#I know what it feels like to live your whole life thinking you're being chased

[kimmkitsuragi]

okay a LOT happened today. but at the end of the day I'm in my room STILL thinking about kurak günler (burning days). i absolutely have to rewatch this at least once or twice. i was expecting this film to be very impactful for me but not to this extend. i cant get it out of my head. i cant remember another movie that made me feel so scared but also so relieved. like thank fucking god all these things that are happening are in fact actually happening and yes we should make a big deal out of them. this movie broke me and fixed me simultaneously

[such-expensive-mistakes]

When Oliver Queen was dead, he ended up in the Infinite Realms, where he inadvertently became the mentor to teen ghost hero Phantom. After Ollie came back to life, he made a point of reaching out to Phantom, just in case the kid needed anything.

DCxDP Week prompt: found family

Author's Notes: I've tried to make this accessible as possible to those of you who aren't familiar with the Arrowfam, but here are links to character primers on Oliver Queen, Connor Hawke and Mia Dearden if you want them. If you are familiar with GA comics, then just know that this is set loosely during the 2001 run. And finally, the idea of a hero in the Infinite Realms helping mentor Danny was largely inspired by Blueseabird2's fic Grave Promises. (It's excellent! If you haven't read it, go do that!)

-

"Do you remember it?" Ollie asks, looking at Superman out of the corner of his eye.  They're standing in front of Oliver's grave.  Always made the right enemies. It's a hell of an epitaph; Ollie wonders who came up with it.  Roy or Dinah, probably.

"Remember..." Superman says.

"Being dead."  

Supes gives him that same look everyone seems to be giving Ollie these days, like he's not quite sure if Ollie is all there in the head.  

"Never mind."  Oliver waves a hand.  "Just thinking."

-

He does remember it, is the thing.  He remembers the endless Infinite Realms, as green as any of Hal's constructs.  He remembers the ghosts-- the ones who had originally been alive like him, and the ones that had never lived at all.  Humans and aliens and otherdimensional beings, all together in one place.  He remembers being in the same costume he'd died in, only color-flipped to red.  (That was just wrong.  Red was Roy's color, not Ollie's.)

And he remembers Phantom.

He'd met Phantom pretty early on.  Time in the Infinite Realms was tricky; it didn't move like time did on Earth.  Sometimes it went slower, sometimes faster, sometimes it even seemed to go backwards.   So he didn't remember exactly how long he'd been in the Realms before coming across Phantom, but it didn't feel like long.

Phantom had been chasing down some magical artifact when he'd come across Oliver-- or rather, Red Arrow-- who had picked a fight with an asshole ghost way more powerful than him.

Some things never changed.  But hey, ghost arrows were pretty nifty.

Phantom had helped him out, and in return Ollie had offered to help Phantom with tracking down the artifact he was looking for.  As they talked, it quickly became obvious that Phantom was doing the whole teen hero thing-- and not just in the Realms, but on Earth.  He clammed up when Ollie asked too many questions, but it was pretty clear that he didn't have a mentor or anything.

"Do you have the Teen Titans in your world?" Oliver asked, having learned by that point that the Infinite Realms connected every dimension out there.

"Yeah," Phantom had said, looking wary.

"You should talk to them," Oliver said.  "It helps to have someone out there on your side, who knows what you're dealing with."  The Titans had been good for Roy.  Not just friends, although they were that, too, but an extra support system.  

But Phantom shook his head.  "I can't."  And then he'd gone on to describe the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW.  

Ollie had never exactly been a fan of the government-- too much corruption, too many rich assholes using the system to protect themselves-- but this still managed to surprise him.  And while he was pretty sure his own world's Teen Titans wouldn't stand for this kind of thing-- or even the JLA, no matter how badly they sometimes overreached-- he had no way of knowing whether Phantom's Teen Titans were the same ones he knew.  

"Tell you what," Ollie said.  "Next time you get a chance, track me down and I'll show you a few things.  I don't know how much help I'll be with superpowers, but--" 

"Really?" Phantom had asked, then surprised Ollie by hugging him.

That was the start of it.  They'd tracked down the artifact, Phantom had left the Realms to go back and do his hero thing on Earth, and Oliver was left to second-guess himself until the next time Phantom came around.  

Oliver wasn't exactly a perfect mentor.  He'd done his best for Roy, but there were so many things he would do differently if he had the chance.  But he was better than nothing, which was what Phantom had been working with before.

Phantom didn't need to learn archery; he had superpowers.  But Ollie managed to teach him a thing or two about picking your shot and waiting for the right moment.  About trusting your instincts and dodging bullets (or ectoblasts).  

Phantom was cagey about anything that wasn't hero work, but Oliver managed to glean a few details.  He had a couple of living friends who helped him out, he was frequently chased down by ghost hunters, and most of the town he was based in didn't think particularly highly of him.  And that was on top of his whole rogue's gallery of villainous ghosts, not to mention the GIW.

"You can't make people like you," Ollie advised him.  "Even if you do all the right things.  You just have to trust yourself and ignore the public opinion."  God knew plenty of people had hated the Green Arrow over the years.  

It had been rewarding, in a way Ollie had almost forgotten, watching Phantom grow as a hero.  Watching him grow more confident and more skilled-- and Ollie wasn't giving himself credit for all of that, but he'd helped bring those qualities out.

And then, Oliver came back to life.

-

"Where to next?" Roy asks, as they drive out of Central City. Ollie appreciates that Roy is willing to follow his lead on this, even though it's clear Roy thinks he's being ridiculous.  Sure, Wally would probably have let Ollie have that old ring of Barry's if he'd asked, just like the JLA would probably have let him have the diamond-tipped arrow.  But those things weren't theirs to keep or give in the first place.

"Amity Park, Illinois."

Roy gives him a skeptical look over the top of his sunglasses. "The hell is in Amity Park?"  He's bracing himself to hear about some other memorabilia Ollie left behind upon his death, something else that wasn't disposed of the way Ollie had requested.  Something else that other people-- even Roy-- think insignificant.

That would be easier to explain than this.

"Maybe nothing," Oliver says. "But I need to be sure."

-

Finding Amity Park in the first place is a task and a half.  It's not on the map Roy keeps in his glovebox, and they have to ask directions at multiple gas stations across Illinois before they arrive.  

It's immediately clear that they're in the right place.  Amity Park is a small city-- barely even a city, really.  But the property damage evident on the streets and the buildings is on par with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

Roy slides off his shades.  "What on earth..."  He glances at Oliver.  "Ollie, what is this?"

A green streak shoots across the sky, followed by a white one.  

Phantom.

"Follow them!"  Ollie points at the ghosts.  

By the time they arrive, it's a stand-off.  The other ghost has disappeared, but Phantom is hovering twenty feet off the ground, dodging blasts from a couple in brightly colored hazmat suits.  

The Fentons.  Ollie had heard a few stories about them while he was in the Infinite Realms, though Phantom had been reluctant to talk about them.

"Ollie," Roy says.  In his voice, Ollie can hear all the suppressed rage he himself is feeling, watching a child-- a superpowered child, but a child nonetheless-- getting shot at.

"Not yet."  Ollie wants to help, but he doesn't want to make things worse by jumping in without thinking.  Their help isn't needed in the end; Phantom manages to disappear from sight while the ghost hunters are distracted.

Oliver tells the whole story to Roy over dinner at the local fast food joint.

"Jesus Christ," Roy says.  

"So you see why I want to talk to Phantom," Ollie says.  

"Aren't you already training two kids already?  You gonna add all of this on top?"  

"Connor doesn't need training.  He could probably teach me a thing or two.  And no one is training Mia in anything."  Okay, that last part isn't quite true; Oliver knows for a fact that Connor has been giving Mia lessons in archery and hand-to-hand.  But as long as she's not trying to put on a costume and fight crime, he'll pretend he doesn't know.  Hell, it makes him feel better, knowing that she has a trick or two up her sleeve.

"Phantom can't be much older than she is," Roy says, a hint of judgment in his tone.

"Phantom is already dead," he says.  Roy flinches a little.  "And he doesn't have a Hal Jordan to bring him back."

They go back to their burgers.  It's not until Oliver is crumpling up his wrapper that he speaks again.  

"Look," Ollie says.  "This is a lot bigger than Phantom.  And based on what I know of him, he's not going to want to leave Amity Park.  But I want to let him know that someone's got his back."

Roy claps him on the shoulder.  "More than just one person."

-

Tracking down Phantom for a conversation is harder than it sounds.  Oliver doesn't know how much time he even spends out here, rather than in the Infinite Realms.  Not to mention the handy ghost power of invisibility.  

He suits up and stakes out a rooftop downtown, with Roy doing the same on the other side of town.  He's just getting ready to pack it in for the night and try it again tomorrow when a familiar form materializes next to him.

"Arrow?" Phantom asks.

Oliver smiles.  "Hey, kid."  

"What-- how-- you're alive?" Phantom sputters a little.

"Am now," Ollie says.  "A friend of mine brought me back."  He gives a quick overview-- Green Lantern, godlike power, decided what the world was missing was one Oliver Queen.  

"I'm going to do what I can about the Anti-Ecto Acts and the GIW," Oliver says.  "But if you ever need anything, give me a call.  Or just track me down in Star."  He hands a slip of paper with his phone number and email on it to Phantom.  

"Danny," Phantom says.

"Sorry?"

"My name.  It's Danny."

"Oliver."  Ollie holds out his hand and Danny shakes it.  "Good to meet you, Danny."

-

For a while, he only hears from Danny through irregular emails and the very occasional phone call.  Ollie leans on his Justice League acquaintances to help repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts and get rid of the GIW.  It's slow going-- much slower than Ollie would like.  Too many JL members are advising caution, wanting to find out more about ghosts and how dangerous they might be before they take a stand.  Luckily, neither Superman and Wonder Woman were happy about Oliver's news, and hold a lot of sway with the American public.  And rather conveniently, a number of reporters have suddenly begun looking into the Anti-Ecto Acts, stirring up public sentiment against them even more than before.

Things are looking good.  And then, Danny shows up at the front door of Oliver's brownstone.  

Oliver is making himself a sandwich when he hears the knock at the door.  Mia (who had finally gotten Ollie to agree to let her be Speedy a few weeks back) is with the Teen Titans for the weekend, and Connor is working at the youth center for most of the day, so there's no one else here to answer the door.  Ollie wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, and opens the door.

Ollie doesn't know it's Danny at first.  The Danny he met was a ghost, complete with jumpsuit and white hair and superpowers.  The kid that shows up at Ollie's front door is a living, breathing kid.  He's got pale skin and dark hair and he can't be any older than sixteen.  He's a little on the thin side, though given his age, he could just be going through a growth spurt, and the backpack slung over his shoulder is decorated with a NASA patch.  

"Ollie?" the kid asks. 

"That's me," Ollie says.  "What can I do for you?"

"It's Danny.  Phantom," he clarifies in a low voice.  "From Amity Park."

He can see it, now that he knows to look.  The face and build are the same, just color-swapped.

“I need your help,” Danny continues.

The kid looks like he’s about to fall over from exhaustion or stress or both. 

Ollie opens the door a little wider.  "Come on in.  I was just making myself some lunch.  You can tell me what's going on."

Danny follows him into the kitchen and takes a seat at the counter.   Ollie finishes the sandwiches and slides one over to Danny.  

Danny doesn't pick it up at first, busy fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie.  “I don’t know where to start."

"Well, I gotta say," Oliver says.  "You're looking pretty alive for a dead guy.  I mean, same could be said for myself, but I told you how that happened."

Danny grimaces.  "About that.  It's kind of complicated."

Oliver leans against the opposite counter.  "Hit me with it."  

He already knows it's bad.  He was worried about Phantom in the first place; that's why he gave Danny a way to contact him if necessary.  Whatever made Danny travel halfway across the country to see him?  It can't be good.

"My parents are the Fentons," Danny starts.

Immediately Oliver knows the story is going to be worse than he anticipated. "The ghost hunters.  The ones who built the portal."  Ollie had heard all about that portal during his sojourn in the Infinite Realms-- some from Phantom, some from other ghosts.

"Yeah.  Well, the portal didn't exactly work at first.  My friends wanted to see it, and..."  Danny shrugs.  "It worked better than anyone gave them credit for, it's just that they accidentally put the switch on the inside."  

He can see where this story is going.  "And you accidentally turned it on."  

"Yeah.  It killed me, but all the ectoplasm coming through the portal brought me back to life.  So I'm only half-dead."  Danny finishes up his sandwich but Oliver, who is familiar with the eating habits of superhero teenagers, hands him another one.

"I'm guessing your folks don't know."  

"My sister does.  My parents don't."  Danny fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie.  "That's not important."

It seems a little bit important.  

“It don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” Danny adds. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“You can stay here as long as you need to," Ollie says.  There's an extra bedroom that Stanley used as an office, back when this place belonged to him.  He'll need to get the junk cleaned out, but it should work for Danny.  "But it might help if I had a few more details.  Is someone gonna come looking for you-- or for Phantom?"

"I don't think so," Danny says.  "Well, the GIW might, but they're not super active outside of Amity Park."

"We'll handle them if they show up."  Oliver would love the chance to put a few arrows in them, and he's sure Connor and Mia would feel the same.  

There's obviously more to this story than Danny is currently telling him, but Ollie isn't gonna press.  Not yet.  Long and difficult experience has taught him how badly that usually goes when dealing with teenagers.  

Danny finishes up his lunch, and Ollie shows him around, eventually leaving him to hang out in the living room and watch TV.  Ollie himself starts packing up the junk in the spare room.  Danny might have to sleep on the couch for a day or two, until they get a bed for him to use, but it's an alright couch.  Ollie has certainly slept in less comfortable places.

He doesn't realize how much time has passed until he hears Connor call him from downstairs.

"Dad?"  

His tone of voice is carefully measured, but it's enough to remind Oliver that Danny is downstairs-- and that he didn't let Connor know about their new guest.

He dashes down the stairs and, sure enough, Connor and Danny are watching each other warily from other sides of the living room.  Danny in particular looks like he wants to bolt.  

"This is Danny," Oliver says.  "He's gonna be staying with us for a while.  And Danny, this is my son, Connor.  He's the other Green Arrow."  

"Nice to meet you," Connor says to Danny.  Then, "Dad, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Ollie follows Connor downstairs to the training room in their basement.  He has no idea how far Danny's enhanced senses extend outside the Infinite Realms-- or even if they work at all when he's not a ghost-- but Ollie suspects this conversation might not be as private as Connor is hoping.

"Are you sure about this?"  Connor asks.  

"He doesn't have anywhere else," Ollie says.  "What do you want me to do?"

Connor runs his hand over his face.  "I don't know.  But have you even talked to Mia about this?  When did you even meet this kid?"

"It was a sudden development," Ollie says.  "So no, I didn't.  But I don't think Mia's gonna tell me to send him packing."  He knows that's not what Connor is worried about; for all her bravado, Mia is still insecure about many things.  "As for how I met him... that's a bit of a story."

"Okay," Connor finally says.  "As long as you're sure."

Ollie clasps his shoulder.  "I appreciate it."  

-

They don't explain anything further to Connor that night, which is probably unfair to him.  But Ollie doesn't really want to make Danny explain more than once, and Mia won't be back until the next day.

Danny sleeps on the couch, and in the morning, he helps Ollie and Connor clean out the spare room.  Mia shows up a little after noon, having gotten a ride back from one of her powered friends, and finds the three of them eating pizza in the living room.

"You better have saved me some," she says, as she tosses her overnight bag on the floor.

"Didn't your friends feed you?" Ollie asks, but he passes her the box of pepperoni.  

Mia takes a slice and perches on the back of the couch, right next to Danny.  "Hi!  I'm Mia."  She gives Danny a look that is probably intended to be flirtatious.  

Danny looks a little like a deer in the headlights.  "Uh, hi?"

Connor raises an eyebrow at Oliver, and yeah, maybe having a teenage boy staying in the same house as Mia is a bad idea.  Then again, he's closer to her age than the guys she usually hits on.  

"This is Danny," Oliver says.  "Danny, Mia is my other kid.  She's also Speedy."  

They give Connor and Mia the cliff's notes version on ghosts and the Infinite Realms.  Danny knows a lot more than Ollie does about all of it, but he's much worse at explaining.  He either gets lost on tangents about inconsequential details, or he assumes they have more baseline knowledge than they do.

"I'm sorry," Mia says.  "Can we go back to the part where ghosts exist?"

"We've fought actual demons," Connor says.  "How are ghosts harder to believe?"

"Ollie was never a demon," Mia says with a shrug.  Then she narrows her eyes at Oliver.  "Were you?"

Ollie laughs.  "Definitely not."  

-

The next week or so is pretty quiet, by their standards.  The Green Arrows and Speedy go out and handle low-level crime in the city every night, though Phantom stays in at Ollie's suggestion; if the GIW is looking for him, it's better if he lies low.  It's a little worrying how easily he agrees.  It had never been that easy to convince him to do anything when they were training in the Infinite Realms.

Mia, who is better with technology than Ollie is, helps Danny send a message to his friends, letting them know he's safe.  

"It's better if I don't give them too many details," Danny says.  "Anyone who's looking for me will be watching them.  All of our devices are encrypted, thanks to Tucker, but I don't want to take any chances."

Danny comes with them to help out at the youth center, even while Ollie tells him that he's welcome to stay home and play video games or whatever.  Danny hasn't said anything about it, and so Ollie hasn't either, but Danny doesn't seem to want to be left alone for long.

Oliver wonders if that's because he's worried about himself or about them.

"So, where do your folks think you are?" Ollie asks at one point. 

Danny shrugs.  "Does it really matter?"

"Well, I'd like to know if I'm likely to be charged with kidnapping."  Connor and Mia both shoot him judgmental looks, but it's not like either of them were under any illusions about Ollie's ability to be delicate.  "I mean, I can handle it if I am, but I'd like to be prepared."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Danny says, and that's the subject closed for the moment.

Mia corners Ollie one afternoon at the youth center, while Danny is playing basketball with some of the kids.  Danny is losing, badly.  Turns out he's incredibly clumsy when he's not using his powers.  The kids don't seem to mind, though, and Danny is a pretty good sport about it.

"We're keeping him, right?" Mia asks.

Oliver gives Mia a level look.  He hasn't noticed anything beyond some flirting on Mia's side, but that doesn't mean much.  

"Not like that," Mia says, rolling her eyes.  "I mean, he's cute, but he's kind of dense."

"Funny, I'm pretty sure the same has been said about me," Ollie jokes.

"Whatever he's not telling us... it's got to be pretty bad, right?" Mia says.  "But he seems happy here.  And we won't let anything happen to him."

There's a lot Oliver could say here: Danny has parents, he has friends, he has a home he obviously misses.  By almost every measure, he's far more powerful than Ollie or his kids, and whatever has him scared is quite possibly out of their league.  But the truth is, he feels the way Mia does.  

"It's up to him," Oliver finally says.  "But he's welcome to stay as long as he wants to."

-

Green Arrow and Speedy are crouched on a rooftop, taking aim at a couple of drug dealers, when Connor's voice crackles across the comms.

"I've got eyes on some guys in white suits," he says.  "At Fifty-first and Green."  

That's halfway across town, though nowhere near the brownstone.  If something goes down in the next few minutes, Connor is going to be on his own.  

"Don't engage," Ollie says.  "We're on our way."

They break up the drug deal and make their way toward Connor, who has been updating them on the GIW's movements the whole while.  

"I think they're looking for something," Connor says.  "They keep stopping and checking some kind of device-- I think it's a tracker of some kind."

"They're looking for Danny," Mia says.  

"How did they even know he's here?" Ollie wonders, but neither Mia nor Connor have any idea.  He makes a split-second decision.  "Mia, head back home and keep an eye on Danny.  Tell him Connor and I are handling it."

Mia is obviously put out by being sent away from the action, but she complies.  Oliver catches up with Connor, perching next to him on the edge of a roof.  Down on the street, a couple of men dressed all in white exit a white van and wave around a couple of handheld electronic devices.  They don't look up, which seems like a mistake from people who ostensibly deal with ghosts.  Convenient for the Green Arrows, though.

Trailing the GIW agents is a piece of cake.  Their all-white getup makes them clearly visible from a distance, and they seem to rely on their equipment rather than their eyes or ears.  

Their apparent incompetence makes Oliver get a little cocky, and that's where things go wrong.  He lands on the building closest to the agents, sure that they won't look up and see him-- and he's right.

Unfortunately, their device starts beeping just at that moment, and the two men are suddenly on high alert.  Ollie gets the bad feeling that something about him is what set it off.  They pull out their guns and look around wildly, until one of the geniuses gets the bright idea to look up.  That's when they start shooting wildly at Oliver and Connor.  

Their aim isn't great, and whatever kind of energy weapons they're using are only powerful enough to do some superficial damage to the building facade, but Ollie isn't eager to find out how it would feel to get hit by one of those.  Fortunately, he and Connor are both much better shots than these guys.

They shoot the weapons out of the agents' hands first, then Ollie puts an arrow through one guy's hand while Connor puts one through the other guy's foot.  

For a minute, it seems like it's going to be that easy.  Then, three more white vans come peeling down the street and a dozen more agents pour out.  Now, it's Oliver and Connor who are pinned down, ducking behind the roof's edge to avoid getting hit by those energy weapons.  

Ollie puts an arrow through another guy's shoulder, and is just a smidge too slow getting back out of the way.  The energy blast is going to hit him right in the shoulder.  He braces to take the hit--

A green shield appears in front of him.  The energy blast hits it and dissipates.

For a moment, Ollie thinks it's the work of a Lantern.  And then he sees Phantom, a bright white and glowing target hovering above the street.  

The GIW agents have completely disregarded Ollie and Connor, and are frantically shooting at Phantom.  Phantom is dodging the blasts easily; there's no sign of the clumsiness that he's beset with when he's a normal human.  One of the agents gets an arrow through his shoulder, and Ollie spots Mia perched on a roof across the street.  

In hindsight, he really should have expected this.  Neither of those kids are the type to sit at home when they could be helping instead.  Even so, he doesn't like it.

With Danny distracting the agents, it's much easier for Ollie, Connor and Mia to hit them.  They may be outnumbered, but the GIW agents are terrible shots.  At some point, the agents seem to realize this, too, and flee back into their vans, limping and bleeding, and drive away.  

"Follow them?" Connor asks.  

"No," Ollie says.  "I don't think they're going to try anything else tonight."  

The four of them make their way back to the brownstone.  

"I told you to stay here with Danny," Ollie tells Mia, once they're inside and putting away their gear.  

"Did you really think I was going to listen?" Mia asks. 

Ollie runs his hands over his face.  "A man can dream."

"Besides," Mia adds, "from where I was standing it seemed like we bailed you two out.  Right, Danny?"

With a flash of light, Danny transforms back to his human form.  "I'm sorry," he says.  "I don't know how they knew I was here."

"I'm not sure they did," Connor says.  "They were looking pretty hard for something before they went after the two of us."

"But they were looking for me specifically," Danny says.  

Ollie gives Danny a closer look.  He's clearly nervous.  More than just nervous, he looks like he's on the verge of taking off and running.

"What makes you so sure they're here for you?" Oliver asks.  It's not that he doesn't trust Danny's instincts, but he doesn't feel like he's got the whole picture.  

Danny leans against the workbench, almost knocking a set of half-finished arrows to the floor.  "They've been trying to catch Phantom since the beginning," he says.  "I kind of made their lives difficult."

"Good," Connor says, crossing his arms.  

"Plus, a lot of Amity Parkers kind of... don't like Phantom?  So the GIW heard about what a menace I was, and that didn't help.  But then you got Superman and Wonder Woman and all of them to talk about how bad the GIW and Anti-Ecto Acts are, and that helped, and-- I had it handled. "

"So what happened?" Mia asks.  

"My parents found out.  And I kind of freaked out?  And I flew off, and the GIW caught up to me."  Danny looks around, takes in their stricken expressions, and hurries to add, "Not for long!  But then I headed back home and my parents were telling everyone I was dead.  I didn't know what to do, so I came here."  

Oliver's head hurts just thinking about this mess.  He walks across the room and wraps an arm around Danny.  "We'll get this figured out," he promises, though he's not entirely sure how.  "First things first.  What do you want to do about your parents?"  

Mia scowls at him-- she's clearly already formed her opinion on Danny's parents.  Ollie can't say he disagrees, but he's made his own share of mistakes in the parenting department.  He hopes that the Fentons might be able to come around, if only because Danny clearly loves them.

"The GIW..." Danny begins. 

"I've got a few ideas about them."  Ollie is a little torn between hunting them down himself, pointing Supes or someone in their direction, or letting it leak to the public that these government lackeys chased a kid halfway across the country.  "Do you want to go back to your parents?"

"I don't know," he says. "I miss them, but... I don't know if they'll believe I'm really me. They think all ghosts are evil. But even if they believed me..."  He trails off.  

"You can stay here," Mia insists.  "Right, Ollie?"

"Of course he can."  He didn't actually need Mia's prompting for that.  "You're welcome to stick around as long as you want, but you should at least stay until we get the GIW shut down."  

Danny looks around the room at the three of them.  Whatever he sees must reassure him because after a long minute, he nods.  "Okay.  At least until then."

[justwonder113]

Hi! I came across your blog and I literally had a reading marathon! The way you write is just *chefs kiss*

can I request female reader x han, where you’re in his room doing each others makeup and you end up kissing and teasing each other and making a mess with the makeup, then a member walks in on you straddling his lap but nonethless they’re met with such a cute sight 😌

Aww I can not simply describe how much it means to me that you like my writing. Thank you so much for reading my work and requesting such an adorable fic idea!!!! I loved writing every second of it and I really hope it is what you had in mind and that you will like it.

Warnings: I don't think there's any? Please tell me if I missed anything Reader being whipped and showering Hannie with affection. Not proofread.

word count 1 k

Masterlist

Soulmate- a close friend or romantic partner with whom one has a unique deep connection based on mutual understanding and acceptance. Well it is how meeriam webster's dictionary describes it. But it it so much more it can not simply be described by words. The Greek philosopher Plato wrote that humans once had four arms, four legs and two faces. He explained that Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half. Some people spend their entire lives searching for their soulmate. Some people have the pleasure of finding their other half, some don't. Some of them are so skeptical they give up on the whole idea of it.

You were always curios about who would capture your heart and who would be the one who made you feel so complete and full of love that you could call them your soulmate. You have always wondered how you would find out that they, they are the one, that's my soulmate. That's who I want to bond my life if.

Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine that you would realize you've found your soulmate, in the middle of the night, with your room dimly lit and music softly playing in the backround, laid across your bed trying to hold in your giggles as your boyfriend, the chaos incarnate, aka Han Jisung is trying to to put makeup on your face. This whole situation is ridiculous but you've never felt more at peace. You're sure now. This is the one you want to spend your life with. This boy who managed to capture your heart with his boba eyes and gummy smile is your soulmate. To think that you would realize this in such a ridiculous moment like this.

You don't need a mirror to know what you look ridiculous. You knew both of you would end up looking like circus clowns before you even took your makeup brushes out. That's why you went all out on his face and my god did he look ridiculous. But hey, you were also ridiculous, because looking at him, all dishelmed and with caked on makeup, messy hair and mischevious glint in his sparkly eyes, prettiest smile on his face as he proudly gazes at his own art, you have never been more in love.

"We need to even out the lipstick now." He looks away for a second and that's when you seize your chance. With one swift movement you switch your place with him. Han lookes up to you with wide eyes, clearly not expecting you to overpower him. "Wow this was really hot not going to lie!" He breaths out after a second, you can't help but roll your eyes.

"What a dork." You lean in and seal your lips together. You feel like you're overflown with love and all you want is to show him just how much you love him. You place gentle but firm kisses against lips, absolutely loving how he immediately responds to each and every one of them makeup long forgotten. You love how tightly he's holding onto your lips and how he chases after your lips when you lean back to let both of you breathe.

Sometimes you really can't believe that he's actually yours. You always get so owerwhelmed with love all you want to do is to shower him all the affection. And that's what you're set on to do. Feeling satisfied on the amount of kisses you left on his lips you decide to migrate them a little. Softly cradling his chubby cheeks you migrate your lips to his chin, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, everywhere you can reach. You want him to know just how precious he is to you. God you feel like you're under some type of love spell. You just can't stop kissing him.

And how can you when he looks so delicious? You could eat him up if you could. His hair is even more messy, his whole face is covered in your makeup and you can swear that red has never looked more better on anyone. His breathing is a little bit rugged, his skin is all flushed, which is apparent even under all that makeup, he has this lovesick smile while his eyes look a bit dazed while still shining like the brightest star for you. Does he even realize what he does to you?

"What brought this on?" He asks after he finally catches his breath. He leans up a bit so now you're in his lap, his arms tight around your waist.

A smile creeps up on your face, you gently move the hair out of his forehead and leave a little kiss there, smiling even more at the imprint of your lipstick on the center of his forehead. Just how much lipstick did he actually put on your lips?

"You make me believe in soulmates." Han looks surprised at fist, then unsure how to react before the brightest smile creeps up on his face. Suddenly your positions are switched yet again and you're on the bed while Han is the one covering your face with millions of kisses while muttering between each and every one of them just how much he loves you.

Unbeknownst to you, while you're all lovely dovely Chan had opened the door to Han's bedroom wanting to ask him something, let's just say there's this video going around in your friend group now where you look like two idiots in love. You wanted to die of shame when you saw it the first time, but upon closer inspecting it, the way you two looked at each other... You really found your soulmate.

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: DARK ROMANCE

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: This is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary: A sub needs a dom, a dom wants a sub but what happens when feelings overlap with contracts and love creeps in? Will a contract remain only a contract? Or are emotions like love too hard to keep in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath​ , thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me. Also thank you so much for writing my summary xx

You walked into the living room, relieved to be out of that uncomfortable outfit. The shower helped you relax, but you were still uneasy about the situation. Chan smiled at you from the couch, gesturing for you to join him. "Come, Princess."

You snuggle into his warm embrace, nestling your head on his chest. His strong yet gentle arms wrap around you, making you feel safe and cared for. As you listen to the steady beating of his heart, he leans down and places a tender kiss on the top of your head.

"I uh want to talk to you about something," he said, adjusting his body and causing you to sit up straight. 

"Sure, what about?" You say, getting comfortable on the couch, turning to face him and crossing your legs.

"Last night….I ah," he was really struggling to get the words out. You grab his hands in yours, hoping it will help him get them out, lightly stroking your thumb over his knuckles. 

He takes a deep breath before saying, "I heard you crying. . . because of me." You smile lightly but think to yourself that's only half true. Chan had yelled, and that's what started the tears at first. But really, you were mostly mad at yourself.

You take a deep breath. "It wasn't your fault. I was disappointed in myself for not being honest." Your gaze falls to the ground as you speak. You never wanted Chan to feel guilty for expressing his feelings.

Chan looks at you with soft eyes. "All I want is for you to trust me. That's been my goal this whole time." He gently lifts your chin up so you're looking at him. You notice his gaze drift down to your lips briefly before returning to your eyes.

You looked at him, unsure of what to say. "I don't know why I didn't tell you earlier."

He softly caressed your lips with his thumb and whispered, "It's okay. I just want you to know I'm sorry." 

Leaning in, placing his lips on yours, time seems to stand still. Chan's soft lips press against yours, consumed by the intoxicating feeling of his hands caressing your hips. His tender kiss leaves you breathless. 

Your eyes remain shut as he pulls away, giggling cutely as he realises you are chasing his kiss. 

……

"I have to go", you said, trying to grab your bag from Chan's hands. 

In an effort to keep you there longer, he pulls it away from you playfully as you attempt to grab it. "Chan," you say, pouting as he laughs, "I really have to go. I have to pack. The movers are coming next week." 

"Oh, that reminds me." He placed your bag and did a light jog to the main bedroom.

"This is not how I wanted this weekend to go….but I was supposed to give you this last night." He came down the hallway with a jewellery box, running his fingers through his hair.

"Open it", he smiled as he handed it to you. You snap open the box, and inside is a key. Your head shoots up to look at Chan as you blush. "It's the house key….I wanted to give this to you last night at dinner, but….we got rudely interrupted." 

He was right. This weekend did not go according to plan at all. The fact that you may not see each other for a couple weeks while Chan goes to Japan for his dome tour, resulting in you having to pack up your apartment alone, makes you sad. You thought this weekend was going to be some sort of sex-filled dream. However, that did not end up happening for obvious reasons. "I may not see you for two weeks", you pout as you suddenly become in no rush to leave. 

"Mmm," he hummed as he pulled you closer to his body. "See, you should stay," he smiled as his nose brushed your cheek, giving you goosebumps. "I have a lot of other things I was planning this weekend that we didn't get to do." He placed a light kiss just below your earlobe.

"We can't. You have a flight at 6 am tomorrow….and I have the movers coming at 9," you said, placing my hand on his chest, trying to put some space between the both of you. 

"But 2 weeks without you may just kill me." There he goes again, being all sweet. 

"But when you return, I'll be fully moved in." You smile, kissing his lips with a light peck. 

He glides his hand down your back, realising you're not wearing a bra. He pulls you in closer, lightly brushing his thumb over your nipple, instantly making it hard. 

"When I come back, I want to take you out on a real date," he said out of breath.

"I'd love that" you smiled, gripping your bag and stepping out of his reach, his hands falling to his sides. "Bye, Channie," you say sweetly.

…..

Monday 

M🥰

"About to leave for the plane… I'll text you when I land." 

You send him a picture of the live YouTube video you are watching of the airport. 

M🥰

“Are you watching me 😳…..are you sure you are not a stalker 😉” 

Y/n 

"Fine, I'll turn it off." 

M🥰

"No, I find it adorable." 

Y/n 

"Safe flight, sir." 

M🥰

"I'll call you tonight." 

It was only a short time before the YouTube live you had streaming on the TV went active, showing the guys rocking up to the airport. 

The camera zoomed in on Chan, making a heart shape with his hands. "Dork", you laughed, shaking your head. 

As they walked through the airport, you couldn't help but be nervous for them as people started swarming around them to get any sort of photos or even a quick touch from them. 

Your heart beats so fast in your chest as one of the members falls; you can visibly see the frustration in Chan's face as he struggles to keep himself calm. Eventually, they push through the crowd and head to security clearance. 

Y/n

"Omg….are you all okay?" 

M🥰

"I'm fine" 

Y/n

"Is it always that hectic?" 

M🥰

"Yes" 

His short answer makes you believe he is indeed angry. You decided to call him.

"Hello," he must be in professional mode.

"I know you said you're fine….but you're texting like you're angry." You just came out with it. 

"Guys, I just have to take this. I'll be back…order me something," he excused himself from the group. 

"Did you see the way they just swarmed us?" He snapped. "They could have hurt Ji", he growled.

"It's okay…just breathe." You could hear him take a deep breath in. 

"Thank you," he said, breathing out. 

"Okay, good….now have a safe flight," you said, about to hang up. 

"Wait…" He said quickly. "Did you see my heart? I did it for you?" Even through the phone, you could see him blushing. 

"Mmmmm….I did…. You're a dork," you laughed. "I better let you go. Text me when you land", you smile.

"What… you're not going to watch YouTube live", he chuckled.

"I ah…think I'll give it a miss….it made me nervous," you said 

"Cute, you worried about me." You could tell by how he said that sentence that he was grinning. 

"Bye, Channie," you said before hanging up. 

But you couldn't help yourself; when the video of the boys arrived in Japan, you ran to the TV; this time, it was a much calmer arrival.

They looked so happy and excited to be there. Chan even smiled and waved at the camera, almost like he knew you were watching. Chan pulls out his phone as they walk outside and into the car.

M🥰

"I made it, princess….in the car on the way to the hotel." 

Before you could reply, your doorbell went off. "Coming," you said, running to the door. 

……..

You had been so busy moving that a week and a half had gone by in no time, and it was finally time to move your stuff into channies officially. Well, the things you took with you. 

When you arrive at his house, Chan calls you to meet the small moving van you hired. 

"Hello," you say sweetly.

"How's the moving going?" You know he is watching you on the camera. He has them everywhere. 

"Are you watching me?" You laughed. 

"I'm always watching you… it's my favourite pastime." 

"That's creepy, Chan," you say as he laughs. "But while I have you…where would you like the couch you requested me to bring?"

"In the living room," he laughed.

"Chan, don't we should just get a new couch? Mine is so old." 

"I love that couch..." 

"It's ugly," you say, rolling your eyes. 

"It's not ugly… it's perfect." 

"Whatever?" you mumble. "I have to go….. they're here." 

"Okay, I'll see you in a couple of days", he said before he hung up. 

CHAN POV 

Ting Ting

I open my eyes to check my phone. "Fuuuckkk", I growl as tears begin to form in my eyes from the light's rays. 

"Unknown number", I whisper to myself. I don't want to wake Minho up from his sleep. 

Unknown number

"Don't worry, buddy…. I've been looking after her."

My heart races as I re-read the message, desperately hoping it wasn't meant for me. As I clumsily grab my phone, almost hitting myself in the process, I frantically open the camera app with shaking hands. Scrolling through the outdoor security feeds, my blood runs cold when I don't see her bedroom light on. Dear God, where could she have gone? The house sits empty as I plead for her to be safe inside. I feel a sense of dread wash over me - where is she? Please let her be here. 

I flick the camera into the master suite, and my panic subsides. "Oh, thank God," I breathe. She's curled up all cozy under my silk sheets. I watched her breathing so calmly and peacefully for a few minutes. Her chest rose and fell with such grace; she was simply stunning with her lips pressed together in the cutest sleepy pout. If I were there right now, I would not be able to control myself from planting the biggest kiss on those beautiful lips. My body gets all tingly just thinking about it, and I can't help but push those thoughts aside for now. The worst part about sharing rooms on tour is honestly not being able to care for myself whenever the urge hits. But now that I know she's safe and sound asleep, I continue to check the house for signs that she is alone. I don't care if I have to watch these cameras night and day; I will not let anyone touch her.

………

Morning finally arrives, and I open my eyes to find that Y/N has left our bed. This is the first time I've even had a thought like that about a woman… "Ours," I say softly, still staring at my phone screen. It's such a strange concept to me. The thought of sharing with a person makes me so happy. I look over at Minho, who is still asleep. Thank God…the last thing I need is for him to wake up and find me staring at my security cameras like a possessive monster. 

But that's what I am, a man obsessed with her, and after last night's text message, I need to hear her voice. Seeing her on my house camera is not enough. 

I step into the hallway as the phone rings. Minho is still sleeping but shouldn't hear me if I keep my voice low. 

"Hey you", her sweet voice was like music to my ears.

"Hey," I say back, and my nervousness vanishes. 

"What's up?….why are you calling so early?" I can hear her talking with her mouth full. 

"Is now a good time to talk?" I say, and I'm hoping she agrees to continue this conversation because now that I have her, I don't want to let her go. 

"Sorry…. I'm just eating breakfast….is everything okay?" I can see her now in my kitchen, eating toast and frowning. 

"Yeah…..I just ah," fuck how do I say this without seeming like an utterly love-sick puppy? "I ah", I keep choking on my words. Why can't I just say it? 

"I miss you too, Channie." I can hear her giggling on the other end, and it makes me smile to know she misses me just as much. 

"That obvious, huh?" I look at the floor as I kick my foot out. 

"That, and I figured you'd call me after I heard you snoring through the camera system this morning" My eyes widened…..could she really hear me snoring FUCK. 

"I ah….I can explain," I panic, fuck, who am I going to explain this without her thinking I'm an absolute creep.

"I'm just joking, sir….When I woke up this morning, I saw the red light and figured you were just checking in." The strain in my chest subsides as I relax my muscles. 

"I hope it's okay that I slept in your bed last night." I want to correct her and say our bed inside. I chuckle.

"Of course….keep it warm for me." I smile and hear what sounds like Minho walking towards the door.

"I have to go, but I'll call you later, okay?" I hang up the phone before she can answer me, and just in time as well….because as I place my hand on the door handle and open it, Minho practically falls out. 

"Spying on me…are we?" I laugh as Minho groans on the floor.

"Who are you even talking to this early?" He squints his eyes as he looks up from the ground. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I say, stepping over him and back into the room. 

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't." Minho gets up off the floor as I charge my phone. 

"I'm going to take a shower", I say, grabbing my towel and heading into the bathroom. 

"Oh, and Minho," I say, peeking my head out and catching him red-handed, looking at my phone. 

"No peeking, yeah", I laugh as I turn back into the bathroom; he could try to get into my phone; however, I changed the code as soon as Y/N and I got together. 

……..

For the first time, I think I actually miss someone. All the boys have gone out to eat and walk around Tokyo sitting, and I can't help but lay here in my shared hotel room and watch CCTV footage of y/n in my house. 

I wish I was there to help her; it's not like I can go home early, either. We have our show tonight. However, after our last show in Tokyo, the boys decided to stay for a couple of days. Still, I was reluctant to because everything I needed was at home. 

I've been sitting on the Korean Air website, deciding if a 6am flight back home is going to piss the boys off or not. They would be supportive if they knew why, but it's too early to let them know I'm seeing y/n. Especially when they only know her as a JYPE staff member.  

"What are you doing?" Minho said, coming out of the bathroom.

"Do you think the guys would be offended if I left tomorrow?" A question I only trust Minho to answer.

"Want to get home that fast?" 

"I just have so much I need to do….I just really don't have time for a holiday right now." A few days off with the boys would be fun; a few days off with y/n is my priority. After we had that huge fight before I left, I felt I needed to make it up to her. 

"I think they won't mind", he said, drying his hair with the towel. 

"Okay, I'll book this ticket then," I said, moving my hand to click the checkout button. 

Minho smiles. I know he's onto me, but he will never immediately ask me. That's not what Minho does. 

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a girl, would it?" He grins.

"No, Minho", I say, pretending to be annoyed and rolling my eyes. 

"Because we will support you 100% if it is?" 

"I know…but it's not." I smile, knowing it has everything to do with a girl. 

Master list: @bellamuerte1987 @nightrayseishina @9900z @armystay89 @dreamstarsandskz @fosfopirite @neyangi @princesspanda16 @krishastumblernow @agnes-king @bangtanmix73 @khemrose @fawnpeaks @missrobyn81 @dreambelieveinme @umbreonwolfy @jisungiexx @scarletrosesposts @choisoorin @izzathequeen @binnies-minsung-fanclub @jetblackbelle @bunnyxoxodarling @berryberrytan @sky-outta @zerefdragn33l @shiningnono @tinys0ftie @zinnichong @tuggybug @nokacchan @amaranth-writing @seungbinis @jisunglover3409 @kimseungminsprincess @goblin-waifu @skzswife @uwuitsjungwoo @marrivmel

[powdermelonkeg]

just saw ur gale/mystra analysis post. im new to the game and dnd lore and honestly… ur take on their relationship feels like the most natural/compelling one??? esp since its all too easy to simplify topics that have many facets and nuance….

thanks for sharing i love analysis and reading people’s takes on narratives : D

My pleasure! (Bee from the future here: congrats, you spawned another meta!)

I love complicated characters, WAY more than I like a clear cut-and-dry case. Flaws, to me, are what make a character compelling and lead to interesting stories about them with choices that can get them into situations. I'm both writing a fanfic and running a campaign where I'm playing as Gale, and in the interest of portraying him properly and in-character, I've gone into SUCH a deep dive into all the decisions and facts that make him him.

It helps to, y'know, also be in love with the fictional wizard, but I digress

The thing about Baldur's Gate 3 is that no character in there is perfect. I've seen a couple analyses about the theme of continuing cycles of abuse vs breaking out of them, but in my mind, in terms of the characters themselves, it goes like this:

The origin characters have just come out of the lowest situation of their lives (Lae'zel being the exception; being tadpoled is a gith's worst nightmare. You're seeing that lowest situation in real time).

Not the lowest point, mind. Gale's lowest was probably the day after he got the Orb. Wyll's was probably the day his father cast him out. Karlach's was the day she lost her heart. But the lowest, accepted normal for them is what they've just left.

They're then thrown out of their depth and forced to rely on you to live. That's #1 priority: living. We get the extremes of these characters before we get their nuances, because they're quite literally at their breaking points.

Then once we get to know them, we see their wants, their hopes, their fears, as they open up to us. Every companion's story is at their own pace, but they all have a moment where they ping-pong between despondency and desire. Sometimes that desire is what we know isn't good for them, like Shadowheart wanting to be a Dark Justiciar. Sometimes that despondency is only for a flicker, like Astarion's realization that he's condemned 7000 people to a half-life of tortured spawnhood for as long as he's been a vampire.

Romance lets us crack all that open more, because if you pursue a romantic partner, they see you as their closest confidant. They WANT to trust you, so they're more willing to explain how they see the world and what decisions they want to chase.

And then their endings. Those often get simplified as good/bad, continuing the cycle vs breaking away from it. But how is Duke Wyll on the same platform as Ascended Astarion? He's not evil, he's not even entirely unhappy. He might even have broken out of his abusive cycle with Mizora, if you played your cards right. And Ascended Astarion is overjoyed, even if he is remarkably more cold.

I think that the endings are less a dichotomy of "this is good for them" vs "this is bad for them," and more one of "bringing out their best traits" vs "bringing out their worst."

Wyll's worst trait is being willing to sacrifice his own wants for whatever people desire of him. His best is standing for what he believes in and ensuring people are safe. Duke Wyll leans into that necessity to turn the other cheek in the name of people who count on him, while the Blade of Avernus has seized that moral compass of his and forged it out of mithral.

Shadowheart's worst trait is blind obedience at the cost of her individuality, while her best is her desire to be kind to things that don't deserve to be hurt. Mother Superior Shadowheart's whole life is defined by Shar. Selûnite Shadowheart's life is defined by her hospitality, especially towards animals.

Karlach's worst trait is how willing she is to accept that things are (to quote her) fucked, letting despair override hope. Her best is her durability in the face of horror. Exploded Karlach would rather die than try to work out a solution in the Hells, because she's terrified of facing Zariel alone. Mindflayer Karlach has accepted her fate and decides to give up her heart and soul to go out a hero, losing who she is. Fury of Avernus Karlach is willing to keep fighting for a solution, and by the time the epilogue happens, she's got her sights set on one.

Astarion's worst trait is his desire for power over people. His best trait is using the tools he has to his advantage. Ascended Astarion has let his powerhungry nature and paranoia lead all of his decisions, with his sights set on dominating mankind. Spawn Astarion has embraced what he is, and carved out a life for himself where he can do as he pleases.

Lae'zel's worst trait is her blind fanaticism, while her best trait is her individual dedication, making her loyalty a marriage of the two. Ascended Lae'zel is a meal for the lich queen, turning a blind eye to all Vlaakith's tried to do to her and literally being consumed by her fervor. Champion of Orpheus Lae'zel has turned her loyalty into something productive for diplomacy. Faerûnian Lae'zel has seized her individuality by the throat and decided her own future.

And then Gale. Gale's worst traits are his hubris and, paradoxically, his low self worth. His best traits are his creativity and wonder for the world. God Gale is the embodiment of ambition, having burned away all but that in pursuit of perfection. Exploded Gale has let his remorse blot out all hope for a redemption in which he does not die, because he thinks he's earned it. Professor Gale leads his life by embracing the school of Illusion and letting his creativity thrive, teaching others to do the same. House Husband Gale has multiple creative projects he's working on, and Adventurer Gale is always finding new sights to see and wanting to share them with you.

There are arguments to be made on which ending the origins are happiest in, certainly, or which one benefits them the most, but each ending represents the extreme of a facet they possess.

So with all that, there's a sort of malleable method to figuring out the ins and outs of a character.

You take their endings—all of them, all variables they can have—and reverse-engineer the flaws and details they carry. Then you start to notice how those work into their approvals for minor things: Astarion approving of your taking of the Blood of Lathander, or Shadowheart approving of standing up for Arabella. Getting a list of approvals and disapprovals is helpful, but having those endings on hand tells you why they react like that to a majority of their decisions.

You take their romance-route explanations of how they act, and apply those to earlier decisions. Astarion's confession to manipulating you and Araj-prompted admittance to using himself as a tool brings to light how he reacts to your decisions, regardless of his actual opinions on them. Wyll's fairytale romance and love of poetic adages speaks to his idealistic nature, and why he takes a sometimes-blinded approach to decisions in which the "right" answer isn't always the smart one.

You take their beginning reactions to stress and use that to measure how future decisions impact them. Lae'zel locks down and gets snappy when she's scared, while Gale immediately turns to diplomacy. Shadowheart has gallows humor, while Wyll turns to quiet acceptance. If they break from these and seem even worse, you know the situation is more dire in their minds than having seven days to live.

And then you factor in all their fun facts and dialogue choices and backstories.

A wizard falls in love with a goddess and her magic, attempts to retrieve a piece of her power for her, is scorned for his attempt and is cursed to die.

Give that backstory to a Tav. Look at how it changes.

A chaotic good wizard fell in love with a goddess, thought retrieving a piece of power for her would be a showy bouquet of love, and was punished for not thinking things through.

A lawful evil wizard fell in love with a goddess's power, snatched the most precious thing she owned, tried to use it to barter his way through to the secrets she kept, and was given a swift retribution.

Same backstory. Same class, same act, same goddess. Wildly different connotations. Wildly different conclusions as to who is in the wrong.

If you take all there is to Gale, all that the game shows us makes up his character, and apply it to this backstory, you get what really happened:

A wizard, enamored with magic, fell in love with a goddess. His desires led him to want more than she was willing to give. In his well-buried fear of inadequacy, he concluded that the reason she wouldn't indulge his ambitions was because he just hadn't proven himself worthy enough. So he tried to prove himself, but he lacked the context for what he was proving himself with. And the goddess, seeing a weapon that had killed her predecessor, saw this ambitious wizard as losing his way and coming for her just like the weapon's creator had. She was angry, she withdrew his link to her, and he didn't know why. So he drew the conclusion that she took his powers to punish him, and let that encompass his fall from grace.

Was he wrong to reach for what was out there?

If you knew that the answers to everything you cared about were not only known, but kept by someone you loved—someone who adored you—what would you do to ask to see them? What if your curiosities were if there were other planets with life out there, or how dark matter worked, or whether or not we could one day travel in the stars? What if it was the potential cure to an illness that's little-understood, or the way to make a program you dreamt up, or the scope of the true limits of your artistic talents? Would your answer change?

Was she wrong to cut him off?

If you were once hurt, and the person you loved—the person who adored you—brought the thing that caused it to your door, believing you'd want it, how would you react to seeing it? What if that thing was someone you thought you'd broken contact with, like a friend or family member you'd been trying to avoid? Would your answer change?

That's the sort of scope that needs to be applied to this, on both sides. You have to take the perspectives of each party, and apply two analogies instead of one.

Gale saw the vastness of the universe, untold wonders, the solution to every question he could ever dream up, and saw Mystra as withholding this from him because she thought he just wasn't worthy enough. To claim Mystra knew his perspective does her a disservice.

Mystra saw a cruel weapon she thought long gone, in the hands of someone who could use it, brought right to her, and thought Gale was willingly following the path of Karsus. To claim Gale knew her perspective does him a disservice.

Should Gale have researched his prize more, so he knew just what he was obtaining? Should he have kept his hands off a cursed book that would devour him? Of course he should have.

Should he have given up on chasing his dreams?

Should Mystra have understood that Gale's pursuit of power was nothing like Karsus'? Should she have communicated when she was angry instead of giving the cold shoulder? Of course she should have.

Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt?

That's the root of their falling out. That's what leads to hurt being inflicted. Understandable, human reactions to the situations they perceive. Unhealthy, unwise choices made afterwards.

You work backwards from this to figure out their dynamic as Chosen and goddess. You work forward from this to understand more of where Gale and Mystra are during the events of Baldur's Gate 3. Gale reached too high, and understands this. His goddess hates him, and he regrets this. Mystra isolated Gale, and understands this. Her Chosen wants redemption, and she wants to make it happen.

Just like we took Gale's character into account, we also have to take Mystra's.

A goddess is faced with a problem. She uses someone who's desperate for approval to solve it, by telling him to kill himself.

An evil goddess is faced with a threat to her reign. She sees someone who's unfailingly loyal and hates himself, and elects to have him tear himself apart rather than do anything about it.

A good goddess is terrified of the future. She sees someone who tried to hurt her, who's going to die anyways, and tells him to use it to save the world.

Same story. Same act, same power, same pawn. Different character. Different perspective. Different outlook on whether or not this is the right thing to do.

Mystra has died, multiple times, to people trying to stake claim to her domain. Someone appears with the very thing that could do it again, right as she's regained her stability.

