#I’m sick of feeling my age. I’m sick of feeling like every way I write or even approach my stories is bad.

[boy-armageddon]

Personally I think the little phenomenon w/ Johnny Whitney writing a just genuinely sort of devastating song once per every record or so (or twice! take, well, Take Me to the Sea 4 example. actually three times maybe. talking about specifically georgia + my organ sounds like… here and also bonetrees and a broken heart a little. also also As Brass And Satin just feels utterly melancholic in its near entirety) is that he just wakes up face down covered in blood in the studio, his own or someone else’s he can’t tell, shaking and grasping some shoddily scrawled out lyrics on a rlly very old piece of paper. The rest of the band might be like “johnny what the fuck happened” and he just springs 2 his feet like “oh haha nothing :> im fine don’t worry. nothing happened!!!!!!! anyways i have this cool new idea 4 a song wanna hear” and any time anyone tries 2 ask about it he immediately dodges the question and moves on2 a diff topic. He can explain what it’s about, but any time someone asks about the inspiration he gets nervous and is like “ohhh ummm. I 4got! Any other song though lol” and doesn’t wait 4 an answer. that’s just a theory though a Seattle theory

[lady-grace-pens]

Is it a bad omen that I don’t know what genre I write?

FOAD is a dark romance I can see that much. ETNB is a fantasy. Htkag began as fantasy but turned into more lit fic than anything else. I hesitate calling my work even that because my work isn’t pretentious. I don’t know, it just seems like there should be more genre overlap than this right? The only connections I can spot between them are how all plots have a dramatic tone and are focused on character relationships and otherwise internal plots. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but is this a bad sign? Maybe I’m too young and I just haven’t written enough yet, I don’t know

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

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this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

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[theostrophywife]

mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same. 

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.” 

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday. 

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.” 

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?” 

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes. 

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman. 

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him. 

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.” 

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.” 

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile. 

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously. 

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.” 

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?” 

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."  

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light. 

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.” 

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.” 

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater. 

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach. 

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock. 

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life. 

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater. 

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment. 

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you. 

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend. 

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.” 

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?” 

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.” 

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.” 

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted. 

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper. 

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.” 

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?” 

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.” 

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity. 

“You love me?” 

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely positive.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go. 

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. 

“I love you too, Y/N.” 

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss. 

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin. 

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner. 

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

[tightjeansjavi]

Mine

A/N: um…hi! I write piss kink now? 👹 I don’t know what came over me today but I was sitting at my desk and just thinking about that mean old man, when all of a sudden, I thought hmm…what would it be like if Joel pissed on me? Then I proceeded to think about the prospect of him peeing on me while I was in a WORK meeting and well, you guess where this is going ;) oh! Fun fact, I wrote most of this in the shower! (How fitting) don’t read if this sorta content disturbs you, and if there’s any puritans out there that wanna call me a sick fuck and tell me I’m going to hell, baby, I’m already there! Feminism went completely out the window on this one!

~word count: 2.7k~

Summary: Joel Miller fucks you the same way he does every night…until he decides to switch things up for the first time.

Pairing | dark!joel x f!reader

Warnings: dark!joel, rough/mean Joel, overstimulation, heavy on the degrading kink, breeding kink, biting, dom/sub dynamic, oral f receiving, spit kink, pussy slapping, slight dubcon, piss kink, implied free use, Joel calls the reader his bitch and cocksleeve, unprotected piv, pussy pronouns, no specific age for the reader, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Hot wisps of breath fan the shell of your ear. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin when his tongue darts out to taste a droplet of your perspiration on his tongue. His strong hips and thighs cage you posessively as he drives his cock further into your already ruined and messy cunt. His thrusts are relentless, and with each heavy punch of his cock into your cervix, you’re gasping for air; begging, pleading for him to let you breathe, but he always refuses.

He takes you like this the same way every night. Never soft and sweet, always rough and demanding. He’s like a rabid dog that broke away from its chain and headed straight for you. Ripping, clawing, and gnawing on your soft flesh. He takes and takes when, and however he chooses.

His large hands, calloused and scarred, act as a brand upon your skin. He molds you to his liking, pressing your face further into the seedy mattress till you can taste the dust ridden fibers on your tongue. His hands are capable of inflicting so much pain, and you can only imagine how many people he has killed with them.

He grunts against your ear, teeth biting down on the soft lobe till you’re yelping for him to stop and he removes his heavy hand from your soft cheek momentarily, only to grasp your hair between his fingers and roughly yank your head up from the mattress. Hot tears blur your vision. You’re in a confused daze, his words sounding muffled as you gulp down lungfuls of air.

“Ain’t much use to me if my favorite cocksleeve stops breathin’, sweetheart.” He gruffly teases, an edge of playfulness in his tone. “Keep on breathin’ in that sweet, sweet air. It’s the only shred of kindness you’re gonna get from me tonight.”

He forces your back to meet his chest, arching your spine to meet the heavy thrusts of his cock splitting you open. He drops your hair, your scalp feeling raw and tender from how hard he was yanking on it. His strong arms encase around your middle, fat fingers tormenting your nipples. He squeezes and pinches them before he shoves you right back down into the mattress.

“Turn your head to the side so that you can fuckin’ breathe.” Is all he says while he reaches for the old headboard for leverage. The shitty mattress shakes and squeaks beneath the weight of his heavy thrusts when he picks up his grueling rhythm, again.

You listen to his advice, if you would even call it that, and turn your cheek to the side so that your airway isn’t restricted. Your trembling hands reach for the tattered sheets, and your fists clench the fabric for any sense of support.

“Atta girl.” He rasps, blunt fingernails dig fiercely into the soft flesh of your hips, taking and marking you with red crescents indented in your skin.

“J-Joel.” You try to find your words, but they are muffled and fragmented. Your mind is too focused and centered on the pleasure rippling through your body to even try and protest.

“Shuddup and take it like you always do, baby. Know you can. Don’t gotta act stubborn about it.” He hisses between his clenched teeth, bending his chest forwards against your arched back. He sinks his teeth into the spot where your shoulder blades meet.

In some twisted and erotic way, he is mating you. His primal nature to breed you, and claim you as his; only his, takes over as he bites down on your flesh hard enough to draw blood to the surface of your delicate skin. And you have no choice but to let him, because despite how used and abused Joel Miller makes you feel, you keep coming back for more because no one fucks you like he does.

And when you don’t respond to his crudeness and condescending tone, he feels pleased by your submissiveness and need to please him.

“Was startin’ to think that my perfect little fuck toy wasn’t gonna show up for her fucking tonight. Thought maybe she had finally woken up and realized her worth, but then I find ya outside my door like a stray puppy jus’ waitin’ to be fucked.” He grunts deeply, slowing the movement of his hips before drawing them back slowly. “Cus’ no matter how many times you try to deny it, you love bein’ my cock sleeve. My fuck toy. You fuckin’ live for that shit baby, and you know what? I think it’s about time that I reward you.” He lets out a throaty breath before driving his hips forward, knocking the air from your lungs in tandem with his hips sharply jutting into the soft swell your ass.

His sweat slick skin slaps against yours, the obscene sounds of sex, and your ruined pussy squelching around the thick intrusion of his cock, send your eyes rolling back into your skull when you struggle to lift your cheek from the mattress to look over at him.

“W—what kind of reward?” You choke out, lips falling open in an o shape when his fat cock head nudges against that inner soft and spongy spot deep within the walls of your inviting warmth.

He chuffs a laugh, lifting his head up from where his teeth were just embedded into your skin. “Ah, there she is. Eager as ever, huh? Be fuckin’ patient, baby. Before I change my mind and decide you don’t deserve a reward at all.” He snaps, slamming his hips forward once more before he draws them back again. He slips out of your sopping pussy completely, leaving you on the edge of your approaching orgasm.

His cock is glistening in the low light, a creamy ring of your combined arousal coats the thick, veiny girth of his cock. He scoots back just enough so that he can watch the way your pussy pulses and drools a trail of enticing slick down between your trembling thighs.

He uses his thumbs to pry your inner lips apart before he spits a glob of saliva between your gaped, pulsing hole, and down to your untouched clit, swollen and puffy with need.

“Such a messy little pussy. You should see the way she’s winkin’ at me right now. So needy and desperate for my cock to fill her up with my seed, ain’t that right?” He sounds drunk, words slurred together, darkened eyes glazed over in lust. He licks his lips, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal like a hound dog locked on a trail. “Smell so fuckin’ sweet, too.” He groans before surging forward, burying his face between your parted thighs.

He’s never eaten you out before. Always claiming that you were undeserving of his skilled mouth and tongue. But tonight he’s finally given into tasting you, and once he’s had a lick, he can’t stop. He keeps you pried apart at his leisure, dragging his broad nose right through your trail of slick from the source. His lips suckle on your clit before dragging downwards to tease your folds, sucking on them, too. He’s eating you as if your pussy, and her sweet, sweet, nectar is his life source.

Your body jolts forward when his wiry beard scrapes at the apex of your thighs. He growls against you before reaching around for your hips and anchoring you in place once more so he can continue feasting.

He obscenely slurps and groans against your cunt before drawing his face back for a lungful of air. His chin and beard are glistening, coated in your arousal when he licks you from his lips. You think that maybe he’s finally having a change of heart when he flips you onto your back with ease, your breasts bounce from the movement when your back hits the mattress with a soft thud.

He never strays from fucking you from behind, on your knees with your face smashed into his mattress. That’s how he always takes you. His way only. And yet, here you are staring up at him with your big doe eyes bright and innocent. Your lips parted when he grabs the back of your knees and presses them towards your chest.

“Make yourself useful and hold those for me, will ya?” He barks out an order.

You scramble to grab the underside of your knees, sweaty fingers nearly slipping before you are able to have a solid grip around them.

“Good girl.” He nods before wedging himself between the small opening of your thighs. He catches that almost hopeful glint in your eyes and shoots it down immediately with an intimidating glare.

He brings one hand to the back of your scalp, roughly yanking your head upwards so you’re making direct eye contact with him. His dominant hand is loosely wrapped around the shaft of his cock, and he slaps the fat mushroom head against your puffy clit to gain your attention. “You focus right here.” He snips, brows furrowed together in a harsh line across his forehead. “Don’t you go and gettin’ this twisted, ya hear me? I know how you women work. Y’all think that jus’ cause a man does somethin’ different for once, that he’s softenin’ up to ya. He ain’t. You’re still my bitch, my little cocksleeve, and you’d best be wise to remember that, baby.”

“Y-Yes, Joel. I’m still your—”

He cuts you off with a low snarl when he begins to feed you his cock from this angle inch by inch, glancing down between your bodies so he can see your pussy pulling him in further. “That you are, my girl. Still feelin’ jus’ as eager for your little reward?” He questions with a cock of his brow, smirk tugging across his devious face.

“Please.” You beg him softly, not understanding what it was you were begging him for in the first place.

“Such an eager little cocksleeve to be pumped full of my seed, baby. Never thought I’d see the day.” He chuckles, pressing his hips forward till he’s completely bottomed out inside of you, and the coarse thatch of hair above his pubic bone presses into your clit.

Wait…what?

You look at him dumbfounded, shaking your head and hoping that you just misunderstood what he was saying. “What?”

“What?” He mocks your surprised tone condescendingly.

“Joel.” You try to reason with him, “we—we can’t! I—I don’t want to carry your fucking kid!”

“Aw.” He pouts, drawing his hips back before slamming them forward again. “You don’t wanna be filled to the fuckin’ brim with my seed? You don’t think your pussy wants that, baby? I think she does.” He teases.

“No, Joel. Please. Anything but that. You can come on my tits, my face, just please—not inside!” Your mind is already reeling at the possibility of having to carry Joel Miller’s fucking offspring in a world such as this one. You felt like one of those breeding mares shipped off to some stud farm to be passed around between stallions till one of their foals would inevitably stick—

He laughs cruelly at your fear and the way it dots your vision. He can imagine exactly what’s going through your mind at that very moment. “You should see your fuckin’ face right now.” He snickers. “Relax, sweetheart. I got a vasectomy years before the outbreak.”

“Jesus fuck, Joel! Why didn’t you just start off with that?!” You yell in his face, wishing you could punch that stupid grin right from the perfect pout of his kissable lips. You feel the tension visibly leave your shoulders when he satiates your fears of pregnancy, even if he does it in such a cruel manner.

“Cus’ I like toyin’ with ya. It’s entertainment for me, baby. You’re so easy to play with. I can do it with my eyes closed.” He muses before rolling his hips forward.

“You’re such a dick for that.” You attempt to chastise him, but your attempt is fruitless.

“Now, don’t go thinkin’ you’re entirely off the hook now, sweetheart. I do believe you said earlier that I could do anythin’ else I wanted to ya, right? Your words, baby. Not mine.”

Damn, his mind is sharper than a fucking arrow.

“Yeah…I did say that you could cum on my tits, or my face—”

“Mmm…nope. That ain’t gonna cut it for me unfortunately. I think I wanna do somethin’ else.” He trailed off, meeting your slightly nervous gaze with a small tilt of his head. How could his words and body language always be so fucking…mean?

“Okay, well, what else do you want to do?”

He shrugs his shoulders in disinterest before he grabs your hands that are still secured around the backs of your knees and removes them quickly so that your thighs fall open. He wants you spread at his mercy when he begins to ram into you, over, and over again. “You’re just gonna have to wait and find out.” He grunts deeply, bending down at an angle so he can nip at the juncture of your neck.

Your head lolls to the side so he has easier access and the pleasure starts to coarse through your body till he moves his mouth down the clavicle of your chest. First he starts off with chaste kisses to the swells of your breasts, and then he toys with the pert nipple between his lips. You let out a soft mewl that quickly turns into a high pitched yelp when his teeth sink into the sensitive pebbled flesh, hard.

“OW!” You cry out at the assault of his mouth. He does it again before switching to your other nipple, delivering the same mistreatment before he soothes the broken skin with his tongue.

You jokingly call him an animal thinking that he would disagree and scold you for it, but instead…he leans into that side of himself. He fucking loves it.

“Yeah, baby. I am a fuckin’ animal. You got that damn right.”

He fucks you like one too, till your creaming around his cock, leaking out around his thick girth that continuously punches into your pussy. He slips out suddenly with a wet squelch, leaving you feeling a little dazed and positively fucked out.

“Still want your reward, baby?”

You nod dumbly, cock drunk and eyes glazed with stars still twinkling behind them.

“Alright, my little cocksleeve. Close those pretty eyes for me, and no peekin!’”

Your eyes snap shut on command, chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

The old mattress squeaks when his weight rises from it. You think about risking a peek to see what exactly it is that he’s doing, but you decide against it.

He stands above you on the mattress at his full height, looming over your spread legs while your ruined pussy is still drooling along the soiled sheets. He looks down at you with his cock wedged between his fist.

You can hear the wet sound of his fist jerking himself off before you feel the hot ropes of his seed coating your face, lips, neck, chest and lower. He shoots a load across your tummy, and right down to your pretty spread pussy.

Well, I suppose that’s a nice…reward? You think to yourself.

“Ain’t done yet, sweetheart.” He scolds you lightly from above when he sees your thighs beginning to close up like a nighttime flower closing its petals till the sweet kiss of sunrise.

He really has more than that? Damn, I underestimated this sick son of a bitch.

He relaxes his shoulders, letting out a decompressing sigh before he slowly releases his bladder with a sick smirk plastered on his face.

First, you detect the familiar stench of urine, and then the steaming liquid lands on your face, trickling down your lips. You let out a sound of protest and lift your hands above your head to shield yourself from his piss. It trails down the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and between your thighs, mixing into the trail of slick between them.

He’s marking you like a fucking dog marks his bitch, and you’ve never felt more degraded and humiliated in your entire life till you find youself under Joel Miller’s golden fucking shower. The stench of urine and cum stings your eyes and the sensitive hairs in your nose.

He bends down, cock now softened between his thighs and places one hand along the side of your face, brushing away a stray dribble of cum and piss from your lips with his calloused thumb.

