly as if still processing it. You notice his expression, suggesting he’s thinking, perhaps a memory or an inside joke only him and Yerim shared in relation to it. Don’t they say hair holds memories? You don’t pry or ask him further, sensing that this brief flicker of sentimentality, is something that belongs to them only. 

“How are you doing?” he asks you, leaning to kiss your temple.

You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself. “I was about to head home. It's getting a bit chilly. Sorry, I was going to text you, but I got distracted.”

“Don't worry about it,” he replies, his voice gentle. His hands interlace yours, which doesn’t help the awful fluttering in your tummy. God, this is awful, after all that talk that you didn’t like him that way all those months ago and now you feel like you’re a naïve teenager tripping over your own words all over again. 

“I would've come anyway to walk you back,” he tells you, “I’m not really in the mood to drink tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want at least one drink? You’re already here,” you suggest, though part of you is already eager to leave the noise behind.

He shakes his head with a small smile. “Can’t be arsed. I just want to lie down.”

“You know what, me too.”

.

When you’re both back at his place, you both make a beeline for his bed to collapse on the mattress with a shared sigh of relief. 

“I’m so tired. This assignment was driving me insane,” he groans, flinging an arm over his eyes as if to block out the world. 

You roll onto your side to face him, watching the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. “Are you almost done with it?” you ask.

“Yup. All done, actually.”

“That’s actually very impressive.” 

He peeks at you from beneath his arm, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Reaching out, he tenderly strokes your hair, his fingers gentle and reassuring.

Despite the comfort of his touch, your mind drifts back to the conversation with Yerim. Her admitting that she missed him and his presence in her life, weighs heavily on you. It forces you to reflect on your own relationship with him. Losing Jungkook, or no longer having him in your life, makes your stomach sink with dread. Even though it was your idea to date each other to see how things would go, because you trusted him, you realise now just how devastating it would be if you ever had to break up and couldn't remain friends. The idea of a life without him, in any sort of form, feels unbearable.

You shift closer to him, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, needing the physical connection and the comfort of his warmth to anchor your swirling thoughts. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice surprising you, “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

His hand pauses in your hair, then resumes its gentle caress, a quiet understanding passing between you. 

“You won’t,” he murmurs, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re my best friend, I’m not going anywhere.” He pauses, his hand trailing to trace your cheek. “And I love you.” He doesn’t anticipate your reply, like the many other times he’s said it, just kisses you deeply.  

In his arms, the exhaustion from your walk along the beach finally catches up with you, and you drift into a peaceful sleep. At some point, you feel him move beside you. He gently lifts you to free himself, careful not to disturb your rest. You peek through half-lidded eyes, watching as he reaches for his noise-cancelling headphones on the bedside table. The quiet thumps of footsteps from the room above - Jimin’s room - fill the air, a familiar annoyance for Jungkook. He has always been sensitive to noise, a trait that often makes you question why he chose the downstairs room, knowing how much he despises the sound of footsteps overhead. He always argues that he preferred being closer to the kitchen and thought Jimin wouldn’t be a heavy walker, but it didn't take long for that assumption to be proven wrong, and now he’s stuck with the downstairs bedroom with the stomper in the room above. 

As he settles back beside you, he gives you a tender peck on the forehead before lying on his back, his headphones securely over his ears. You shift slightly, turning to face him, and find yourself captivated by the peaceful rise and fall of his chest, the even rhythm of his breaths. 

It hits you all at once. That what you feel for him is far more profound than you’ve allowed yourself to admit. Far bigger than just feelings for him, far bigger than plain fond affection for a ploughmans sandwich. No, it’s something far deeper. Something that has quietly, but steadily grown into something that has wrapped itself around your heart, anchoring you to him in a way that’s both exhilarating and, strangely, not as terrifying as its fast development had been. The realisation is both startling and liberating.

You continue to watch him, your chest tightening with the weight of this newfound understanding. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue, and though your heart is pounding, you take a deep breath and whisper, “Jungkook?”

When he doesn’t respond, your heart sinks slightly, but of course he’s not responding, he’s wearing his noise-cancelling headphones. You almost laugh at yourself for forgetting something so silly. But you persist, because maybe saying it now, even if he can’t hear you, will make it easier when you find the courage to tell him later when he’s fully present. 

“Jungkook … I don’t think I can follow my six-month rule.” You take another deep breath, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. This was a big deal. “Jungkook, I think I love you.”

His eyes shoot open, a look of surprise and curiosity flashing across his face. 

“What did you say?” he asks, his tone laced with disbelief. 

He pulls off his headphones, tossing them aside, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze so intense that your breath catches, a mix of confusion and realisation dawning on you. 

“I think I love you,” you repeat, the words coming out more clearly this time, though your expression betrays your incredulity. “You could hear me that whole time? I’m gonna whack you, you idiot.” You laugh softly, nervous but relieved.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he shifts closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I could hear all of it. Sorry,” he says, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you. “I love you too. But you already know that.” 

You nudge him. “I can’t believe you made me say it twice.”

He chuckles softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. 

His voice is low and sincere. “I needed to hear it twice to make sure it wasn’t just a dream.”

You roll your eyes. But there’s a softness in your gaze as you look at him. 

“Well, it’s not a dream.”

He closes the small gap between you, his forehead resting gently against yours. 

“I know,” he says, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’m so glad it’s not.”

.

Notes: Wrote the epilogue after 4 years but finished the final 3/4 of it in a day, the writer's block was definitely rampant! As well as just how busy my degree made me. I've started this chapter in so many different ways before and could just never finish it. When I first posted this fic it was months before I started university, and now 4 years later I have my degree plus a job lined up how absolutely insane is that. What’s even more insane is that when I posted this fic 4 years ago I hadn’t had a boyfriend ever or gone through any of the gross feelings leading to having one, which is also probably why I struggled so much with the epilogue when I finished the second chapter. Now myself and my other half have been together 3.5 years (?!?). And when I wrote this chapter, I definitely had him in mind. Gross. So many different takes on love and what it is, this is mine. Also ploughmans sandwich supremacy. Also I haven't been on tumblr in years does anyone still use tumblr 😭 But anyway, that’s a wrap!