She does not see mortals the way mortals do. She is timeless. She is eternal. She has a duty to protect billions of people, and one person lost to protect that number is more than worth the sacrifice.

People like to bring up the Seven Sisters as proof of Mystra's cruelty. For those unaware, Mystra asked permission to, then possessed, a woman, used her to court a man (with dubious consent from the woman), and bore seven children, all of whom were capable of bearing Mystra's power as Chosen without dying. The woman she possessed was killed in the process (reduced to no more than a husk, then slain by her now-husband, hoping to end her suffering), and the husband was horrified by the whole story.

Mystra needed Chosen in order to restore herself in the event that she was killed again, to prevent magic as a whole from collapsing and wreaking havoc on the mortal realm, like it had in the few seconds Mystryl had been dead. Elminster, Khelben Blackstaff, and the Seven Sisters contributed to this. The more Chosen she has, the better; what happens if Elminster dies? She can't afford to have all her eggs in one basket.

Mystra has Volo (yeah, that Volo) as a Weave Anchor, imparted with a portion of her power to prevent the Weave from shredding itself to pieces in her absence. All Chosen of Mystra are Weave Anchors by nature. The creation of Weave Anchors was mandated by Ao, the Overgod, and Chosen are the best way to make sure those anchors aren't drained by ambitious people hoping for godlike power. Chosen can, and will, defend themselves, unlike static locations (which Mystra also has). The anchors are why the Weave wasn't completely obliterated during Mystra's last death, when the Spellplague rose up, because they stabilized the Weave around them.

Everything Mystra does is in the name of the big picture, to prevent a catastrophe like the fall of Netheril from happening again. Her restriction of magic, her numerous Chosen, her creation of Weave Anchors, her destruction of those who would claim her power, it's all in the name of the stability she's been charged with. Dornal Silverhand's grief and Elué Silverhand's death, while regrettable, were worth it to bring seven more anchors into existence to save all of the Material.

So someone appears with the Crown of Karsus, potentially powerful enough to try to kill the other gods in the name of the Dead Three. She can't risk being a target of them. She can't risk the destruction of magic again.

Gale is going to die. He lives in fear. He begs for forgiveness.

In Mystra's eyes, she's offering him the best outcome. She'll let him die in service to her, to save Faerûn, and she'll forgive him. He's going to die anyways, and if he does this, she'll give him everything (she thinks) he could ever want in her realm. She's asking him to do what (she thinks) is the right thing.

"She would consider what she considers to be forgiveness."

Notably, she leaves the decision in his hands. She doesn't have Elminster lead him to the Nether Brain. She doesn't activate him as soon as he's there. When he lives yet, she doesn't revoke the charm that keeps him stable. And when he declines, when he lets it go and starts pursuing Karsus' path, she doesn't smite him on the spot.

She is (she thinks) being incredibly patient. If Gale is going to try to be Karsus II, she's ready for him. If he decides to walk off and keep the Orb, he's dug his own grave in the Fugue Plane (those who don't have a god to claim them roam endlessly as husks and form a wall of bodies around the City of Judgement).

From her perspective, she's not being unreasonable. But from the perspective of a mortal, she absolutely is.

"Now, I have a question for thee: what is the worth of a single mortal's life?"

This is a question she cannot answer properly.

I think a lot of characterization is lost whenever someone paints one of them as being totally in the right. But I also think you have to be invested in them as characters to want to see that characterization. If you want to write about Mystra, you have to try to get into her head, analyze the decisions she made, figure out why she thinks she was right, and follow the pattern.

Gale's sacrifice is a very predictable thing for her to ask for.

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together.

afab!reader x aged up Clapton Davis

Summary: You moved houses and jobs just to get away from Mike after he abandoned you and your 6-year relationship. But, one day he shows up in the vacant apartment next to yours. You quickly make it your mission to make every night a living hell for him with the (unknowing) help of your old high school fling.

WC: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, p in v, fingering, hair pulling, porn with plot, no use of y/n, hard dom, unprotected (wrap it please), angst, exes, daydreamed violence, aged up character

A/N: I’ve never posted my writing before due to being insecure, but now that I discovered this fandom on Tumblr, I decided to suck it up and see where it goes! I’m sorry if this is bad, I wrote it at 3 am two nights in a row. I just had to write something before I forgot all my ideas. Enjoy!

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You hated him. You hated him so fucking much. All you wanted to do was watch him wear your hands around his neck like a necklace. And there he was, standing outside the vacant apartment beside yours, cardboard boxes surrounding him.

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You're running late to work, having slept through your alarm. You quickly hop out of bed, jump into the shower, and throw on whatever clean enough clothes are on your laundry pile.

As you run out your door, you pause, noticing the piles of boxes lining up the wall of the apartment next to yours. You smile, waiting for whoever it is to walk out. You honestly didn’t mind your previous neighbors. By all means, they weren’t the friendliest of people. They’d bang on your walls if you even played your music one digit too loud.

So, honestly, you couldn’t help but admit you were pretty happy when they moved out. As you eye the boxes that take up half the hall, you feel yourself getting excited.

After a few moments, you see him.

Your heart drops, and you feel your whole life falling apart in just one second. He turns to look at you, your eyes locked on each other. Both of you pause, not a word leaving your mouths.

Almost exactly 2 and a half years ago, the love of your life, the man you pictured spending the rest of your days with, left. He didn’t warn you, he didn’t even call. You came home, and all of his and his sister's belongings were completely cleared out of your apartment, gone without a trace. All he left you was a text. A single text.

“I found someone new, I’m sorry. I truly wish you the best. I hope someday you’ll forgive me.”

After a few months of rotting in your bed with mascara-stained pillows and tear-soaked bed sheets, you got tired of wasting away. You moved away to a new, cheaper apartment, not warning anyone of your departure. You wanted a fresh start. A new job, a new home. A new you. All you craved was a way to forget the past, and you were so close.

Except after 2 years, the past was standing in front of you, only a few feet away. Anger bubbles within you, the deep cuts he left when he abandoned you all of those years ago tearing open and filling with nothing but pure, burning hatred.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You say, his face twisting.. into god knows what. You want to ask him so many questions. You want to get on your knees and beg him to tell you why he did what he did. At the same time, you want to sock him in his mouth. Instead of doing either, you turn on your heel, walking away as fast as you possibly can.

He doesn’t call after you, he doesn’t chase you. Instead, you hear the faint click of a door shutting behind you. Your anger turns to anguish as you hurry down the hallway, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and you before breaking down. You find a maintenance closet, slam it behind you, and sink to the floor. You sob until your throat is destroyed and your eyes are dry.

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All you can think about while you work is him. Are you grading your students' homework? Mike. You’re yelling at your class for being too Rowdy? Mike. He lives in your head the entire day, and no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is the look on his face when he saw you just a few hours ago.

The school day is finally over, but you dread going home. You wish you could curl up under your desk and live there for the next few decades. But you can’t, so you suck it up and drive back to your apartment.

You get to your door, fumbling with your keys as you quickly try and escape the hallway. You hear the door next to yours click open. You rest your head against your door in defeat. He walks by you quickly, not even glancing towards you. You clench your fists, swinging your door open as soon as you unlock it, slamming it so hard behind you the frame shakes.

You want to cry, just like you did before. But no tears spill. Your eyes don’t even water. All you feel is rage.

You decide right then and there, you're going to make him suffer for what he did to you. Besides, maybe if you truly make him miserable he’ll move back to wherever the hell he came from.

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Later that night, you start plotting different ways you can get him to pack up his shit and run away with his tail between his legs. You think of hundreds of possibilities ranging from glitter bombs in his mail to… Clapton. You shake the thought out of your head immediately. You can’t do that to him. He’d probably be down for anything, to be honest.

Despite that, you tuck the idea into the back of your head, writing it off as a last resort. You want to start with more petty things before immediately jumping to the most extreme idea your mind can muster.

You quickly form a short list in your head, smiling as you daydream the look on Mike's face as you go through each scenario. Around midnight, after you finish coming up with every possible insane revenge plot you can think of, you crawl into bed.

After tucking yourself in, you Bluetooth your phone to a speaker, turning it up. You play the most infuriating, mind-numbing song you can think of. It starts blasting out, the speaker shaking on your bedside table. You sigh, sinking into your pillow as you hear Mike’s old bed springs creak through the wall.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the same song looping repeatedly. He doesn't knock on the door. You don't even hear him speak, let alone breathe through the wall. You groan, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you realize it might be pointless.

Despite your failure on the first night, you continue to blast the same song night after night, all with the same result. After almost 3 nights of getting only a few hours of sleep, you give up. You have to step up your game if you want to get results.

A few weeks pass without you tormenting him. You want to make him feel safe. You want to make him feel like you realized it was all a waste of time. Well, you also waited a few weeks since that's how long it took for the prank package you ordered to come. Sure, the package was a bit pricey, but you decided it was worth it either way. As soon as the post office stops by your apartment, you snatch up the box, almost ripping it out of the poor mailman's hands.

You quickly customize it so Mike believes not only is it his mail, but that some random man from Florida sent it. At first, you had thought to sneak into his apartment and throw glitter over everything, just like you'd do back in high school. But, you need to be careful about how you go about this. Unless you want a lawsuit to land in your lap, you need at least some amount of deniability

After deciding it's perfect, you leave it directly in front of his door. He might think the placement of the box is a tad suspicious, but you rationalize it by telling yourself he’ll feel so special he’ll open it on the spot.

After a few hours, Mike comes home from what you assume is work. A part of you wonders why in the world he works on the weekends as well. You forget about the thought quickly as you flip open your phone, watching through the camera that comes with the box. You watch in anticipation as you hear the sound of tape tearing off of the cardboard. Your smile widens as you see Mike's face appear in the frame, peeking into the box.

After a few heartbeats green, blue, and pink glitter explodes directly into his face. He yelps, dropping the box immediately. As soon as the box thunks against the door, more glitter explodes out, covering his entire living room. You hear him groan through the wall, grumbling about how petty and childish you are.

You’re laughing way too hard to even care he knew it was you. Tears start streaming down your face, and you clutch your stomach as you try to breathe. You finally got him. You feel on top of the world as you look at the camera through blurry eyes. All you see is a beet-red Mike decked out in sparkles. You start laughing even harder as he flips off the camera before stomping on it, destroying the feed.

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Despite how his misery made you feel at first, you start to get a little less happy as the days pass by. He hasn’t talked to you about it and he hasn’t told anyone what went down, not even the landlord. A fraction of you begins to feel a little worried he might be planning. As you ponder the thought, you hear a knock on your door.

You creep over to the peephole, seeing no one standing at your door. You crack it open, worried Mike might be standing outside, waiting to ambush you. Instead of Mike standing around the corner with an airsoft gun, there's an Amazon package.

You smile, realizing exactly what it is. You ordered soundproof headphones so you could sleep while also torturing Mike. You quickly take it to your kitchen, tearing it open without a second thought.

What. The. Fuck.

Glitter sprays everywhere. Directly into your eyes, all over your dining table, all over the countertops. It even reaches the sink. You scream as you try and claw the glitter away from your face. As you stumble towards the sink, glitter continues to coat your entire kitchen.

This means war.

You immediately flip open your phone, not even bothering to clean the mass of glitter that’s coating your kitchen. You text the one person you know would do anything for you.

“I need you, Clapton.”

He found someone new? Well, so did you. And you’re going to do everything in your power to make sure he fucking knows.

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During your high school years, you and Mike became inseparable. It was the two of you against the world... Until Clapton Davis came along. The three of you became the best of friends. You always knew Mike was jealous of Clapton and how much he captured your attention. Despite how you felt towards him while you were younger, you chose Mike. And he threw it all away for some random bitch.

So, now you’re choosing Clapton.

A month ago, you two decided to reconnect and reminisce about old times. You had him over a few times just to watch a few movies, but the most you’ve done is kiss. Every time he’d come over, you knew he wanted more. And he was getting exactly that.

You lay in bed, waiting for just the right time. Around 2 am, you smile to yourself as you faintly hear Mike shuffle into bed and sigh as he sinks into it. Thank god for the paper-thin walls. You reach over to your bedside table, squinting into the light. You flip to Clapton's contact and text, “Do you think you could come over right now?” You had originally told him to come over the next night, but it had to be at an ungodly hour, or it wouldn't be as satisfying. Almost immediately He texts you back, “Are you okay?”

“I just need to see you sooner.” He immediately texts back a thumbs up, and after a little over 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door. You unzip your hoodie, quickly making your way to the front of your apartment. You open the door and there he is. He clearly had just woken up, wearing a tank top and grey checkered pajama pants. A fraction of you feel bad for calling him over like this, but you push it aside and remember who’s sleeping just on the other side of your bedroom wall.

He raises his eyebrow, unsure of how to ask why you ‘needed him.’ You don’t give any explanation before you throw yourself at him. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. He sucks in a breath, clearly confused. That confusion vanishes when you press yourself against him, pulling his waist against yours.

He wraps his arms around your waist, walking you into your apartment. He walks you backward, your back hitting the kitchen counter. You whimper as you feel him hoist your thigh up, holding it as his hip. Suddenly, he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you look up at him, your eyebrow furrowed. You sigh as you see him looking at your kitchen in utter confusion. “What in God's name happened?”

The kitchen is still completely decked out in glitter. The moonlight slithers its way through the window, illuminating the sparkles, making it look like a thousand stars splattered against the walls. You laugh a little, brushing it off. “Nothing Important.” He seems like he wants to say more, but as you grind your hips against his, he immediately forgets it. He groans, bending down to press his lips against your neck.

You tangle your hands through his hair as you feel his lips brush your neck. He starts sucking the skin below your pulse, making you whine into his ear. You gasp as you feel his teeth meet the plush skin, nipping at the sore spot. You slowly start grinding against him harder as his tongue swipes across the already numb skin. He groans against your neck, his breath hot against it.

His fingers slowly brush down your body, leaving goosebumps erupting on every inch he touches. His hand reaches your waistband, fiddling with the elastic. You whine against his shoulder as his fingers dip lower, rubbing your clit through the thin fabric. You slowly grind your hips against his finger, desperate for more friction. He picks you up by your thighs, his fingers digging into the skin. You wrap your legs tight around his waist, holding onto his neck. He quickly carries you to your bedroom, throwing you down as he reaches your bed. He lays you down, sliding next to you.

He presses his lips against yours again, this time wasting no time to dip his fingers into your panties, not even bothering to remove them. He drags his digits through your folds, circling your clit. “Shit, you’re already so wet.” He gasps out. His middle finger teases your entrance before slowly sliding in. He slowly pumps in and out of you, curling his fingers on the spongy parts inside of you, hitting all the right spots.

“You like that?” He asks, and you nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. You feel him add another finger and your walls clench around him. “Fuck!” You cry out, frantically grinding against the palm of his hand begging for more.

He adds a third finger, and you see stars. He pumps faster and faster, bringing you dangerously close to the edge. You just barely overplay your volume, remembering Mike. As soon as your legs begin to shake, he removes his fingers, ruining your orgasm and leaving you feeling empty. Your eyes flutter open and you stare at him, whimpering.

He slowly puts the fingers that were just inside you in his mouth, cleaning them off. You bite your lip as he blinks at you through his long eyelashes, savoring the taste. He smiles down at you once he’s done, sliding your zip-up off your shoulders. He slowly undresses you, a pile of clothes beginning to form on the floor. He leaves you in nothing but your panties. His breath hitches in his throat as he studies every curve of your body.

You do the same to him, helping him pull his shirt off his head. Your hands quickly fly down to his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his ankles. His tight grey boxers leave little to the imagination as you see the outline of his hard-on, begging to be free. You do exactly that, pulling them off of him. His dick springs free, hitting his stomach.

Your eyes trail along every vein and detail, taking him in. He’s average, but somewhat girthy. The tip is hard and red, already leaking with pre-cum, slowly dripping down his shaft. You reach out, your thumb collecting it. You stare into his eyes as you suck it off of the pad, a bittersweet taste spreading across your tongue. As soon as your thumb pops out of your mouth, he grips onto your hips, pulling him on top of you. He slides your panties to the side and you moan feeling the cold air hit you. He slides his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness.

You slowly sink down onto him, gasping as his tip enters you. He grips your waist harder, holding you down. “You can take it.” He moans out. He slowly pushes himself in a little more, and you swear you hear him whimper. You cry out, laying down on his chest. “Shit!” He goes inch by inch, and you groan louder and louder as he fills you out.

He pushes in, faster this time, and you finally feel his hips meet yours. “You’re such- Shit! You’re such a good girl.” Suddenly, he grabs you harder by the waist, flipping you over. You gasp as your bare stomach meets the rough sheets of the bed. He grabs your hair, pulling you against his chest, somehow hitting so deep you see white.

You moan out his name louder and louder as each thrust inside of you quickens. He shoves you back down against the bed, thrusting so hard the headboard begins to slam against the wall. You smile into the sheets realizing the torture Mike must be going through right now. “You’re taking me so well…” He grumbles out, pushing deeper into you.

The smile is immediately wiped off your face as he moves one hand away from your hair and slithers it down to your clit. He rubs circles on it with 2 fingers. You grip your fingers into the bed sheets, screaming into the mattress. Your vision starts getting blurry as the knot in your stomach gets tighter and tighter. Pure euphoria tears through you as his fingers quicken as well as his hips.

“I’m close-“ He groans out as your walls clench around him. He rubs faster and faster circles on your clit and your legs start to shake uncontrollably. You scream louder and louder, and your walls start to spasm. Quickly you hurdle over the finish line, coming all over his dick. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you feel him release inside of you, his hips stuttering.

You call out his name one last time before he pulls out of you, lying down next to you. He looks over at you, tears spilling down your face and your fingers still bunched up in the bedsheets. He laughs as you give him a shaky smile.

“I’ve imagined that since grade 12..” He whispers out. He reaches towards you, brushing your hair that’s plastered to your face with sweat. “Me too..” You smile, moving forward to press your lips against his. He kisses you back, pulling you on top of him. He smiles up at you, his face flushed.

“Round two?”

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Your eyes flutter open, the warm sun creeping through the blinds, bathing your room in a warm orange glow. You slowly reach next to you, feeling the muscles on Clapton's back. He stirs, turning onto his back. His eyes slowly open, and he slowly looks over at you. He stretches up, propping himself up on his elbows.

“I better go…” You get up as well, turning and placing your feet on the cold wood floors. You gather up his and your clothes from last night, handing them to him. After you're both dressed, you lead him to your front door. He opens it and steps out into the hallway, starting towards the elevator.

As soon as you hear Mike's door click open, you quickly grab Clapton's wrist, pulling him back towards you. You get on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. He slips his tongue in your mouth, his hand untangling your hair. After a few seconds, you pull away, resting your forehead on his.

“I’ll see you around?” He says, smiling. “Of course.” You grin, pecking his cheek. He unwraps himself from you, turns around, and walks away. He doesn’t even seem to notice his old best friend who is standing just a few feet away, watching.

Once Clapton’s out of sight, you turn to look at Mike. Oh, he looks absolutely wrecked. His curls are a tangled mess and the bags under his eyes are even deeper than you’ve ever seen them. He has the same look on his face you’ve seen him have when men would flirt with you on your dates. But, he also just looks.. sad. You expect him to turn back into his apartment and walk away but he speaks instead.

“The glitter wasn’t enough for you, huh?” You scoff, anger filling inside you at his audacity. “A girl can’t have fun?” He raises an eyebrow at you and a small smirk creeps onto his face. “You think I don’t know how purposeful that was? Do you have any respect for others?” You laugh, right in his face. His mouth twists into a nasty scowl, his stupid smirk wiping immediately off his face.

“Mike, I lost every bit of decency I had towards you when you abandoned me for some..” You don’t finish the sentence, instead letting his mind fill in the blank. He doesn’t look angry, he just looks disappointed. He looked at you like that when you were still together.

You’ve always hated that look.

He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly wanting to say something important but deciding against it. He shakes his head and turns back into his apartment, closing the door behind him softly.

You do the same, opening your door and sliding down with your back against it. You pull your knees up to your chest, rubbing the bruises on your sides that Clapton left. You rest your head on your knees and sigh.

“God, what am I doing?”

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[hornyjorny]

following the river

summary: almost a frame-by-frame fanfic of river's scene in-game, but better :3 ish!! an- guys i am so fucking sorry i haven't posted in fucking AGES i've been absolutely dogged with work n shit and i'm depressed as fuck. anyway. here's to my loyal river fans (all twelve of us) hashtag justice for river ward ive literally spent months on this for no reason warnings- smut (18+ mdni), cowgirl, first time, you're both nervous as fuck, multiple positions, switch!v, switch!river, fucking the police, johnny ment, oral (f receiving and very brief lol), missionary, mild angst with cavity-inducing sweetness at the end, river and v are very much in love, cuddles

wc: 9.2k

If you had told yourself you’d be spending the night with an NCPD badge a month ago, you woulda’ laughed in your very own fuckin’ face. But between those heated kisses and those soft, hushed whispers, River Ward leads you by the hand into the silence of his bedroom— and it all feels far too unreal. 

But the truth is, reality is a bitch. And now here you are, tangled in a contradiction of your own making. Guess you misunderstood the whole “FUCK THE POLICE” thing. 

He oughtta be chasing you down, not holding you close. But fuck, this whole situation with River is just so thrilling, and it’s absolutely undeniable that he’s more than just some badge. 

There’s kindness, there’s goodness in him that transcends that old, dumbass uniform he used to wear. Night City may be bleeding, and Johnny Silverhand may be a relentless presence in your head, but River offers something more—a promise of a future beyond the consistent chaos as he leads you into the quietness of the trailer. 

To be honest, you’re not sure if you’re entirely in love with River— sure, you’re attracted, and sure, your heart beats a million times faster when he’s around, and sure, you think about him all the fucking time, but shit, you don’t know love. But fuck, whether you deserve it or not, there’s just something about him, you don’t know what feels… safe. 

River represents something you’ve never really had: hope. The hope for a promise of an actual future— a real-ass life. Not just surviving but living— happily, at that. 

And for tonight, that’s enough.

Never before have you encountered someone as gentle, as fucking sweet as River. His kindness, his sincerity, it's like a lifeline amid chaos. But with each tender moment, each stolen kiss, you can't shake the gnawing feeling of guilt eating away at you. Oh, how you don’t want to feel this way, but here you are regardless, falling and falling for River, and allowing yourself to embrace the sensation of being vulnerable in more ways than one. And oh— is it such a bad time to catch feelings; your time on this earth is limited. 

You’re a merc, one with a ticking timebomb of a narcissistic rockerboy lodged into your head, just waiting to take over your body, waiting for you to finally kick the bucket so he can take control. You’re not exactly girlfriend material. You’re neither beautiful nor are you admirable. You are tired. You are bruised.

You're a mercenary, a killer by trade, and here you are, falling for a cop—a man dedicated to upholding the law you so often break.  

You know you should push River away, distance yourself before it's too late. But goddamn it, you can't bring yourself to do it. 

It’s almost funny, you think. Funny to have found a love oh-so-precious—oh-so beautiful, only to have it ripped away from you by a little piece of plastic nestled in your skull. River’s warmth, his unwavering support, it's all both a blessing and a curse. You desperately want to hold onto this love, to cherish every moment you have left, but the knowledge that your time is running out gnaws at your very soul. 

You sigh. Fuck, you know you can’t think about this now— you know it’s best to enjoy the moment rather than to trouble yourself with the moral implications of it all right now. You’ll destroy yourself otherwise. 

And little do you know, but River’s thoughts are mirroring your own. He's fucking scared, terrified of the way you've woven yourself into the fabric of his life. As a detective, he's seen the darkest corners of Night City, the horrors that lurk in the shadows. But when it comes to you, he's lost, unsure of how to navigate the maze of emotions that swirl within him.

You're the very embodiment of everything he's sworn to protect the city against. And yet, he can't help but fall for you. Behind the walls you've erected to shield yourself from the world, he sees the vulnerability, the genuine warmth that draws him to you like a moth to a flame. But there's a part of him that fears the truth, that fears what he might discover if he delves too deep into your world. And as you stand together in the silence of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but wonder if this fragile bubble of happiness is destined to burst, leaving nothing but broken pieces in its wake.

The linoleum floor creaks beneath your steps as River leads you further, navigating the narrow hallway. Anxiety continues to brew within him—shit, he just hopes you like him back.

He hopes his choice is right. He hopes he made the right choice by bringing you around.

But all of the chaos, all the fear building within, completely evaporates away when his eyes finally meet yours, his anxiety dissipating into nothingness. Tonight, all he wants is for the two of you to be one, where nothing in the world matters. It makes everything else seem so distant and minuscule, and that, oh, it’s the closest thing to heaven that he’s ever known.

Nothin’ else matters—except for the moment.

River pauses at one of the entryways, silently gesturing to his niece and nephew, sleeping peacefully. You understand what he’s communicating to you immediately.

You two need to be quiet tonight.

Tonight is the perfect time to forget that you’re a mercenary and he’s a cop. No badges, no guns, no uniforms—and no parasitic rockstar in your head, either. Just you and him.

So you nod your head in acknowledgment as you ease past the kids and follow him into the silence of his bedroom. Your stomach flutters in your chest; oh, fuck, you feel like a couple of giddy-ass teenagers. 

You’re relentless, in all the right ways. Your desperation to feel River, to kiss him— it’s intoxicating. Once the door clicks shut, you immediately rise up on your tippy-toes with zero hesitation to press your lips against his; you could do nothing else. 

Fucking finally. 

One kiss, and you know you’re addicted to the taste of his lips on your own. You know then, that nothing else could give you such a natural high. You must confess, that your thoughts are impure, and the fire is burning within your bones. Shit, it excites you so much, just the idea of riding him absolutely senseless— you’re gonna fuck away his entire moral compass by the end of the night. 

It’s as your lips press together, with all the desire arousal, and heat you have to offer, a wave of cruel exhaustion washes over you as River embraces you, finally making its way to the forefront of your mind. His warmth almost feels like a blanket, of sorts, soft and comforting.

A soft pleased hum escapes River’s lips as he presses himself against you, moving his hands to grip the back of your head tightly, returning your kiss with the same raw passion. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his body pressing against yours— fuck, it feels so nice to be held by a body that feels like home. 

And for once, it's not Johnny who takes over your thoughts, but River. You need him—now. The heat of his lips on yours is fucking intense. It's like everything else in the city fades away, and for once, even Johnny’s presence is just a distant buzz in your mind.

And all there is, that's all that matters—River, you, and the rest warmth of his lips pressed against yours.