“Now, no other man is ever gonna want to fuck my bitch when she’s reekin’ of my piss and cum.”

~~~

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[chilschuck]

hi there!!! I love your blog!!! I know you’re mainly a Chilchuck girlie, but I saw that you occasionally do Laios headcanons/drabbles, and I’m a massive Laios simp. if you have the time and inclination, would you maybe write about Laios realizing he’s falling for a reader who is also autistic like he is? and they’re both so in love with each other, but they don’t realize it bc they’re both idiots, so the party has to set them up lmao

OBLIVIOUS (IN MY LOVE FOR YOU).

꒰ warnings: ꒱ mutual pining, hopelessly in love silly guys, gn!reader. sfw as always!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.3k

✦ i hope this turned out how you wanted it!!! i felt bad that i’ve been doing so much chil and nothing for the others, so i was happy that you sent this request!! i’m not sure how to feel about this, but i’m happy to get something out for you!!! <333 honestly i’m worried this turned out badly, but alas, i feel that way about everything asdfdhgjhk. enjoy lovely!!!!

It was more than obvious to anyone but the two of you, much to the party’s displeasure. The mutual pining between you had been a constant back and forth for what felt like ages, and it was almost humorous how in denial it seemed you were.

Laios always spent time chatting with you before bed, his soft voice carrying so much warmth. You always noted how fuzzy your head felt whenever he’d talk about something he was especially interested in. It was almost heartbreaking to part with him to finally rest, longing to continue the conversation for as long as you could.

Little did the two of you know that the rest of the party had their eyes on you, tired sighs leaving each of them. This was every night now, and the fact neither of you were making an effort to come to terms and admit what you were feeling was beginning to become tiresome.

Chilchuck huffed, head in the palm of his hand. “I can’t believe that this is still going on. I’m tired of it.”

Marcille tutted, but the frustration at both of your ignorances was seeping through. “There’s got to be something we can do. They’re obviously so in love with each other...”

And right she was, with how absolutely enamored Laios had become. He’d never felt this way about anyone, the feeling seeping into his bones slowly but surely. With every smile you gave him, words of encouragement, or even reassuring touches, you made yourself at home in his mind and heart. Laios was content with just the whispered conversations and adventures together, not quite piecing together the entire situation just yet.

Marcille was not so sure that was something to be content with. Izutsumi was also getting fed up with the constant beating around the bush, and Chilchuck was sick and tired of watching this ordeal occur. The three of them had decided that enough was enough, and through gossip-like whispers, they decided on a course of action.

“I’ll try and talk to Laios,” Chilchuck settled, although he wasn’t entirely happy with the idea of helping an inner party relationship unfold. It was even harder to watch the two of you continuously pine after each other blindly, so he chose what he believed was the lesser of two evils. “You two convince you-know-who to get some one on one time with him somehow.”

Marcille hummed, finger tapping her chin. “Maybe we could get Senshi to cook something up just for the two of them, get them on a date of some sort.”

Izutsumi flicked her tail in annoyance at this entire scenario, before giving her own opinion. “Let’s just get them stuck in a trap or something.” At that, the elf across from her shook her head adamantly.

“Although that might work another time, I think setting them up would work best. We’ll all conveniently go off somewhere and leave the two of them to talk it out. Somehow…”

Thankfully, it wasn’t hard to get the two of you alone together. Laios would explain something about a monster your party had encountered earlier, delighted at your interest in anything he had to say. Before he knew it, the rest of the party had excused themselves after dinner, leaving just you and him with a cooked meal and unsaid words hanging in the air.

Even earlier, Chilchuck had decided to try and drill it into Laios’ skull that perhaps coming to terms and admitting what he was feeling wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Grasping for straws, Laios tried to create excuses that what he felt for you was just that of a close friend. There was no way he was falling in love, right? Yet, the look Chilchuck had given him shut him up quickly.

“You think friends just look at each other with that lovesick face you’re always making? And it’s not exactly hard to see just how much you care about them. It’s actually pretty obvious.” The half-foot grit out, floored that Laios still hadn’t figured out just how deeply he had fallen.

Marcille and Izutsumi had a similar problem with you, finding that you were convinced what you felt was just that of a deep friendship, of course you weren’t actually absolutely smitten with the man. Giving each other a knowing look, Marcille continued her prodding.

“I think there’s more to this,” the way she said your name so softly held your attention. “You need to talk with him. Maybe talk through just what you’re feeling.”

So now, as you took another bite of your dinner, you tried to figure out just what you were feeling. Laios was doing the same, and the silence, which was never a problem before, now hung with tension.

Both of you tried to speak, before signaling the other to continue, before giving a light laugh at the awkwardness. It wasn’t that just being in each other’s company was the problem, but more so that there was so much left unsaid.

Laios ran his hand through his hair, giving you that tender smile you had come to love so much. “You first.”

Another laugh left you, before your current train of thought followed through your words. “So I was wondering… Have you ever been in love before, Laios?”

That caught him off guard, swallowing hard before thinking of the right thing to say. “Well… I, uh…” A beat of silence followed as you let him find his words. “I wasn’t sure before today. What about you?”

Trying not to get your hopes up, or have the flame within you extinguished so easily, you smiled. “Same here, actually. I think…” You trailed off, just staring at his rosy cheeks and intent gaze making your heartbeat a little faster. Setting your plate to the side, you bit your tongue for a moment. Talk through what you’re feeling… You can do that.

“I guess I didn’t really realize, but… Lately, I’ve been really eager to be around you.” Your voice tried to fight back the tremors rising within you. Before you could continue, Laios grabbed your hand and gave you that intent expression again.

“Me too! I mean, I always really enjoy our talks. I look forward to them a lot.” He spoke a tad out of breath, trying to reign in how he was feeling. Another beat of silence, followed by the clearing of his throat.

“I think I’m in love with you.” You both muttered at the same time, before the feeling of both shock and excitement coursed through you. There was… no possible way, right? But with that doting smile and lovesick gaze he was sending your way, you began to think he did feel the same.

“Thank the gods,” you whispered, a huff of relief leaving your lips. “I had to have Marcille and Izutsumi make me realize.”

Laios laughed, cheeks flushed with delight. “Yeah, Chilchuck definitely gave me a talking to. I think Senshi tried to help me realize, too. It was definitely interesting.”

Both of you shared light giggles before Laios gently pulled you into an embrace. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, nuzzling into his neck.

“Sorry it took me so long.” He whispered, inhaling deeply, the air leaving him in a content sigh. Your eyes fluttered shut, shaking your head slightly in reply. “No need. That’d mean I’d need to apologize too.”

You pressed sweet kisses to his cheek, to his nose, to his forehead. Laios beamed, intertwining your fingers as he spoke from the heart just what he had been trying to come to terms with. You did your best to do so, too.

Chilchuck, Marcille, Senshi, and Izutsumi all let out sounds of relief at watching the two of you around the corner. Getting both of you to finally realize the extent of your feelings was difficult, but oh so worth it in the end.

“Finally,” Chilchuck grumbled, before scratching the back of his neck. “That only took, what? Forever?”

Senshi grunted, trying to recall just how long it had been. Izutsumi even watched as Marcille rocked back and forth on her feet, a certain sparkle in her eye.

She’d have to get the two of you to be open more often.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune!! <33

[omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time ❥

Pairing: Pre!Outbreak Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You’re the school nurse at Sarah’s middle school and you’re volunteered to chaperone the school dance alongside her father, Joel Miller. After some other teachers upset you there, he makes a point of showing you how he feels while also teaching those assholes a lesson. 

A/N: okay so i know i just wrote one but you guys were so sweet in the notes :) *sobbing* and im obsessed with him so another Joel Miller fic for you, this one’s more fluffy tho here’s a sweet, smutty one, inspired by that one scene in “The Lost Husband” YALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT, enjoy and feedback as always is appreciated >~< i cant stop writing him PREPARED TO BE SICK O’ ME

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fluff, cheesy, just absolute fuckin fluff, mentions of death, months pre-outbreak, language, reader is insulted, slight angst, mentions of alcohol, slight age gap, reader has panic attack, public making out, jealous!reader, Joel loves his pet names, he talks you through it, oral f! receiving, p in v, praise, unprotected sex, y’all it’s a lot 

You sip on your mug full of sugary coffee and rub your temple, tired from a night of little sleep. That’s when Sarah Miller, your favorite student, patient, and professional instigator, strides through your office doors with a big smile on her face. 

You open up your snack drawer with an affectionate roll of your eyes, grab a pack of skittles, and throw it her way. 

She catches it mid-air and sits down on the bed by your door, kicking her feet while she pops only the red ones into her mouth. 

“You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days, hun,” you breathe a laugh. 

“Don’t worry,” she sighs, still grinning. “I’m on my lunch break and I finished it fast so I could come see you.”

You smile softly behind the rim of your mug, “Well, I’m glad to see you. What is it that you’re smiling so much about?”

“Awe,” she points to your mug. “You’re using the mug I got you.”

You look at the front of the mug, the words, “World’s Greatest Grandma”, on the front of if it with the word Grandma scratched out with a wash-proof marker and replaced with “Nurse”. She claimed she couldn’t find one that said what she wanted so she had to get creative. It makes you laugh every time you pick it up. 

“It’s my most prized possession,” you nod, matching her expression. “Now answer my question.”

She leans forward, having finished off all the red skittles, and hands it back to you so you can eat the rest. 

She says it in one, hyperactive breath, “I got my dad to volunteer at the school dance!”

You choke a bit on your coffee.

Setting down the bag of skittles and your mug, you look up at her and chuckling, “Why would you want to do that? Don’t most kids want their parents far away from their homecoming?”

She shakes her head like you’re not getting what she’s saying, exasperated, “I invited him for you, Nurse y/n.”

“I- Why would you-” you let out a nervous laugh before pulling yourself together. “Sarah. Why would you invite him for me, sweetheart?”

“Because you like him,” she props her head up against the wall behind her, a sly little smirk on her lips. She crosses her legs. “Obviously.”

You sip your coffee, a small scoff leaving you, “I don’t have a crush on your father, Ms. Miller. Since when do you play matchmaker, huh?”

“Since he asks about you like all the time,” she groans. “I told him that you’re coming and he basically dropped everything to come.”

Heat blooms in your face but you clear your throat and feign nonchalance despite it. It would be incredibly unprofessional for you to have a juvenile, little crush on a student’s father. Even if he is incredibly handsome, sweet, charming, funny, and a wonderful, single father to his little girl who you also have a soft spot for. 

But you do and you’re convinced it’s a bit bigger than a little one. You don’t act on it though because you’ve kidded yourself into thinking it would go away, wither from neglect like a dying plant with no sun. However, that hasn’t worked out very well so far. 

Sarah doesn’t miss the flush in cheeks and the small smile you dawn before maintaining your composure once again. She decides to hold onto this information instead of call you out because she’s nothing if not devious. She’s very observant for a 14 year old, you’re sure she gets it from her sharp father. 

He doesn’t let anything get past him, like hair in your face that he pushes away for you, a fallen eyelash on your cheek, your shoelace undone, your ponytail getting loose and about to fall out, and whatever else. It’s been almost an entire school year of this, going on field trips, meetings, him picking Sarah up from school when she’s sick (whether she fakes it or not), and around your shared neighborhood because even if it was big in Austin, Texas, he made it feel so damn small. 

And now Sarah says this and you can’t contain your excitement. But also your nerves were shot, you haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time. It scares the hell out of you.

“I’m not volunteering,” you laugh. “Why’d you lie to him?”

“Because I’m going to convince you to come,” she raises her eyebrows. “Please, please, please, please!” she clasps her hands together. “I’ll buy you all the skittles you want, I’ll take the red ones out of all of them for you, too!”

“What if I’m busy?”

“I know you’re not.”

You gasp, “Rude, Sarah! I should write you up for that,” you tease. 

She smiles, “Come on, you can come and wear a pretty dress, drink punch, and eat free food. What’s not to like?”

“The bitchy moms and other teachers, for one thing-” you put a hand over your mouth. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have said that,” you chuckle, embarrassed, with your face in your hands.

She waves you off, “My father cusses like a sailor and I won’t tell. I don’t like anyone that works here besides you, anyway.”

“Well, now I feel like I have to,” you relent with a sigh, mulling it over. She was right in that you didn’t have anything to do, so what was the risk here?  

She looks at you expectantly, mustering up puppy dog eyes to persuade you. 

“If I go... no teasing me and your dad. He and I are just good friends,” you say, which is at least half true. “We enjoy each other’s company, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh,” she says in a sing-song, knowing voice, fingers crossed behind her back. “Sure, Nurse y/n. I promise.”

“I’m serious,” you point at her, taking the last sip of your coffee just as the class bell rings. “Now get out of here and go to math.”

She groans in protest but hops down from the table anyway and fakes being dizzy, “What if I have a fever?” She coughs. 

“Then walk it off,” you chuckle, knowing she’s lying. “See you tonight, Sarah.”

She grins widely, waving, running out, “Bye! Dad and Nurse Y/n sitting in a tree-”

“Sarah!”

~~~

Walking into the schools’ gymnasium, you’re almost shaking with nerves when you walk in. You feel like a teenager again, anxious and waiting for someone to ask you to dance. 

You slipped on a black slip dress with white trim at the ends and the sweetheart neckline, it hugs your body nicely and accentuates curves, dips, and makes your skin glow with a red sweater that hits at your waist and matches your red, strappy heels. Your hair is pulled back with barrettes to show off your makeup and fresh curls. 

The dance has already started thirty minutes ago, so everyone’s already dancing and having fun to the child-friendly music that the DJ spins for the room. You pick up a red solo cup filled with crappy fruit punch and spot Sarah in the crowd with a few of her friends. 

She waves enthusiastically in your direction before running over to you and hugging your side. “You look so pretty, Nurse Y/n!”

“Thank you, sweetheart. So do you!” you hug her back, trying the punch and wincing at the off-taste. “Tonight, you can just call me Y/n, if you want.”

She smiles, glowing at your arrival, “My dad’s over there talking to another parent. I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

You look up when she says this and meet his eyes from across the room, which means he was already looking. Joel Miller cracks a lopsided smile at you, excuses himself from his conversation with a pestering mom, and crosses the room to the two of you. 

He’s wearing a red flannel shirt, rolled up on his burly forearms, tucked into a pair of dark jeans with a black belt holding the pants up. His hair is slightly wet from a shower, you presume, and he smells of aftershave and smoke and cedar wood. He looks so good, standing in front of you with those all-encompassing brown eyes, you think you might cry. 

Those said eyes fall over you, and admire your dress, your hair, your everything. He looks down at his daughter, watching you both with avid attention. 

“Don’t you have friends to get back to, chick?” he cocks an eyebrow down at his scheming daughter. 

She rolls her eyes, smoothing out her blue dress. Her hair is braided into a bun at the back of her head, matching teal flowers pinned in her curls. “Okay, dad. Have fun!”

She races back to her group of friends and leaves you and Joel alone, two awkward adults who feel like kids again.

“You did her hair tonight?” you smile softly, gushing a bit now. “It looks so nice.”

He flushes and scratches the back of his neck, “Thank you. I tried my best, she did most of it. I just wanted tonight to be perfect for her. She forced me to come, though.”

“She got me, too,” you tilt your head, biting back a grin. “She should be a lawyer when she grows up, this kid.”

He looks out at her dancing with her friends and smiles fondly, “She would be great.” His eyes fall back down to you, “You look beautiful... by the way.”

You beam, “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, too, Joel.”

A blush spreads across his nose and cheeks, “Thanks. I was worried it was too simple and that I should have worn a suit... I didn’t know if it was nice enough to-”

You place your hand on his arm to stop his rambling, “You look great. Seriously. Don’t worry, all the moms and teachers will still drool over you.”

He pinches his brow when he stares down at you. You get the sudden urge to smooth out the small wrinkle between his eyebrows, ease his tensions. 

“Really?” he pins you down with his stare, but his dark eyes are glittering with amusement. “You’re way off base, sweetheart, I promise you. None of them think of me like that.”

You ignore the heat blooming in your chest at the nickname, he used it often but it never failed to make your brain short-circuit, “They all talk about you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “You’re joking.”

Jealousy swirls in your belly at the thought of these women and the things you’ve heard around school, but you pull it together with a quick tilt of your head, “I’m not laughing, am I?”

He notices your jaw clench a bit and how you gulped before speaking, logging the observations for later, “How do you notice?”

“How do you not!” you say, moving to his side and unintentionally brushing your arm against his. He shivers. “It’s obvious. It’s hard not to.”

His eyes linger on your lips before glancing back up your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been distracted.”

You grow flustered under his gaze and look ahead, stammering, “Yeah... maybe. And well... Sarah tells me that they ask her about your life in the pickup line after school. So it’s proving to be borderline obsession,” you laugh.

He smiles softly, seeing past your nerves, “Poor Sarah. She must love that,” he says dryly. 

“Sarah might say some choice words about them,” you shrug your shoulders. “She’s fine, though. I probably shouldn’t have told you, we tend to share secrets,” you look at him, filled with care for his daughter, for him.

“She adores you,” he says sincerely and you can tell by the warmth in his tone that he means it and appreciates it. “You’ve quickly become one of her favorite people within a little over half a school year. Tommy thinks you’re great too, from the few interactions you’ve had when he picks her up sometimes.”

You grin and his chest seizes at the light that exudes from your sweet expression, “Tommy’s a wonderful uncle. Good brother too. He talks about you often.”

“Oh yeah?” he looks at you, his voice sends shivers straight through you. “And what does he say?”

“Can’t betray a friend’s trust,” you shake your head, teasing. 

He discreetly shows you his flask of whiskey, “Not even if I let you drink from my emergency flask?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you one thing,” you hold up a finger and he slips you the flask, cracking a dazzling smile, while you turn around and take a long sip. The DJ transitions the E.D.M to a slow song, something sweet and best to sway to. 

He takes a long sip himself and tucks it away in his pocket again, holding out his hand to you, “Do you want to tell me while we dance, darlin?”

You look around the room, your boss nowhere in sight. There was technically no rule against dating a student’s parent, but you didn’t want the judgement. You knew the people around here talked and there would be rumors, shaming. But he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room, putting himself out on a limb just to ask you to dance.

It didn’t have to mean anything anyway, it could just be two friends sharing a dance. You’ve danced with friends. It’s the same thing. Your internal monologue was racing a mile a minute. 

“Are we allowed to? I mean, as chaperones.”

“We’re watching the students more closely.” 

“Yeah, I just...” you pause, pinching your brow.

His face falls slightly. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” he starts to pull his hand away. “It’s really no-”

You put your hand in his, “I’d love to dance with you, Joel.”

Warmth blooms in his handsome face and he pulls you into the crowd of dancing people. Joel pulls you gently towards him, placing his hands on your waist as you wrap your arms up and around his neck. You both try to keep your distance, make a good example for the kids, but it’s growing increasingly harder for him not to hold you close and kiss you right here in front of all these people. 

You catch Sarah giggling excitedly at you both dancing, whispering with her friends. You roll your eyes with a small smile. 

You look up at Joel, resisting the urge to lay your head against his chest, “You still want to know something Tommy said?”

“Desperately,” he laughs. 

“He told me you said I’m pretty.”

Rosy color spreads across his nose, but his eyes are darkened, his lips part slightly, “I should’ve known he’d tell you.”

“So he’s telling the truth?”

His eyes soften, “Of course he is.”

“Well... thank you,” you flush, blood rushing to your face, making Joel smile. You feel like a schoolgirl again. 

He chuckles, eyes searching your face, “You’re welcome.”

You tilt your head, “You’re pretty, too, Joel.”

He spins you as the song picks up a bit and pulls you back to him, your dress spinning as you do. He pulls you back against his chest, hands in against shirt and his around your waist. Warmth radiates from his broad chest, his hands are calloused even through the fabric of your slip dress, and your breath catches in your throat.

He doesn’t pay any mind to the stares he gets for doing it, but he lets his head drop to your shoulder, writing love letters in your skin when he lets out a breath. He says nothing about the compliment but he’s holding you closer, and that’s all he needs to do. A quiet understanding washes over the two of you in that moment. 

Joel’s always been the strong and silent type, but the longer the two of you have known one another, the closer you get, he’s begun to let more things slip. He begins to ramble, his nerves making an appearance when he’s near you, a teenager again. Then there are times like now when his actions do all the talking for him and neither of you need to comment on it. 

Then there are others when he won’t shut the fuck up. 

“People are looking,” you whisper. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“...No.”

“Then why do you care what they think?”

There’s a beat of silence before you sigh out the three words, “I don’t know.”

“We’re not Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey over here, the kids will be fine,” he teases. Then he lifts his head to bring your joined hands up to his side, moving you to the changed song with the more upbeat tempo. 

You snort, “Wouldn’t that be something.”

“If we were somewhere else...” he muses, looking at you to gauge your reaction.

You meet his eyes, your own crinkling with amusement, “You’d do the lift?”

He throws his head back with a thunderous laugh, “I’d try for you.”

“Think I’m too heavy?”

“God, no,” he spins the two of you, dodging a pair of kids dancing. “I’m just old.”

“You’re like 35, Joel.”

“You’re only 27, you don’t get it yet,” he whispers into the side of your hair and you laugh, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the judgmental moms and teachers. 

Joel Miller had a talent of making you feel like the only person in the room. 

The song ends and you feel out of breath just from being this close to him. You step away from him and smile softly, “I gotta run to the restroom. I’ll be back.”

His eyes sweep over you, then he nods, “Okay.”