Your fingers claw at the fabric of his tank top, holding onto him tightly as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that’s been building up within you for entirely too long. You’ve wanted this—you’ve fucking needed this, needed to feel the warmth of another in a world so dauntingly cold. 

Every breath feels new, every sensation is amplified, and all you can focus on is River. River, River, River. He’s real, and you feel him like never before. He’s yours, and you’re his. 

Your breath is getting shorter, and your thoughts are being consumed with just one word: more. More, more, more. You need to feel his love. 

How good it feels to have something real. And fuck, is it nice to have something else on your mind except for your impending and unavoidable death. No Johnny, no Arasaka, no Relic. Just you. Just him. Just two desperate people wanting desperately to cling to the idea of feeling alive for just one night.

You practically moan into his mouth as you lean back, letting his strong, secure arms wrap around your body. You press your body up into his, craving his warmth, craving his presence, craving him. It’s like you’re slipping into a deep trance-like state, one where all that matters in this very instant is River, this one fucking detective, this one stupid badge. 

“River,” you whine quietly. “I need you.”

The words slip out before you even have time to stop them, the sound of them leaving your ears ringing. 

Fuck, does he feel like the luckiest person alive when you utter those little words, the sound of them barely audible against the city’s distant hum? For such a tough merc, you sound so cute—so needy, that it makes his heart jump in his chest. It’s such an unexpected, quick change for you, and you swear you catch his mechanical eye shining a little brighter as his rough hands graze against your hips. His body presses tightly against yours, lowering his voice to a whisper that makes your tummy flutter.  

“Shhh… I know ya do, V…” 

The words feel so foreign slipping from his lips, but god, he can’t help it.  River leans even closer to you until you can feel the warm breath of his body tingling inside your ear—his lips press up against your neck softly, trailing little wet kisses up and down the sensitive skin there. 

“Just let go…” 

River whispers again, moving his hand down your back and caressing the skin that he can feel through the thin fabric of your shirt. His lips flutter up and down along your neck, nibbling gently on your skin. Rough, calloused hands trace down your body, before pulling your hips to his so there’s no space between you. 

River’s voice turns deep; husky. 

“Just let go of everything but me…” 

After all, he’s done for the city, for the world, no one has ever wanted him in such a way that they wanted him, not just his title, his body, but the person behind the piercing glow of his mechanical eye. 

River’s ganic hand trails gingerly up and down your torso, his fingers playing gently with the fabric of your shirt as his lips press against your neck. The delicate sensation sends ripples of pleasure through your core— fuck— you’re getting wet. 

His words trigger an immediate response from you. Excitedly, you push back against him as you moan quietly in his ear, fingers digging into the fabric of his red tank top— breath halting in your chest, growing shorter and more agitated. You raise on your tippy toes, attempting to return the favor by kissing his neck. 

As you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him, pushing a hand behind his neck, your fingers grip tight along the back of his neck. Slowly, you brace one hand on his chest, your thumb rubbing along the hard muscle that hides below his shirt, your other hand falling to fidget with the neckline of his tank.  

You can feel it— he’s muscular; he’s strong and hard. He’s aboutta be all yours, and the thought alone makes you feel weak, weak in the knees with how hot he is.

When you’re slipping your hands below his shirt to feel the skin beneath, River’s steadiness finally falters. Unknowingly, he backs up into his desk, causing an empty beer bottle to topple over— crashing to the floor in the silence of the trailer.

Fuck. 

For a brief moment, panic seizes over your entire being. Shit. Your heart pounds in your chest, shit, shit, shit— what if you woke everyone up with the crash? What if he’s upset with you for pulling such a gonk move, fuckin’ shoving him into his desk? What about the mess? 

You swear you’re doomed. 

But to your surprise, River's expression softens, a hint of amusement dancing in his mechanical stare. Was his amn fault for being so clumsy, anyway. 

When the warmth of his lips caress yours, you feel a deep wave of relief. Thank fuck— you think to yourself as you realize that your actions didn’t cause all hell to break loose. 

Instead, he’s too amused by your excitement, and that only serves to turn you on all the more. Hell— River finds it adorable how badly you want him. He can deal with the mess later. He’s too lost in you, too lost in the tide of passion to give a shit. Instead, his focus is entirely on you, and all rational thought is overshadowed. 

His hands find their way to either side of your face, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if he's determined to memorize every curve and contour of your face. River stops, an urgent whisper, his voice barely above a breathy murmur. 

“You've got me. Don't let go. Don't let this moment, this feeling—this feeling of you and me, don't let it end.”  

But before you can even process the full weight of River’s words, his lips crash into yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. It’s like a tidal wave, consuming you with its intensity, and you find yourself melting into his embrace without hesitation. You’re safe. 

In turn, you respond eagerly, matching his passion with your own, hands roaming freely across his back, pulling him closer with every passing moment. River hums to himself when your smooth lips part upon the brush of his tongue against you— feeling just right. You feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, fueling that consuming lust that just keeps on burning brighter and hotter in your lower tummy. 

You guide his strong hands, urging him to explore every inch of your being, to revel in the depths of your desire as you surrender yourself completely to the intoxicating bliss of the moment. You need him. The feeling of his sends shivers down your spine, you realize that this—this connection, this unspoken bond—is what you've been searching for all along. In River's arms, you find solace. In his kiss, you find passion. And in that little bit of love between you, you find home.

Like you, River’s mind has started to go hazy, his body filled with heat as he pulls you in tighter, desperate to feel everything at once. 

The embrace of your lips turns heated, desperate, his teeth brushing against your bottom lip. Shit, he can’t believe you’re allowing him to touch you like this— he feels like the luckiest fucker in the world. The heat rising in his body is nothing short of intense, it feels so right. 

But he needs more. 

River pulls away to break the kiss, his gaze slides across your body, admiring you silently, taking note of every little curve, burning through you, silently admitting how lucky he is. Oh, how he never realized desire could be so engulfing until this moment, with you staring right up into his eyes with a vulnerability he cannot ignore. It makes him feel fuckin’ stupid— like he could live in this moment forever. 

His movements are slow and deliberate. It's enough to send your heart pumping, your chest heaving, your breath coming in short gasps. When you meet his steely gaze, it feels like his mechanical eye is bearing into your soul. 

River moves a palm up to cup your cheek lovingly, before nodding his head in the direction of his bed— a silent command. You immediately know what he’s attempting to communicate. You know what comes next. 

And you’re just dying to see it through. 

A little rush of pure excitement overtakes you as you rush to the bed, while River turns around for a brief moment. Without a second thought, without any semblance of hesitation, you’re immediately beginning to fumble with the straps of your gear, allowing it to fall all to the ground. Every movement of yours feels like a wave of electric pulsing through your body, a rush of adrenaline that leaves you panting— leaving your mind blurry with need. 

While he’s got his back turned, you rip off your sweats, letting them fall to the ground. Immediately after, you’re ripping off the thin tank you’re wearing, slipping your bra right off with it, fully exposing your bare chest to the coolness of the night air. A little excited shiver runs down your spine, your nipples perking up and stiffening as a result of the temperature drop. 

And before you know it, you’re almost naked— wearing nothing but a soaked, think pair of panties, wanting him, needing to have him—not Johnny, but River, just River…

You catch the soft mechanical glow of his eye in the mirror on the closet door. For a brief moment, your breath catches in your throat. 

The glow in the reflection dims as he stares. Your heart beats so fast you feel dizzy from the rush. You know he’s watching you just as you’re watching him. And without saying a word, you both know what you want— he finally turns around. 

Fuck—you, the most dangerous mercenary in the whole fuckin’ city, is laying before this dumbass detective, wearing nothing but your panties. And oh, you’re so helplessly wet over some cop to the point where you can already feel the moisture soaking through them. You can’t control yourself, you can’t control the way your fingers keep on trailing lower, beginning to push away the dampened strip of fabric in between your legs. 

A breath breaks from your mouth as you toss your panties aside. It’s sudden, a bit of a surprise even. But you’re done wasting time. The air feels cold on your exposed cunt, but fuck, you don’t care—besides, the heat he’s making you feel is enough to keep ya’ warm. 

Gently, your lips tremble with each passing moment... your body is fuckin’ craving him more and more with every moment that passes with him staring directly at your messy pussy. You can’t take it. You allow yourself to be completely vulnerable, your arms trailing behind you as he draws near. Your eyes flutter as you anticipate him being near, letting him take you completely... letting him take you in.

River’s eyes are locked onto your body— he’s in shock. Fuck. Jesus Christ, every second you’re up looking at him with pathetic, needy eyes makes his cock tremble in his pants. Both of River’s eyes, amber and mechanical pierce through you, just craving you in ways he's never craved fuckin’ anyone. And oh, you love the euphoric burning feeling that rises in your tummy when you feel him stare. A little blush settles across your face, you feel some wetness slide down from your aching cunt. You arch your back a little as River approaches you. 

Fuck. You can’t wait. You reach out, pulling your fingers tight around his hips as you pull him down to the bed with you. You can't wait another second to be with him and you pull him down with you on the bed. Before he can even process what’s happening, you’re beginning to lift his tanktop, and by Christ, you’re not disappointed when you finally reveal what’s underneath. 

You’re not religious, but in the darkness of his bedroom, you’ve found something holy. Immediately, your eyes trail down, taking note of every little freckle and scar that litters his tan skin. Fuck— he’s perfect. You press your lips against his chest, trailing little wet kisses down his body... each kiss burning into both of you, each kiss driving you both that much closer to desperation. You’re unaware of the self-restraint he's exercising to keep himself from pushing you onto the bed and just fucking you right then and there. River’s working every ounce of self-control he has as you trail your lips down his chest, letting each kiss linger just enough to tease him. 

In the dark room, you worship him with your touch, with a love that’s so undoubtedly wrong. 

Your eyes drift up to his, and it’s over for you both. Gently, you slide your hands slooowly down River’s torso, making him squirm as your hand trails lower and lower, fingers beginning to move to slowly undo his pants. And fuck, It takes him every little bit of lasting resistance and strength he has to let you touch without intervening. 

But shit— you aren’t gonna let River off that easy, no fucking way. You’re gonna fuckin’ savor this—every second of it all. Your lips trail down his clothed thigh with a subtle grin, wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down inch by inch. He wants you to pull them off immediately but you're going slow, savoring every little cute expression he’s pulling, savoring the way he bites into his lip, hard. 

 River’s getting more and more frustrated by the second but damn you're just enjoying the thrill of it all, watching your most favorite detective bend to your whims like an obedient, well-trained dog. You're teasing him and savoring each and every second of it, every little moment of him letting out pathetic heavy sighs, every moment of his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. 

But you’re growing impatient. 

You begin to tug at his waistband, attempting to pull his jeans down his thighs with a not-so-secret smug-ass grin. You’ve got him wrapped around your fuckin’ finger, you feel confident—you’re gonna fuck the badge outta him— you’re gonna ride him till the goddamn sun rises. 

But when his cock springs free from the confines of his pants, your ego is absolutely fucking wiped. He’s fucking huge. 

Prominent veins run up the side of the thick shaft throbbing with pure anticipation. Your eyes trail up to the leaky, swollen tip where little beads of precum threaten to spill. Pure perfection. Everything about your actions up until now has been so confident and so sure, so controlled and so certain you could handle anything. But now that he's here— that he's out, free, and soooo clearly ready for you — you feel an intense wave of doubt. 

You're the best, most badass fuckin’ merc in all of Night City—and yet here you are, with his dick in front of your face and you're speechless. River’s enjoying how you're staring at him, your eyes fixated on his shaft. Secretly, he loves the brief sense of control this is giving him, even with you on top. Fuck, it does good for his ego. 

By Christ— he finds your reaction to his size nothing short of fucking adorable. River gives a sharp inhale through his teeth and his lips curve into a mischievous smile, his ego swelling with the realization that he's a lot more than you expected...and he loves it. He knows all the right words to say, all the right tones to take, and he knows exactly how to play with you, right down to the way you're staring at him. 

Nonetheless, you set your thoughts aside as you mount the detective’s strong bronze thighs, his eyes locking onto yours.

You briefly question your safety as you tenderly wrap your fingers around the base of his thick shaft, feeling him jolt beneath you. 

But it's okay. You've got this. You can do this. You take a deep breath and try to ignore the size, your hands still stroking him gently, your touch sending shivers of anticipation up and down his body…

His hand wraps around your thigh in silent reassurance, a giant grasp that feels like it was molded entirely for you to fit perfectly into it; and the other falls to your hip, slowly tracing a path across your bare skin. The little gesture sends you fucking wild. River needs you to be comfortable. 

You press the tip of his cock against your dripping entrance, a little shiver runs through you when River stifles a groan underneath. 

This all feels so right, this all feels so real, and River wants you to know that. He wants to take all of your fears and worries away, to show you that he's got you, and he's here for you. And when you take your first tentative slide onto him, the tip entering you, River’s jaw hangs agape, a little squeak leaving your lips as the thick head enters you. 

You both recognize the need to be silent, and so for now the only sounds in the room are the soft moans and subtle whimpers coming from River's mouth as he's pressed against you...as you're pressed against him, two bodies entwined, one in the other. Nothing else exists at this very moment but this feeling... the intense, overwhelming feeling of his heavy cock throbbing inside of your tight walls. And oh, does the thought of making this dumbass detective whimper and struggle beneath you motivate you all the more. 

When you finally sink down, filling yourself to the brim, a cute little gasp! is forced from your parted saliva-coated lips. River’s stretching you out so so nicely— it’s a sweet type of burn. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip hard, biting back a pathetic moan as your eyes scrunch shut.

 A low growl escapes River’s lips as you suddenly take him whole in one go. 

Your wet walls constrict and clench around him, your achy, needy clit pressing against his groin. Oh fuck, it’s hard for him not to start moving his hips, to just start thrusting into your pathetic mess of a pussy without mercy. But no, he’s waiting for you, waiting for you to guide the speed. This is your night, it’s River’s chance to show how much he fuckin’ adores you. 

He's big— and you know you need to take it slow at first. But fuck, you’re not gonna stop, not now, not ever, not when he’s looking up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes upon— it’s sending little waves of euphoric bliss throughout your entire body.  

River watches you take another deep breath before you begin to raise your hips again, pumping yourself full despite the stretch. 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. You continue this rhythm slowly, taking your own sweet time to thoroughly feel each inch of his sweet cock rubbing against your soaked walls. 

In, out. In, out. You continue this rhythm. 

You work through that burn— you work through the pain of the stretch. Take your own sweet time, inhaling, exhaling, breathing in between each movement, each wave of pleasure that ripples through your body with each bounce. Soon, you no longer feel the pain that comes with each slide down; you’ve melded to the shape of his cock. 

Shit, he underestimated you. 

River’s breathing heavily now, huffing and biting into his lip—as he takes his time, taking care of you. And the moment he finds your rhythm, he won't be letting up even for a second, he’s gonna make you suffer just the damn same. 

But when you begin to speed up your pace, suddenly slamming your hips down into him, you’ve got him locked. 

Then and there, River swears he’s in fucking heaven.

You’re so tight— so fucking soft… so fucking heavenly, that he can’t do anything except look up at you and purely just admire as you struggle to take him—as he himself struggles to keep up with the pace of your hips. 

River’s pussywhipped already, turning his head to the side to hide the adorable little faces he’s pulling. 

But fuck, you’re not gonna let that happen. 

“Look at me,” you whisper into the silence of the night. You force his jaw upwards, wrapping your hands around his throat. “Only me, Riv.”

River’s caught off guard by your sudden display of dominance; but oh, how he loves it regardless. ‘Looks like his little mercenary finally gained the courage to take control,’ he thinks to himself. 

You catch a little mischievous glimmer in his mechanical eye, shining into the darkness. He’s enjoying this, you can tell. 

You stare into his gaze for just a brief moment; almost mesmerized, before suddenly pulling his face to yours and kissing him fiercely, your tongue slipping into his mouth. 

River’s strong grip on your thigh releases as his body begins to tremble underneath you; it all just feels too fucking good. It’s all too too much, the intensity of your hips rocking back and forth, the way you’re squeezing him and bouncing on his dick like it’s nothing compared to before. 

He knows you’re a merc, knows you’re a tough girl. You’re V— you don’t take shit from anyone, you take the reigns no matter what; he shoulda’ expected this from you. But oh, how he loves being bested by his lil’ merc. 

River’s eyes roll back as he holds you tightly to him, his hands moving up to your lower back and supporting you, he’s lost all self-control, and can’t stop what's about to happen as his breath grows heavier, lips parting. You’re fucking wet, clenching so so tight around him—he can’t help the groan that juuusst barely escapes his lips…

But luckily for you, you cover his mouth just in time, your body still moving with such intensity.  You're taking total control here, not letting him make a sound. You cover his mouth before he has the chance to protest, silencing him in an almost aggressive, dominating way, your breath hot against his lips.

At this moment, the detective is yours. Every muscle in his body belongs to you and every beat of his heart is for you. River is yours, he needs you, and when you cover his mouth, you can feel the rush going through his throat as it contracts with an effort to muffle any sound he might unintentionally let slip as your hips refuse to relent. 

The feeling of control that you've been so desperately seeking is finally yours, all yours, your hands are on the wheel— and you’re the one sending this poor fucker into a tailspin of pleasure and lust. River feels so much better than you possibly could’ve imagined, and shit, you’ve finally accomplished your goal to fuck him senseless, leaving him a complete and utter mess in your control — a mess that feels so good, as you keep pumping against him, feeling him inside you.

Every movement you make is met with his equally intense counter-response, his cock beginning to throb. Fuck. He’s close. 

But River’s not going to let you get ahead of him— nuh-fucking-uh. He’s had enough of your teasing; he can’t take it anymore— he’s not about to let himself cum before you, not when there’s so much fun still left to be had. He’ll drive himself to the edge— and he’ll take you with him. 

Strong hands take hold of your hips, hammering his hips into your sweet, messy cunt at the pace he desires. Just like that, all the control in your hands, all that dominance, and power beforehand, is gone in an instant. 

He wants to let you ride him, he really does. Wants to let you take control— but fuck, it’s not enough. He needs more, not just to ride, but to have you in his arms, and in return, you let him take control and show you exactly how he feels for you. 

And so you give up your control, giving up your dominance, allowing River to manhandle you into position, guiding you to the edge of the bed. Your breath catches in your chest as River trails his lips down to your collarbone and slowly reaches down to latch onto your nipple. You dig your teeth into your lip as he suckles at it tenderly, keeping your reaction a secret as you try to keep it together. Inside of you, you feel your tummy flutter with adrenaline as your heart rate picks up.

He knows you’re enjoying this, but oh, he’s got other plans for you. 

With strong yet gentle hands, he’s hoisting you up into his arms. His amber eye meets yours, and he’s gazing at you like you’re the most precious thing in the whole world. He lifts you, and you let yourself go limp in his hold— you know you’re safe, after all. 

You bury your head into his neck, pressing tight against him as you cling like your life depends on it. Everything feels so good when you’re in River’s arms when he loosens his grip to trail a path of wet kisses down the center of your chest. The way he feels so warm and safe makes you feel like the whole world isn’t crumbling down on you— instead, it feels like you can finally rest. 

Honestly, it’s just entirely him that makes you feel this way. He’s a stark contrast to any of your past lovers; a genuine shining light in a world so filled to the brim with darkness, a genuine positive change compared to the ways apparent in all of your exes.

Shit, you know Johnny’s gonna hate you even more for this, but you know you love this— you love River. 

Before you can think about it for any longer than you already have, he’s cutting your thoughts short to pull you to your feet, pinning you against the cool glass of his bedroom window. 

Fuck, you’re adorable to him. River just can’t help but slide his palms up against your soft skin, all the way up to cup at your titties, cupping them softly in each hand.

You let out a sharp gasp as he slips in, a deep inhale following quickly after— his hips pressing into your ass. You feel the heat of his breath against your neck as you cling to the cool glass of the window. You want him close, you want to feel him all against you. Your thoughts fill with nothing but him, and his cock begins to roll into you again, forcing a pathetic little squeak out of you. 

But there’s a sudden thought that pops into your head— shit, what if someone sees this, sees you, pressed against the window, getting your insides rearranged like there’s no tomorrow? Fuck.  

Shit, you feel more vulnerable than ever with River pressing himself into you, hands locked around your waist, his breath hot and heavy in your ear as he drives himself deeper into your sopping cunt. Him, the detective, fucking the brains outta’ a dangerous lil’ merc like you. Shit, it’s so thrilling that the thoughts in your head disappear entirely, and you're completely overcome with the sensation of his thick member moving in and out of you.

God damn. Your breath becomes shallow and your chest is rising and falling with every hard press of his hips into your ass. You're literally pressed against the glass with your face to the window, your eyes beginning to close. 

Even though your brain screams for common sense, your body craves otherwise. 

Oh god, you love this. Fuck your common sense. Fuck whatever Johnny has to say about it— you’ll deal with him later. 

You feel like you're falling into a trance, drowning in pleasure. Every thrust fills you with more and more heat and waves of pleasure, overwhelming your body and leaving you feeling like you're drifting away into nothingness.

Your vision blurs and the sounds slowly fade into the background. River is everything, your entire world, and right now the only thing you can concentrate on is his body and how good he makes you feel— he’s stretching out your cunt fucking delightfully. It feels like you're drowning in pleasure and you love it, absolutely love this feeling of complete submission to him. Normally, you’d fucking never let somebody, anybody, do this to you. 

But River Ward is the exception. 

You love the feeling of his breath on your neck, the soft, warm comfort it gives you, like a blanket wrapping itself against you. Your body relaxes as he gently moves his hands along your ribs, his gentle touch sending a shiver of excitement down your body. Then you hear his voice, a whisper that makes your toes curl with the touch. 

River’s attention is set on suppressing his little groans of pleasure by lowering his head to your shoulder, biting down gently. Shit, you’re almost too much to handle, he notes your breathlessness and sense of being soo overwhelmed- he can tell you’re ready for anything and everything from this moment on. Your walls constrict tightly around him, arousal fluids spilling from your hole with each mean thrust. 

Your breath is heavy and unfocused. River’s touch is perfectly balanced between soft and rough, squeezing your waist as his other hand digs into your breast, hips still deliciously rolling into you, still deliciously fucking you. 

You can't even remember the last time you've felt this.. good. 

Despite the burn of the stretch of his cock, you steady your legs back, rocking your ass back against him to match the pace of his thrusts. 

River’s eyes shoot open when he feels your tight cunt starting to move up and down his length again, this time without his influence. Both his intimidating gaze and his large hands immediately fall to the fat of your ass as a groan rips out from his throat. 

He’s just enjoying the show as his pretty needy little merc attempts to get herself off. It’s cute— pathetic, the way you take him whole, the way you’re desperate for more.  

You feel the cool press of his metal hand against the back of your neck, using you as leverage to pump his hot cock in and out.  

Your lips curl against the force of your teeth, the heat of your breath fogging against the glass, legs beginning to violently shake under the weight of his thrusts. 

Both hands move to grab your plush thighs with a tight grip, your breathless sighs and tight cunt squeezing around him let him know just how much you really need him. 

You wanna moan. You wanna whine out his name, you wanna beg for more— but you can't. Not this time. So, you bite into your lip hard, your open palms set on the glass of the window briefly curling into fists. Instead of submitting to yourself, you focus on the brightness of neon lights and towering buildings right before your eyes, you focus on the way his hands dig into the soft flesh of your hips, driving deep inside. 

But it’s all too much for you. 

"Fuck, V, you're good…” His voice is hot as it trails down your neck and along your jawline. Gentle hands begin to trail down your thighs, fingers tracing along your skin. Oh, it’s heavenly. 

River’s eyes open when he doesn’t hear you respond past weak, breathy little sighs. A teasing remark sits on his tongue, his lips curling into a smirk, but his throat goes parched the moment his eyes trail all the way down to where his large, swollen cock disappeared in and out of you, just stretching you oh-so-well. 

You look utterly and completely debauched in the reflection of the glass, eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the window, your mouth slightly agape, lips reddened and bruised from rough kisses. River finds the way your chest heaves and the way you let out broken whines oh-so-adorable, as his eyes trail down to the plethora of lovebites and hickies left strewn across your chest. At this point, you’re far too fucked-out to think. 

Before you can even process what’s going on, River’s slipping himself out of you, making you let out a soft, yet audible little defeated whine. “Hey, hey…” Big arms lock around your waist, pulling you gently down onto the soft mattress below.  “Stay with me, V…” 

His voice is hot and hoarse right now— but fuck, you’d be damned if you didn’t find him to be so fuckin’ sweet— so fuckin’ adorable in the way he talks dirty to you— so damn possessive, yet so soft and tender at the same time. The sweet burn of lust ignites deeper within your stomach as you refuse to lose sight of his gaze. You nod your head; you follow his orders obediently. The feeling of being vulnerable like this for him feels so... right, so natural. 

When your glassy eyes flicker up to meet his stare, his heart flutters a little in his chest. You look so so desperate, it’s beautiful. 

River swears he’s truly gone feral. It’s all too much— your cute little face, your quiet whimpers, wet pathetic pussy so in need of being fucking destroyed… god. He can’t handle it anymore. 

He drops to his knees on the bed— it feels natural, it feels right. Your breath halts a little in your chest, your pulse quickening when the detective begins to lower his head in between your thighs. 

The world around you spins as your cunt squeezes around nothing. His rough fingertips grace over your clit, and you can’t hold back the little moan that escapes your lips. But he’s focused on something different— his cybernetic eyes are locked onto your cunt— your folds are soaked, your arousal coating your inner thighs in little tendrils.

“Wan’it?” 

You nod again. Like an obedient dog. 

River grins, mechanical eye gleaming in the darkness mischievously as his metal hand helps his cock press against your entrance. Something about his gravelly words made your cunt clench around nothing, making you drip onto his sheets below. His tip brushes against your sensitive sloppy folds, before he nudges your clit with his cockhead, drawing out the cutest little gasp from your lips. River chuckles at your reaction— fuck, you’re goddamn adorable. He uses his free ganic hand to caress your cheek, looking down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. 

The feeling of his palm pressed against you is soothing, comforting even. You nuzzle into his touch instinctively. 

It’s all a sweet, tender moment before River begins folding your legs up to your shoulders. You don’t have a second to think back on it before his thighs spread wider beneath you, the girth of his large cock sliding in deep, pressing thickly against your fluttering walls. 

Fuck. You almost lose yourself, then— lips falling agape, nails biting into the curvature of his bicep as his hips press flush with your own. You want to moan. You wanna cry out— so so fucking bad. 

But you know you can’t. 

Shit, River swears he could bust on the spot from the way you pathetically look at him, pupils blown and watery, eyes halfway shut. “Awh,” he whispers near silently before he braces himself and pulling your hips up to his waist, leaving your back arched gorgeously. You feel completely full again. 

His hips are finally still, giving you both a moment to recuperate. This time around, your cunt clenches down extra tight, your body seeming extra sensitive. He can read your reactions like a book— and he’s enjoying every little cute reaction he’s pulling out of you. 

River hums to himself, before straightening back again. He pulls out all the way— till just his aching tip is left throbbing inside of you. 

And all you can do is watch when he rocks back in and out again and again as if testing how deep he’s claimed his pretty little killer.  

But with a muddled mind and blurry eyes, you’re more focused on how he’s moving, the way his body moves back and forth inside you, claiming you. Your instincts kick in as this strong man overpowers you and takes control of you most dangerously, but you accept it all. Just the feeling of his hands on your hips, his touch all over you as you look at him...fuck, you feel complete. You’re a dangerous merc in her prime, and yet here you are, fucked absolutely dumb by River Ward. Fuck, old man’s got some goddamn stamina, it’s impressive. 

But secretly, he’s not sure if he can take it anymore— the pace of his hips falter for a second. Fuckkkkk. He grasps onto the meat of your thighs, his hips beginning to falter, slow down; his thighs beginning to tremble.

The overstimulation that comes with dragging his cock in and out of your tight pussy might just be the catalyst for him. He uses his remaining strength to hold himself deep inside of his lil’ merc, relishing the way you dig your nails into the curve of his bicep as he fucks into you steadfastly. 

Now, it's you who's not sure if you can take it anymore. You can feel his hips slowing down, his grip on you faltering as he struggles to pull himself together. Your nails dig into his arms, digging deeper each time you feel that familiar feeling building up within you. Your thighs start trembling as your entire body is quaking underneath his...it's about to be all over for you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control yourself like he had when you were trying to lure him deeper into you, but the build-up of pressure inside of you is too much to contain...it's beginning to spill over as the tension between you two builds up even higher. Your eyes continue to flutter with each slide in, and you’re panting at the burning euphoric release beginning to bubble in your chest. It’s all too much for you— far too much. 

River’s dick knocks against your plushy walls over and over again, making your breaths ragged and short, making you spew out little high-pitched hoarse sighs as he claims you as his own after waiting for sooo long. 

Every thrust inside of you has you trembling, panting, trembling again—your body can't take this anymore, the build-up is beginning to turn into a burst within you. You close your eyes, squeezing them shut tightly as this burning euphoric release inside of you is simply too much....too much for you to handle. Your entire body feels like it's boiling over, the pressure inside of you reaching an all-time high. 

The pressure building up in your tummy is too much to handle. You’ve resisted your orgasm, you’ve fought it, but suddenly the need for release becomes too difficult to hold back. Your body jolts up and you press your chest against him as you release, panting and whimpering as the pressure inside you is finally releasing. Finally, you cum, coating River’s cock in a ring of opaque white liquid. 

The feeling of relief spreads through your entire body as you release, feeling your body tense and shudder with your inner pleasure flowing out of you as you moan out his name and you feel his grip tightening the harder that you bite into his arm, holding back from saying anymore even though you know you can’t keep it in anymore. Your lips quiver with anticipation as you feel the build-up of pleasure rise inside of you, and it’s so hard not to just explode but you hold back as he thrusts faster inside you.

His hands are shaky under the weight of your trembling thighs, underneath the weight of your explosive climax. His thrusts slow down to a halt, both his mechanical and ganic hands gripping your waist tight. 

Deliberately, he slides himself all the way out, making you feel every inch of his cock down to the last vein, before slamming himself back inside one last time. 

No longer can he stand the feeling of holding back— he needs to cum. 

Every pump of his hips is accompanied by a short shudder and an exhale of your name as he’s losing himself to you, to the grip and clutch of your nails digging deeper into his arms. You know he’s close. And oh, is every little sign of his oncoming orgasm so so heavenly— the way his cock noticeably throbs within your constricting, gummy, tight walls—  the way he’s allowing the occasional whimper to slip from his parted lips.

Your entire body’s trembling and quaking as he pulls away from you, both in the act of withdrawal and the satisfaction of fulfilling what he’s sought after for so long now. You’re breathless from his touch, quivering in your body, your eyes unable to focus on anything but the sight of him biting his lip…he's so so close to cumming— it’s all so damn delicious. 

His mechanical hand presses into your thigh, the heat of his grip burning deep against your skin as he strokes his length, his breath shallow as he looks down at you, his eyes focused. River’s metal hand grips meanly into your thigh as his ganic’ one strokes his length, biting down hard into his lip to suppress himself.  

Instead of gazing back into his eyes, you’re gazing down at his glistening dick as he finally cums— the liquid is thick, warm, and milky, all splattering onto your lower stomach. 

The feel of his release all over you leaves you gasping as reality sets in. Once the heat disappears and the sensation finally dies down, you’re left with a whole new wave of emotions that you haven’t ever experienced before. Your body is still shaking from the release, and his breath is heavy as he looks down at you. You two are a mess. 

River lays down there next to you, panting heavily as he stares over at you. His breathing is quick and heavy, and he's completely out of breath from the entire night, but he's smiling slightly, a look in his eyes that seems almost...relieved and content. You can’t help but to just admire how fuckin’ adorable he is before he reaches over to brush your hair aside, wiping the sweat from your forehead. 

River’s soft with you— in your line of work, there’s no room for this much tenderness. You melt underneath his touch, a satisfied little sigh escaping you as your eyes flutter shut. You’re finally feeling comfortable enough to relax with him, to let your guard down and allow yourself to be a little soft with him. You feel at ease with him— finally at peace with not having to constantly be on high alert. You can relax.

But River’s all too aware of the mess he’s left you with. Gently, he lowers himself to you, softly murmuring in your ear. 

 “Just one sec, V… gotta get you cleaned up.”

As he stands, you're left helpless and vulnerable. The warmth of his touch is gone, replaced by a chill that leaves you feeling a little empty. Rivers' footsteps echo in the silent space between you as you lie there, alone in your thoughts.

The intimacy between the two of you may have faded, but the lingering after-effects remain. Your body is still trembling from the release, and your mind is clouded with the remnants of ecstasy. You’re left feeling vulnerable and exposed. A mess. 

As River's footsteps echo through the room, you feel helpless and weak. Your body has been taken by him, and you’re left behind. To be cleaned up. You're his.

When he returns, he has a soft, warm towel in one hand, and one of his tanktops in the other. He places the tank top down on the bed right next to you. River's hand reaches out and starts to gently wipe down your body with the cloth, working to clean up the mess left behind. His touch is gentle, tender, and caring. You appreciate his efforts to clean up the mess he's left you with.

You feel like a mess, his mess. His hands are gentle and meticulous as he cleans you up, his touch different from the rough grip you felt during the night. His soft touch is comforting, reassuring, and so at odds with the intensity of the night. Yet, at the same time, it shows the other side of the intense man you know so well. The delicate one, hidden from the world.

He’s not squeezing or gripping tightly— just gently wiping you down, making sure not to squeeze too hard as he does his best to get you clean. His touch is tender he begins wiping you down, making sure to avoid the more sensitive areas like your inner thighs, and before making his way up with the soft cloth. 

You feel yourself close to slipping away into a deep sleep, only for his warm voice to pull you back into the present.

“Hey…V,” River murmurs softly. “Got a shirt for you…” He’s grinning as he holds up a crumpled-up tank top he had set aside earlier— a small grin forming around your lips as you see the words “FUCK THE POLICE” printed across the front.

”Figured you’d like it…” he chuckles faintly, holding it up for you to take.

Despite your exhaustion, a little giggle leaves your lips at the sight of the printing on the front. Fuck, he’s adorable. River’s smile is contagious, filling you with a type of fondness you haven’t experienced in a long goddamn time. You graciously accept the shirt, sliding it over your head, a soft sigh escaping you as it settles over your frame. The fabric is soft, and it keeps you covered from the coolness of the night air. It’s a little big on you, but you like it that way— it’s comfy, and you’re beyond grateful for the little gesture. 

River slides into bed next to you, remaining silent as he watches settle. His eyes wander up and down your body, appreciating the way the fabric of his shirt hangs loosely around your frame. He likes the look, and it’s cute. It’s not something he’s used to, but the sight of you like this— it’s endearing to him.

You can feel the exhaustion creeping in, settling into your bones after the long day's events. As he watches you settle in, you can sense his silent appreciation and affection, his gaze tracing the lines of your body with a softness you haven't often encountered.

"Thanks for tonight," River murmurs, his voice filled with gratitude and a hint of weariness as a yawn interrupts his words. He briefly presses a little kiss to your forehead, before rolling over. "Goodnight, V."

His words linger in the air, carrying a sense of appreciation and tenderness that touches your heart. With a soft smile, you reply, "Goodnight, River…" before snuggling closer to him, seeking his warmth as the chill of the night settles in around you.

The two of you lay there, entangled in the silence of your first night together. All you can hear is the sound of his breath against your throat, the silent rustle of his sheets, and the faint thrum of his heart. You feel so safe, so warm, so loved in his arms. River radiates a sense of peace within you, one that you hadn't felt on your own. And with him comes a feeling of protection, a feeling of belonging.

[tightjeansjavi]

⟡ sentiments n’ bubbly ⟡

A/N: so, this one another one of my post shower thoughts that has now transformed into this little fic 🥹 this time of the year is a struggle for myself and for others, and I hope it can bring us all a bit of peace before the new year 🤍

~word count: 4.5k~

pairing | Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: it’s NYE and you find yourself in Joel Miller’s coffee shop. He’s a firm believer that no one deserves to spend New Year’s Eve alone.

Warnings: angst, fluff, no age gap, discussions of self image issues, bullying, food/eating, language, anxiety, fear of social situations, fomo, mentions of therapy, NYE blues, self deprecating thoughts, flirting, meet-cute, no outbreak/modern day AU, Sarah and Tommy exist in this universe, soft!joel, mentions of alcohol, reader has no physical descriptions such as body type or skin color, some content included may be triggering for some as Joel and the reader have some very real conversations about life. +18 minors dni!

It’s New Year's Eve. The official last day of the year. A whole 365 days has come and gone, and yet, you find yourself feeling the same way you did last year. It wasn’t like you had a particularly terrible life or anything of the sorts, but you still had your struggles. Your daily contemplations over whether you were doing enough, being enough in your little life. You try to focus on all the good that happened in those 365 days of life.

All the laughter, smiles, the warm fuzzy feelings that you found yourself chasing more often than none. The bad times always find their way to trickle in and weasel into your conscience like an infection. The truth is that you know life comes with both good and bad memories. But why is it so hard to push back the bad? Why is it so easy to beat yourself down? You could have done this better, you shouldn’t have said the things you said, did you remember to turn your out of office on before you left the office?

Shit. There was that one email I didn’t get to.

Maybe you find yourself trying to cram in as many last minute tasks before the new year. Closet clean out? You haven’t worn that sweater in months..yet, you find yourself holding onto it because it was a gift from a dear friend, and you don’t want to unintentionally hurt their feelings by donating or regifting it.

Fridge clean out? Well, it does say that horseradish never expires..but you can never be too careful!

Clean your living space from top to bottom? Maybe next year you’ll invest in cleaner products for both the earth and your brain cells. Bleach can be awfully nasty to deal with.

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table in front of you. Leftovers are your meal of choice for the evening. You spent hours cleaning your kitchen, and you’d rather not have to do another wipe down till tomorrow.

Hey, are you sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight? We’re leaving in an hour!

It's not that you don’t want to go out with your friends, it’s the steps before getting out the door that have always been a struggle for you.

What if my outfit doesn’t look the way I planned it out in my head?

What if I completely botch this makeup look?

What if the club is too packed?

You hate feeling this way, often thinking you’re a burden to your friends because you're constantly planning ahead of time. Living in the moment for you has always been tough. A gray area that sometimes you have found yourself making peace with, and other times you just wish you could be different.

You reach for your phone while you’re already mentally planning the steps in order to get ready in time. Being late is never an option, even when it’s just a fun night out in town.

Hey, I thought it over and I’d love to come out with you guys :) see you soon!

You send the text in a flash before tossing your half eaten slice of pizza onto the coffee table and rush to your room.

You tear up every inch of your closet looking for the perfect outfit. It's New Year’s Eve after all, and you want to be shimmering like a grand disco ball.

The outfit is on, and you look great! It turned out even better than you pictured it in your head. But the longer you stare in the mirror.

Fuck. Can’t I just turn my brain off for one night? Please?

And there it is, again. That gnawing little voice inside your head that pops up, gleaming and waving its hand just in case you forgot that it existed.

You aren’t actually going to wear that..are you?

It looks all wrong.

And you’re going to be freezing—

Your friends are going to look 10x better than you—

“ENOUGH!” You shout to no one in particular before you stomp off to the bathroom.

After taking a deep breath, you pull out your array of makeup from one of the bathroom drawers. Pinterest becomes your best friend again while you scroll to find a makeup look that screams you.

Bold. Glittery. Too much glitter?

There is never such a thing as too much glitter. You remind that little voice inside of your head.

Even with your ‘going out playlist’ on full blast, you feel your confidence begin to shrink and diminish as you stare at your painted face in the mirror. It’s not exactly like the picture you found on Pinterest, but there’s no time for you to change it now.

Your phone buzzes again, and this time it’s your friends sending you a group picture of all of them pregaming in their glittery outfits and bright smiles. You heart the message before typing back,

Wow, you guys look amazing! Please don’t be mad, I’m just not feeling up for it tonight. I hope you guys have a blast and stay safe! :)

Your friends understand, because they know that this has always been a struggle for you. A sore spot that hasn’t exactly quite healed the way you wish it had. It’s hard to dig yourself out of a hole that you dug, but you're grateful that they have always been so understanding.

No worries, we love you, and Happy New Year!

And all you feel is guilt.

But instead of wallowing away in your apartment, you grab your coat, purse and keys before making the final decision to go out.

You find yourself outside of a coffee shop just down the block from your apartment. You passed by it everyday during your commute to work, but you never found yourself going in, until now.

The coffee shop is found to be empty as most people are already out to dinner or at a party. It’s somewhat comforting that it’s just you and the lone barista who hadn’t heard you come in yet. His back is turned to you while he wipes down one of the counters, humming to himself as he moves about.

You're immediately drawn into how cozy everything feels. From the decor to the crackling fireplace to the soft music playing through the speakers.

The man turns then, towel gently grasped in his hand when he finally registers that he’s no longer alone. He takes in your attire, finding it odd that someone all dressed up for the evening found themselves here. Then he remembered how his daughter told him it’s rude to judge strangers because you never know what the next person is going through.

He smiles warmly instead. “Hey there, I was uh—jus’ about to close up for the evenin’ but can I get you anythin?’” He’s got a face that you already know you’re going to have a hard time forgetting. Strong built frame, yet soft in all the right places and despite his exterior appearing to be hardened, he seems friendly enough.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t noticed that you were closing up for the night..I don’t want to keep you here. I can always come back another time?”

He detects the way your face slightly begins to fall as he lightly taps his fingers along the counter top he just finished wiping down. “S’alright. I forgot to change the sign out front so that’s all on me. So, what can I get ya? It’s on the house.” He gestured to the menu board above his head.

You hesitated for a moment as you didn’t want to inconvenience this man who probably had his own New Year’s Eve plans to get to. “Are you..sure? I really don’t mind coming back another day.”

“S’alright, I promise. I don’t have anywhere important I need to be anyway.” He said with a slight shrug.

“No fun New Year's Eve plans? And I’ll take a cappuccino, please.” You stepped closer to the counter as you reached into your purse for your wallet.

“Nah. ‘Supposed to meet my brother at a bar nearby for a couple drinks, but he can wait a little longer.” He was already reaching his hand out to stop you from pulling out your wallet, when your eyes met his.

“For the tip.” You said with a smile while placing a couple five dollar bills into the tip jar.

“Oh, thank you. ‘Awfully kind of ya.” He responds softly, out of surprise because most people never bothered to tip. He might even be blushing a little..but he can’t really tell. Maybe it was just the steam from the espresso machine.

“It’s no problem. Gotta support small businesses, y’know?”

He nods in understanding. “Yeah, it’s the least people can do. Anyway, I’ll get that Cappuccino goin’ for ya. Feel free to sit wherever.” He gestured to the empty tables.

The table closest to the fireplace ended up being the one you ultimately chose. It happened to also be his favorite spot as well, go figure.

On any other occasion, Joel would call the customer's name once their drink was ready, but given the current circumstances..and the fact that he hadn’t asked for your name, bringing the coffee to you was perfectly acceptable.

“Here’s that Cappuccino for ya.” His voice drawled above you as he set the mug down in front of you. “Let me know if I can getcha anythin’ else. I’ll just be in the back finishin’ up with the cleanin.’”

“Thank you..” you start to say before realizing that you don’t know this man’s name either.

“Joel.” He clears his throat. “My name is Joel, and you are?..”

You tell him your name and he nods with a small smile.

You're left alone to your thoughts as his footsteps disappear behind the countertop once more. You can faintly hear him busying himself and putzing around as your cappuccino begins to cool without you realizing it.

You find yourself vacantly staring through the windows, and the dimly lit streets and passerby’s. You’ve always had a fond love for people watching and imagining what their lives were like. What their jobs and aspirations were. Did they have a family waiting for them? What made them happy? Would they be able to relate to you?

You don’t even hear Joel’s approaching footsteps nearing the table until he’s saying your name with an edge of concern in his voice because you’ve neglected to have a single sip of your cappuccino that has now become room temperature.

Your eyes meet his deep brown warm ones as your own sense of confusion washes over you.

“Is everythin’ alright? You haven’t touched your cappuccino at all..” he’s not offended, nor hurt, but the empath in him is genuinely concerned, even though you’re just a stranger in his coffee shop.

“Oh.” Your voice falls flat. “I’m so sorry, Joel. I guess I got lost in my own thoughts and completely forgot about it.” You feel bad, awful actually because he took the time to make you this drink, and all you had to do was just drink it—

“Hey, it’s alright. I find myself getting lost in my own thoughts as well. But, I can’t have ya drinkin’ a cold Cappuccino. I’ll make you a new one, alright? It’s no trouble at all.” He’s already reaching over to grab the mug.

“Joel, are you sure? You really don’t have to—”

He cuts you off reassuringly, “I insist. I won’t have my customer drinkin’ a cold Cappuccino on my watch. Ain’t no way.”

He disappears back behind the counter before you are able to protest. Joel returns 10 minutes later with two mugs in hand. You listen to the sound of the chair across from you scraping before he slowly sits down.

“I uh—hope you don’t mind me joinin’ ya? You jus’ seem like you could use some company, darlin.’ S’that alright for me to call you darlin?’”

He’s sweet like warm sticky molasses and honey. He actually might be the nicest guy you’ve met in a long long time.

“Oh, I don’t mind at all, Joel. I could actually use the company, and you can call me darling. That’s alright with me too.”

He smiles at you over the rim of his mug that is clasped between his hands. He gently blows on the billowing steam before he takes a small sip. “So, do you have any fun plans for the evenin’? I’m only assumin’ cus’ you’re all dressed up for a night out in town.” He gestures to your glittery getup that sparkles under the warm flames.

“Well, I did have plans to meet up with some friends tonight..but I wasn’t feeling up for it in the end and somehow ended up here.” You said with a sigh before taking a sip of your own Cappuccino. “This is delicious, by the way.”

“How come?..if ya don’t mind me askin?’ And I’m glad you’re enjoyin’ it. Tastes a lot better when it’s hot.”

The last thing you expected tonight was to engage in a conversation about your daily anxieties with this absolutely gorgeous man. Whom you just met, but crazier things have happened before.

“I don’t mind you asking, Joel. I just don’t want to burden you with my troubles or anything. Especially since I think they’re a bit silly and blown out of proportion.” Your eyes casted downwards into the mug.

“Hey, I doubt you can do that, and between you and me? I’ve heard it all. Got a teenage daughter who’s goin’ through all the things that I’m tryin’ to understand..but as a single father, it’s fuckin’ tough sometimes. But I’d be happy to act as a listenin’ ear for ya.” He genuinely means it, too.

“You have a daughter? How old is she? Teenagers can be a handful, that is very true.” You responded thoughtfully while leaning back against the chair.

You watch the way his eyes light up like a Christmas tree when you show a genuine interest in this man’s life. It’s sometimes a rare occurrence to meet a stranger who you feel like you can just immediately open up to without thinking too hard about it.

“She just turned 13 this year. She’s a good kid, super smart. The kinda kid that probably will end up growin’ up and changin’ the world. She’s..well, my world.” He clears his throat and you notice his dimple poking out in his cheek.

As if this man couldn’t become any more attractive.

“Anyway, she’s already goin’ through some friend and boy drama and it’s jus’ a lot to keep up with. Her mom ain’t in the picture either, so it’s not like I can turn to her for any guidance. She went to her first ever school dance this year in a dress that she picked out. The next thing I know, she’s callin’ me up in tears because some kids thought it was okay to make fun of how she looked. I know kids can be mean sometimes, but I wanted to go in there and teach those little shits a lesson myself.”

He was quite the protective father.

“Kids can be real bitches sometimes, Joel. I never quite understood it myself. Especially since I’m sure your daughter was just minding her own business and having a good time? I learned at a very young age that there’s a lot of jealous people in this world that enjoy causing pain in others for no apparent reason.They might have their own struggles, but that is no justification. Those kids that bullied your daughter will hopefully learn from their mistakes sooner rather than later.”

“She was just mindin’ her own and having a great time. She was so excited to wear her dress. It jus’ makes me so goddamn angry because I can’t protect her from everythin’ out there. It’s somethin’ that I’ve really struggled with this year especially. And I’ve tried to talk to my brother about it, but he doesn’t get it either.” Joel said with a sigh. “I’m glad that you can understand all of this though. I don’t really have any female friends to talk to about this stuff either.”

“Most kids grow out of their ‘mean’ phase after highschool. I can admit that I went through a phase similar to that. Made a lot of mistakes that I had to hold myself accountable for. But, with your love and support, I think your daughter is gonna end up being okay. She’s lucky to have you as a dad.” You reassure him.

“Really? You don’t seem like the type of person to ever hurt someone..then again, I ain’t perfect either. Never have been, never will. I’ve had my own regrets as well. But, I appreciate all that you’re sayin.’ S’Nice to be validated every now and then.” He leans forward with his elbows resting along the table and you’re just beginning to notice how broad his shoulders truly are under his faded flannel.

“I don’t think anyone can ever claim to be perfect. We don’t know everything and can make genuine mistakes. But all we can really do is learn from them, make it up to the people we may have hurt, and move forward. I think you’re a really nice person, based on our conversation, Joel.”

“You’re right, darlin.’ No one in this world can claim they are perfect. It's impossible.” His knee brushed yours gently from how close he was leaning in giving you a clear indication that he was actively listening to everything you were saying. “Anyway, I’m sorry I went off on that tangent jus’ now when we were talkin’ about your New Year’s Eve plans.”

“Dammit.” You sighed with a smile tugging on your lips. “I thought you forgot all about that.”

“Nah. I’m pretty good at rememberin’ even if I find myself havin’ to circle back. So, you didn’t feel up to meeting’ your friends tonight?”

“I was going to, truly. But I just got into my head way too much. It started with finding an outfit to wear. I absolutely tore my closet up and I’m really dreading having to clean it up later. Anyway, I’ve got the outfit on, right?”

He nods while taking another sip of his Cappuccino.

“I’m feeling great, and loving the way the outfit looks on me, and then there’s that stupid mean voice inside my brain. You know the one?”

“Ahh yeah. The voice that tells us that we’re unattractive and worthless? Like when we put on our favorite outfit and it’s not fitting quite right, and we know it’s silly to cry over clothes..but sometimes we just can’t help it? And that voice is right there beating us down because sometimes we forget that it’s natural for our bodies to change?”

Damn, he’s good.

“So...you hear that voice sometimes too? I honestly thought I was alone in this feeling. I tend to keep these thoughts to myself because I don’t want to burden others, y’know? I do see a therapist, though. It definitely has helped a lot, but I’m still struggling.”

“Darlin,’ I know exactly where you’re comin’ from. I had these favorite pairs of jeans that I would wear pretty much everyday. Well, just this past month I found that they ain’t fittin’ the way they used to. The zipper wouldn’t budge, and then I spent a good hour tryin’ all the tricks in the book to get those suckers to fit. Well, none of it worked and then I started beatin’ myself up. Sayin’ all the nasty names I could come up with. Then after all of that, I thought about all the delicious meals I had this year and especially these damn ice cream sundaes that my kid is obsessed with. Suddenly, the jeans not fittin’ didn’t bother me as much anymore.”

“Ice cream sundaes are delicious, and even more-so when you are enjoying them with your daughter. I pretty much went through the exact thing that you’re describing. I know that we shouldn’t give into the societal bullshit of looking a certain way to appear more attractive, but it’s just hard sometimes. That’s why I try to cycle through my closet every now and then so I’m not holding onto clothing that doesn’t fit me anymore. Did you end up keeping the jeans?..”

“She’s been requestin’ them for dessert pretty much every night, and I have a hard time tellin’ her no. They are absolutely delicious. It is definitely hard to pass them up sometimes. It’s comforting to know that other people go through the exact same thing that we’ve gone through. I did in fact donate the jeans, and then bought a new pair the same day. Wearin’ ‘em now actually, and I gotta say, I think I look quite good in ‘em if I do say so myself.” He said in a cheeky tone that sent heat rising on your cheeks.

“Well, I think you should stand up, if you feel comfortable doing so, that is, and let’s see what this jeans talk is all about.”

He grins at you, eyebrows playfully dancing while he sets his mug down along the table before pushing his chair back to stand up.

He gives you a little spin, one that neither you were expecting, but you could tell that he was having fun showing off his new denim.

“Okay, respectfully? Those jeans look amazing on you, they are very flattering, Joel.”

He laughs a warm and hearty laugh as his cheeks turn beet red from your words. Even if you’re just playing along, he’s feeling charmed by your presence.

“Really? Y’know, I was thinkin’ the same thing and a’that..but I’m a pretty humble guy.” He said sheepishly.