“What?” you grin. “No dad joke about not falling in?”

“I’m classy Joel tonight,” he chuckles. “No bathroom jokes.”

You shake your head with a laugh as you walk back towards the restrooms. Stepping inside, you move to stand in front of the mirror and grab your lipstick from your bag, fixing up your makeup. You try to calm your nerves, hands shaking when you bring the golden tube to your lips. 

After taking a deep breath, your mind begins to wander about how his hands felt on your skin and how he thinks you’re pretty. The thoughts fill your head and litter your skin with goosebumps. 

You don’t usually like being the center of attention, but with Joel around you, it was hard not to be. And you couldn’t say you minded it. 

A few other women walk through the door and you recognize them to be Bethany, Sarah’s rude math teacher, Cara, a mom who gives you trouble constantly, and Kristina, another mom who thinks Joel is hot and constantly asks Sarah questions about him. 

“Hey, y/n!” Bethany draws out in a sing-song, forced way that sends a chill through your body. “Saw you out dancing with Mr. Miller. Ain’t y’all cute?”

You look at her blankly in your reflection and she clears her throat. 

“Adorable,” Cara’s shark eyes roam you over in the mirror, making you feel small as you fix your foundation. You don’t let it show though, you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“Such a shame about Joel’s wife,” Kristina hums, putting on her own bright pink lipstick. “Wonder if he’s still looking for a stepmom for sweet little Sarah.” 

The three of them laugh together and you feel your blood pressure quickly rise. Three wild vultures circling a carcass, kicking it while it’s down. 

“Can we not tonight, ladies?” you turn around to look at them. “Let’s just forget this and have fun.”

“What do you mean, dear? This is fun,” Bethany blinks her stark, blue eyes, red lips curling. “This must be a lot for her though, girls. She’s probably having a rough time considering what happened to her.”

You freeze.

“Oh yeah...” Cara finishes her makeup and frowns at you. “I remember hearing your fiancee passed away before you came here, how sad.”

Your blood runs cold, sirens going off in your head, and a pounding begins in your skull. No one’s brought up Rick since you’ve gotten here, you’ve dodged the questions from the nosy parents, the gossiping neighbors, and the rude coworkers. You don’t know how they figured it out, and now you feel it, being back in the car with Rick the night that it happened. 

Joel and Sarah didn’t even know, you had pushed it to the back of your mind so you would never find it again. Now it’s coming back like a wave, full force, and pulling you under the current until you’re drowning. 

“Then you moved here to Austin in July,” Kristina slits her eyes at you and cocks her head to the side. “Now you’re trying to get back out there with Joel, huh? Like you’d really have a chance with him.” 

She looks in your direction and it’s as if she sees right through you, past your carefully created facade and into your core, that sad, broken girl with no family left and nowhere to go. 

Your eyes fill with hot tears, you want to run away, but you can’t move. You’re frozen, feet glued to the linoleum tile. 

“I knew Rick... your fiancee,” Bethany says. “He was so sweet. We went to college together.”

“So sweet,” Cara looks at you and flashes another sickly sweet smile.

You inhale sharply, tears falling down your face. You hastily wipe it away, “I... I gotta go.”

You grab your purse off the counter and rush out of the door, slamming into a hard chest and a pair of hands that fly to catch you by the waist. 

Joel stares down at you, grounding you, and your eyes begin to brim with tears, “What’s wrong, sugar? What happened?”

The words tumble out of you, wiping away the tears that slip out while you ramble on, “Nothing, I just... the women in there, they’re horrible, they hate me, and they make me feel like shit. They brought up Rick and they think you’re hot and they think we’re dating and I just wanna go. I’m just gonna go home-”

He looks over your head at three women leaving the bathroom, waving in his direction. 

Joel looks back down at you before tucking his fingers into the straps of your dress and pulling you into a searing kiss. Your inhale sharply when his soft lips meet yours, and your hands grip onto his flannel shirt, sighing into his mouth. He slips his hands up to the back of your neck, tilting your face up to kiss you more completely, unraveling you in his capable hands. 

Bethany stares at you wide eyed, getting the other girls attention, all jaws dropped in utter shock at the image before them. 

His tongue dances with yours as he moves his lips expertly, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheekbone as he coaxes your lips open. He hums small praises while tracing shapes into your skin. You let a small noise slip past you, unable to contain how good he’s making you feel, swallowing your sadness and helping you breathe again. 

He groans as he forces himself to pull away from you, struggling not to kiss you again. Forgetting you’re not alone. 

Joel’s hands slip down to rest on your shoulders, lips flushed and swollen from the kiss, voice gravelly, “I hate terrible people.”

You look at him, mouth parted, lipstick probably smudged. He licks his lips before glaring at back at the women before they scoff and walk away, muttering under their breath. 

Neither of you get the time to speak of it before Sarah is running down the hallway, after hearing the commotion. You and Joel split apart when she comes up, and she’s smiling widely. 

“Kelsey asked if I could sleepover, can I go get my stuff at the house and go to her place? Pretty please,” she begs her dad, clasping her hands together. 

He tears his eyes away from you and nods, smiling, “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll head home and I’ll walk you there.”

Sarah grins happily before looking up at you. “Everything okay, y/n?”

You force a smile and fix a flower falling out of her hair, “Yeah, I’m good. And I think I’m ready to go, too.”

“Do you need a ride?” Joel asks. “I know you walked here cause we all live so close, but I don’t want you walkin’ home in the dark. Also Sarah’s got control of the radio on the way back,” he offers you a grin. “She’s got good taste.”

“We’re listening to 80′s hits,” Sarah nods, taking her job very seriously. 