“Joel, screw being humble. You’re wearing those jeans like they’re made for you! You gotta own that.” You said with a giggle.

“Alright. Alright. If ya say so, darlin.’ I appreciate the compliment, but have ya taken a look at yourself tonight? You’re glitterin’ like a goddamn mirror ball. Gonna blind me with all that sparkle Y’got goin’ on.” He’s flirting, now. He’s absolutely shamelessly flirting with you.

You find yourself leaning forward then, close enough that he can see the pretty shimmer painted on your eyelids and your undeniable flirty smile.

“Joel, are you flirting with me right now?” You’re feeling bold, and curious to know if you were reading the signs correctly, or letting your brain run a muck in theories.

“I am, darlin.’ Is that..alright? Cus’ if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can stop.”

“No, please continue to flirt away. I’m glad that you’re getting to see my outfit, Joel. I probably have glitter in places where glitter doesn’t belong.” You said with a light, airy laugh.

“You’ll be finding little bits of glitter all over the place well within the next year. Do you have any to spare?” He asked with a warm chuckle.

“Actually..I do have some to spare.” You reached for your purse along the side of the chair and pulled out your tube of glitter eyeshadow that you had brought just in case you needed any touch ups. “May I?”

“Oh, you really weren’t kiddin’ when you said you have some to spare, huh?” He leaned in closer to get a better look. “That’s a really pretty color, darlin.’ You think I can pull that off?”

“I don’t kid when it comes to my glitter, Joel.” You said teasingly. “I absolutely think you can pull this color off. But, I’ll need you to close your eyes so I can apply this more eveningly.”

“Okay, I’m trustin’ you, darlin.’” He slowly closed his eyes then and only flinched a little when he felt the applicator glide across his eyelid. “Sorry, wasn’t it expectin’ to feel that damn cold.” He murmured softly.

“No worries, Joel. It can be a bit ticklish at times.” You scooted your chair in closer to him so both of your knees were tucked in between his as you delicately applied the shimmering shadow. Your tongue was peeking out between your lips as you focused on the task at hand.

He tried to peek his eye open once, before you playfully scolded him and said, no peeking.

To which he grumbled out a response with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Am I pretty yet, darlin?’” He asked with his eyes still shut as you admired your work.

“Very pretty, Joel. Okay, you can go ahead and open them.” You pulled out a little handheld mirror from your purse and held it out for him to admire his appearance.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get used to the feeling before he averted his attention to the mirror you were holding. “Oh, shit. Wow. Y’know what..I actually think I like it.” He looked over at you then before he realized how close you were sitting to him. “Thank you, darlin’ I feel like I’m a mirror ball too.”

“It really brings out your eyes, Joel. They were already pretty before, but now, they’re even more beautiful.”

You were already forgetting about how awful you felt earlier, and the guilty feelings for turning down your friend's offer to go out. It admittedly felt nice to talk to another person that shared more things in common with you than you realized. To be validated, and in turn, validate someone as well? It felt really, really good inside.

“So, now that we’re both glittered up, and it’s two hours till the start of the new year, would you maybe care to join me for a drink? Only if you’re feeling up for it, that is.” Joel asked you with his eyes flickering back to yours. Truthfully, he’s happy that you somehow found yourself in his coffee shop tonight. He can’t remember the last time he’s connected with someone on such a deep and personal level.

“I’d love to get a drink with you, Joel.” You don’t even second guess your answer, and if the feelings come up later, so be it. That little voice inside of your head is nowhere to be found as Joel offers you his arm.

You help him finish closing up for the night before the two of you find yourselves walking arm in arm to the bar that his brother Tommy was at. During your walk, you find yourselves falling back into conversation that flows easy like a steady stream. When you bring up feeling guilty for often being a homebody, he reassures you that wanting to spend a quiet evening with yourself is perfectly normal, and it’s something you shouldn’t feel ashamed of. He goes on to add that if you want to go out more, that’s perfectly okay to do as well. But you should never pressure yourself to go out and have a good time, if that’s truly not what you want to do.

And when you find Joel’s brother at the high top with a glass of bubbly in front of him, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Joel, what is that on your face?” He leans in close to inspect the glitter shadow painted on Joel’s eyelids.

You and Joel turn to one another with two knowing smiles plastered on your faces before you laugh in unison, “it’s glitter, of course!”

banners made by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

I no longer have a tag list so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

[laizah]

Dialogue Prompts where one is crushing/courting after the other

Here is a list of dialogue prompts where where A is chasing or courting B.

"What do you even what for a date? It's like you never want to go on a date ever!"

"So I heard you like this artist too, cause same" *literally found out about the artist's existence like two minutes ago*

"I'm so gonna spoil you if you would just date me"

"I don't like it when you talk to them, even if you're not mine, I still don't like it"

"I'm so in love with you and you won't even bat your eye on me"

"What gives you the right to be jealous of anyone I talk to?"

"Hey I'm their boy/girlfriend" "No you're not"

"You belong to me y'know" "You have to court me first!"

"Someday you're gonna kill me with your hard-to-get personality"

"What is it that they have and I don't?"

"Stop being flirty!" "Then just make me yours already"

"Are you mine?" "The hell? no" "Oh come on!"

"You'll probably only will meet me in this lifetime so don't waste your time with other people and be mine"

"Can I make more memories with you in the future?"

"Let's negotiate, if you date me I'll let you do everything you want with me or my body"

"Is this enough to make you fall in love with me?"

"You finally had your eyes on me"

"You're doing it again! being flirty and all" "Well is it working"

"I wanna give you a pet name" "We're not even together" "What ever love"

"I just like to hang out with you" "Then let's do that forever"

"I want to tell you everything about me"

"If you date me we'll make paper rings together"

"Funny how people think we're a couple, why don't we make it real"

"Dang I can't wait to be your boy/girlfriend, people are so gonna be shocked'

"Can you stop being flirty all the time?"

"You can be in love with me and hate me at the same time if we're dating"

"Look I don't care if even the whole world is against us, I'm still gonna fight for you"

"You're so cool up there! I almost felt like I'm melting!"

"You know you're the prettiest/most handsome person I laid eyes in this room"

"I can feel your pulse quickening" "It's cause of you silly!"

"You're moving too fast! my heart can't take it"

"I'd give anything for you to date me"

"I think even God approves of us"

"Why are you still not mine?"

"I can be your boy/girlfriend"

"Are you crazy?! people think we're dating" "That's the point"

"I think I want you for my birthday"

"Everything you do is cute in my eyes" "Even if I murder you right now?"

"I think I can count every blade of grass in your backyard while waiting for you"

"It's so hard to love you but here I am"

"Damn I can already imagine my married life with you"

"Just say my name and I'll be there in a second" "That's kind of creepy"

"You're the most awesome person I know"

"No one can see it but you're actually a nice person"

"I admire you the most in this room"

"Why would you want me of all people?"

"Just give me a yes and it would both of our lives fully"

"You're going to be happier with me around"

"Do you seriously just see me as a friend/best friend/rival/schoolmate?

"Maybe someday I can give you my last name" "We're not even together" "-yet"

[baaby-honeyy]

YES RELEASE PT 2! and tag me pls 🙏🙏🫣🫣

Run (Ruin, pt 2)

A/N: hey… it’s genuinely been like a whole year. i know how much of you wanted Ruin part 2, but it’s better late than never!! i feel horrible, but i really did need the break. now that it’s summer, i should have a lot more free time on my hands. please enjoy, and beware of the dark themes. if you don’t like it, please click away, don’t report. thank you<3

TW: VERYdark/dom/POSSESSIVE/toxic!harry x sub/crybaby/innocent reader, dacryphilia, daddy kink, primal kink, SMUT WITH PLOT!, unprotected sex, spanking, forced orgasms, cunnilingis, oral (male receiving), overstimulation, breeding kink, spit kink, gaslighting. please let me know if there’s something missing.

SUMMARY: When a predator hunts its prey, they search, pursue, attack and consume. Even going so far as to mock, play, and taunt their prey before utterly destroying it. While the predator enjoys the delicious reward after the exhilarating chase, the hunt is what they live for.

Ruin, Pt 1

<><><><><><><>

It started out as a normal car ride. Harry was driving you back home from the park, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the wheel. He can’t help his anger, and he refuses to feel like this is his fault. It’s his mess, but he’s not the one who made it go this far. You were the one who disobeyed his every rule, to the point where his two friends thought they could take his place.

It started out as a normal car ride. Until one missed exit because two, and two became three. Harry doesn’t even know where he’s going, or what he’s thinking. He only knows that you’re sitting next to him, your favorite stuffed animal in hand, and smile on your face like you’re excited to go back to your life at home. Only, you don’t deserve it. Not after you forced him to punish you for being so terrible. Harry’s jaw clenches just at the thought of you sitting next to Drue or Jack. Before he misses the fourth exit, he quickly turns and exits the freeway.

He was hoping you would stay quiet. But, of course, there you go with your dense questions.

“Where we goin, Harry?” You peep, with that squeaky curious voice of yours. Harry nearly rolled his eyes.

“Be silent unless I call for you.” He responds, dull and quick, making a left turn. It obviously flew past your head— because your eyes grow big as you stare out the window, palms pressed against the cool glass. You watch as you seem to get farther and farther from the city, and into an endless roadway of tall trees. You're in a trance for a while, your fuzzy little brain- too focused on how tall the trees are- doesn't even realize how every car that passes becomes less and less as you drive. Until there were none left. No cars, no buildings, and barely any houses.

Staring mindlessly into oblivion, you wiggle your feet in boredom to pass time. Your favorite pair of shoes ever, your pink and white Mary Janes, have been exchanged for your earlier pink shoes. They were truly the cutest shoes you’ve ever seen, your favorite part being the little hearts scattered all over them. They just screamed you, and Harry thought the same. For this reason, you always carry them with you in case you decide to switch.

Turning around to look at Harry, whose eyes are squinted as he focuses on the road, you try to figure out for yourself where you're going. Harry has barely spoken to you the entire ride, despite all the curious questions you've asked throughout the trip. The only thing close to a response you've gotten out of him so far was a plain "Mhm," which made you wonder.

“Y/n.”

“Hm?” You respond perkily, excited to hear Harry calling your name. His eyes have a glimmer of despair and disappointment, rather than their typical blank appearance. You patiently wait for Harry to speak again.

“What were you thinking? That I was gone and they could take my place? That I wouldn’t come back for you? Tell me exactly what you thought.”Harry speaks, taking care to keep his tone steady and low so you can hear how serious he is.

But you can’t, and your little brain can’t understand what you’ve done wrong, no matter how hard you try. You’ve replayed the moments over and over in your head, and still, you can’t see what’s made Harry so upset with you. From the minute you woke up, to the new park Harry took you to, to your favorite park, the ice cream shop and the park again, you thought you’ve done everything right.

“I- I don’t understand, Harry. I did what you told me to, like a good girl..” You trail off. Only shaking his head, Harry reacts to your pitiful excuse for an explanation. He grips the steering wheel harder, making a few more turns.

You have no idea what Harry’s been through to keep you. The countless amount of times where you interrupt his meetings because you’re needy and want to held, the countless amount of times where you’d starve yourself because Harry wasn’t there to eat with you. The countless amount of times where people wonder. They wonder why you act the way you do, why you need Harry so much, just to breathe it seems like. They wonder where he found you and why you’ve remained attached to him ever since.

Harry’s answer is always the same.

“She’s my angel. What matters is that I found her, not how.” And it’s true. It seemed when you two first met, you needed each other to live and function. When Harry considers where it's all gone wrong, his heart can't help but ache.

Something has to happen with you. Something has to make you listen. Harry’s convinced that the guilt he’s feeling is his mind playing tricks on him, trying to let you get away with what you’ve done. So he pushes the thoughts away, and keeps on driving, and driving, and driving.

After a few more minutes of what felt like an endless road of trees, you feel the car come to a stop.

“Where are-”

“Get out.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt, going as fast as you can. Harry’s already out the car, and sees you struggling to move as quick as he’d like. He walks to your side and unbuckles the seatbelt quickly, yanking you out of the car and slamming the door behind you.

“Wha-“

“Don’t speak unless I call for you.”

Harry telling you to be silent- it wasn’t for his own benefit, it was for yours.

He guides you to a forest entrance, and before you know it, the enormous trees are swallowing you. You can only make out the grass and trees.

You’re lost in wonder when Harry suddenly stops, making you jerk to a stop as well. He gives you a long, hard look before removing his jacket and checking his pockets. He pulls out his wallet, sunglasses, and keys before setting them all on the floor. His attention shifts back to you once he covers everything with his jacket.

With a confused look in your eye, you look at Harry, who’s looking at you expectantly. He opens his mouth to speak, but quickly changed his mind and rushes to you. He takes off your sweater, and pauses. You squeak when he begins touching over you, feeling every inch of your body for anything you may be carrying. He removes your phone, and your bag, and throws it next to his things. He took everything he could off your body, skipping your bracelet.

“Harry, what are yo-“

“Are you holding anything? Give it to me.” Harry interrupts, holding out his palm. He impatiently eyes your teddy bear that’s hanging from your clenched hands, and brings his gaze back to you.

“Right now.”

You reluctantly give him your bear, and as soon as you watch Harry cruelly toss him on the forest floor, regret fills inside of you. He didn't even look at where he was being thrown; instead, he was fixated on you the entire time. Your poor bear lays on the ground face down into a dense, dirty pile of leaves. The sight makes you cringe horribly, because you love that bear, and you’ve taken such great care of him like you were told to, when Harry first gave him to you.

You stare in disbelief, and open your mouth to speak, but Harry cuts you off before you can start. He stalks toward you- and you unknowingly step back, his eyes narrowed, and his gaze piercing into your startled one. The crunch sound beneath his feet echo as he steps. He gets closer, having to lean down to get to you.

“Run.”

There’s a lengthy silence before you break it. You can’t stop the smile from spreading across you face, and the giggle from escaping your mouth. Harry looks dead serious, keeping silent with his eyes narrowed down at you. He has no amuse from watching you giggle.

“Harry, we can’t run in the woods! You’re so funny! We can get lo-”

“My God- Y/n, shut the fuck up! I swear to God if I hear even a little squeak come from your mouth..”Harry interrupts you, pinching his nose bridge as he always does when he’s frustrated.

“Don’t make a sound unless I call for you. Unless I call for you. Do you fucking hear me!?” He shouts, his voice strained and his veins popping out of his neck as he speaks.

Still, you can’t help the giggles coming from you. You didn’t even bring your running shoes. There’s no way you’d run in your MaryJanes and risk ruining your most favorite shoes! Harry’s jokes have gotten funnier than ever!

But he doesn’t laugh with you. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t even blink. You become more and more aware of how drastically the atmosphere has changed with each passing second. Harry’s joke became less and less funny, and more dire.

“I said,” Harry starts, grabbing a fistful of your hair harshly and yanking your head back. You almost yelp at the feeling of your scalped being so harshly pulled. His eyes are full of a darkness you’ve never seen before, and his mouth formed into a snarl. It was enough to make you cry.

“Run.”

You waste no time, only looking back once to see Harry before sprinting down the forest path. You let out helpless, frightened whimpers out of fear that Harry’s right behind you. But he stays back, still in his place as he watches you scramble away like a helpless little mouse. Poor baby, so scared at the much bigger, scary man that was just your loving, protective partner. How quickly things can things can change.

Harry counted to 120. He waited until he couldn’t hear your rushed footsteps against the crunchy leaves of the forest floor. He waited until the sound of your frantic whimpers and pants faded away as you ran. He waited until there was silence. Nothing but him and the towering trees. For a moment, he ponders on why he’s even here- telling his girlfriend to run away from him, in the middle of the forest, like he’s a wild wolf. Then he remembers how horrible he felt when he saw you with Drue and Jack. How he wanted to take you right then and there, not caring about who he’d piss off.

That’s when he starts to run. Green Adidas leave tracks in the mud as he darts through the damp forest. He runs, and he runs, the daunting thought of you cuddled up with his friends in the back of his mind. He’s set on catching you- letting out a growl of determination as he goes. The image of you cowering away- hiding from him in a bush sends blood rushing to his cock, and he picks up his speed.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

It feels like it’s been hours that you’ve been hiding from Harry.

Your hands rush to your mouth, concealing a startled squeal. If you heard correctly, a twig snapped not that far from you. You cower deeper in your bush and grab the massive leafy branch you laid in front of you. You position it to where you’re concealed completely, and once everything goes quiet, that’s when the realization sets in. You don’t even know why you’re running from your kind, loving Harry.

But the way he threw your bear makes you feel like you don’t want to find out. Tears threaten to spill from your waterline as you suddenly become very, very, homesick. You miss the rest of your stuffies at home. You long to be on the luxurious, soft mattress right now, holding your bear close to your chest. You miss Harry’s scent, and the cuddles he’s give you every single night before sleep time. How long are you going to be here? Harry made you leave your phone, your purse, everything.

Snap..

You make an effort to keep your composure as you consider all the potential causes of that sound. Any wild animal could be passing by. A common squirrel can be searching for acorns to bring home to its family. In the midst of all this terror, you smile at the idea of a squirrel packing its face with acorns. The thought of it just takes your mind, until you giggle unconsciously to yourself. Once more covering your lips with your palm, you briefly hold your breath.

Like the last few times, it seems like there is nothing there. But you suddenly hear whistling, followed by Harry's loud yet unsettlingly deep voice.

“Come out.. I know you’re there.. somewhere..” He wanders while cooing in a taunting manner.

“C’mon.. Won’t be mad at you, Baby. I’m the one who told you to run, aren’t I? Are you.. here?” Harry looks in a bush, nearing closer to yours. You watch him closely through the spaces in the bush.

Knowing that Harry won't be angry with you for running away makes you feel relieved. You want nothing more than to be in his arms again, in your warm bed under the covers. Your chest starts to ache at how badly you want it. Mindlessly, and completely lost in thought, you crawl from the bush— but stop and think about what Harry said.

“Don’t speak unless I call for you.” Your mind hears Harry's voice so clearly that you stop. He’s been shouting out things to ease you into thinking it’s okay to come out, but he never once called for you. You praise yourself silently for remembering before you could make a huge mistake.

“How long do you think you can hide before I find you? And trust me, when I do, M’ gonna fuck you dumb. Like the dumb little kitten you are..” Harry’s voice booms across the forest because of the silence.

“You’d like that though.. huh? You’d like me fucking you over, and over, and over… till you’re screaming, begging me to stop. Remember last week on the couch? ‘Oh, Daddy! Daddy! Stop it! T-too much, oh, Daddy! M’ gonna cum!’ “You couldn’t get away from me if you tried your hardest, baby.” He makes fun of you, jogging vivid memories of that day. You make an effort not to dwell on it too much, but you can already feel wetness in your panties, and you start to ache for Harry. How can you be so scared yet so turned on at the same time?

He continues with his little taunts, and searches for any sign of you. A tiny groan escapes him as a reflection of light strikes his eye. Following the reflection, he sees it bouncing off a nearby tree. As he searches for the source of the light, he follows it and fixes his gaze on a another bush. Your bush.

Your eyes fix on Harry's as you continue to observe through the bushes. He doesn’t notice you yet, and you try to see what exactly he noticed. The sun was just starting to set, and the bright sun made it hard for you to see. You shift carefully, and then realize just what he’s looking at— your bracelet. The one you swore to never take off when Harry gave it to you. Why didn’t that come across your mind? The sun was reflecting right on your arm, and when you try to take it off, you only made things worse. He continues searching for you, getting closer, and closer. You don’t make a sound, you don’t even breath.

“Do you think you can hide forever? Huh? Think you can run and escape from me? Well, there’s one thing you’re forgetting.” Harry taunts and teases, sounding more frustrated and desperate. A sudden silent falls upon you, and you wonder if he left another direction to search for you. When it’s clear he’s gone, you let go of your breath.

“I’ll always find you.”

Screaming at Harry’s voice in your ear, you try to escape, but his massive, strong hands grab you by your ankles and yank you back.

“N-no!” You screech. You kick your foot back at Harry, it was surprisingly easy, as if Harry let you go himself. You rose to your feet as quickly as you could and broke into a sprint; you knew that he was holding off on going after you on purpose because if he had wanted to, Harry could have immediately captured you in his arms and destroyed you.

The worst part of it was that, although knowing he'll catch you eventually, he still allowed you to exhaust yourself out of amusement. Instead of being grateful for the opportunity to escape, you were afraid of how much worse he would make things for you as punishment for not just giving up at the very start.

Dodging all the twigs and tree branches that have fallen off, you sprint faster than you ever have before. Although the mud was damp and heavy, you kept your pace. You run and run, and soon think you’ve lost him and you can stop. Before you can even slow down, though, you hear heavy, fast footsteps behind you. Turning around as you run, you see Harry gaining on you, an unnerving, malicious smile wide across his face. You give it all you’ve got, and pick up your speed.

“That’s right, Y/n.. Run, run!” Harry shouts behind you, an exasperated rasp in his voice. A helpless, scared whimper comes out of you as you try, you try so hard to run faster and faster. You can't help but bump into a few low-hanging branches, leaving small scrapes on your arms and a terrible tear in your pink sundress, which is now filthy. Your MaryJanes have unbuckled because of fast you’ve been going, and your feet start to slip. Your body aches so much. You want to stop and ask Harry why he’s doing this to you, but that eerie smile you saw just a few minutes ago keeps you moving.

Your eyes well up with tears. You can’t even see where you’re going, it seems almost pointless to run now. You almost stop. Your ears start to fill with the obnoxious noise of passing cars, and you cringe at the sensation. The last thing your little head needed was a headache, and you’re already prone to one from all of this exertion. But when you realize that is your ticket out of here, your eyes widen from adrenaline. Moving your legs faster, you head for the sound of the cars, which was luckily straight ahead. Harry notices where you’re headed, and attempts to catch you before you get there. He’s right on you. You know he is - because you can hear his condescending laughter coming closer and closer.

Another reminder that while for him it was fun game, for you it was almost life or death.

The more you run the more you can see your exit. It’s so, so perfect. You’d run out towards the street, towards civilization where people can see you in broad daylight. You take a look behind you, and notice Harry isn’t behind you anymore. It doesn’t bother you too much, the thought of being out of the forest takes all of your concentration.

You’re getting closer.. and closer.. you can almost feel the sunlight hit your face. Almost reaching the concrete, a smile of victory appears on your face, before completely disappearing. You rush into Harry's chest head-on, your eyes widening so much that you lose your balance and land on your ass. Before you can flee, he kneels down at your shaking body and grabs you by the hair.

“Gotcha.”

You gasp in terror as you stare up at him towering over you and it makes you realize just how manic Harry looks. His clothes are surprisingly in one piece, and as clean as they were before. His shaggy brown hair is all over the place, some clinging to his forehead from sweat. His eyes, beady and wide as they maliciously stare down into yours.

Although you're certain that you both appear the same, Harry has an unsettling stature about him that you’ve never seen so close before. He chuckles darkly, enjoying every second you have that horrified look on your face.

“You stupid, stupid baby. Stand up and take that pretty lil dress off— Daddy wants to see all of you.”

You cry. You can’t imagine how uncomfortable you’ll be once you take off your dress. The forest air was so humid, and you knew it wouldn’t be kind to your skin- especially your princess parts. Harry frowns at watching you hesitate at his orders, and smacks you lightly across the face. You let out a piercing yelp, and Harry only rolls his eyes in pity of you.

“Go on, then. I want the dress off. Shoes too.”

Completely sobbing again, you stand yourself up, and slowly pull your dress over your head. You cringe at the harsh humid air attacking your skin, making your nipples immediately harden. Harry remains looking down at you with a slight smirk. His eyes wander on every part of your body.

“What should I use first, hm?” Harry brings his hand to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your chapped lips.

“Your pretty mouth? Or..” His eyes travel downwards, and you can feel his sharp gaze pierce through the skin of your thighs.

“That tight lil pussy of yours.. or..” He continues, making you cringe at what else he could possibly want from you. His hands trail downwards, down your chest and in between your thighs, stopping at the center of your panties. Using his index finger, he toys with you a little bit— sliding his finger over your clit and in your folds as best he could through the cloth. You can’t help your whimpering as you feel the moisture in between your legs worsen. When you feel Harry’s hands go downwards past your panties, you start to squirm away again. You and Harry have done it almost every way possible, but never down there; it has always been far too difficult for you, and the concept of it has terrified you to your core.

“No! Harry, stop!” The words come out in a jumble as you struggle to run around his tall, towering body. You manage to escape from his grasp, but of course Harry’s insanely strong arms keep you back. Instead of grabbing you this time, he throws you to the ground, where you helplessly crawled until he caught you by the ankles. He revels in the way you think you could ever escape him. He keeps you in that position for a bit- you being face flat on the ground, back already arched for him.

“Why’re you trying to hide from me so much, hm? Daddy’s not that scary, is he? Bet you loved it.. and your pussy—” Harry yanks your panties to the side in a split second, giving you no time to prepare for the forest humidity on the most sensitive part of you. A wide, cheshire like smile spreads across his face once he sees your soaked pussy, and whether you like it or not— it was begging to be touched.

“S’wet, isn’t it? Yeah, just like I knew you’d be. You’re crazy, just like Daddy.”

He flips you back over, taking you by the hair once again to make sure he has enough to be able to yank you if he wanted. You whine in protest. The harsh forest ground was already hurting your fraile little body.

“God, Y/n- you squeal so fuckin’ much.. Think I’ve decided, baby. M’ gonna use that lil mouth of yours.. shut you up for a bit.” Harry almost whines in annoyance, getting to his feet and unbuckling his belt. He does it in a rush, like he’s growing impatient of watching you beg, and lets his pants sag to his mid-thigh.

“On your knees, c’mon.” Sternly, Harry commands you, only giving you a split second to do it yourself before he does it for you.

“N-no.. Harry! Harry, no! Stop.. Daddy, Daddy, please!” You screech, using his name, his proper name— to get him to see how desperate you are.

Harry took his erection out of his boxers as you winced and tried to turn away, but he put a palm on your head to show you. Choking on your sobs, you swallow before giving him another look— begging once more. Harry couldn’t care less, and brings his tip to your chin. You did nothing; and Harry roughly shoves two fingers between your lips to get you to open.

“Don’t fret, kitty. It won’t be too rough,” Harry grumbles, contradicting himself though— not even warning you as he shoves his massive length down your throat. You gagged immediately, letting out a pathetic mewl which sent vibrations straight to his cock.