You nod, feeling better just by being near the two of them. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

~~~

“Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears is blaring through Joel’s truck and you’re humming under your breath while Sarah is screaming it in the backseat. Joel laughs at his daughter in the rearview mirror. 

Grieving your boyfriend’s death has been something you’ve pushed aside for a long time. You knew these women could be catty, but you never thought they’d be downright cruel to you, bringing up Rick the way they did. Looking out the window, you think back to the moment you felt frozen in that bathroom, unable to speak or move. You feel embarrassed for not standing up for yourself, blaming yourself instead of them and their hateful words. 

Joel notices your faraway expression and rests his hand on your thigh in a way so Sarah can’t see. He rubs his thumb over your bare skin and it both calms and excites you, heat rushing to the apex of your legs. 

You let out a small sigh and lean back into the chair, resting your hand on top of his. He has to rip his eyes off of you, willing himself to ignore your pleased exhales if he was going to drive properly. 

He pulls the car into the driveway one-handed and comes to a stop, turning around to talk to Sarah, “Go grab your stuff, chick, and we’ll go to Kelsey’s.”

She nods and hops out, running towards the house.

Joel turns to you, hand still on your leg, clearly nervous, “Do you want... do you want to come inside? I have wine and some clothes you can put on, if you want something more comfortable.”

You search his set features for confirmation, “You sure? I can just walk next door to my house, I don’t wanna put you out-”

“Y/n...” he stops you. “You should know by now that if I say something I mean it, I promise you.”

You didn’t know if it was a good idea being with him alone like this, but you honestly didn’t want to be by yourself right now. 

You relent with a nod, “Alright. You had your chance to change your mind,” you flash a sneaky smile. 

The two of you step out of the car and head into his house. Sarah’s already tumbling down the stairs, changed into pajamas with a packed bag slung over her shoulder, “Ready to go when you are.”

“Damn, you got ready fast, kid,” he laughs despite himself. “Let’s go.”

Sarah runs up and hugs your side, “Bye, y/n!”

“Have fun with Kelsey, be safe, okay?” you squeeze her shoulder. 

Joel whispers to you as they walk to the door, “There’s shirts upstairs and some shorts you can borrow. Make yourself at home, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile softly. 

They head out and leave you alone in the dimly lit house. You exhale slowly and head up the stairs to go to his room. You look around at the messy bedroom, one king size bed with blue covers, and minimal decorations. It felt like him, smelled like him, cedar and oak and smoke. You open one of his drawers to grab one of his big tee shirts from work, and a pair of baggy gym shorts. 

You slip out of your dress, let down your hair, and set your red shawl down on top of it. You tug on the big tee shirt and pull on the gym shorts. As much as you had liked that dress, you feel like you can finally breathe now, much more comfortable in your sleepwear now. The clothes smelled of him, too, and it filled your chest with heat, a red glow pouring out of you. 

You’re in Joel Millers room... wearing his clothes. 

You can’t help but look around at the photos of Sarah and him in framed photos, some hung on the wall and others propped up on his drawers. There’s one photo that catches your eye in particular, though, the side of it folded in and tucked into the frame. It’s Joel smiling down at Sarah, just a baby in his arms, and there’s a part of the photograph hidden. But you spot a glimpse of a yellow dress in the corner, the rest of it hidden away. 

You wonder if it’s Sarah’s mom. You don’t know much about her, just that Sarah says she never got to know her, and hardly remembers anything about her. It broke your heart hearing that, wishing she could have, but also selfishly wanting to be that person for her.

“Found what you needed?” 

You jump at Joel’s sudden presence in the room and turn around to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I-”

He smirks and it feels like a lit match to your insides, “I know, darlin. Nothing to be sorry about.”

His eyes trail over you in his clothes, your arms folded under your chest, “You look good in my clothes, sweetheart. Better than I do, that’s for sure.”

You smile, “Thank you. And thanks for letting me borrow them. I feel better.”

He pinches his brow together, “Do you want to talk to me more about what happened? We don’t have to, but just know I’m here.”

You take a step towards him, “I know, I just haven’t talked about him in a long time.”

“Him?” his eyebrows raise.

You laugh at his shock, moving past him so he follows you downstairs, “Down, boy. I’m single, wouldn’t have let you kiss me if I wasn’t.”

He blushes. “Well, then, what about him?” he trails behind you to his kitchen. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

You love his Texan drawl and voice a bit too much, how deep and molasses like it was, how it coated you in sweetness and didn’t let up. Maybe it was because you weren’t from here and you weren’t used to it. But his was different and it affected you all the same. 

“I might tell you,” you hop up on the countertop. “Over a glass of wine.”

Joel cracks a smile, happily obliging your request with one of his wine bottles, “I can do that.”

He pours you a glass of red and hands it to you, “So... who’s Rick?” He sips his own.

“My um... my ex fiancee,” you say, taking a long sip of your wine. “It feels weird calling him that...” you let out a dark laugh. “-since the two of us never ended it ourselves, it sounds wrong. But he uh-” your voice gets thick. “He died the beginning of last year.”

His face falls, genuinely on your behalf, wanting to wrap you in his arms, but also wanting to let you continue, “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You’ve heard that more times than you can count from friends, family, and strangers alike, but from him, it’s one of the most sincere you’ve ever heard. You actually believe he truly cares and you wonder why you didn’t tell him sooner, maybe worried you’d scare him off. You wanted a fresh start in a place where no one knew Rick, where no one knew what happened. 

“Thank you,” you sniff, mustering up a small, grateful smile before you continue. “It was New Year’s Eve. I didn’t know he had been drinking... he really seemed fine,” you recount like it was just yesterday that it happened. 

“He didn’t see the ice on the roads,” you take another long sip, hands shaking again. You clear your throat, “I tried to help him, I thought we would be fine. But there was a bridge... and we went off. He got me out,” you blink the tears away, breathing out the words as if expelling them from your person. Like you wouldn’t have to hold onto them anymore. “He didn’t.”

“I’m alive because of him,” you inhale sharply, finally looking at Joel. “And he’s dead because I didn’t notice...”

He frowns, “It is absolutely not your fault, y/n. It’s a horrible thing that happened and it is not because of you.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and it breaks Joel’s heart a bit more and more, “I haven’t thought about it in so long. And they brought him up in the bathroom. I don’t know how they found out, I haven’t told a soul here.”

Protectiveness slips into his deep tone of voice as he steps towards you, it sends a shock through you, “What did they say about him?”

You shake your head, letting out a laugh, “It’s not important.”

“It is absolutely fucking important,” his eyes darken when he speaks to you, you’d never seen him so worked up before. “I’ll go to the damn superintendent if I have to, they’re grown ass adults. They shouldn’t use the death of your fiancee against you.”

You can’t help but let a smile slip through, “It’s cute how mad you are about this.”

He scoffs, mirroring your amused expression, “Believe me, I’ve dealt with the wolves before. They ask you inappropriate questions and dig into your personal life, pushing your boundaries like it’s nothing. No one can have any secrets around here.”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “I noticed that.”

There’s a beat of silence before he sighs and says quietly between the two of you, “When they found out about Sarah’s mom leaving her when she was a baby, they brought it up to her at a school picnic. Made her feel small. She ran home, crying her eyes out. I’d never seen her so upset. I was scared what I would do. It broke me.”

You nod in understanding, “That’s awful, Joel. I’m sorry. For you and for Sarah.”

“The next time they brought it up, Sarah asked Bethany why she’d been divorced six times. You should have seen the look on her face,” he laughs and you join him, throwing your head back at the mental image of Bethany’s pinched, angry face. 

“Oh my god, I love Sarah so much,” you let your head fall into your hands, still laughing loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen. 

“I was very proud,” he grinned. 

“I’d hope so,” you tilt your head slightly. “She gets it from you. I wonder how she got that information about Bethany.”

“Beats me,” he smirks and you narrow your eyes affectionately in his direction. “Smart kid, that one.”

The two of you let the moment sink in for a bit in the silence. Joel’s standing between your legs now, hands on either side of your thigh, steadying himself. He searches your face like he did at the start of the evening, fingers itching to touch you again. 

“Should we...” you finally say, pulling you both back into reality. “Should we talk about the kiss back there?”

“What’s there to talk about about?”

You frown, filling with a sense of dread that you’ve misread this entire night, “What do you mean?”

He jumps to fix what he said, hands falling to splay out on your thighs, “No, baby, wait not like that-” he sighs. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m out of practice with this, sweetheart-”

You press a kiss to his lips, causing him to abruptly cease his rambling. You tilt your head and pull away from hm after just a couple seconds. He leans against you even after you’re away from him, lips trying to follow you. 

“I just meant...” you whisper with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes. “Like what does this mean? Because I haven’t done something like this since Rick and I’m trying not to feel guilty...”

“Guilty bout what?”

“For moving on.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for that,” he shakes his head, lowering his voice. “I understand if you’re not ready though. It took me awhile, to open again, I still haven’t completely... But I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. And I know I’ve never met Rick, but I believe he’d want you to be happy. With whoever, even if it’s not me.”

Your heart cracks open at the sweetness of his words, splitting you in two right in front of him. You know you shouldn’t feel bad, even if you’ve moved on from loving Rick, a part of you will always mourn and have a place in your heart for him. You needed to realize there was more than enough room to let other people in too. 

Your eyes soften, “You’re more out of practice than I thought if you think I’ve moved on with anyone else but you, Joel Miller.”

His eyes darken with something like raw desire and complete adoration, something like love that you haven’t seen in a long, long time. You don’t know if he’s been looking at you like this all along and if you’ve just now begun to notice. 

Joel leans down to whisper to you, hand on your neck, thumb tucked under chin and other fingers on the side of your throat, squeezing just so. You dreamed of this, thought if he would be rough or sweet, when he was really a stunning, swirling mix of both. 

“You were so jealous earlier,” his voice is wrecked in your ear, low and gravelly. “I thought I was just imagining it at first, but talking about those moms that think of me, you got so red. It was so sexy, sweetheart.”

You gasp a little, wanting to deny it, tease him. But who were you both kidding? You were jealous, and now there’s a warm satisfaction in the center of your chest at the fact they were wrong. Singing insults, saying he wouldn’t want you. Now you’re in his kitchen in the middle of the night wearing his shirt and he’s in between your legs, pressing against you. 

“They said I didn’t have a chance with you,” you tangle you hands in his shirt, tugging him closer. 

He shakes his head, eyes never leaving you, “I’m only yours, baby. Always have been.”

You all but pounce on him in that moment, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. He laughs just before you softly press your lips against his, the rumbling, beautiful sound vibrating against you. You’re tugging at each other almost immediately, his hands pulling and sliding up and down your waist while your arms wrap around his head. You fingers slide through his brunette curls, pleasantly humming at the satisfaction of knowing his hair is just as soft as you imagined, how even his rough hands feel gentle, and how his lips move with yours, slowly, languidly, painfully. 

“You’re beautiful...” he kisses the words into your neck, repeating it over and over. “My beautiful, beautiful, girl.”

“Joel...” you sigh out and tilt your head back. 

“Puts your arms around my neck, baby,” he whispers, arms pulling your legs up so they wrap around his torso. “What I want to do to you won’t work exactly on my kitchen counter.”

You quickly oblige him and he carries you up his stairs, your hands and lips never leaving each others. He stumbles while holding you, making you giggle into his shoulder, shrieking when he almost drops you.

“Was this the kind of lifting you had in mind with me tonight?” you smile softly into his skin. 

He kicks open his bedroom door, “I’ve always had this in my mind, sweetheart.”

You both drop onto the bed, wanting to take this slow but also get to what you’ve both been wanting as soon as possible. He’s atop you, hands on either side of your head while you kiss like college students, handsy and messy and surprisingly amazing. How fast you two fit together, how good it feels. He grinds his lower half into yours. You moan into his mouth, earning one from him, both enjoying and exploring the other. 

“I wanna taste you, sugar,” he lifts your chin up with his fingers, kissing down your chin then your neck then your collarbone and chest. 

You wordlessly slip off your, his, shirt revealing that you have nothing on beneath it. He inhales sharply, taken aback by you. Your fingers scramble for the buttons of his flannel and you honestly think you break a few, moving so quickly. 

“Impatient, are we?”

You look up at him through your lashes, “Just know what I want.”

Joel shrugs off his shirt, undoes his belt, and pulls off his jeans. You barely have time to admire his toned body, broad shoulders before he descends. He tugs off your, his, shorts, tosses them, and kisses everywhere his fingers leave, wet, open mouthed whispers against hot skin that make moisture pool between your thighs. His lips trail from your belly to your inner thighs and back up again. 

“Nothing underneath?” he kisses the soft flesh, noting the slick at the apex of your legs. “This all for me, darlin?”

You nod when he licks a stripe up your cunt, “Only you, Joel.”

He buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved, rutting against the bed like he’s enjoying it as much as you are. You all but scream at the way he’s unraveling you with his tongue, circling your clit, accompanying his skilled mouth with his equally capable fingers, bigger than yours

When you tug at the ends of his hair, he groans into you, the noises fueling the coil in your gut, begging it to splinter and snap. He sucks hard and you let out a loud moan at the feeling. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. Joel’s tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks. 

Your orgasm washes over you, the pressure relieving through every nerve and vessel, his name a prayer leaving you over and over. Wishing for him to come fix you again. 

You pull him up to you and bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places while you taste yourself in his kiss. 

“Can I...?” you ask him, hands slipping down to palm him through his boxers. 

He groans, head falling into the crook that meets between your neck and shoulder, “As much as I would enjoy that, baby... we’re gonna need to do that later. Need to be inside you.”

You look at him for a moment, just breathing him in as cheesy as it sounds. It’s only hit you now how much you’ve been longing for this.

“You have all of me,” you tell him, moonlight sculpting his handsome features. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that, y/n...” your name is blanketed by his voice, delivered to you in the way Zeus gives the world lightning. Simple bursts of electricity that can tear the earth. 

You hold his stubbled jaw in your hands, rubbing his cheek with your thumbs. He doesn’t remember a time anyone has ever looked at him like you do, gently, adoringly, openly.

Joel puts his lips near your ear, kissing your temple, “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” 

You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder. 

Your hair is in messy tendrils in every which way and you’ve never been more breathtaking to him. The color of your eyes brighter, skin flushed with warmth, and lips puffy. His eyes scan over your face, committing your soft and sharp features alike to memory. Lust blown and glowing with dewy sweat. 

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he holds your jaw in his hand, kissing you again. 

He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises in your ear, littering kisses across your jaw. “Wanted you for so long...” he find your lips again with his own.

You mewl into his lips, licking his tongue as he pushes inside you again and again and again.

This past year of stolen glances and touches seem so pointless when it could have been this, this beautiful mess of limbs and lips and tongue. You never knew euphoria until this moment. 

Joel’s hips begin to stutter and you’re both already close to release. You lick up his throat and kiss a constellation across his jaw, feeling him gulp under your touch.

“Keep kissing me like that, sugar, and I’m done for.”

You can’t help yourself, overwhelmed with feeling as the two of you reach your climax together. Blissful and stupid. His lips wander down your neck and nipping that sweet spot, as you arch into him.

You whimper and his movements slow as do yours, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers. 

You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, continuing on in euphoric waves, leaving you aching and wanting more. He kisses you through it and it aches, all of the love you have pouring into him and him into you.

As you both lay there, chests heaving slips parted, he smiles down at you.

“Will you go out… with me?” Joel says sweetly, kissing your temples. “That usually comes first but we- I…”

You interrupt his nervous ramblings with a soft kiss, “The answer is always yes.”

You interrupt his nervous ramblings with a press of your lips quietly, “Yes. The answer is always yes.”

Joel rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Your chests heaving, out of breath but happy. Everything you both have wanted for a long, long time, laying right in front of each other. 

“Can I...” he searches your face, face red and nervous you’ll say no even when you’re in his arms. “Can I take you out tomorrow? I usually do that before this, but we just... I-”

You interrupt with a kiss, his new favorite thing, whispering, “Yes, Joel. The answer is always yes.”

[poeticpascal]

I've Got You (Dbf!Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a date set up by your father goes wrong, your secret boyfriend and Dad's best friend races to protect you.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, attempted sexual assault, abusive language, reader's date is a tory prick, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, unprotected sex, use of pet names.

A/n: So... this is my first time writing smut. I am super proud of this one, so please let me know what you think! Requests are open so for more Joel/Pedro action, you know where to find me x

Dating your Dad’s best friend is hard. And stupid. Really, you have no clue why either of you thought this'd be a good idea. But you were so far down this path now, so entangled in late night meet-ups and whispered phone calls and unspoken thoughts that sounded a lot like ‘I love you’, that it was too late to turn around and steer the sinking ship of this utter mess back to shore.

More than anything, you hate not having any normalcy with him. You can’t fall straight into his arms after a hard day. You can’t cuddle into his side with a bowl of popcorn watching crappy weeknight telly. You can’t go to the store together, holding hands and making him laugh as you insist on buying a flavour of ice cream that you know he’d love. And it sucks.

Because everyone said Joel would never be one to settle down. He’s too wild, too rough to fit into a polished little box like that. And you’d thought the same. Until you fucked him, then fucked him again, and kept going back until you could see the pain in his eyes each time you left. You could practically feel the heaviness settle in his stomach as you left his bed to sneak back home. It hurts him as much as it does you, and if you weren’t so incredibly in love with him, that would’ve been enough to make you run.

Despite how long you’d kept this going now, a good 6 months at least, it never got any easier. Especially when your Dad started talking about dating. He was protective, but more than anything he wanted to see you happy. So when you suddenly became distant, hiding in your room more often and going out on dates much less, he was concerned. Nowhere near as concerned as he’d be if he found out why you were acting that way, you thought, but concerned all the same.

So when he came home one day, beaming and shouting for you to come downstairs, you thought nothing of it. When he explained there was a new apprentice at his work that he thinks you’d like, you weren’t surprised. And when he told you he’d set up a blind date with said boy, you felt sick.

Because you really couldn’t get out of it. You tried.

“Dad, I just don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh come on, you used to have a new date every few weeks. I’m just worried about you. Matthew's really nice, and he likes the same shitty music you do-”

“It’s good music.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I just…” he paused, his worry painted on his face, and there's no way you could’ve said no to him. “Honey, I want you to be happy. I don’t know what’s gotten into you recently” - your best friend, you thought - “but I just need to know you’re okay. So give this a go, for me, alright? And if you have an awful time, that’s it, I’ll never set you up again.”

You sighed. He was right; it’s just one night, one date. One box you have to tick to relieve the pressure that comes from having an affair with your next door neighbour, the one more than twice your age, the one your Dad would call a brother. And besides, your Dad would be working an overnight job, so you’d be spending the night at Joel’s anyway. Something to look forward to.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll go. For you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, tight, and you hugged him right back because you really do hate having to keep this from him. He pulled away, smiling - “great! It’s tonight at 7. He’ll pick you up.”

“You already arranged it?!” You near enough shrieked, but he’d already sauntered off to the kitchen, giggling as he went. 

Typical.

So that’s how you ended up here, at 6:55pm, waiting by the front door for Marcus - or Michael, or something like that - to pick you up. Your phone buzzes, Joel’s name flashing on the screen, that alone making you feel that much calmer.

You’d text him as soon as you talked to your Dad, letting him know about the date. He understood, and you loved that about him; he was mature, compassionate, and he was more than secure in the fact that no matter who you talked to, who flirted with you on nights out, who you were set up with… you’d always come back to him. 

Don’t worry about tonight, baby. It’ll go quickly. I’ll leave the door unlocked for when you get back. Text me if you need picking up. J x

You smile at his initial at the end - it’s such a Dad thing to do, but it makes you happy, especially when he adds a little kiss. He only does that for you.

The sudden sound of a car door closing snaps you out of your thoughts, Joel’s text left on read as what you assume to be your date heads up the driveway. You take a deep, nervous breath, smoothing out your dress and heading to the door just in time for his knock.

You open the door, take a good look at your date, and he’s… okay. Not unattractive, per se. Though you’d come to accept a little while ago that being with Joel had soured your perception of pretty much every other guy. His dusty blonde hair is slicked back with gel, his teeth are way too white, and he’s dripped in designer clothing that just screams, “I have a trust fund.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Matthew.” Right. Matthew. “You must be (Y/N).” He leans in to peck your cheek, and all you can think about is how smooth his skin is as it grazes yours. Nothing like Joel’s coarse stubble that you love so much - especially when it leaves red patches on your cheeks, and your neck, and if you’re really lucky -

Matthew leans back a little, confused, and you’re brought out of your daydream. “Sorry, yeah, that’s me. (Y/N).” 

Well, that was awkward.

You just need to get through these next few hours, you think to yourself, smiling at the boy and letting him lead you out of the house and into his car. You can’t help but glance towards Joel’s place across the street; it looks quiet tonight, though his truck is in the driveway, and as soon as you look up you’re sure you catch the living room blinds suddenly draw shut. You smirk.

──────

The date was going… okay. About as okay as a date you don’t want to be on, with someone you have no interest in, and another man constantly on your mind could go. You could see why your Dad liked him; smart enough, well-polished. His father was a partner in the company, you learned - oh, he’s a ‘Daddy’s credit card’ type you’d thought - and by all intents and purposes he was the sort of guy any parent would hope to see their daughter end up with.

It’s never that easy though, is it?

Because he isn’t rough around the edges like Joel. He doesn’t have his stature, or carry himself with the same brute certitude. You can’t imagine him fucking you up against the wall, working himself up until he’s almost animalistic, somehow using you and worshipping you at the same time. And you can’t see him wrapping you up so tightly afterwards, holding you close and whispering how good you were for me, how proud of you I am.