You only let his cock sit in your mouth, your eye already watering at how painful it is to keep your mouth wide enough for Harry’s length. He lets out an annoyed sound, thrusting his hips to gain some movement.

“Y/n, come on. You’re fucking dumb, but you’re not that dumb. Suck on it.”

Out of reluctance, but lacking other options, you pursed your lips and hollowed out your cheeks. He immediately lets out a groan, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the tree behind him.

“Shit- knew that’s what I was missin’- your cute lil mouth. S’ all it’s good for, huh? Suckin me off and talking back- fuck- keep going, baby.”

You close your eyes in concentration, trying your hardest to ignore how your jaw feels like it’s going to fall off. It’s not like you’re not used to this though, or haven’t done this before. You love to please Harry, and you love to suck on him when you can— sometimes even begging him to let you have a taste. But this was different though, it felt as if he genuinely didn’t care if you felt bad, just as long as you were making him feel good.

You slide your head back, just enough to bring your lips right on his tip. You give his cock little kitten licks, your favorite thing to do— before swirling your tongue all around.

Harry moans, bending his knees a bit before steadying himself again. His eyes rolled back before he shuts them again completely.

“F-fuck, good girl! Don’t call you Kitten for no reason- that’s right, be a good girl and keep sucking for Daddy.” He says in a pant, using a hand to brush his hair back before bringing it back down to yours. He pulls your hair back slightly to guide you in the pace he wants. Swallowing harshly, he opens his mouth to speak again.

“Been thinking about this since the ice cream shop, babydoll. You act so innocent but you just love this, don’t you? My lil fuckin’ slut.”

Tears are filled to the brim of your eyes, but you keep on going. Taking your hand, you reach for Harry’s balls and squeeze them as you go.

“Mhm- yeah, should’ve done this in front of Drue and Jack, maybe they would’ve gotten a fuckin’ hint,” Harry says through grunts and moans. Looking down at you, you already look so worn and tired. Your knees are bruised already, your mascara’s running down your face, and your teary, red eyes droop down from exertion.

Harry almost cums from the sight of you crying over his cock.

He thinks about how horrible this all must look; you being completely naked, on your knees, shivering while sucking his cock. He’s still almost fully clothed, and completely comfortable. He loves it— you need to suffer. This is all your fault.

He thrusts his cock even deeper down your throat, but you move your head farther away. As soon as you do, Harry shoves your head down again, indulging in the sight of you so desperate for a break. You struggle and fight for air, pushing on Harry’s thighs desperately, but it only made him thrust his cock faster.

“Mm!” You try to tell him it’s too much, you can’t breath, but it’s no use. His thighs clench harshly, and let’s out a strained groan, which leaves his mouth open slightly. He uses you to edge himself just a bit more, before he decides he’s already become bored.

It felt like ages, but Harry did eventually let you go. You pulled back with a choking gasp and cough. He looks down at you pitifully, a hand slowly rubbing his aching cock. You wipe your dripping tears, feeling your heartbeat quicken when you feel Harry grab you up by the hair.

Whining, you find it difficult to move when he pulls your hair up, but you move rapidly when you notice Harry's angry expression. In one swift movement, he flips you around, your bare backside on his front. He groans when he feels your ass pressing against his still hard cock.

“Baby-baby, baby, baby…” He says in a whisper, so close to your ear, you almost whimper at how sensitive it feels on your skin. Harry holds you in a chokehold with one arm across your neck, and the other trails down your body. He moves so excruciatingly slow, almost tickling you. His hands stroked your stomach, glided down your thighs until he reached between your shaking legs.

All Harry had to do was flick your miserable clit once, and you almost died of pleasure. He knew you were cumming as soon as he felt your poor pussy throb against his fingers. Letting out a shriek of surprise, you almost fall to your knees before Harry’s strong arms catch you. You hadn’t even realized how riled up you were until you squirting all over Harry’s hand, your poor little body shaking tremendously against his.

Even Harry looked surprised for a second, watching how hard you’re cumming from one single flick. You ride out your unexpected orgasm, wailing and whimpering Daddy— over, and over as you came down from your high.

Once you’re done, Harry shoves you away from him, and turns you so you’re forced to face him once more.

“You’re having too much fun.” His tone is so velvety smooth, yet so heartless and demeaning— you can never understand how he does it.

“AH!” You wail, crying out as Harry shoves you harshly towards the ground for like the fourth time. It hurt a thousand times more because you had nothing on. The sticks and forest dirt scrape you vigorously, you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming again. The same sadistic look in Harry’s eyes teases you, watching as you wince in pain below him.

“Ow! Daddy, that hurt!” You whine, your voice wavering from holding in your tears. Harry gives you another “pout.”

“Aw, my baby. Did Daddy push you too hard? Hm? S’hurting you?” You mentally let out a sigh at Harry sympathizing with you for the first time today. It makes you want to forget about everything he’s said and just leap into his arms.

“I don’t fucking care. I don’t care that it hurts,” Harry goes on, the soft tone he used at the start of his sentence completely diminished, making you feel so, so, hopeless.

“You didn’t care how much it hurt to see you with those two bastards, did you? Should’ve known you were too fucking incompetent and dull to understand simple orders.” He begins to take his shoes and clothes off, eyes brutally locked onto yours. He brings his pants all the way down, and with a swift movement, he brings his shirt over his head. Coming to the ground, he climbs on top of you and brings your wrists all the way above your body.

Like the big bad wolf closing in on his victim, he beams at the thought that nothing—not even you—could stop him from torturing you in whatever way he chooses.

You whimper in fear immediately, squirming helplessly under him. You’re eyes go wide when you feel his strong fingers press on your sensitive, raw clit again. You cried out, “Too-too much, AH! Daddy, no.. mm!”

“Too much? I haven’t even begun with you, Kitten.”

He brings his hand to his throbbing cock, stroking it a few times before rubbing it slowly on your pussy. You don’t know why, but this time, looking at his massive length scares you more than any other. You’d be lying if you said his cock didn’t intimidate you every time you saw it. So huge, so thick and veiny— it was imposing, and it always, always hurt when Harry entered you. You knew your sensitive pussy couldn’t take him right now.

“Why, why?” You cry roughly, squirming away again, of course being stopped by Harry’s strong body. His muscles flex while trying to hold you still, and his front strands of hair fall onto his face again.

“Because.. I love to watch you squirm. You know your poor, tiny baby cunt can’t take me.” He pauses.

“But, I feel bad for you. So I’ll give you a count. Five seconds, okay? Go.”

You open your mouth to count, the words falling from your mouth so quietly. As you go, you feel Harry enter you slowly, and you wince at how tight you are, and how big he is. You’re on the fourth count, but you stop, squirming around so much that Harry’s cock falls out of you. It wasn’t in yet, you gratefully sigh— and continue your attempt to leave.

Harry’s bored now. In fact, he’s been bored for the last 10 minutes. He’s sick of hearing your pointless, pathetic begging. He’s sick of your moving around while he’s trying to fuck you. Maybe he could stuff some leaves in your mouth so he can finally make you silent while he has his way with you. Or, maybe he can leave you here all by yourself, with nothing but dirt on your body, while he leaves and enjoys the silent car ride he’ll have to himself. He decides both of those ideas aren’t good at all, because he won’t be able to hear your pretty chokes and gasps when he finally enters you.

Decisions, decisions.

“Look, Kitten— I’m going to fuck you now. Unless your moaning and begging for my dick, you better shut your fucking mouth.”

You cringe. How could Harry be so mean? You’ve tried to get away. You’ve tried to do what he wants, but it always came back to bite you.

“Fucking useless,” Harry mutters. “Count.”

You have no choice. There’s no way out, you’ve realized that now. You always have, but this time you’re finally admitting it to yourself. So, you count.

“One.. T-two..” Harry slowly enters you as you go. At least you’ll be able to prepare for him to be fully in your tight entrance.

“Thr- AH!!” You lunge forward in surprise, eyes rolling back in pain.

“AH! DADDY, MY- You scramble your words, screeching at Harry entering you in one hard, unforgiving thrust. He ignores your tight pussy trying to squeeze him out.

He doesn’t care at all if he’s being cruel, not when your sorry pussy was right there, just waiting to be taken advantage of.

“Oh, fuck.. yeah!” Harry groans out, laughing in the process. He laughs at how miserable and betrayed you look below him.

“Y-you said.. you said..” You choke on your sobs, looking at him through half shut, red teary eyes. Your tiny hands grip his shoulders for support.

“You said count till five!!”

He laughs at your hurt, broken voice.

“Mm, did I?” Harry says, a pondering look on his face, before a sarcastic, devilish one takes its place.

“Sorry, Kitten. Guess I lied.” He barely pays attention to you, pulling out and then thrusting deeper into your walls. He savors your tightness, squeezing him so hard he can barely move.

“How do you stay this fucking tight? Hm? S’like the first time I had you.” He says in groans, his eyes rolling back before staying on you.

“Why- why did you lie?” You can’t help but ask. This whole day has been lies, lies, lies.

Harry doesn’t bother to answer your dull question. He harshly grabs your thigh and pins it above his shoulder so he has a better angle at fucking you. In his head, he curses himself for not bringing a condom, but immediately smiles at the thought of what could happen next.

He’s not completely opposed to the idea of knocking you up, plus, your sweet, sweet pussy is too heavenly to have it be masked by a stupid condom.

You can only look up at Harry, who’s smiling— and you wonder what could be making him smile while you’re enduring such pain. Your chest heaves and your limbs flail around with each thrust. Harry’s so, so, unbelievably big. How does he manage to fit inside you every time? You can never describe how full you feel every time he enters you.

“God- my baby’s got the best pussy out there, yeah-” Harry grunts at how harsh your pussy’s gripping him. He glares down at you, seeing your droopy, shut eyes and the tears streaming down your cheeks. He leans down a little and kisses your tears, gathering the salty taste on his tongue.

“Open those pretty eyes, Babydoll.” He says softly against your skin.

“Open those eyes and cry harder f’me, Darlin’. Like a little baby.. Y’know Daddy loves that, right?”

The raw, filthy sound of you and Harry’s skin coming together fills your ears. His intruding length just rips through you again and again, making your eyes roll back from pain. A strained whine rises from within you.

“Harry.. Daddy.. Stop… hurts so much..”

Harry doesn’t hear you. He chooses not to. He continues to pound into you relentlessly, growling as he picks up his pace. Even with the dirt and scrapes covering them, he can't get over how soft and velvety your thighs always are. He’s in love with your small whimpers and your big eyes pleading for help. He’s in love with how in denial you are, and how perfect his cock fits inside you.

It makes him wonder; have you thought about being this intimate with them? When he punished you in the car, was that what made you confide in them? Did they say something to make you turn away from him? He’s not sure he wants to know. If he did, it would only lead to bad things.

You can’t help but follow Harry’s orders, and you cry harder and harder from the pain. Your mouth falls open, you look up to see Harry move his mouth in a way that’s all too familiar.

“Uh uh.. Daddy, no.. mmh!” Whining in protest, you attempt to turn your head away from Harry, who grabs your jaw roughly.

“Open, Baby. Open, Open..” He forces his fingers in between your lips, and gathers up some saliva from his mouth. He leans down closer, so close to your face that you can feel his breathing hit your face. You hold out your tongue in obedience, tears still constantly streaming down your face. Spit trails from Harry’s pursed lips, falling on your tongue before sliding down your throat. Harry slips his fingers in your mouth again, moaning at your now over-salivated tongue coating his fingers.

The way Harry’s fucking you has him on the verge of tears. He’s in control again. He’s the one who has you wailing from how good he fucks you. Nobody can do that but him. He watches your precious tears fall down your face, and he feels nothing but joy. You can almost feel your little brain struggle at trying to figure this out.

You, crying in a mixture of harsh, stinging pain and pleasure, and him, crying because of how good it feels to be back inside you. How good it feels to have you cry, kick and scream for him to stop because you can’t take anymore.

“Sh-shit! Look what you’ve done.. have me acting out like this..” Harry says in a strained groan while blinking his tears away. He’s appreciative that you shut your eyes, preventing you from witnessing his moment of weakness.

You yelp as you feel Harry continue deeper in you, hitting your spot. The familiar knot in your stomach begins to form, and you cry because, no matter how hard you try, you can’t help it. Your helpless, needy little pussy aches and aches, and it only aches for one thing. Subconsciously, you whimper out Harry’s name, over and over, biting your lip and clawing at his back. Your eyes roll back until you see nothing.

Harry sees how you’re holding back, you’re trying not to cum, and that makes him more than angry. Growling, he brings a hand to your neck, his big, veiny hand choking you slightly. You’re forced to stare at him right in the eyes, seeing the different glints of black, brown, and light green reflect in them.

“Do you seriously think that’s going to work? Hm?Answer me!” Harry shouts the last part, his hand gripping you tighter around the neck as he keeps his pace inside you.

“Do you really think your sad, pathetic pussy could ever not cum when I’m inside you? Look.” Harry exclaims, pulling out slightly, not all the way- just enough to be able to go deeper inside you. He thrusts deep until he reaches your spot again, watching at how distraught you look. Your body shakes and you whimper under him, and if that wasn’t proving his point, your poor pussy closes around Harry’s cock like a vice.

“Think you can deny me.. yeah? Think you can turn away, disobey me and there won’t be any consequences?” He speaks in your ear, making you whine at you sensitive it feels.

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up, Kitty. Gonna cum inside this pretty pussy.. I’m gonna breed you till that test says positive -ah, f-fuck!” He lets out a strained sound- like mixture of a groan and a whine. He feels his cock twitch repeatedly inside you. He’s close, and he knows you are too.

“You won’t be able to deny me then, huh, baby? Won’t be able to deny me when you’re carrying my offspring in this pretty lil body..” He says tauntingly, bringing his hand from your neck to pet your head slowly.

“Ah- oh my God!! Harry, don’t wanna-”

“Not God, you silly, dumb baby. Just me.” Harry interrupts, placing a soft kiss on your nose before moaning out. His thrust are becoming less stable and more erratic, you can feel it. You clench your pussy more in hopes you can hold on longer, but your body gives up, and your pussy starts to throb around Harry’s cock.

“Yeah.. C’mon! Give it to Daddy. Let Daddy have it, baby. That’s right!” Harry’s face contorts into that malicious smile you saw when he was chasing you earlier. Bringing a hand down to your clit, he rubs vigorously to make it extra hard for you to hold on. He watches your eyes widen as your body finally gives in.

“DADDY!” You screech before breaking into a complete sob, your legs giving out from being up so long.

You’re cumming. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. Your limbs flail around, and your eyes remain rolled to the back of your head. Your pussy throbs harsh and fast around Harry’s cock. You whimper, whine, groan- almost every kind of sound leaves your opened mouth as you shake harshly under Harry. He stares at every involuntary reaction your body has towards him, focusing hard on all the small twitches and movements. How your back is arched so high, how you always, always bite your lip.

Harry will never get tired of knowing that he’s caused that. You’re full of his veiny, fat dick - the only dick you've seen this close, the only dick that's ever been inside of you.

The edging, the messing around, it’s all caught up to him.

“Y-yeah, baby. Daddy’s gonna cum- fuck! Daddy’s gonna cum inside your pretty pussy, alright? Want Daddy to cum inside you? Hm?”

He grunts out, watching you frantically shake your head no. You know what he wants, he admitted it himself. He wants to breed you, make you his forever.

“No.. don’t do it, Daddy..” You begged beneath him.

“Aw,” Harry starts with another one of his condescending pouts. “How am I supposed to pull out of a pussy like this?” He grins, before mocking the desperate expression on your face.

“You keep squeezing me tighter and tighter, Sweetheart- just know this pussy wants to milk Daddy’s cock. Gonna fill you-” He interrupts himself, moaning out as cum pours out of his pulsating cock, and coats your walls. He continues to thrust in you, gripping your hair as he goes. Filling you with his searing, hot cum, it makes you feel so so full. You feel it so deep inside you, claiming you, making his mark inside your body. Just like he wants.

You wanted so badly to not want this, but God, you love how it feels when Harry fills you up. You’ve always been obsessed with feeling his cock twitch and pulsate inside you.

Harry stays inside you for a little while longer, watching you still shake and cry helplessly under him. Though you’re quiet, tears still fall from your cheeks and splatter onto the forest ground. After a few moments more, and Harry pulls out of you slowly, immediately moaning at how all your juices pour out when he does.

He brings his fingers to your sopping pussy, fingering all the juices and cum back into you.

“Mine, mine, mine..” Again, he speaks more to himself, until he looks back at you.

“C’mon. Say it. Be a good girl for Daddy and say it,” He says in your ear.

“Who do you belong to?”

Harry’s hoping inside that you’ll say what’s right. If you do, then all this can be over and the both of you can go back to the way things were. He wouldn’t have to punish you anymore, because he’d know he did his job.

You open your mouth to speak, and a hopeful yet menacing smile appears on Harry’s face. But, your mouth closes, and you turn your face away from him. If you kept eye contact, you would’ve seen the most dark, and wrathful glare Harry could ever give you.

You wanted to say you belong to him, because you do, you know that you do. But you still don’t know what this was for. You thought being close with Drue and Jack was what Harry wanted! When Harry left you in that park, you went to seek comfort from his two best friends. How could that have been so wrong? Would he rather you do that with some random stranger? You still don’t understand.

“Fine.” Scoffing, Harry gets up and quickly puts back in his clothes, leaving his belt off. You gulp, a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that you know what’s coming next.

Harry grabs his belt, beginning to fold it in half, until he pauses completely.

“Y’know what? Not gonna need it.” He says, callously discarding it somewhere beside you.

“Daddy-” You begin, trying to find a way to compromise with Harry. If you were correct about what was coming next, you were going to do everything you could to stop it. Feeling the scrapes and small gashes on your legs reminded you that your fraile body can’t take that much pain.

Sitting back down on the forest floor, Harry effortlessly brings you back onto his lap. He makes sure you’re on your stomach, propping his left leg slightly so you’re ass remains up in the air. Slowly, he rubs his fingers over your sore ass. His gaze shifts to you, withering at his touch. Your soft sobs continue on.

“You have one more chance, Babydoll. One more.” Harry begins, continuing his slow rubs on your ass.

“It’s really not that hard, I’m sure even you can understand this. All you have to do is say the right answer.” Tauntingly, Harry rubs your hair to calm your nerves.

“Who do you belong-”

“NO!” You screech, completely overpowering Harry. He cocks his head slowly to the side, getting more pissed off by the second. You look up at him, uncomfortably twisting your head to make eye contact. He sees your little pathetic look of determination and laughs.

“No..? What do you mean no?”

You clear your throat before attempting to speak again, trying making sure you sound as big and bad as you can be. You don’t deserve a spanking, you know it. You’ve been nothing but good to Harry. He brought you all the way out here, chased and fucked you until your body gave out, and now wants you to answer a question you know you shouldn’t answer. You just want to be back home in bed, watching your favorite cartoons and stuffing your face with all your favorite food. Instead you’re here, being punished and still not knowing why. You’re angry- No, you’re infuriated.

“You’re just jealous because Drue and Jack can treat me better!”

Horrible idea.

Immediately after saying that, your hands fly to your mouth as if they can take back what you just said. But they can’t, and that scares you to the core. Harry’s face is wrathful, and he narrows his eyes as his pupils grow beady.

“You dumb, pathetic girl.” You think you hear, not being able to comprehend it because of how low Harry spoke. It’s silent for a moment, before your piercing screech breaks right through.

“AH!!”

Harry brings his hand right on your ass, the sharp sound of the slap filling your ears. Your body jerks in response to the pain, and your tears flood your face.

“DON’T!”

SMACK!

“YOU EVER!”

SMACK!

“DISOBEY ME!”

SMACK!

“AGAIN!”

SMACK!

Harry grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head all the way back. Your body is arched as far as it can go, making you whine in pain. He harshly tugs again before bringing his mouth to your ear.

“DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?” He shouts, making your sensitive ears feel like they’re going to fall off. He harshly spanks you again, and again, and again, your body jerking helplessly at every blow.

“Y’think those dimwits could ever take care of you? The way I do? No- better? You stupid girl! Go ahead and see for yourself! They don’t know shit!

You try to get away before he can spank you again, but it’s no use. His grip on your hair won’t budge, and there’s no way you’d be able to leave if you want your hair still attached to your scalp. You see his hand lift up again, and you brace yourself for the blow. This time was even harder, making your ass move harshly at the hit. Harry spanks you again, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows furrowed with frustration.

“You need me! You know it! You and your stupid pus- look at it! Look at this stupid-“ He cuts himself off, letting your hair go and using both hands to spread your ass cheeks.

“Look at this stupid fucking cunt- you’re still wet!” He callously spanks your still sensitive pussy, and you wail as you grip his thigh.

“HARRY! AH-” Your wails are interrupted by Harry spanking you again. You don’t know how much longer you can take this. It hurt so much, you almost feel numb. Your poor ass was now an angry red, bruised and so beat up. Harry doesn’t care, he continues lashing out on your poor body.

“Go ahead and scream, you pathetic baby. Nobody can fucking hear you!” Harry taunts, never stopping his blows to your ass.

As he goes, you remember a certain sentence from Drue, when you were on the bench with him and Jack.

“Someone as innocent as you shouldn’t be with someone as fucked up as Harry.”

The moment plays through your head clearly, making you realize something; Drue and Jack were trying to get to you all along. They danced with you, touched you, and even tried to take care of you, all while Harry was gone. It made you realize that Harry was right the whole time.

And that only made everything worse.

Your sobs grow louder as Harry continues spanking you, taking turns on each cheek. You don’t even fight anymore, knowing full well that you deserve it. You were bad. You should’ve just listened to Harry, instead you were stubborn, like you always were.

“Daddy..! I’m sorry! I’m so- I’m so sorry..” You begin, still wailing like a little baby over Harry’s lap.

“I’m yours, Daddy! I’m yours, only yours!”

The spankings stop as soon as Harry hears those words. For a while, Harry doesn’t do anything. He leans back against the tree, watching you completely fall apart on his lap. You sob and sob, your body helplessly twitching from being so stimulated. A few more long, excruciating moments pass before you feel Harry grab your torso and flip you on your back. You still remain on his lap, and your eyes begin to flutter shut as you see Harry’s eyes stare right down into yours.

“That’s my girl..” He whispers ever so gently above you. That was mainly for him to hear. His hands wander slowly and carefully up and down your body, feeling every part of you that he could with just his hands. He makes his way to your chest, grabbing and squeezing your precious boobs before he kisses them softly. Next, his hands wander down your waist, tracing your curves until he got to your thighs. Your beautiful, luscious thighs. He could never do without them. He loves them for multiple reasons. He loves to lay on them, kiss them, bite them.. He loves when he’s face deep in between your thighs.. and how you wrap them around his head to push him deeper. To feel his tongue deeper in you.

Slowly, you shift so you can sit perfectly in Harry’s lap. He doesn’t help you. He watches as you helplessly crawl back to him. Once you get fully comfortable without hurting yourself, you bury your head into Harry’s chest.

“Da-Daddy.. H-hurts.. everything hurts..” Your voice is strained, like almost everything else on your body, and you shiver as the cold wind begins to pick up.

“I know, baby.. I know.” Harry grabs his jacket and wraps it around you tightly before trapping you in his warmth.

“Shhh. It’s okay Darlin’. See? that’s all you needed to do. Just needed to tell Daddy you’re his- I know, baby.” Harry sympathizes with you, trying to ensure that you know he’s no longer cross with you.

“S’okay now, I promise.“

Nobody knows how to tear you apart and put you back together like he does.

“Let’s get this pretty dress back on you, yeah? Y’know this is one of Daddy’s favorites.” He starts to reclothe you while maintaining a low, soothing voice for you. Wiping the dirt and dander from the forest floor, he attempts to unwrinkle it as best he can. He locates your MaryJanes and applies the same treatment to them, taking care to remove the obvious stains from your most precious shoe. Once you are both off the ground, he gives you a long, passionate kiss on top of your head.

“You did a good job, baby.”

You’re silent. You acknowledge him with a barely noticeable nod, too tired to give him a full response. With one arm, Harry carries you against his hip all the way back to the car. Somewhere along the path he noticed your body fall limp in his arms, your head laying helplessly on his shoulder as fall asleep. He places you in the passenger seat of the car, buckling you up before going back for your belongings.

Harry did get the peaceful drive back that he wanted. Your soft, faint snores with the low sound of the car engine are all that can be heard. Still, memories of that day at the park continue to nag at him.

There are a lot of things about that day that Harry will never admit. How when he left you at the park with Drue and Jack to make phone calls, he was in his car, spending the majority of his time jerking off to the fading taste of your juices that were left on his tongue. If he's being truly honest with himself, the fact that his friends genuinely thought they could replace him, turned him on even more. They don't know the closest thing about taking care of you, and how to take care of you when you're acting up. How to take care of you when you're crying and crying about something so stupid.

The days that follow show just how much the little run around in the forest impacted you. Your body has been so sorely used and strained that you're dependent on Harry for help with nearly everything. You can’t even use the bathroom or sit in a chair because of sensitive and worn out you are. Harry’s lap is the only thing your body can withstand. And your pussy, your poor pussy still hasn’t been recovered from being so fucked out. The slightest bit of contact between your pussy and literally anything makes you clench your legs. Harry of course helps you with everything, giving you massages and relieving the aching pain in your pussy whenever he can. He’s always conveniently there.

He tells you that you’re a big girl and you can handle this, but you don’t how much more you can take before you rip your hair out. It’s like being stimulated 24/7, which nothing and no one but Harry to help the pain. You’re indeed suffering, but Harry couldn’t feel any more accomplished. Now more than ever, you need him, you rely on him, just like you always should. You’re ruined. It shows in almost every aspect.

Yes, Harry couldn’t be anymore satisfied.

<3 @love-letters-to-uranus

[yeyinde]

I know this would be terribly inaccurate and morally wrong, but it's taking too much space up in my brain and I can't write NSFW to save my life and I'll stop rambling and get to the point about this random hoe ass dream I had the other night about Bear (Graves).

But that table in the middle of their storage area room thing (with the cages)? Imagine getting railed on that table. Horrible consequences if you're caught, but in the moment that doesn't matter.

I didn't even really clock the morally wrong portion of this until just now—I just immediately started writing it.

Warnings: MATURE | 18+ — pseudo exhibition kink, corruption (as in, MC does everything possible to break Bear), risk-seeking behaviour; light smut Word Count: 2,2k Notes: it's been so long since I wrote smut that I kinda forgot how. alsoooooooo. it's deffo early season 2 Bear. With the beard and the unhinged madness and tragic angst. Okay? Okay.

It's a whim. 

One of those terrible ideas you sometimes get—like the insatiable curiosity to know what it would feel like to snuff out an open flame between your thumb and forefinger, or lick the anode and cathode of a 9V battery just for the thrill of it. The electric hum of recklessness that surges through your veins, pitched right between the accompanying high of a short-lived adrenaline rush. An addictive sense of danger that isn't really dangerous. 

It isn't enough to kill you, or cause any severe injuries—no. You're not stupid. It's just one of those passing no good, bad, and very terrible ideas that leak from that place inside your head where madness and idiocy spool. 

Sometimes, it doesn't even hurt. 

(But you've always liked it better when it does.)

This, then, must be that. 

This, of course, being: 

Bear—so austere, so stalwart—bracing his thick fingers against the back of your neck, palm so wide it swallows you whole. Clipped nails pinching your skin when he digs in tight, holding on to you as he fucks you stupid, fucks you senseless against a metal table, perfectly perched in the middle of the room like an altar. 

His nails cut a scratch on your hip when he pulls you back by the bone to meet his heavy, hurried thrusts, growling low in his throat at the madness of this all. The danger. The recklessness. 

Eyes oscillating between the open doorway split into three possible entry points where anyone—Chase, Trevor, Buddha, Caulder—could walk in and see, catching Bear fucking you over a table; and you—

Bent over, fingers scratching at the linoleum beneath your hands, keening desperately for more. 

It's more brutal than you'd expect him to be considering where you are, where he is, but there's a weight to the way he pounds into you, a palpable sense of urgency, and need. Rapacious, you think, and wonder if it's the tantalising aspect of exhibitionism, the fear of getting caught, that brims white-hot in the balmy air between you, or if it's the setting alone that threatens to undo him. 

Fucking out in the open—with a man who yelped when you tried to ride him on the bed of his stupid pickup truck under the stars; vanilla incarnate, all American apple pie left to cool on an open windowsill in the heartland—is probably as close to true trouble as a man like him, the one bent over you now, has come before. You wonder if this is his Saddam. If he scents brimstone in the air when he curls over you, staining your skin with droplets of sweat that pools down from his brow, drips off his temples. 

It was that same sweat that started it all. 

Anger carved canyons into his forehead, ploughing five neat, little lines through tanned skin—flushed slightly pink near his hairline, and bleeding down across the bridge of his nose, the patch of skin between his lash line and beard, undoubtedly from standing on the sun-beaten shores of Virginia Beach all morning. The sweat that beaded across his skin was patchy, drying into patches of congealed salt above his brow, but dripping down his temples in rivulets of exertion, and cutting a clear path to his jaw, where it fell, pooling like a lagoon in the dips of his collarbones. 

You wanted to lick it off. 

An odd thought considering the arched reprimand he was in the middle of doling out. Sharp, slurred words of can't be here, and reckless, all undercut with an air of something balmy, something hot that simmers below the surface. 

His eyes flashed, cool blue to cobalt, when you lifted your shoulder in a lazy, half-hearted shrug, shirt slipping down, exposing skin to his irritated gaze, and, oh. Oh. 

The scorching heat you felt wafting off of him in puffs of humid air had little to do with temperature, with anger. 

The words, then, took on a new meaning. 

Can't be here, can't do this here. Reckless. 

And so, you leaned up on the tips of your toes, and flicked your tongue across his skin, eyes lidded and heavy as the briny tang of sweat and seawater flooded your senses. 

It was surprising that he let you. That after some more growling protests about shame, and public decency, he quieted fairly quickly when you slipped your hand into his trousers, letting the heft of him fill your palm. 

An incorruptible man, corrupted.

Opposites attract, you think, and then bite the notion in half when he slides in as deep as he can go, husking out a muted fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so fuckin' good into your shoulder. Opposites, maybe. But something about the way he grabs you hard enough to leave marks on your bones, drags you back into his harsh ruts, his frantic pace, makes you think something reckless, something damning, lives inside him, too. 

(He never would have let you tug his trousers down over his hips, let you arch over the table for him, if he didn't, after all.)

"This is—" his breath is humid on your skin, hands spasming over your flesh. You taste clarity in his words. Cognisance bleeds into them, spilling panic, and frenzied worry over your flesh. "This is stupid. We're gonna get caught—"

He huffs, and the rough scratch of his beard skates over your skin when he mouths against the curve of your bone. 

There is a moment when you think he might pull away. Where the urge, the drive, to be proper and pious, prim and good, brim up through the overwhelming dizziness of cacoëthes that spindles through your marrow, but you arch into him until you're pressed taut to his hips, full and gasping from having big Bear inside of you this deep, and tuck it back into the box it snuck out of. 

There's no place for decency when he has you bent over a table where anyone can wander past and see how good you take him. 

So, you push back against him, taking him in as deep as you can, and then deeper still when his hips stutter at the sudden push. It edges into too much when he's pressed flush against the soft curve of your ass, but you swallow down the whimper, and rock back on your heels, swaying against him until all you see is hazy gunmetal swimming in front of your eyes. 

It's always on that uneven edge of pain with Bear—dual sensations of too much intermixed with a heady thrum of pleasure that buffers out everything. A test of your mettle. He quizzes you on the limits of your resolve when he bucks his hips, sliding inside as deeply as he can go. Eking out a place within you that you might have been untouched, undiscovered, until him. 

Where his tests are physical—pushing into you as deep as he can, until you swallow him whole—you excel in destruction. The erosion of propriety. His self-control. 

(He shatters so prettily in your hands, like a supernova scattering across the inky black sky.)

This, then, is his test. 

And he clues into it almost as quickly as the plan formed inside your head, spooling fast and recklessly in that place that convinces you that adrenaline is your friend, and that climbing higher is always the goal. The spot inside that makes you always pick dare instead of truth. 

Bear knows—knew—of your plans when you pressed your lips to his, and still let you. A quick glance to the open doorway as you slide your tongue against his. The press of his fingers on the bow of your lips, a firm admonishment not to be too loud. 

You could take it as: 

Don't let us get caught. 

And you do. But you also hear the unsaid words murmured into your ear when he fucked you harder, hips pistoning into you as if daring you to make a sound:

Don't let this end too soon. 

"You're so bad, Bear," you coo, words tangled in pleasure as the blunt head of his cock batters into that spot behind your navel that never fails to make you sing. It rises. A quick flash of heat roiling in your belly; the whine of a coil being pulled too tight. Liquid bliss in red-hot agony. "Fucking me like this. I bet you want them to see. I bet you want them to watch you fuck me, don't you?"

The hiccup in your voice belies the accusations in your words. A tremulous, teasing warble that is met with his sharp, heady groan. 

"Oh, f–fuck—"

He's close. You feel him swell. Hear the rumble in chest as he loses that mechanical rhythm; a stutter of his breath, his hips. The bones in your hip ache when he digs in tight, holding you still as he pounds you with a fury unmatched by anyone else you'd ever known. He takes you like he's working out a problem. Like he's on the opposite lines of an allegiance, and is trying to fuck you stupid enough to ramble out the answers to the questions he asks. It disintegrates into madness. Desperation. His measured thrusts grow sloppy. His breaths ragged. 

The implosion of his self-control is almost more euphoric than the flood of molten pleasure blooming in your core. Your release offset by the unignorable crumbling of his resolve. 

"Come for me, Bear," you pant, your breath whitening the gunmetal table with plumes of condensation. "Come for me—"

His hand presses against the smooth slope of your neck, pushing your cheek into the slick table. His thick fingers spasm as he grows frantic, desperately chasing his own end in your spasming body, ready to follow you—quick and reckless—over the edge of a precipice, filled with an adrenaline-rush spiking through the pleasure. 

Things just feel better when it's dangerous, after all. 

Bear comes with a groan he can bare smother, pulling your hips back into his as he spends himself inside of you, the punchy grunts of a well-earned victory tumbling from his lips. The sound bounces off the condensation-slick walls, renting the air in two. His heavy breaths are magnified in the sudden absence of silence that always seems to follow a loud sound. 

His misery-filled groan is muffled by the back of your crown when he tips forward, and buries his face into your hair. In his defeat, you victory. A sweet damnation that you relish as he struggles to regain footing after losing control. His brassbound resolve is still in tatters, and spilled across the back of the table he'll use tomorrow with everyone else, haunted by the images of you spread out and willing as he tries to pretend he doesn't know what it feels like to grip the end of the table and fuck you senseless in a room designed to amplify all sound. 

You grin into the metal when he husks out a mangled fuck into your sweat-slicked hair. It reeks of resignation. Of a man who stood so long on the crown of propriety slinking down to the depths of hedonism and bliss. Breaking the rules feels almost as good as fucking on top of them, and your mind races with all the ways you can break him again. 

And Bear, as usual, has a tap into that place inside that leaks bad ideas, and can only shake his head with a huff. 

He doesn't even bother saying no. 

(Caulder owes you ten bucks. It seems you can teach an old, pious seal new tricks.)

Your legs are still shaking like a newborn fawn. You feel him inside you still, and the phantom stretch of him touching places and pieces of yourself he really shouldn't makes you quiver. The ache in your thighs is the good kind, though. The lasting impression of success after obtaining exactly what you set out to do. 

Climbing a mountain. Running five miles. Fucking Bear Graves in the locker room with everyone else just a breath away. 

(Check, check, and check—)

He helps you into the truck, eyes sweeping over your shoulder to look for anyone else in the parking lot who might ask questions. Solid, reasonable ones like why do you stink like sex? and did you just fuck them in the locker room, Bear?

You could try and reassure him that it's empty. That no one cares. That it's all in his head. 

But you like the clench of his jaw, the flash of teeth when you giggle at him. Once the high of his release comes down, anger will follow. The kind that makes him loom. He'll lecture you about safety and decorum and not to sneak into his work to fuck him—

He'll wind himself up. Get himself nice and heated. He'll see it as a question to his authority. A tremor in his self-control. 

And to regain the footing he lost—

Well. 

It'll be a good night for you. 

"You're a bad influence," he mumbles into your jaw, words muffled by his heavy breath he buckles you in. 

You count each line in his forehead as a win, and try not to preen. "You love it."

[sarioh]

i've been trying to pinpoint what exactly is so different about limited life compared to past iterations of the life series and i guess you could blame it on the mechanic making death feel less meaningful but i think it's a case of everyone getting so comfortable around each other to the point where they know they can just fuck around with each other's lives as well as their own. like, in 3rd life death was heavy and every action had consequences—many of the players had barely interacted before and were hyperaware of the fact that they could end the series of someone they don't know very well. kills were out of necessity rather than indulgence. you planned and schemed and stuck by your allies because those were the only people you had.

in limited life that has completely been thrown out the window. it's something about etho going after joel immediately when he finds out he's green and laughing while he chases him down. and scar's reckless tnt triple kill that got his own teammate killed in the crossfire. and scott walking in on grian and etho setting a trap in his own base and laughing it off. and the group bullying session at the end of the episode where they were just stood in a circle making fun of each other.

it's something about death being a show of love. past alliances are nothing but a greenlight to antagonize each other because you know the other person well enough to know they can take it. when you're completely and irreversibly entangled in each other's lives (and lifetimes) why would you be conservative with it? why would you play nice? a timer doesn't mean a whole lot when you'll just see each other again next time, anyway.

[andrevasims]

Here's the text that can appear in pop-ups when a sim watches the weather channel:

— Summer: —————————————————————

• When it's a really hot Summer day, sometimes I think about cold things, and my mind tricks my body into thinking it's cooler than it really is. Except one time I thought about too much ice cream and it made my stomach hurt.

• Sorry, but I can't help you today. I'm out at the pool.

• Why do they call us Meteorologists? I have never predicted a meteor in my whole life! They're scary. If you see one, let me know and I'll tell people. I'm on TV, you know.

• I'm having a bad day. Just go outside if you want to know about the weather. Stop bothering me.

• I've wanted to be a weather man my entire life. Sure other kids thought I was weird playing with my barometer during recess but I knew I was meant to affect people's lives.

• Weather prediction is a serious science. I have a college degree in it. At least I think it was a college. It was all done on the Internet, but I got a shiny certificate in the mail!

— Fall: —————————————————————

• My advice for today? If it rains, wear a jacket.

• I used to like playing in leaf piles. But not as much anymore. They're itchy.

• You know when people say things like "It's raining cats and dogs out there!" Well, that doesn't happen. Trust me. I've checked.

• Oh, what's the big deal? It's hot, it's cold, it's raining, it's snowing. Who cares? It still doesn't change the fact that my job is basically to look out the window. You know how depressing that is?

• I was struck by lightning once. It didn't feel so good. I put a lightning rod on my roof after that and it hasn't happened since.

• I just love playing in a great big pile of leafs. Burning them is fun too. Except when you accidentally set someone on fire. Poor grandma. Her eyebrows never grew back.

— Winter: —————————————————————

• It's Winter. Wear a sweater. Does that help?

• Sorry. Couldn't make it into work today. It's too cold out there!

• When I was a kid, I made up my own superhero. I was "The Boy Weather - Master of the Forecasters!" My mom made me a cape and a mask, and I ran around my house shouting things like "Chance of Showers: 50 percent!". I fought off evil tornadoes and powerful hurricanes with my powers of prediction. I didn't have many friends.

• I had the worst Nightmare last night. I dreamed I was being chased by a penguin and he wanted to hit me with a fish.

• Did you know Penguins can't fly? They also have a natural resistance to polar bear attacks.

• I always wanted a pet penguin but my mother said that I was too young. I asked her again yesterday, but she said that I should let it slide.

— Spring: —————————————————————

• Can you help me out with something I've always wondered about? If you're in the pool, and it starts raining, do you get more wet?

• It's allergy season out there. The pollen count is off the charts! I'm sneezing just thinking about it!

• I have the greatest job in the world. I can be completely wrong nearly all the time and never get fired. When I make a mistake, I can just shake my head and say, "What are ya gonna do? It's the weather!" How sweet is that?

• Don't look to me for all the answers! The knowledge you seek is just a small step out your front door.

• We've been hearing reports of lightning striking tall trees in the neighborhood, so be careful out there!

• Hello. You have reached the Weather Station. We're not in right now, but if you leave a message after the beep…

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

DBD Incorrects Quotes from a Random Generator Online

Edwin: You have your weirdly sincere humility Charles: I prefer the term 'self loathing' actually

Edwin: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this? Crystal, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

Niko: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. Crystal: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back… Charles: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Mick: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. Jenny: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Edwin: Mental stability, my old friend! Niko: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Niko: We all have our demons. Crystal, grabbing David: This one’s mine!

Crystal: Seriously, all you do is bitch. Edwin: I happen to bitch the perfect amount for someone in my situation.

Edwin: Ask me anything. Go ahead, I'll give you a straight answer. Charles: Why are we so fucking awesome? Edwin: That's the best fucking question anybody's ever asked.

The Sprites: PEASANT. I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE. Niko: You know there are other ways to say you want McDonalds. The Sprites: FOUL PLEBEIAN. YOU DARE SPEAK AGAINST ME— Niko: sigh What do you want? The Sprites: Chicken nuggets please.

Charles: Are you a cuddler? Edwin: I'm a machine of death and destruction. Charles: Edwin: …Yeah, I'm a cuddler.

Esther: You’d be stupid to lay a hand on me. Charles: Oh, you’d be surprised how much stupid shit I do.

The squad is playing a team sport Niko: Are you upset you don’t get to be on the same team as Edwin? Charles: Have you ever played a game with Edwin? Niko: No… Charles: Have you ever been trapped in a cage with a wolverine? Meanwhile, on the other side of the field Edwin, chasing Crystal: I SAID FASTER! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORD “FASTER” MEANS? IT MEANS MORE FAST!!!!

Crystal: Why are we friends? Edwin: Poor decisions on your part.

Charles: falls down the stairs Edwin: Are you okay? Niko: Stop falling down the stairs! Crystal: How’d the ground taste?

Crystal, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Jenny. Jenny, not looking up from their coffee: Good morning, problem child.

Edwin: My level of gay has reached “sighing deeply whenever anything extremely heterosexual happens near me”.

Monty: Why is it so hard for you to believe me?! Charles: … Monty: Oh, right. The lying.

Charles: Being half asleep and feeling someone gently plant a kiss on your forehead is one of the purest kinds of love in the world. Crystal: Unless you're home alone.

Edwin: Are you really planning to shoot the demon? Crystal: Don't worry, it's a holy gun. Edwin: How so? Crystal: It makes holes.

Crystal: I need life advice. Jenny, sipping wine and eating cookie dough: You came to the right person.

Charles: Edwin, you love me, right? Edwin: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Edwin: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Charles: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Edwin: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Charles: Is it working?

Charles: Edwin taught me to think before I act. Charles: …So if I smack the shit out of you, rest assured that I thought about it and am confident in my decision.

Night Nurse, smugly, after security arrives to escort Edwin and Charles out: So, do you wanna walk out of here or do you wanna be carried out? Edwin, in defeat: Let’s go. Charles: Wait. Edwin: What? Charles: I’d kinda like to be carried out…

[mxtxfanatic]

JC better be fucking glad that the whole "i was given a boon from BSSR b/c of my mom" thing was just a lie made up for the Golden Core transfer. that could have been the last fucking thing WWX has from his mother and he just has zero qualms about taking it. both he and his mother truly believe WWX owes them all that he has, including his life, his gratitude, and the memories of the parents he barely remembers.

JC screams "you're the reason my parents and sister are gone!". yeah? well your mom has been actively taking away and destroying the memory of WWX's parents and you just proved that you'd also do the same if given the opportunity.

an actual brother (blood or not) would show concern about what WWX was offering to sacrifice. JC did not, not even years later.

Jiang Cheng lives his life by what he believes others owe him, not what he actually owes others. Even when he knows he owes someone else, he will not repay it if he sees the debt as a "hardship."

Wei WuXian finally lost his temper, “Jiang Cheng! What- What do you think you’re talking about?! Take it back—don’t make me give you a thrashing! Don’t forget. Who was the one that helped us burn Uncle Jiang’s and Madam Yu’s corpses? Who returned to us the ashes that are in Lotus Pier right now? And who took us in when we were chased after by Wen Chao?!” Jiang Cheng, “I’m the one who fucking wants to give you a thrashing! Yes, they helped us before, but why in the world don’t you understand that right now any remnant of the Wen Sect is a target of criticism! No matter who they are, with a surname of Wen they have committed a most heinous crime! And those who protect the Wen are at risk of being condemned by everyone! All the people loathe the Wen-dogs so badly that the worse they die the better. Whoever protects them is against the entire world. Nobody would speak for them, and nobody would speak for you either!”

—Chapt. 73: Recklessness, exr

[Jiang Cheng] could manage to tolerate others, but definitely not Wen Ning, the Wen-dog who put his hand through Jin ZiXuan’s heart and ended both his sister’s happiness and her life. Just a look, and he felt the urge to kill him right there. How dare he step foot on the earth of Lotus Pier—he really was looking for his death!

—Chapt. 89: Loyalty, exr

With a shove, Jiang Cheng pushed aside the panicking Jin Ling who was supporting his side. Though he was already losing blood, blood still rushed to his head in his anger, making his face cycle through shades of white and red. He spat, “What gives you the right? Wei WuXian, what gives you the fucking right?” From behind Lan WangJI, Wei WuXian said stiffly, “What right?” Jiang Cheng replied, “How much has my family given for you? I’m his son. I’m the heir of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. But all those years, I was never enough next to you. Their love, their dedication, even their life! The lives of my father, mother, older sister, and even Jin ZiXuan! Because of you, all that’s left now is an orphaned Jin Ling!” ... “And then look what happened? You went to shelter some outsider, haha! From the Wen Sect, of all people. How many years did you eat their food and drink their water?! You betrayed us in an instant without any hesitation! What do you think my family is to you?! Endless good deeds, you’ve done them all, whilst every fuck-up was always because you had no choice! You ‘had no choice’! What difficulties can’t you explain?! What hardship must you hide?! Hardship?! You don’t tell me anything, you treat me like a moron!!! “How much do you owe my family? Shouldn’t I hate you?! Couldn’t I hate you?! What gives you the right to suddenly make me feel like I should be the one that’s sorry?! What gives you the right to make me feel like some fucking clown after all these years?! What the hell am I?! Do I only deserve to be blinded by your glory, by your light?! Shouldn’t I hate you?!”

—Chapt. 103: A Hatred for a Life Part 6, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, looked about ready to lose his mind on the spot. He said, “You? You?!” The force of the punch had been too powerful. Not only did it go right through Wen Ning’s chest, the shock of it also shattered part of his vocal chords. Unable to form a single word, he fell towards the ground. ... Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi went to the corner. Wen Ning was still half-collapsed onto Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling in an awkward position. Wei WuXian laid him flat on the ground. After studying the dark hole on his chest, he fretted, “Look at you......What should I use to fill this now?” Wen Ning asked, “Young Master, is it serious......?” Wei WuXian said, “It’s not serious. You don’t need the organs here anyways. But it looks bad.” Wen Ning replied, “It’s not like I asked to look good......” Jiang Cheng was silent.

—Chapts. 107-108: Concealment Parts 1 & 2, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

[thoughtsofatransboy]

I hope you know you're really worth it.

Hello fellas!! Are you guys doing well? Sleeping and eating? I hope yes! I'm happy to be back writing by my own will, not just for full fill requests (something my little burnout brain can't do perfectly) There's another MCR fanfic, since this fellas are the reason I smile everyday 👾

Warnings: This fic contains pet names such as: angel, sweetheart, darling and pretty thing; multiartist!reader, sex, gn!reader, implicit afab!reader (I'll try my best to not describe genitals), kind of dom!Frank Iero, grammar mistakes cuz my English sucks. Some angst and a scar (implicit SH) mention. If any of this things can make you feel uncomfortable, feel free to leave and maybe read something else from my blog

1st of August, another month, another week, another day. Honestly, your life's being a stupid watercolor blur, the hours and the moments and the pain just mix with your emptiness.

You've been feeling real down, a horrible self-esteem and lack of creativity. Basically, you're experiencing a severe burnout. Being an artist, you know how much the quality of your creations tends to decrease when you're going through something like this.

But... in the middle of your chaotic situation, you have someone who can always make you laugh, flush, giggle, smile and have pleasure. Your beloved one, Frank Iero. Which you call as "Frankie"... You can't understand how you got so lucky in your life to have someone as sweet as him to love and take care of you.

Well, as sweet and adorable as it looks like, you've been having struggles with him too. Not because of his actions, but because of your fear of losing him. Anytime you went to a walk with him, and you see him looking to someone, you couldn't help but feel insecure, afraid that he might be desiring them.

You know it's just some paranoia and he would never do something like this to you, at least is what your rational part wants you to believe.

8 p.m, you're laid down on your sofa, with a small blanket covering your legs. You're waiting for Frank to arrive home. You're looking around your living room, trying to distract yourself from the scars on your arm, they really aren't helping your self-esteem. You notice that your cat is there, she seems happy, meowing around and chasing a little fly. God... How much you wish you were happy like a cat.

You couldn't do anything but feel overwhelmed with your pain. Your work, art, family, your partner, yourself. Before you could notice, you're collapsing into tears, and so focused in your crying, you don't listen to the key turning in the door. Frank arrived, but instead of a happy partner, he finds you crying and hopelessly on the couch.

"Sweetheart! Are you ok?" Frank said, no taking too long to go towards the couch and hug you. "Shh... shh... it's ok... I'm here, it will be fine.." Honestly that's all you needed. You let yourself focus on the moment, while he strokes your hair gently. After some minutes in completely silence, he decides to ask. "What happened angel? Why were you crying?" You really want to answer him, but all you could say was "Frankie, am I worth your love?"

Frank was surprised, there wasn't many questions in this world that would make him feel so sad as he was now. He wasn't showing his partner enough love? How could he be so fool to let his own partner think something like this?

"Oh sweetheart... you are the prettiest person I ever met in my whole life. Of course you're worth it" You finally could feel yourself calming down a little, In the heat of the moment, he kisses you on the lips, sweet but really sloppy.

What was supposed to be an innocent little kiss turns into a make out session, with some naughty hands and pleasure moans. Your tears couldn't even be noticed anymore, they're drying more and more as Frank caress your face with so much caring and love.

Your senses are filled by his scent, your body sensitive to his hands caressing through your favorite spots. He breaks the kiss, not gasping for air, but on the way to kiss and suck at your neck.

His kisses send shivers down your spine and his hickeys makes you feel something else down there. He seems more desperate than you, alternating between kissing you mouth and your neck.

Noticing that you're aroused, Frank finally decides to act, passing his hands through your body, until he arrives your waistband, lowering your pajama pants down. Getting on top of you, he starts grinding against your crotch in anticipation.

"Darling, I wish I could give you my eyes... My ears... My thoughts, so you could understand that everything you do is incredible, so you could see yourself the way I see you" His soft words making the perfect contrast with his hands lowering your underwear in a quick movement, throwing it somewhere on the floor.

"Frankie, I love you so much" he smiled to you. He starts to undo his belt, getting rid of his pants and underwear, not bothering in looking where he threw it at. Oh, how could you hold yourself when he is stroking his cock while looking in your eyes? You left out a desperate whine. "Please! C'mon Frankie!"

Who he is to deny you your pleasure? He aligned himself to your entrance, before pushing in slowly and delicate, making you let out sweet moans and some curses. You and Frankie mostly fuck, but not today, today he was making love to you, passionate and pleasuring love.

His thrusts delicate but deep, a sensual pace that made him be able to touch all your sweet spots. Your hole clenching around him, your bodies so connected and heated, his sweating face, your moans, his whines. All of this was too much for you, you couldn't help but let it out go, cumming without advise.

"Hell yeah! Pretty thing... so beautiful when you cum" his attention suddenly goes to your neck, once again he decided to use all his effort to mark your neck. Despite he never stops the rhythm of his thrusts while he goes to your neck, his legs are shaking a little, his moans are getting louder. A sign that he's going to cum very soon.

After some minutes, he couldn't help anymore, cumming inside of you. Collapsing over the couch, next to you. "Hey sweetheart... I hope you know you're really worth it" with a small giggle, you let yourself fall asleep slowly next to your love. Maybe you still going to have troubles to create and maybe you still feel a little sad... But at least you have the sweetest lover in the world, right there for you.