No, only Joel could do that, and that’s how you like it.

The bill comes, Matthew suggests you split it. You don’t mind. He takes out his credit card, flashing it in front of you. “This is my Dad’s. I can use it as much as I want.” He’s smirking like he’s got something to be proud of, and you really had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead you just smile, before paying your share and making small talk as you head out the door and towards his car.

“So, I thought we could head back to my place.”

You freeze. Yeah, no, not gonna happen. He’s got this shit-eating grin on his face, one you knew all too well from past college boyfriends - that’s a boy who thinks he’s getting some tonight. You shudder, wrapping your arms around your waist and trying to sound sincere as you reply, “this has been lovely, but I’ve got an appointment early in the morning” - not really a lie, if staying in bed with a man over twice your age getting fucked or cuddled or both counts as an appointment - “so I’d rather just head home.”

You reach for the passenger side door, but it’s locked. You try again, pulling on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. You realise then that he’s stepped closer, too close, crowding your vision as you turn to face him while keeping one hand on the door’s handle. He leans an arm against the roof of the car, right beside your head, staring you down. 

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). I’ve got the house to myself tonight, it’ll just be us. I know that’s what you want, don’t be shy.”

His free hand pinches your chin, his touch aggressive where Joel’s is rough but careful, and he tries to close the already too-small gap between you.

You dodge him quickly, slipping out from under his arm and backing up, away from the car, away from him. Matthew just watches you, incredulous, before laughing to himself and taking a step forward. “Look, baby, I know you want this. What is it, are you scared your daddy’s gonna find out?”

“What? No, I-” you splutter, but he interrupts.

“Get in the car, (Y/N). You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out. I can see the way you look at me, I bet you’re dying to fu-”

A heavy sickness has flooded your stomach, your nerves shot from the sudden escalation of what was supposed to be a quiet, albeit tedious, night. But his words hit you, and before you can even think, you’re shouting back at him. 

“You seriously think I want to fuck you? You can’t even pay your half of the bill with your own money. Fuck that. I’ll make my own way home.”

The smug look on his face is quickly washed away with anger, and you continue to slowly step backwards as Matthew follows you. A lick of fear sets in now as the pale streetlights cast shadows on his darkened expression, and you scold yourself for opening your mouth.

“The fuck did you just say to me? Do you know who my Dad is?” - this really isn’t a good time to roll your eyes - “You think you’re too good for me, you bitch? I’ll show you.”

He stalks you, and your eyes frantically dart back to the restaurant you’d just left, though you’d backtracked far enough to be almost at the door again.

People are dining and laughing, some just sitting and watching the world go by. You’re well within their view, and you turn back to see that Matthew’s gaze has followed your own and he’s connected the dots. He can’t do anything in front of them. He locks eyes with you again, scoffing, heading back to his car and loudly shouting something that sounded a lot like “fuckin’ bitch.” Nice.

He drives away; you’re safe, out of the situation, and as the relief floods you the adrenaline does too and tears prick at your eyes. You sit on a small bench just outside the restaurant, dotted with shrubbery and stains from spilt drinks you assume, and take out your phone.

Your last chat with Joel is already open, and you breathe slowly in an attempt to still your shaking hands as you type quickly,

Please come and get me. He was trying to get me to go back with him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s gone now but I have no ride home.

The text is marked as ‘read’ almost as soon as you send it, though you receive no reply. You didn’t expect to; Joel wasn’t much of a texter. Like, at all. He was slowly getting used to it, what with it being one of the only ways you could really talk when slipping over to his place was too risky. 

In this particular instance, you already knew he’d have read the text, dropped his phone without a second thought and hurried to his truck while muttering to himself what he’s gonna do to the kid, how he won’t see what’s comin’ to him.

Just how badly Joel might react worries you. He’s protective, incredibly so when it comes to you, and that combined with his white hot temper was surely a recipe for some sort of disaster.

Secretly, though, you loved it. And so as you sat on that little bench, frosty air nipping at your skin, you couldn’t help but revel in the warmth that pooled in your core at the thought of what sort of beast Joel would become tonight.

──────

It only takes him around 10 minutes to reach you, and you know for a fact he must’ve ran a red light or two because normally it’s a 20 minute drive at least into town. You stand, walking over to his truck, but before you can hop in he’s already storming out and wrapping you up in his arms, shielding you, eyes darting across the street.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Joel, I-”

“(Y/N) where the fuck is he? I’m gonna kill that little bastard. Fucking-”

His body is tense, far more so than usual, and anger pours from him in buckets. You pull away to look up at him, his eyes still searching for the boy long gone, and you sigh. “He’s gone, Joel. He left.”

He finally meets your eyes, a cold frown etched on his face, and he somehow looks even angrier than usual. “Did he touch you?” His hands roam your body, searching for you didn’t know what, but you let him do whatever he needed to relax. To know you were safe.

“No, Joely, he didn’t. I’m fine, I promise.”

It usually softens him right up, your little nickname for him. Joely. The first few times you used it, he’d just scoff or roll his eyes, but the small smirk that crept onto his face each time let you know he loved it. Quite how much he loved it was a different story; you hadn’t got together then, though the both of you wanted it, and as your relationship blossomed you became the only one he ever let call him anything other than Joel.

It doesn’t work this time, though, and he remains stern, finally letting you go and searching your eyes for even a hint of anxiety or fear. “What happened?”

“He tried it on, I said no. He tried again, I backed up and made sure there were people watching,” you nod towards the restaurant, still bustling with life. “And he left.”

Joel nods. “You tell him to fuck off?”

“‘Course i did.” 

It seems as if he finally lets up then, giving you a proper hug, one arm around your neck and the other around your waist. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, hard, and the tension leaves him. “That’s my girl.”

You squeeze him tight, burrowing into his shirt and inhaling the scent of him that you loved so much. With one arm around your shoulders, he guides you back to his truck, opening the door for you and helping you. He does it everytime, but it still makes you blush, and you’re sure his lips smirk slightly as your cheeks turn red. Worth it.

The ride back to home is quiet, only the sound of his radio and passing traffic echoing between you. He keeps a hand on your knee, always protective, and every now and then you rub your palm over it to let him know you appreciate it. To say thank you.

Joel was never good with words, and you’d learned over the last few months just how much he relies on touch to express himself. To show love. You’d picked up on his habits, his little signs, his way of telling you his deepest thoughts without having to speak a word.

And when you reciprocated, when you wrapped your hand around his, or brushed his side at the neighbours’ BBQ, or kissed his shoulder in the kitchen, you knew just what it meant to him.

Your driveway is empty as Joel turns onto your street - your Dad must have set off for work already. You sigh in relief; you didn’t have the energy to explain all this to him, and certainly not the energy to try and sneak into Joel’s without him seeing.

Joel steps out first, taking a quick look around to make sure no nosey neighbours were watching, a precaution you were both used to by now. He grabs the door for you again, holding your hand and helping you out, holding you close to his side as he unlocks the door and you both slip inside.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He pauses, looking at you, concerned. ”No. You need somethin’ to drink. You need to- to lie down, or somethin’.”

You follow him into the kitchen as he stalks past you, not giving you time to answer and filling a glass with water and ice. “Drink,” he hands it to you.

You take it, thanking him and sipping as he watches. It’s sweet; he cares about you, so much, and when he looks at you like this you can’t help but feel butterflies swirl in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s almost a whisper, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard if it weren’t so still already in his house.

“Hm?” You look at him, confused.

“I’m sorry he did that to you. S’not - s’not right. I mean, shit, what if you couldn’t get away?” He was spiralling.

“Hey, hey. Joel, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You set down the glass and take him in your arms. He calms, instantly, holding you tightly against him and cupping the back of your head with his hand.

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“I know.”

He sighs. “I just wanna protect you, honey.”

“I know.”

He pulls back to look at you, framing your face with his hands and running his thumbs along the edge of your cheekbones.  You lean in, letting his lips capture yours in that sweet but desperate way that only Joel can, and moan into his mouth. He slips his tongue against yours, letting one arm fall to your waist as his hand lingers around the hem of your jeans.

The kiss becomes desperate and you reach for his belt, your arousal becoming unbearable as the memory of him so full of anger and protectiveness spins in your mind like a carousel. He breaks the kiss and you groan, chasing his swollen lips with yours.

“We don’t have to do this.” His southern drawl is slick with need, his eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours. The moment is so sweet, so intimate, that any thoughts of what had happened today were long gone and your mind was full with sweepings of him.

“I want to.”

He grunts, pushing himself further into you so his nose brushes yours like a cat. So much so, you almost purr into him, and it makes you giggle. You curse yourself as he pulls back, cocking an eyebrow and giving you that stare you’d come to know all too well; you’re a pain in my ass, it says. But the corners of his lips turn upwards, and you step forward so you’re once again pressed right up against him, pressing gentle kisses to his jaw.

“You’ve had a big shock today, sweetheart,” he sighs.

You know he’s given up. You know he needs this as much as you do. But you humour him, and tip his head down so you can kiss his lips again. 

“So make me forget.”

It snaps something within him, and you shriek as Joel sweeps you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist in instinct and your head burying itself in his neck. He laughs at the sound you make, something you’d always known to be so rare for him, but that he does far more often now he has you. 

He carries you upstairs, gripping your thighs with his large hands, and the way he holds you so easily just turns you on more. He kicks his bedroom door open, all but throwing you on the bed and watching as you bounced softly on the sheets, undoing his belt that was already half-opened by your shaky hands.

“On your back. Lay your head towards me.”

You did as he said immediately, though your movements were slow, languid. He let you take your time; a part of you thinks he likes to watch you move for him, the way you put on a show, keeping your eyes locked on his and your lips slightly parted and puffy from his kiss. 

You lie on your back, your head dangling off the edge, looking up at him upside down. The hard outline of his cock is just centimetres above you, swollen already, and your desperation to taste it must’ve shown on your face because Joel groans out a soft, strangled “fuck.”

“You need this cock, baby? Need your throat fucked?” You just nod rapidly, desperate for him to do something other than just stand there and watch you, your arousal becoming unbearable. Joel seems to break, too, pulling down his jeans and boxers and gripping his hard length in his hands. 

It’s big at the best of times, but from this angle, his balls level with your eyes and his cock the only thing you can see when you look up at him, it’s painful how bad you need him.

You’d only discovered this position recently, on a night you’d spent at his place while your Dad was away with work, not unlike tonight. Joel had been floored, consumed with pleasure as the stretch of your spine made it so easy for him to slide himself through your mouth and down your throat, the muscles tensing around him and drawing his release much sooner than he’d have liked. 

He slides the head of his cock over your lips, painting them in his precum. You whine, lapping at his taste, desperate but you know better than to lift your hands off the bed. No, you give him control, and he lavishes it.

“Open up, babygirl.”

You comply, parting your lips and moaning as Joel pushes inside, giving you no time to breathe. You try to control yourself, inhaling through your nose and letting your muscles relax before he bottoms out, his groin almost entirely covering your face and your throat full of his thickness. 

It’s filthy, degrading, resigns you to nothing but his to fuck and use as he wants. 

You love it.

“Such a good girl, baby. So good for me, ain’t ya?” You can hardly even nod as your tongue flicks along a particularly swollen vein. He begins to move, pulling out almost entirely before slamming his cock back into your mouth. You moan again, and it hurts, in that delectable way that’ll spend the next few days reminding you of this moment.

Joel’s got one hand on the wooden foot of the bed, keeping himself steady. The other finds its way to your neck, and he stalls as he feels his cock beneath your skin, rapidly pushing in and out. He moans your name, his hips rocking into you harder and harder, chasing a release you knew he wouldn’t let himself have just yet. 

You’re completely at his mercy now, too consumed by his scent and his touch to think, and you hardly register him reaching for your hand and taking it in his own. He starts to mumble, and you only catch a few words - “my good girl. My girl. So- so fuckin’ pretty for me.”

He swells, your tongue working faster against him, his hand squeezing yours and his legs faltering when he suddenly pulls out and stands back with a whimper. Your eyes are glazed over, your sore throat misses him, and your pink swollen lips are trying to say something but you’re not sure what. It feels like his name.

“Come on, pretty girl, come here.” He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping his big arms around your back and guiding you into his lap. 

His fingers dance over your entrance, collecting the slick that soaked your thighs before pushing a single finger inside, revelling in your arousal. He admires you as you squirm, rolling your hips against his hand, desperate for more and moaning against his lips. 

It’s almost embarrassing how easy you unravel for him, and if it weren’t for your utter infatuation for the man, you’d have hidden your pleasure and at least tried to hold onto some sense of dignity. But you were obsessed, addicted to him, and he knew it. Because god, was he addicted to you, too.

He kisses you, letting another finger slip inside and catching your hiss with his mouth. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, opening his eyes to look at you, his cock twitching against your thigh. 

“Tell me what you need, angel.”

“Y- you, Joel. I need you. Please.” You hardly register yourself saying the words, but they do the trick, as Joel removes his fingers and instead lines the tip of his cock with your soaking wet entrance. 

“Please, please, fuck me. Fuck-” 

He snaps his hips upwards, driving his cock into your cunt and you gasp as he stretches you. You grip at his shoulders, sure to leave marks, but you know he loves it. 

He sets the pace, guiding you to bounce on his cock as his hips snap upwards again and again, fucking you so hard you can almost see stars. 

His head is buried in your neck, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin, and you try to regain some autonomy and roll your hips side to side making him mewl. 

“So - oh, fuck - so good baby, keep doin’ that.” He spurs you on as your breathless moans and the heavy slap of skin on skin fills the room, lewd but addictive.

The pace is brutal, unforgiving as your thighs tremble and you wonder if he’s feeling the burn of his movements. If he does, he doesn’t show it, just ramming into you and moaning your name against your ear. 

His hand falls from your waist and finds its way to your clit, making you gasp as he circles his thumb around the spot. The near pornographic moan that falls from his lips as you roll into his touch is nearly enough to make you cum right there, but you know better than to cum before he tells you to.

Instead he hoists you further up, giving him better control of your hips, and angles his cock so it hits that perfectly raw spot deep inside you that has tears in your eyes.

“I- I’m gonna-” 

“I know, baby. Just hold on for me. I’ve got you.” You cry at his denial, though it’s quickly forgotten as he flips you over onto your back, his head still tucked under the crook of your neck, his cock still buried inside you. He resumes his fast pace, reaching even deeper inside you with your legs locked around his waist, and you moan so loudly you worry someone’s going to hear you.

Joel doesn’t seem to care as he pulls back to look at you, marvelling at how utterly fucked-out you look for him. His pace starts to falter, each thrust more desperate than the last, and he frantically pushes his tongue into your mouth as you moan in unison.

“Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, that’s it.” You release on command, crying out as waves of pleasure spread like fire through your body, and the uncontrollable spasms of your orgasm make Joel groan as he spills inside you, still rocking into you and carrying both of your highs.

He doesn’t let his cock slip out of you as he wraps an arm under your back and rolls onto his side, holding you close as he brushes the matted hair away from your forehead and replaces it with a soft kiss. You hum, snuggling into him and trying not to gasp at the feeling of his cock inside you while you were still so sensitive. He can see you flinch and smiles, though he just wants you to rest for now.

“You okay, babygirl?” You just hum again, but he taps your chin and you look up. 

“Answer me, angel.”

“I’m good. Tired.”

Joel nods, running his hand through your hair and agreeing, “me too.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, almost dozing off as the heat that radiates from him lulls you gently to seep, when he breaks the silence again. “What’s his name?”

“Hm?” You reply, too fucked-out to really understand what he was saying.

“That little asshole. What’s his name?”

He’s looking down at you, brows knitted together, and you just sigh. “It doesn’t matter, Joel. He doesn’t matter. I promise.”

“But-“

You cut him off with a kiss, and the tension that built in his shoulders is quickly dissipated. “No ‘but’s. Get some sleep.”

“Aright,” he resigns. “I love you.”

It slips out, sudden, and he freezes before he realises the joy that’s spread across your face from his words. It’s the first time either of you have said it, and the way your eyes light up are enough to let him die a happy man. You nuzzle his nose, your hand gently lay on his chest, your eyes falling shut again. “I love you too, Joel.” He wraps you up tighter, grinning, happy. In love.. “And no asking my Dad, either.”

He scoffs, “I wasn’t going to!” You just cock a brow, eyes still shut, and though you can’t see him you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” 

He pulls out of you slowly, making you wince at the loss, and sits up on the bed. When you can still feel his weight beside you, you crack an eye open to see him quickly typing something on his phone, and you frown. “Joel?”

He startles and drops his phone, turning to you and kissing the top of your head. “Sorry, baby, I’m going - just gimme a sec to get you a warm cloth.”

As he leaves for the bathroom you snatch his phone, already knowing what he’d done. Your Dad’s name is at the top of the screen, the chat from just moments ago still open:

What’s the name of that kid (Y/N) went out with?

Matthew Wicks, he’s the new apprentice at work. Why?

Just wondered.

You’re weird, man.

Joel creeps out of the bathroom, frozen as he sees you lock his phone. He offers a small, guilty smile, quickly wiped away as you grab his pillow and playfully launch it at his chest. 

“JOEL!”

──────

Thank you so much for reading! As ever, comments and weblogs are so appreciated, and please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my future fics!

[mononijikayu]

pasilyo — fushiguro toji.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking." "Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone. Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am," he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes." Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, Husband and Wife, Parenthood, Husband! Toji, Mamaguro! Reader, Comfort, Fix-It, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Mention of Familial Abuse, Mention of Neglect, Megumi is Such A Cute Baby, Toji Is The BEST Wife Guy;

WORDS: 5.4k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi guys, i'm sorry i've been out and about. my other brother got sick and i've been the one doing much of the his chores and taking care of our younger brother!!! i'm about to write 'thirty-nine' and will be doing another poll for the upcoming works!!! thank you for your understanding and love!!! also @v4ntaaa-w4ves has been waiting for this, so i hope i deliver!!! many thanks <3

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AS A BOY, ZENIN TOJI THINKS HE WAS SACRED TO SLEEP. He remembered how it was frightening to even bat his eyes closed as a boy. His father had a harsh attitude about remaining alert at all times. Jinichi was father’s favorite for that reason, he thinks. Toji never slept a wink on those rough days.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have time to dodge the incoming attack. Toji learned from an early age that he had to learn fast, that he had to grow up quickly, and be the strongest. Or he wouldn’t be able to live. In those days, he thinks that he really wasn’t deserving to be alive. And he hated it. He hated it every single day.

Those memories are etched deeply into his mind, a stark reminder of the relentless training and constant vigilance. The Zenin way. He hated the Zenin way. And he perhaps always will for the rest of his life. He feels at times that he is still that boy again.

The fear of closing his eyes, even for a moment, was ingrained in him, the bruises and scars serving as his father's unforgiving lessons. Jinichi, with his ability to stay awake and alert, became the favored son quite quickly, leaving Toji to struggle on his own. To be alone in that pit, alone with those cursed spirits as he cried. 

Toji's childhood was a relentless cycle of pain and survival, where sleep was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Where youth was thrown for the greed of power, of strength. He learned to anticipate danger, to read the slightest shift in his surroundings, to become a weapon honed by necessity.

It was a brutal existence, but it shaped him into the man he is today. Toji sighs, shaking his head. Those days were over, they were long gone. He doesn’t have to go back. He doesn’t have to suffer anymore. He looks at you and closes his eyes. He’s here, with you. That’s all that matters.

Now, lying beside you, those old habits are hard to break. After all this time, he still doesn’t sleep well. There were a lot of things that have changed about Fushiguro Toji. But the years of conditioning still grip him tightly, making it difficult to find peace even in the safety of your embrace completely. Yet, as he watches you sleep, Fushiguro Toji feels a small measure of that peace seep into his heart. 

Toji thinks that he needs to pinch his arm every morning he wakes up. He doesn't think this is real, living his life with you. It's hard to believe that it's been a few years since you've changed his life, for all the better. He turns to you, looking at your still sleeping form. He sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. Every inch of you is a treasure to Toji.

His rough exterior belies the tenderness he feels as he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. The memories of his past, filled with turmoil and struggle, seem to fade away in the presence of your serene beauty. Toji feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and peace you've brought into his life.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, careful not to wake you. As he pulls back, he takes a moment to marvel at how perfectly you fit into his arms, how natural it feels to have you by his side. It's a stark contrast to the solitary life he once led, filled with danger and loneliness.

Toji's hand finds yours beneath the covers, and he intertwines your fingers, feeling the warmth and reassurance of your touch. He knows he's not dreaming, that this is his reality now, a reality he never thought he deserved but one he cherishes deeply. 

Toji thinks that his hands are soaking wet, or maybe he’s just feeling it, like a river overflowing with summer rain’s tears falling from the sky. He’s overwhelmed with relief that he could be with you, that he lives a life like this, free from grief and pain. It’s always been like this since you both met.

Toji can pinpoint that exact moment when he first looked at you, the spark that burst inside him. It was your smile—that’s the thing that made him feel alive. Even now, as you sleep, you smile so beautifully. When you smile, Toji thinks the world becomes a better place. It becomes a wonder. And he lives it, every day. And he loves it.

He brushes the hair from your face and takes a languid sigh. If he were to have the words to speak, he thinks they wouldn’t be enough. The words existing wouldn’t be enough to capture the wonder he’s found in you. How his body aches to never be apart from you. How in every breath he takes, he cannot help but look at you. Even when he’s at work, he ends up thinking of you. Of wanting you. Of longing to be with you.

And now that you’ve given him the world, the blessings of life in the form of your dearest son, Megumi, he thinks that everything he feels for you has multiplied tenfold. He never imagined he could feel this way, so completely and utterly devoted. But here he is, holding onto this life, this love, with everything he has.

Toji’s chest tightens with emotion as he gazes at you, feeling a mixture of awe and contentment. You’ve transformed his world, filling it with light and joy he never thought possible. And now, with Megumi, that love has only deepened, rooting itself firmly in his heart.

He knows that no words could ever fully express what you mean to him, but every day, he’ll show you. He’ll show you in the way he holds you, the way he cherishes each moment, the way he dreams of growing old by your side. Because with you, Toji has found everything he never knew he needed, and he’ll spend the rest of his life loving you as fiercely as he does now.

Toji's thoughts are interrupted by the subtle shift in your breathing as you slowly wake. He watches as your eyelids flutter open, and a sleepy smile spreads across your face when you see him. That smile—the one that always melts his heart, no matter how many times he's seen it.

"Good morning," you murmur, your voice soft and warm, like the first light of dawn.

Toji leans in, his hand still gently brushing your hair back. "Good morning to you." he replies, his voice low and tender. He can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth as he looks at you, his heart swelling with emotion.

You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the contact. "You’ve been awake for a while." you say, a knowing look in your eyes.

"Yeah…." he admits, opening his eyes to meet yours. "Just… watching you. Thinking."

"Thinking about what?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the softness in his tone.

Toji hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words. "About how lucky I am, y'know?" he finally says. "How lucky I am to have you, to have this life. I never thought I’d be here, with you, like this. It still feels… unreal, sometimes."

Your smile widens, and you shift closer, your hand moving to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "It’s real, Toji. I’m here, and so are you."

"I know." he murmurs, his hand coming to rest over yours, holding it against his chest. "But sometimes… It feels like a dream. A good dream. One I don’t ever want to wake up from."

"You won’t," you assure him, your voice filled with gentle certainty. "We’re in this together, for the long haul. You, me, and Megumi. We’re a family."

The mention of Megumi brings a softness to Toji’s expression that only you’ve ever seen. "Our family," he echoes, the words filling him with a deep sense of fulfillment.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and Toji melts into it, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as he deepens the kiss just slightly, savoring the moment. When you pull back, your eyes meet his, and there’s a warmth there that makes his chest tighten with emotion.

"I love you, babe." you whisper, your voice carrying all the sincerity in the world.

"I love you too." Toji replies, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I can ever say."

You smile again, and Toji feels that familiar spark ignite in his chest, the one that started it all. He knows, deep down, that with you, he’s found something he never thought he deserved. And he’ll do everything in his power to keep it, to keep you, for as long as he lives.

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing you both in its gentle glow, Toji feels a profound sense of peace settle over him. This is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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TOJI THINKS THAT HE REMEMBERS YOUR WEDDING BEST. You walked slowly towards Toji then. It was a simple wedding, just you, him, and a handful of close friends. The sun was warm against your skin, the air filled with the scent of fresh flowers and the soft hum of nature. Toji stood at the altar, looking almost out of place in his crisp suit, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched you approach. 

He had wanted to wait. If he was being honest, you deserved the best wedding. He had spent nights thinking about it—how you deserved the most beautiful flowers, the most stunning dress, the most exquisite ring. The thought of giving you anything less than perfection had gnawed at him.

But you didn’t care. The grand ceremony, the extravagance—none of it mattered to you. When he voiced his concerns, you had smiled, taking his hand in yours, your voice soft but firm.

“It’s okay, Toji. I don’t need all of that. I don’t want all of that. I just want you. Only you.”

He had looked at you then, his heart clenching at the sincerity in your eyes. “Are you sure?” he had asked, his voice rough with uncertainty. “You deserve so much more.”

But you only shook your head, your smile unwavering. “This is more than enough for me. You’re more than enough for me.”

And so, he waited by the priest, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you walk down the long aisle towards the church altar—and towards him. You wore a simple sundress, the fabric flowing around you as you moved, your hair loose and catching the sunlight. To him, you looked more beautiful than any bride he had ever seen.

As you neared, he could see the happiness radiating from your face, your eyes bright with joy. The closer you got, the more he could feel the tension easing from his shoulders, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest.

When you finally reached him, your hand slipping into his, you looked up at him with a grin that made his heart stutter. “I’m here!” you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet assurance.

He could hardly speak, his throat tight with emotion. “You’re really sure about this?” he asked one last time, his voice a hushed whisper meant just for you. “About…me?”

You laughed then, a light, melodious sound that seemed to echo through the quiet church. “Toji, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you. That’s all that matters.”

And with those words, everything fell into place. The doubts, the worries—they melted away in the warmth of your gaze. Toji felt something deep within him shift, a spark of realization that this was real, that you wanted him—just as he was.

The ceremony passed in a blur, your vows exchanged with soft smiles and whispered promises. When the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, Toji didn’t wait for permission. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his heart pounding against his chest. You giggled, your arms wrapping around his neck as he buried his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

“I’m never letting you go, hm?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. The weight of his words hung in the air, a promise and a vow all in one.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you replied softly, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m yours, Toji. Always.”

And years later, as he watches you sitting there, holding your son Megumi in your arms, he knows he was right not to let go. You and Megumi—the two of you are the epitome of all the blessings he has in his life. The only blessings he’ll ever want.

He sees you notice him from across the room, your face lighting up with that same smile that first drew him to you. “Good morning to you, babe.” you greet him, your voice warm and welcoming.

You lean down, gently encouraging Megumi, who’s nestled in your arms, to greet his father. “Say good morning to Daddy, Megumi.”

Megumi, still sleepy-eyed, blinks up at him before mumbling little incoherent noises back at his father. Each and every sound ofhis small voice making Toji’s heart swell with affection. He nuszzles closer to you, your little one, which causes you to giggle.

Toji crosses the room, unable to keep the smile from his face as he kneels beside you. “Good morning, sleepy.” he replies, his voice soft as he cups your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead. Then he turns to Megumi, pressing a gentle kiss to his tiny head. “Good morning, little man.”

He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you into his embrace. In this moment, surrounded by the love of his family, Fushiguro Toji feels a deep, contented peace settle over him. He doesn’t need anything else—this is his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Toji sits down beside you, his arms still wrapped around you and Megumi, feeling the warmth of his little family pressed close. Megumi squirms slightly in your lap, his tiny hands reaching out for his father, and Toji can’t help but smile as he gently takes the boy into his own arms.

"Hey there, kiddo." Toji murmurs, his voice soft as he cradles Megumi against his chest. The boy blinks up at him with wide eyes, a mixture of curiosity and contentment in his gaze. Toji can see so much of you in those eyes, and it fills him with a quiet joy he never thought he’d experience.

Megumi babbles something unintelligible, his small hands reaching up to pat at Toji’s face. Toji chuckles, feeling the tiny fingers explore the rough stubble on his jaw. "What’s this, huh? Not smooth enough for you?" he teases, his voice filled with warmth.

You laugh softly beside him, watching the two of them with a smile that makes Toji’s heart skip a beat. "He’s just curious, I think." you say, leaning your head against Toji’s shoulder as you watch Megumi continue his investigation of his father’s face.

Toji nods, his eyes never leaving Megumi’s. "Well, he’s got plenty of time to figure out all the mysteries of the world." he replies, his voice low and tender. He shifts slightly, adjusting Megumi in his arms so that he can sit more comfortably. "And I’ll be here to help him every step of the way."

Megumi, as if sensing the love and security in his father’s voice, gives a soft coo and reaches for Toji’s nose, squeezing it with a surprising amount of determination. Toji snorts, the unexpected sensation making him laugh, and Megumi’s face lights up with delight at the sound.

"Oh, so that’s funny, huh?" Toji says, his tone playful as he nuzzles his nose against Megumi’s cheek, earning another giggle from the boy. "You think you’re pretty strong, don’t you?"

Megumi responds with more babbling, his tiny hands patting at Toji’s face and chest with a mix of curiosity and affection. Toji’s heart swells as he feels those little hands, so small and fragile, reaching out to him with such trust. Each touch, each small gesture from his son, feels like a precious gift—something Toji never thought he’d be lucky enough to experience.

As he looks down at Megumi, his heart bursts with an overwhelming surge of love and pride. He sees you in every part of his son, from the brightness of his eyes to the way his lips curl into a dimpled smile. Those eyes, so full of wonder, are the exact tenderness as yours, carrying the same spark that captivated Toji the first time he met you. It’s like seeing a piece of you, the most beautiful piece, in the small boy resting in his arms.

Megumi’s laughter, a sweet, melodic sound, is a mirror of your own. It echoes in Toji’s ears, a reminder of the joy you bring into his life every day. When his son pouts—those soft, pink lips curling down on his chubby cheeks in a way that’s both endearing and familiar—Toji can’t help but think of you. The way you’d pout when you didn’t get your way, or when you were deep in thought—it’s all there in Megumi.

Everything about his son that makes his heart ache with love is because of you. It’s in the way Megumi tilts his head with curiosity, just like you do when you’re pondering something. It’s in the way he smiles, a smile that lights up the room and makes everything feel right in the world. That smile, that pure, innocent smile, is a reflection of the love and light you’ve brought into Toji’s life.

He traces a gentle finger along Megumi’s tiny nose, marveling at how perfect it is, how perfect he truly is. And it’s all because of you, his beloved wife. Toji never imagined he could feel this way—that he could look at someone so small and see the entire world reflected back at him. But here it is, in the form of this little boy who’s as much a part of you as he is of him.

Toji’s voice catches in his throat as he whispers, almost to himself, "He’s got your everything." There’s a reverence in his tone, a deep gratitude that he can hardly put into words. "Your smile, babe. Your laugh… even the way he pouts.Megumi…. he’s all you, babe."

You watch him with a soft, loving gaze, seeing the way he’s looking at Megumi as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. "He’s got you too, you know?" you say gently, your hand resting on Toji’s arm. "The strength in his grip, the determination in his eyes… That’s all you, Toji. You are everything that is him too."

But Toji shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving his son’s face. "He’s you, babe." he insists, his voice filled with awe. "Everything beautiful about him… it’s because of you."

There’s a moment of silence as you both take in the weight of those words, the depth of love that flows between the three of you. You smiled at him, your eyes bright with summer love. Your eyes have never been one to view him any other way. Just one look and Toji thinks that he’s fallen in love again.

One more look and he’ll see that you’ve fallen for him again too. Toji leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s forehead, then another to your temple. He pulls you both closer, holding on as if he never wants to let go.

In this quiet, tender moment, Toji realizes that this is what he’s been searching for all his life. This love, this family—it’s all he’s ever needed. And as he holds you both in his arms, he knows that he’s the luckiest man in the world.

"You’ve got your daddy wrapped around your little finger, don’t you, Megumi?" you tease, watching the two of them with a warmth in your eyes that makes Toji’s chest tighten with love.

"Yeah, well…." Toji says, glancing at you with a soft smile, "Our ’gumi got that from you." He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning his attention back to Megumi. "You’re both pretty good at that."

Megumi, seemingly satisfied with his exploration of Toji’s face. Toji blinks as your son snuggles closer to his father’s chest, his tiny body relaxing into the safety of Toji’s embrace. Toji shifts slightly, leaning back against the couch with Megumi resting comfortably against him. He glances at you, his eyes filled with a tenderness that speaks volumes.

"Thank you, babe." Toji says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "For giving me this. For giving me him."

You reach out, placing your hand over Toji’s on Megumi’s back, your fingers lacing together. "I didn’t give you anything you didn’t deserve, hm?" you reply just as softly, your voice filled with love. "This is our life. Our family. And you always, always, will deserve it."

Toji gazes at you for a long moment, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. "I love you," he says, the words coming out as a gentle sigh. "Both of you."

"We love you too, Toji." you reply, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, a soft and lingering touch that makes Toji’s heart soar. “Always.”

Megumi, still nestled against his father, gives a contented yawn, his small body growing heavy with the onset of sleep. Your little treasure always seems to enjoy sleeping. But Toji understands. He’s a boisterous baby. It’s hard to exist at times, when you’re learning much about life as you go. Toji glances down at his son, a soft smile playing at his lips as he watches the boy drift off, safe and secure in his arms.

"You’re already such a great dad, you know that?" you whisper, your voice filled with certainty as you watch Toji with Megumi.

Toji nods, his gaze never leaving his son’s peaceful face. "I’m just doing my best, always." he replies, his voice thick with emotion. "For him. For both of you."

As the morning light filters into the room, bathing the three of you in its gentle glow, Toji feels a deep sense of contentment settle over him. This is everything he’s ever wanted—this simple, beautiful life with you and Megumi. And he knows, without a doubt, that he will cherish every moment of it for as long as he lives.

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TOJI HAS NEVER BEEN A RELIGIOUS PERSON. But he thinks that if he has something to thank the heavens for — it's you and Megumi. Because Toji thinks that being with you will always be incomparable. No one has ever been able to make him feel at peace with himself the way you do, like your son could do. The quiet moments you shared together, it was everything to him. 

Even just a day out in the park, eating out at restaurants on your days off, or simply sitting on a bench at the nearby playground watching Megumi play—are his greatest treasures. They are the moments when the world feels still, when everything seems to align perfectly, and he’s reminded that this is what he’s been searching for all his life.

At times, being with you makes Toji feel like nothing but good could exist in the world. And he’s happy about that. If he could choose, he would do everything and everything to make sure that all his memories were the ones you had built for him. 

Toji holds onto these moments, savoring each one as if it were the last. He always prays that it will stay this way for the rest of your lives. That you’ll continue to find joy in the simple things, in each other’s presence, in the quiet, shared spaces of your life together. He carries that little hope with him every day, tucked away like a precious secret.

Every morning, he wakes up early, slipping out of bed with practiced quiet so as not to disturb your sleep. He heads to the kitchen, the routine as comforting as it is necessary. As he prepares breakfast for you, the smell of coffee and fresh bread filling the air, he recites his favorite prayer—a prayer for your happiness, for your health, for the life you’ve built together.

He prays that this happiness will always last. That you will always be together, side by side, through every challenge and every joy. He prays that you’ll grow old together, watching as Megumi grows and flourishes, as your love deepens with each passing year. Toji doesn’t ask for much from the universe, but he asks for this with all his heart, every single day.

As he stirs the pot or flips a pancake, he silently repeats the same words he’s said countless times before. It’s a quiet ritual, one that brings him comfort and strength. He prays that this life you’ve created together will remain untouched by the harshness of the world. That no matter what comes your way, you’ll face it together, hand in hand, just as you always have.

And every time, he ends his prayer with a whispered gratitude for the life he now leads, for the love he never thought he’d deserve. He remembers the day he asked if he could take your last name, a symbol of his commitment to you, of his desire to be fully and completely yours. When you agreed, with that beautiful smile of yours, it felt like his prayer had already been answered.

Fushiguro Toji knows he’s been blessed beyond measure. He never thought he’d find peace, not in the life he once led. But here, in the quiet of the morning as he cooks breakfast for the two people who mean everything to him, he feels it—peace, contentment, love.

And every day, he prays that it will stay this way. That you’ll always wake up beside him, that you’ll always be together, that the life you share will continue to grow and thrive. Because there’s nothing in this world, nothing at all, that could ever compare to being with you.

As Toji finishes preparing breakfast, he carries the plates over to the table where you’re already seated, your hands cradling a warm cup of coffee. Megumi is in his high chair, babbling happily as he plays with a small toy. Toji sets the plates down, taking a seat across from you. The morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow over the kitchen, and everything feels peaceful and right.

You smile at him as he sits down, your eyes filled with warmth. “Breakfast looks amazing, as always, babe.” you say, taking a bite of the perfectly cooked eggs. “You spoil us, you know that?”

Toji chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “Just making sure my family’s well-fed, y’know?” he replies, his tone light. “Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

As you both start eating, a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the soft sounds of Megumi’s babbling. He sat in his high chair, enjoying tapping the table. He's even excited to eat his dad’s food, small as he is. After a few moments, you look up at Toji, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“So, what do you think we should have for dinner tonight?” you ask casually, your tone teasing. “I’m in the mood for something special.”

Toji raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Special, huh? What are you thinking? Something fancy or just comfort food?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, maybe something with a bit of both. Like a nice roast or maybe pasta. We haven’t had that in a while.”

He nods, considering the options. “Pasta sounds good, babe. I could make that sauce you like, with the garlic and herbs.”

Your eyes light up at the suggestion. “Ohhhhh! That sounds perfect!” you say, leaning back in your chair with a contented sigh. “But you know, we could always make it a bit more special.”

Toji gives you a curious look. “Oh? And how would we do that?”

You lean forward, a mischievous glint in your eye. “We could have dinner just the two of us… after Megumi’s asleep. A little date night at home.”

Toji’s expression softens as he catches on to what you’re suggesting. He sends you a tender smile. “That sounds nice, babe.” he says quietly, his voice filled with affection. “Just you and me.”

You nod, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Exactly. We don’t get many chances to have a quiet dinner together these days.”

Toji squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We’ll make it happen, don't worry.” he promises, his eyes locked with yours.

You hold his gaze for a moment before your expression turns a bit more serious. “You know… I’ve been thinking….” you begin, your voice soft.

Toji tilts his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern. “What is it?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about us… and our family. About how happy we are with Megumi. And… well, I was wondering if you’ve thought about having more kids.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, and for a moment, he’s quiet, processing your words. He nearly loses his balance. Your eyes go wide as you see him, but he manages to get a good steady composure. He clears his throat, turning to you again.

“More kids?” he repeats, his voice laced with curiosity.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a big decision, and it’s something we’d have to really talk about, but… I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. About how much I love being a mom, and how wonderful it would be to see Megumi with a little brother or sister.”

Toji’s expression softens as he watches you, his heart swelling with love for you. “You really want that?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“I do,” you admit, your eyes shining with emotion. “But only if you do too. I don’t want to push you into anything. I just… I wanted to know how you feel about it.”

Toji is quiet for a moment, his thoughts racing. He never imagined this kind of life for himself—a life filled with love, a life where he could be a father, where he could be loved and cherished. The thought of having more children, of growing your family even more, fills him with a sense of warmth and possibility. Being the father he had always wanted. He thinks that nothing would make his heart anymore fuller. And with you by his side? He thinks he would end up the happiest man alive.

Finally, he squeezes your hand again, his gaze steady as he meets your eyes. “I’d like that too.” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “If that’s what you want, then I’d love to have more kids with you. Nothing would make me happier.”

Your smile widens, relief and happiness flooding through you. “Really?” you ask, your voice soft with hope.

Toji nods, his expression serious and filled with love. “Really. I want to give you everything, and if more kids are part of that, then I’m all in. Whatever makes you happy makes me happy too, babe.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you lean across the table, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. “I love you so much, Toji.” you whisper against his lips.

“I love you too,” Toji replies, his voice just as soft. He pulls back slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, pasta for dinner… and maybe a little planning for our future?”

You laugh, the sound filled with joy. “Sounds like the perfect evening.” 

Toji smiles back at you, his heart filled with a deep, contented love. He knows that whatever the future holds, as long as he has you by his side, everything will be just fine. As long as you’re together, as long as his little prayer will be answered — everything will be okay. That’s all that matters.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 4

Word Count: 6.1k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, breast play, humping, slight somnophilia, switch!reader, switch!beomgyu, mentions of past rape, yandere!beomgyu, reader gaslighting herself

He is lying on his side with his arms wrapped around you, staring at you, while you lay on your back, one hand on his arm draped over your chest and your eyes staring up at the ceiling. You’ve been lying like this since your alarm went off, waking you so you can start getting ready for work, though you think Beomgyu may have been awake even earlier. 

Your middle finger traces a small line over a vein on the back of his arm, feeling the warmth there as if you can feel his life’s blood. His grip on you is steady, confident, and he never takes his eyes off you. 

“Don’t you get tired of it?” You ask softly, voice heavy with sleep. You don’t elaborate on what you mean, and Beomgyu doesn’t ask for it. 

“No.” Comes his quick reply. ”Because just being here with you like this… It makes it all worth it.” 

You finally turn to look at him, and your heart swells up in your chest. You love him so much. Despite everything, you love him.  

“Call in sick for me.” You tell him and he jumps at the opportunity, not hesitating for a second. He grabs your phone and dials your work, making up some bullshit story about you being sick and needing to stay home. You’re usually a dedicated worker despite the grief Beomgyu brings you–because of the grief Beomgyu brings you. The harder he makes it for you, the more you want to hold onto your job because it gives you independence from him and prevents you from being completely codependent on each other the way you know he desires and the way you find yourself secretly wishing you were when things get very tough and all you can think about is being wrapped up by him, protected and cared for and safe from the horrible, cruel world that causes you so much pain and suffering. Because why go out there to fight every day when you can be with him and let him take care of everything? 

But then you force yourself to push these thoughts away and act like a grown-up because despite your immense love for Beomgyu, you're not stupid enough to hang your entire future on a man in this day and age. Yes, he loves you but you’re sure all the women who made that mistake before you were also in love. Or at least you like to think you're not that stupid…But for today you’ll let him win. For today you’ll see what the alternative is. 

Beomgyu ends the call with your boss with a toothy smile on his face. He looks excited, like you’ve given him the best present ever and he jumps back in to take you in his arms, kissing the side of your face. 

“What do you want to do today?” He asks and you shrug, throwing the question back to him. “What do you want to do?” 

“I just want to be with you.” He admits and your heart clenches. 

“Let’s eat first. I’m starving” You tell him and he’s so excited he doesn’t even whine at your lack of reply to his loving proclamation. 

________________________________

Beomgyu makes sure to make the food for you. He keeps apologizing for not having a lot of materials to work with and lamenting the fact that he can’t make this dish or that dish as if you were expecting some extravagant feast. 

“Beomgyu, it’s just breakfast.” You reassure him but he shakes his head. “I want to give you the best. Do you want to go eat out? There is this really good restaurant 20 minutes away.” 

When he tells you the name of the restaurant, you frown. “Isn’t that place really expensive?” 

He shrugs. “Only the best for my princess.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t need something fancy, Beomgyu. Pancakes are fine.”

He frowns at that, seemingly upset that you don’t want the expensive restaurant. What’s the deal with him? Sometimes you think he dislikes that you don’t want him to spend his money on you. 

Still, in order to make him stop fretting, you say, “Being with you is enough.”  

That makes him light up, and he is suddenly content with pancakes too. 

“It looks nice outside. Maybe we can pack up some lunch and go for a picnic?” You suggest and he perks up even more. “Yeah. We've got some cold cuts I can make into sandwiches and we can grab some cupcakes or muffins on the way.” 

He sounds very excited about getting to spend the day like this with you and it makes you both happy that you've made him so excited by such a small thing but also sad that he has probably been feeling a bit neglected by you recently as you pulled away from him due to everything that’s going on with the dreams and Taehyun.

Well, today you'll make it up to him. Today, you'll set all your worries aside and just enjoy the day with your loving boyfriend. 

“Sounds good.” 

___________________________________

Beomgyu made way too much food for the picnic and he insisted on preparing everything all by himself, wanting to pamper you. Maybe he himself also feels guilt over not stopping when you asked him to but in a way that makes you feel even worse. He didn’t know that you were serious and you’re no stranger to playfully whining for the other to stop when you’re messing around–even you have done it to him before–so you understand why he didn’t immediately stop. He must feel awful about it. You may be having issues with Beomgyu but that doesn’t mean that he would ever hurt you in that way. You’re his entire life and it's unfair to him to be having these disturbing thoughts, even if you can't control them. 

Maybe you just need to agree on a safe word so this doesn’t happen again… if you can even get yourself to get over your irrational trepidation every time you think about having sex with him now that is. 

“Beomgyu, I can feed myself.” You roll your eyes when he tries to put a sandwich to your mouth and push his hand away, feeling an uneasy sense of deja vu at the action. For some reason, the most random actions you or Beomgyu do feel like something you’ve done before. Every moment feels like you’ve lived it before and it’s freaking you out. You secretly worry that you’re losing your mind. 

He pouts, looking deflated at the small rejection. “I know. I just want to take care of you.” 

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You say again and he puts the food down, looking even more dejected at that. 

You sigh and open your arms. “Come here, Gyu.”

He eagerly gets into your embrace, laying his head down on your chest and letting you wrap your arms around him. 

You kiss the side of his head, breathing in his scent and feeling it soothe your anxiety like a healing balm. “I don't need all of this. I just need you. The you that I love, and not this crazy possessive guy that scares me.” 

“And I only ever want you.” He looks up at you, his eyes sad. “If I can be sure that you'll only ever be mine, I wouldn't act so crazy.” 

You want to argue with him, get angry that he's asking you to prove your loyalty to him as if you had cheated on him, but you also know that what you feel for Taehyun isn't completely innocent and it would be hypocritical of you to act like his worries are completely irrational. 

You sigh, looking at the park around you. You were at one of your favorite parts by the lake. Though it is a little hard to enjoy with so many people around, kids screaming and guys jokingly cussing each other out. You wish it would just be you and Beomgyu here. 

“You know these grounds once belonged to the royal family.” You tell Beomgyu, “Imagine having all this beauty to yourself. Wouldn't that have been wonderful?”

“I suppose so.” He mumbles unenthusiastically but you keep going. “Their lives must've been so easy. Eating good food, dressing in fancy clothes, sipping tea in their huge ass gardens…”

“I'm sure they had their struggles.” Beomgyu interjects and you snort. “Yeah right. Their struggles of where to spend all that money.”

“They didn't control their own decisions. They were trapped in what everyone else expected of them. They didn't choose what to wear, who to hangout with, what they want to do with their lives or even who to marry.”

Beomgyu's sudden speech gives you pause. “Damn I didn't know you were so passionate about royal life.”

Is he saying that because he wants to discourage you from talking about the prince dreams again? Well, you weren’t planning to mention them to him anymore, not after how twisted and ugly they’re become. 

He falters, seeming to realize how odd it was for him to get worked up over your silly complaints. “It's just… things aren't always what they seem.” 

“I suppose. I mean I hear that their lives were filled with deceit and betrayal, like killing each other for power and shit. I'd rather be poor and alive, thanks.” You finally say to lighten up the mood and he smiles, thankfully playing along. “I want you alive too.”

“How romantic.” You roll your eyes and he laughs. “I admit it's not one of my best lines.” 

“Well, good thing I got you some love poems to learn from.” You declare, pulling out the book you brought along to the picnic. 

“You just want to hear my sexy ass voice narrating your favorite poems.” He calls you out and you don’t even try to deny it. “Guilty. What, I can't take advantage of my sexy boyfriend?” 

“You can take advantage of me all you want, baby.” He says greasily and you pretend to gag. “Stick to the poems, loverboy. Don't waste your voice on these corny lines.” 

“Yes, princess.” He grins, grabbing the book from your hand and flopping his head on your lap so you can play with his hair while he reads your favorite poems.

Sitting there, with the love of your life in your arms, his deep voice reading out words of love and longing from the most gifted poets and writers of the world, you feel lucky. How could you not when those words that have moved millions over decades and centuries, driving them to long for a love just like that, feel like your reality. 

The love you have with Beomgyu is what those poems are written about. Yes, it can be dark and scary, but it can also be so, so beautiful. Just like now, with him sneaking glances at you in between every proclamation of love and adoration he reads off, as if his eyes can’t help but jump to you at every reminder, seeking the sight of the exact love they’re reading about.   

Yes, doing this was the right choice. You feel so happy and content right now, the sunshine beaming down at the both of you and warming up your skin can’t even compete with the internal warmth and love you feel holding Beomgyu at this moment. This is perfect. This is where you belong. And this is just what he’s trying to make sure lasts right? He acts crazy sometimes because he knows this love is too rare and special to lose, right? 

But the feeling of peace and happiness doesn’t last forever, and an unexpected gloom arrives in the form of one of your favorite poems–Annabelle Lee. Sure, it’s a sad and deeply moving poem but you didn’t anticipate the way it was going to affect Beomgyu. 

It all starts off normally, his rich voice setting the perfect tone for the beautiful poem as you play with his soft locks, running them through the fingers of one hand while the other gently massages his scalp. 

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

You smile to yourself as you look down at Beomgyu. It’s funny how that’s just what you were thinking–that all that matters is the love you share between the two of you. You bend down to press a kiss to his forehead, and giggle at the way he unconsciously lifts his head up to get closer to your lips. 

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Laughed loud at her and me.

Then he hesitates, pausing as he reaches the last line, and you have to nudge him gently to get him to keep going. You see his eyebrows knit together in a perturbed frown but he continues for you. 

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went laughing at her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

You try to smoothen the lines that formed between Beomgyu’s thick eyebrows but even another kiss to the troubled lines are of no use as his focus was now entirely on the book in front of him. His anxiety was palpable and infectious, and a strange sense of doom creeps up on your protective bubble. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the laughter in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

Beomgyu's voice turned hoarse and patchy as he carried on, and you feel a prickling at the back of your throat as a profound and all consuming grief that you've never felt before and don’t think you have the capacity to contain threatens to engulf you. You hold onto him tighter, suddenly terrified. It’s silly. You’ve read this poem more times than you can remember, and sure it always moved you and made you sad, but it never caused you such gut-wrenching pain as it was doing right now. Whatever misery the poem was triggering in Beomgyu was transferring directly to you through your skin and suddenly the poet was Beomgyu and you were Anabelle Lee–he’d lost you and you can only sit there and watch him suffer and waste away as he cries over you. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Beomgyu's voice breaks completely as he utters ‘my life and my bride’ and by the time he finishes the poem, he is openly crying. You’re crying too, and hugging him tightly to you. You’re sure you’re both making quite the spectacle of yourselves but you don’t care. You hold him so tightly your fingers turn white and numb, and he does the same. The sense of loss that is filling you up is so intense and vivid, it's as if you've lived it. You’re scared that if you let him go, you’ll be taken away from him just like in the poem. 

“Why–” He sobs into your chest, his cries rattling your already injured heart. “Why did they have to be ripped apart?” 

“I don't know, baby.” You bend down to kiss his sweet lips, not really knowing what to say but wishing to calm him down–calm yourself down and try to shake off the irrational fear that something like this is going to happen to you. “Sometimes life is just cruel.” 

“No. I can't accept that.” He says resolutely, sitting up to face you and reaching out to hold your face in his hands. “Promise you'll never let anyone or anything take you away from me.”

“Beomgyu–” 

“Please…” His voice shudders as he tries to speak through his tears. “I can't lose you.” 

“Oh, baby.” You sigh, reaching out to wipe the sparkling tears off his face. Oh, how you'll say and do anything for this beautiful boy. 

“I promise.”

_______________________________

When you get back to work the following day, Taehyun corners you in the back room as soon as he gets the chance. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks with concern in his voice and you look at him in confusion. “Yeah, why?” 

“You called in sick yesterday.” His eyes narrow, already suspicious. 

“Oh, right.” You remember Beomgyu calling in sick for you, and you try to brush off his concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

But Taehyun doesn’t let your small slip up pass, now probably convinced there was some malicious reason behind your absence. “Are you sure? Beomgyu didn’t do anything weird, did he?” 

His question pisses you off, perhaps because you already feel so guilty towards Beomgyu for your unjustifiable aversion to being physical to him because of your dreams, but you certainly don’t want Taehyun to think Beomgyu is abusing you or something. “No, he didn’t. He took care of me all day yesterday.” You say sharply and Taehyun winces, realizing he has gotten off on the wrong foot with you and that you’re no longer tolerant of him denigrating your boyfriend’s image to you. 

“I’m sorry.” He quickly backs down, which is unusual for him, and you feel a twinge of sorrow for going off on him like that. He was just worried about you, but still, he was inadvertently part of the reason you and Beomgyu are having issues and you can’t help but feel frustrated and resentful about that.

“Whatever.” You try to brush him off and get back to the main work area but he is not done talking. 

“I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He goes on, stopping you in your tracks and you sigh. You know exactly what he’s talking about. “No, you shouldn’t have.”  

"Can we start over?" 

You stare at him, seeing the hope in his eyes and it brings you nothing but pain. “I’m not sure we can.” 

Maybe in another world you and Taehyun may have been something–in a world where you met him before you met Beomgyu, maybe. But you would be acting wilfully ignorant if you went back to your budding friendship with Taehyun. Because you know it upsets Beomgyu. Because you know it wouldn’t be just an innocent friendship and that there is more at play here. You need to nip it all in the bud before it grows out of control and suffocates your actual, real relationship with Beomgyu. 

You’re loyal to your boyfriend. Whatever strange and inexplicable feelings you hold for Taehyun should be abandoned and forgotten, and they can’t be if you keep being such buddies-buddies with him. 

His face falls at your response and you think you can detect an edge of anger to his voice. Why the hell is he angry? He has no right to be upset with you for setting boundaries in order to protect your relationship. “I was out of line. I get it. I swear it won’t happen again.” 

“It can't.” You affirm, getting angry yourself. “I'm dating Beomgyu. I love Beomgyu.”

Though Taehyun is usually good at managing his facial expressions, you can clearly see the way his face twists in pain at your proclamation. This is exactly why you have to stay away from each other. 

“I know that.” He says through gritted teeth. “Believe me I don’t want to be having these feelings as much as you do, but I can’t control it. There is something drawing us together and I know you can feel it too.” 

“Oh, come on, Taehyun, now you sound delusional like me.” You scoff, berating yourself as much as him. You’ve let this delusion get too far. “Next thing you’ll be saying you’re having dreams of us in a past life too.” 

“Don’t mock me.” He scowls, the hurt still plainly clear on his face no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it with his unjustifiable temper. 

You sigh again. This is not a fight you want to get into. It’s over. You have to end this. “I am not mocking you. But I can’t let whatever this is ruin what I have with the man I love.” 

At that, Taehyun turns and walks away wordlessly, and a deep wound opens up in your chest as you watch him leave. You do your best to ignore it. Just as suddenly and inexplicably these feelings developed for Taehyun, you’re sure they will pass away and everything will return back to normal. This is all just a result of the doubts that have been plaguing you about Beomgyu. It’s just your mind coming up with weird feelings and scenarios that mean nothing. Soon enough, you and Beomgyu will be living in mutual bliss like before and you’ll forget about this whole nightmare. 

_______________________________

Beomgyu is holding back. You can see it. He tries to keep his desires in check so he doesn't hurt you again without meaning to. He doesn’t want to rush you but you can tell he is suffering. 

You can feel the way he reluctantly pulls away when his kisses get heated. You can see the way he averts his eyes when you wear something too revealing around the house. You can hear him when he sneaks to the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself. 

And you can definitely feel it now in the way his unconscious body ruts against yours in his sleep. 

“Beomgyu…” You call out, mouth dry as you feel his cock grinding against your ass. 

“Princess…” He moans at the sound of you calling his name, his hips driving into your ass harder, still asleep. “Need you…”

And you'd be lying if you said you weren't affected too. You need him too. Your body naturally reacts to his, panties already getting wet as his bulge grinds between your legs. But you still haven’t been able to shake those disturbing images and feelings out of your head completely, especially not when he calls you princess. The word now carries an unexpected negative association for you.  

“Princess, please…” He cries in your ear, his fingers digging into your stomach. “Oh god, please.”

It makes you feel so fucking guilty to hear how desperate and needy he sounds, unconscious and unable to hold himself back like has been doing so many times recently. You want so bad to help. You want to push him on his back and ride his cock until he’s satiated and happy like he always gets when you fuck him, but you’re not sure you can. 

“Wake up.” You urge him, torn between the heat gathering in your belly and the suffocating feeling of being trapped in his hold. You want to help him–you want to help yourself–but you’re fucking scared that it would trigger those horrific images once again. 

But Beomgyu only whines and drives his hips into your harder. “My princess…”

“Beomgyu, wake up.” You call out once again, much more firmly this time, and he finally jolts awake, sitting up so he’s now hovering over you and checking you over. 

“Wha–what?” His first instinct is to make sure you’re safe and unharmed, looking over your body and touching you slightly all over to confirm you’re not injured. Then the confusion comes in–why do you have that look on your face?--but that only lasts a few seconds before the realization finally kicks in and his face crumbles in dismay. “Fuck, sorry. I’m so sorry. I've just been–”

“Needy? Yeah, I can feel that.” You push your thigh between his legs, trying to push away your unwanted feelings. He was so panicked about you being hurt that it all just makes you feel that much more guilty. Beomgyu would never hurt you. It was all in your head, and you want to get rid of it. You want to allow yourself to feel the love of your boyfriend again. 

“Oh, princess, I missed you so much.” He falls right into it, humping your leg just like you expected. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so weak.” 

“Aw, puppy…” You coo, brushing his hair out of his face so you can take a good look at the pathetic look on his face that you love so much. It sends a fucking jolt of electricity down to your already heated core. 

“It has barely been a couple of weeks.” You reprimand as if your panties weren’t rapidly getting wet right now. But Shame isn’t in Beomgyu’s vocabulary anyway. “A couple of weeks of having you right next to me and not being able to touch you. It was torture.” 

He pushes your nightshirt up and buries his face in your tits. You almost laugh, of course this would be the first thing the pervert does. Except what comes out of your mouth are not laughs but moans as his mouth quickly finds one of your nipples to wrap around. 

“Fuck, I missed these tits.” He mumbles, voice muffled as he continues to kiss and suck all over your breasts, making your back arch up into his touch and small whines escape your lips. 

“Good boy, gyu.” You whine, fingers pulling ruthlessly at his hair that you’re usually so careful and gentle with as he pulls your other nipple in his mouth and sucks harshly. Your hips thrust up against his body as you seek some relief from the liquid heat dripping out of you. 

He quickly notices and one of his hands sneaks between your legs to cup your soaked panties. He pulls off your nipples with an obscene pop, smirking cockily. “Looks like I'm not the only needy one here.”

You can't do anything but bite your lip as his palm kneads your sensitive pussy, your teeth tearing into the soft skin as you try to hold in your own needy moans. But Beomgyu doesn’t like that. He uses his other hand to pull your lip away from your teeth and push his thumb in so he has your mouth open and nothing in the way of the salacious noises he craves. 

“Beomgyu…” You slur, struggling to talk with his thumb pushing down on your tongue but it's clear from the way you push your pussy further against his hand what you want. 

“Are you gonna cum, princess?” He asks, his eyes raking up and down from your flushed face to your exposed tits as you arch your body up, seeking your high against his hand. 

“Uh-huh.” Drool dribbles down the corner of your mouth that is still held open by Beomgyu before he finally removes his thumb from your mouth and uses it to flick and pull at your perked nipple.

That extra bit of stimulation makes you cry and jolt as your orgasm comes crashing down like a wave onto your poor deprived body. If your panties were wet before, you're sure that now they've drenched and staining the sheets under you. 

But Beomgyu doesn’t care. He focuses on your face as the embarrassingly wet sounds of him continuing to palm your pussy through it all fill the room. 

He doesn't stop until after your body is no longer convulsing and just settling into a sluggish tremble as your slack open mouth lets out small, hoarse moans. 

Finally he stops, bending down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into open mouth and his hand wrapping around your jaw to get you to wrap your lips around it. You sluggishly respond, your mind still blank from the intense pleasure you just experienced. You didn’t even realize how much you'd missed his touch until now. 

But it's not over yet. You may have gotten what you needed but he is still as needy as he was before–even more so after the little show you put on for him, and you can feel exactly how much when pulls your soaked panties to the side to press his bare cock against your pussy. 

But as soon as you feel the head of his cock at your entrance, your body seizes up in terror and your mind goes into overdrive with image after image of that horrible nightmare. 

“No!” You shriek, trying to close your legs and push him away but you can't because he's lying between your legs and you only succeed in pulling him closer to you which freaks you out even more and you start sobbing. “No. Please, no.”

“What? What happened? What did I do?” He freaks out too. It must be such a whiplash for him. Everything was going so well and he probably doesn't understand what caused your sudden breakdown, but it's not like you can explain it to him when you don't even understand it yourself. 

All you know is that you don’t want him to stop so you just cry and shake your head. “Don't. Please, don't.” 

The blood drains from his face as he helplessly watches you descend further and further into this unprovoked mental break. “Baby, what's wrong? Just tell me what happened.”

He tries to reach out to calm you down but you finally manage to push him off you and scramble off the bed. “Stay away.” 

You pull your night shirt down to cover yourself. You feel disgusted, tainted, used. Why is this happening to you? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Princess, please. Talk to me.” He pleads, and you can see his fists clutching tightly onto the bedsheets in order to hold himself back from leaping off the bed and taking you in his arms like you know he is dying to. That's his natural response. It's what his body and heart compel him to do. When you're hurt and in pain, that's what he does–he holds you, kisses you, comforts you, reassures you until you forget everything that has hurt you because nothing in heaven or on earth can get through him. He would never let anything hurt you. But how can he do that when he's the one who is hurting you? How can he protect you from himself? 

“You're killing me, baby.” He weeps, distraught and not knowing what to do with himself when he doesn’t even know how he's hurt you. “Please, please, tell me what I did so I can fix it.”

How can you say it? It's too cruel. If he's upset and miserable now, you don't want to think about what he'd be like if you revealed to him that the reason you have been withdrawing from him and reacting so negatively to his touch was because of the terrible disgusting images your fucked up brain decided to randomly conjure up and that he had no control over. It wasn't his fault and you were basically treating him like a rapist. 

But Beomgyu will not let it go. How can he when he can't even touch you without you reacting like he had burned you? He has to know. He deserves to know it's not his fault. 

“It's… the dreams.” You start, finding it difficult to talk through your parched throat. Your eyes flutter all over his face, searching for the smallest reaction to your words. You know he won't take it well–and you can't blame him. This is why he was so wary of the dreams. He didn't want them to infect your real life and now they have completely infested your brain. 

“I had an awful dream that you… that you..” You break down crying again. You don't want to say it. You don't want to break him twice. The worst thing is that they weren’t even just dreams anymore. It was like you were recalling actual memories. They come to you while you’re fully awake now. There is no escape and you don’t know what to do. 

“That I what?” He asks, voice so shallow with fear that it's barely a whisper. 

“That you… forced yourself on me.” You finally say it and the color drains completely from Beomgyu's face. “I tried so hard to push those images away. I know you would never do that to me but every time we touch–”

“I got it.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear anymore. Beomgyu never shuts you up. He always wants to hear you talk–to hear every thought that crosses your mind. He soaks them all up whether good or bad. This is the first time he's ever had enough and that scares you more than anything. Is this how you ruin your relationship? Is this the final straw?

“Oh god, Beomgyu, I'm sorry.” You can hardly see through your tears so you walk closer to him, your need to be comforted by him, to know he still loves you, finally overpowering the heinous images in your brain. 

But your heart rips in half when Beomgyu flinches away from your touch. “Don't.” 

“I'm sorry.” You repeat, holding your arms out slightly from your body, waiting for Beomgyu to slot his own between them where they belong, selfishly needing him to make you feel better about everything when you’re the one who hurt him. “I'll do better. I will force myself to get through this. Just please…”

“Okay.” Beomgyu replies emotionlessly and gets off the bed and away from you. 

“Where are you going?” You ask him, terrified. “Are you leaving? I'm sorry, I swear. Forget about everything I said. I'll do whatever you want, just please–”

You walk towards him, reaching out to grab the top of his pants, intent on doing anything to make him stay but he pushes you off, disgust etched on his face. “No. Don't touch me.”

You knew those words hurt him when you said them to him before but you couldn't have imagined just how much, but as you stand now with those same words directed at you, it takes every fiber of you being not to hunch over from the agony they inflict on you. You never thought those wretched words would ever come out of Beomgyu's mouth–no, not your Beomgyu. And it's all your fault. 

“Please, don't leave me.” You cry, and Beomgyu looks at you in shock. “Leave? I told you I would never leave you.”

That brings you some comfort, but it's not complete as he continues to stand far away from you, and you make sure to tell him as much. 

“Then come hold me.” You ask petulantly. Is it hypocritical of you to demand physical closeness from him when you had before pushed him away when he was in your shoes? Yes, but you don't care. You just want him to stay and put your heart back together before you bleed out. 

“I need space. I need to think.” He says and you shake your head resolutely. “There is nothing to think about. I want you to stay.”

He gives you a smile so ingenuine it looked more like a grimace. “I'll see you in the morning.” 

“Don't walk out on me, Beomgyu.” You tell him, a threatening edge to your voice. Threatening what? You don't know. What are you going to do, sulk until he comes back? 

And he knows it too because he just shakes his head and tells you to get some sleep before he walks out. You scream after him, probably waking up all the neighbors but you don't care.

“Beomgyu! Come back! You're just gonna leave me here like this, you fucking asshole?” You scream and scream until your throat raw but he doesn’t come back, and with the last bit of your energy spent on your screams, you crumble to the ground and curl up into a ball–your knees pressed up to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them–trying to staunch off your hemorrhaging heart as your world falls away around you. 

_________________________________________

A/N: this will always remain my comfort fic despite how dark it can be. i will never get over this. anyway let me know your thoughts and depending on the result of this poll, the next chapter may be the last one or there will be one more chapter.

[multifandomfanficss]

Don’t Be Embarrassed

Sam Riordan x Reader

Prompt: You take care of Sam and he takes care of you.

Warnings: autistic reader having an autistic meltdown, talk of mental hospitals, mentions of sex, walking in on friends having sex, spoilers for episode 4

A/N: Although there is no smut, because we’re only 4 episodes in and Sam doesn’t have a confirmed age I’m writing this under the assumption that he’s college age 18+. This boy is taking up most of my brain space this week. We don’t have a lot of info on the the character, but this is how I see his vibes. I crossposted this on my ao3 adriansglasses. Also this is my first non Adrian fic in quite sometime! Hope ya’ll enjoy!

You were on your way back from class when you heard yelling coming from down the hallway. You had been hanging out with Sam for the day and left him for two hours to go to class. You rushed to your dorm, quickly fishing out your keys.

“Hey hey hey what’s going on?” You asked him, placing your hands out, waiting to see if he’ll let you touch him.

“It was supposed to be a good day! A good day! But apparently I can’t even fucking do that!” He yells. The Woods had done a toll on him and he was still recovering. He had been doing a lot better lately, but everyone knows healing isn’t linear.

“Sam, it’s okay. You’re okay.” You give him a smile. “You had a good day yesterday and the day before that! It’s okay to have a bad day, Sam.”

“But I was doing so good…” He sounds defeated. You slowly grow closer to him. When he doesn’t back away you place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know and I’m so proud of you, but healing isn’t linear. There’s gonna be bad days. Even people who are… for lack of a better word ‘normal’ have bad days.” You roll your eyes and throw air quotes around the word normal. You didn’t always have the best words to describe what you were thinking, but Sam always knew what you meant. Usually college friendships and relationships formed and moved fast, but even with that Sam was different. You felt like you could be yourself around him in ways you couldn’t be around others.

It felt that way since the beginning. Sure the day you met Sam was overstimulating, rushed, and tense, but after you and your friends convinced him not to kill the doctor that completely ruined his life, you got to know him a little more the next day.

“So what’s your power?” He asks.

“What?”

“Your power. You must be a supe if you go to Godolkin.”

“Oh! Yeah uh…right… It’s stupid.” You sigh, avoiding eye contact. The gravel below your feet comes into detail. You pay attention to the sparkles of the rocks being hit by the sun instead of Sam.

“It can’t be that bad. Just tell me.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I uh… I feel like any way I word it will sound weird, but my bodily fluids are like acid, so uh like my tears and spit and stuff. Told you it was weird.”

“No! That’s cool! I’ve seen way worse. You should have seen some of my roommates at my old place.” He jokes. You laugh quietly with him.

“So all of your stuff is acid?” He asks. You nod.

“How do you pee? Do you just like melt toilets every time you piss?” He asks. You laugh.

“No, I guess my body has some way of controlling it, but I don’t know. I haven’t really figured it out consciously.”

“I was gonna say, that would be really cool if you could piss acid. Just like pee on all your enemies. That would be cool as fuck.” He laughs. You don’t know why at the time, but there’s just something so comforting about him.

“That’s gross. You’re sick.” You laugh.

“Oh trust me I know. You don’t go through multiple mental hospitals just being normal.”

You knew he was joking, but the way he said normal struck a cord in you. You didn’t see him as wrong, but you knew what he meant. You often felt… knew… you weren’t normal either.

You were there for Sam just as much as he was for you. It took you a long time to accept his help. It took a while for him to convince you that you weren’t a burden. The first time you had a meltdown in front of him was a very vulnerable moment for you. You hadn’t been that vulnerable with anyone like that in a long time.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them.” You fumed, pacing the room, so blinded by your anger you had forgotten you were with Sam. You had promised him you could watch Waterworld after class because you’d never seen it before and it was his favorite movie.

“She is such a fucking bitch. Why the fuck didn’t she fucking tell me?! She could have put a fucking sock on the door or sent a text or fucking something Jesus fucking Christ! Like I love her, but fuck!” You were beyond angry. After an already overstimulating day and a failed assignment handed back, you were already on edge before you walked in on Jordan and Marie. Now sexiled to the lounge while your roommate finishes with his girlfriend, not caring about your plans at all.

“I fucking told him too! I told him you were coming over!” You say, upset, and quite honestly still in shock, not expecting to see two of your friends fucking on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Maybe they just forgot.” Sam proposes.

“How could she fucking forget what time I come home every fucking Tuesday?!” You huff, sitting down on the couch. You sit in silence before thinking it over.

“No, you’re right… they probably just forgot…” You feel a pit in your stomach and tears starting to well up in your eyes. You try to keep them at bay. You don’t need an acid leak today. “Yeah Jordan totally forgot. Oh fuck. I shouldn’t have gotten so mad.” You feel your body crumbling in on itself. You hate getting mad. You were so scared of your own anger. You also felt like Jordan didn’t deserve it. Yeah he could be an ass sometimes, but Jordan was your roommate and your friend.

“Hey what’s going on you look upset- well more upset than you were before… okay maybe not more upset, but a different kind of upset…” Sam’s voice trails off. He wasn’t always the best with words either.

“I just feel so bad.” The tears start to slip down your face.

“Why do you feel bad? You just walked in on two of your friends having sex in your own room. It’s never happened to me, but I think it’s normal to be annoyed.” He sits down next to you. When he gets a closer look at your face he sees the red marks on your cheeks. You were used to the burn by now. You hated crying, but sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself. Sam moves to wipe away some of your tears.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” You ask.

“They used to electrocute me daily at the Woods. This is nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” The ache in your stomach grows. You feel like such a burden.

“Why are you sorry?” He asks.

“Because you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m here because I want to be.” He smiles.

“But I’m too much. This is too much. You have your own shit to deal with. I’m so fucking sorry, Sam.” You try to hold back more tears. You feel awful.

“Hey, don’t apologize. You’ve done so much for me. You promised you’d always be there for me. Let me return the favor. You’re so kind to everyone, just let me be kind to you.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper again in a broken voice.

“Why do you keep saying sorry? Are you embarrassed?” He asks. You nod.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Multiple mental hospitals, remember?” He jokes, making a face and pointing to himself. You laugh quietly.

“Just the life of a broken fucking brain.” He laughs, but there’s something sad underneath.

“You know I don’t think you’re a monster right?”

“Why are you bringing that up now?” He asks.

“Well sometimes I think you believe the doctors at the Woods a little too much. I just wanted to make sure you know that I know that you’re trying and you’re a good guy.” You smile.

“For what it’s worth I don’t think you’re a monster either. You think I’m a good guy, but I think you’re the goodest person I know.” He smiles. “Is goodest even a word?” He asks.

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate the compliment.” You smile. You don’t know when it happened, but you start to realize that Sam had successfully distracted you and calmed you from your meltdown. You find his arm around you, as you lean into him on the lounge couch.

“I’m so glad I met you.” He smiles.

“I’m so glad I met you too.”

[barefoothighlander]

the vow - i

summary: you’re betrothed to the future king of Guilder and a fearsome knight is assigned to protect you. medieval au

knight!simon ‘ghost’ riley x princess!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), age gap, violence, arranged marriage, infidelity

next part masterlist

a/n: @/dinalgo on tiktok posted some hc art of knight!ghost and i’m obsessed, so here’s my interpretation of that except I refuse to write in old English, also points if you catch the references I threw in

The sun shines brightly through the large window, the breeze blowing the trees outside your room, for a small moment, the world is quiet, just the songs of morning birds chirping on the balcony fill your ears, there’s no noise, no worries. 

The moment is quickly ruined by the sound of your maids bustling into the room, arms full of clothing and various tools, you turn your gaze to them slowly,

“Princess, good morning”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, please use my name”

“The Prince requests that we refer to you by your title m’lady”

“Well we wouldn’t want to upset him would we” Your tone is sarcastic as you make your way over to the women, one of them fixes your bed while the other prepares a bath, setting out your clothes. You step into the warm water, soothing a rag over your muscles to clean yourself before one of the ladies takes over, dumping water over your head to wash your hair. You sit for a few minutes in the water, allowing them to work around you, 

“You’re quiet this morning”

“Mm not much on my mind I’m afraid”

“You’re not excited for the festivities?”

“The feast should be nice, I don’t care much for the rest”

“Don’t talk like that” The older woman scolds, Clarice had known you since birth tending to you as a young girl, always by your side while you grew up in court, more a mother to you than your actual mother. “The Prince is handsome, a worthy adversary”

“Yes handsome, but also rude, stubborn, cold, everything I despise”

“With time you will grow to love him”

“I surely doubt that” You scoff

She furrows her eyebrows at you, “There, now let's get you dressed”

She helps you out of the bath over to the other maid, Beatrice, you had known her for less time, her position assigned to you when you came to the court after your engagement was announced. Your Father was the king of Florin, and you as his only child had the unfortunate position of being in an arranged marriage to the Prince of Guilder, the Monarchs of the country being old and weary, their son was to be crowned before the year ended and he needed a wife. Your countries had been at war for years, the violence only ceasing when your engagement had been announced, you had been in Guilder for a week now, hold up in the castle away from the public eye, today was the day that your engagement would be formally announced, a festival for your sake being held on the castle ground, thousands of people crammed inside the grounds all trying to get a look at you and the Prince, the idea made your stomach turn.

Your early years had been spent wandering the grounds of your families castle, the tall stone walls becoming a home after the years you spent in them, you felt sick for your old life, your freedom, you could run around the gardens, ride the horses whenever you wanted back home, but here, every action of yours was watched, criticized, you were told how to look, where to be and when, every part of your life was in the control of the Prince and your Father, you hated it.

You had gotten dressed, your breaths feeling tight due to the corset you wore, another freedom you yearned for was being able to wear clothing of your choosing, now everything was blue and green, the colours of Guilder, always tight on your chest to emphasize your figure, your hair was done up in a knot, a few loose strands falling to tickle your neck and cheeks.

“Beautiful” Clarice says, a soft smile on her face

“I look like a peacock”

“You do not, you’ve grown into such a beautiful woman, my little princess” Her hand is soft on your cheek, you smile at the tender action, always finding comfort in her. “Now, we must go, you’re needed downstairs”

You struggle to take a deep breath, silently cursing the fabric binding your chest as you make your way through the wide halls, they were lined with various adornments, some tapestries, a few swords hung beside scattered candles, it felt cold here, no comfort in the walls, everything was jagged and silver.

“Now, the Prince will introduce you, then the jousting will begin”

“Is anyone from Florin going to be in the duels?”

“I’m not sure my dear, there’s plenty of men from across the countries”

You nod, looping your arms through hers as you walk side by side, you stand at the large opening that leads out to the balcony above the castle grounds, everything is decorated in the countries colours, it’s so formal, you feel like a stranger in your new home, everything so similar yet so different, you had no family here, no friends aside from Clarice, you give her a soft smile before unhooking your arm, waiting for the Prince to announce you before walking out.

You step out onto the balcony, the warm sun hitting your skin, there’s a symphony of clapping and whistling, you look down at hundreds of people, all staring back at you, you wave to them,

“Sit down” The Prince speaks, you turn to him, his face is stoic, there’s no softness in his features, you abide, sitting down in the tall chair next to him. They begin the jousts, two by two the men file out, setting up on their horses, the Prince turns to you with every new competitor, explaining who they were and where they were from, including his personal opinion on the men.

You see a tall man enter the field, his armour pure black, his horse the same, he’s larger than the rest of the competitors, his helmet shaped like a skull, his chest plate donning an emblem you didn’t recognize.

“Who’s that one”

The Prince leans over the balcony to get a better look, eyes squinting in an effort to make out the symbol,

“I’m not sure, must be some farmboy playing make belief”

You respond with a small oh, the knight approaches the balcony, his hand reaching to remove his helmet, the light hits his face, streaking colours through his blonde hair, you can make out a few scars on his face, even from your distance you can see the deep colour of his eyes, his face is firm staring up at you, you’re frozen in your spot, staring back at him, he raises his lance toward you, without thinking you reach behind you, grabbing a ring of flowers held together by a ribbon, and throwing it onto his lance, it falls to the base, the flowers close enough that he could smell their aroma, he says nothing, not even a nod, he simply puts his helmet back on and moves to mount his horse.

You step back, your eyes stuck on him as you return to your seat,

“What was that?”

“Sorry?”

“You gave him your favour”

“Thought the farmboy could use some luck against Ser Michael”

“Ah, yes” The Prince goes on to ramble about the accomplishments of the opponent, his success in battle, how much he admired his bravery, but you aren’t listening, your focus completely taken by the shadowy knight galloping toward the centre of the pit, his lance raised as he thrusts it into his opponent, throwing him off his horse. The crowd erupts in cheers, you swallow thickly as you watch him get off his horse, moving toward you, he kneels in front of you,

“Simon Riley your highness”

“Where do you hail from Ser?” The Prince stands, your eyes are focused on him as he bows his head

“The North, but I am no Ser”

“You’re not a knight? You wear the armour of a knight”

“The armour belonged to my father”

“And where is he, your father?”

“Dead 10 years ago your highness”

“And tell me, why have you come”

“I come to prove my honour, to serve you”

“Very well, you may go”

You watch a few more rounds of jousting, growing bored with the same thing happening, they announce the final duel before urging the groups to attend the feast, you make your way down from the balcony, towards the high tables in the gardens, your eyes roaming over the groups of people, struggling to find a familiar face in the crowd.

“So what did you think?” The Prince asks

“About what?”

“The jousting” He scoffs

“They were all quite good”

“What about that Simon Riley”

You whip your head towards him, “I thought little of him, why?”

“Well he was rather large don’t you think, I might add him to my guard”

“Add him to mine” You speak before thinking

“Why would I add him to yours”

“I have no guard, no one to protect me”

“Well, I’ll arrange for you to choose a guard tomorrow then, perhaps then you’ll finally feel at ease here”

You nod your head, turning quickly from him, you greet the King and Queen, making small conversation about the state of the castle, the blooming bouquets of blue poppies that adorned the various pillars, your eyes are drawn to Simon, his dark appearance a stark contrast to the brightly dressed patrons that mingle around the grounds, you watch him disappear around a corner, it’s not until the Queen calls your name that you realize you had been staring at him the whole time.

“Sorry your majesty, my brain has been a fuzz all week, what did you ask?”

“That’s alright dear, with all the excitement I can hardly focus myself, I was just wondering if you had decided on a dress for the wedding”

“Oh, not yet, you’ve brought so many beautiful options I haven’t been able to decide”

“I understand, we have the best dressmakers here, but do make time to choose, we wouldn't want to delay such an important decision”

“Of course”

She smiles at you, looping her arm through her husbands as they walk on, you stand there, overwhelmed by the sights and sounds of everything happening around you, you had only a week until you were to be wed and you had every decision already made for you, your fiancee and his mother picking out every detail of the wedding down to what bouquet you’d be carrying, they had decided that you would hold a large grouping of the blue poppies you see everywhere, the royal flower of Guilder, no part of the wedding made notice of your heritage, all traces of Florin erased from the ceremony, you were to be wed according to Guilder law rather than the customs of your home.

They had arranged for your father to attend but no one else, claiming that there simply wasn’t space for extra people to join, they had cut you off from your old life completely, forcing you to conform to their way of life, moulding you into the perfect Queen, obedient and meek, you despised it, you longed for your freedom from the confines of the castle.

When the feast ended and you had spoken to all the nobility you needed to, you were escorted back to your quarters, the silence of the large stone walls consuming you once again, no birds singing, no rushing of maids, just you and the night sky. It was late, the dark consuming the outer land in a blanket of shadows as you stood on your balcony looking over the moonlit gardens, that was the only good thing about your new home, a perfect view of the perfect gardens, every shrub perfectly manicured, bending and winding in a maze that led to a small fountain in the centre, each flower a shade of green and blue. Truth be told you didn’t think much of the colours before moving but now, you despised them, every shade a sharp reminder of how you didn’t belong, the colours mocked you as they invaded your eyesight, you huffed a breath to yourself, eyeing the grounds below for any sign of guards. 

There was one roaming the grounds, you thought you could easily avoid detection if you were quick, you grab your robe wrapping yourself in it, a small attempt to keep yourself warm from the cool air of the night as you creep towards your door. They were heavy, large slabs of wood, you open in slowly to avoid any creaks, slipping through the opening and rushing down the hallway, there was a small door meant for staff that you entered, making your way down the thin stairs and peering through the door outside, the guard has his back turned, you inch the door open and slide through, quickly moving towards the gardens. You walk under a large arch of shrubs, the smell of the flowers invading your senses, bushes of wolfsbane, oleander and wisteria fill the gardens, all beautiful but deadly, a worthy metaphor for your new home, you roam the isles of the garden, lost in the hidden openings and similar corners.

After a few minutes, you find yourself in the middle, a tall fountain in front of you, it’s stunning, the intricate details of the stone swirling as the water crashes into the pool, you sit in the grass, listening to the sound, letting it relax you, finally a break from the quiet that wasn’t the screaming of citizens, or the demeaning words of your future mother-in-law. You close your eyes, the grass tickles your skin as you relax, breathing in the fresh air, you hear a small rustle in the grass, breaking you from your state, you turn your ear to the noise, calling out quietly to see if anyone was there. There was no reason for anyone to be in the gardens at this hour, in fact, the Prince practically forbade it, you stand slowly, following the rustling noise, peeking around a corner you see a quick movement turning the corner, moving faster you approach it, your heartbeat heavy as you near, you turn to find the culprit and let out a small gasp, a small white rabbit was sat, chewing on some shrubs, you kneel down extending your hand towards it.

“Come here little guy, these gardens aren’t safe for you” It hops toward you, nearly touching your hand before it turns on its heel and sprints away, you furrow your brows in confusion,

“They aren’t safe for you either Princess”

Your breath stops, you feel the looming figure behind you as you slowly stand, you heartbeat now thrumming in your ears, you turn to face him, he almost melts into the darkness of the garden, his armour pitch black,

“You should get back inside”

Goosebumps cover your skin, your breaths shallow as you stare at him, you back up slowly, turning around to move through the gardens, you turn around the corners, trying to find your way out, your feet carry you through the grass, you follow the lights inside the windows, trying to get out. You rush towards the exit, eyes focused on the light as you collide with the guard, stumbling into him,

“I’m sorry”

“Princess? What are you doing outside?”

“I just needed some air” Your breathes are shaky as he scans your face,

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, completely, just need to go back inside I think the air was a little too cold”

“Well hurry in then” He nods, stepping aside to let you pass, you move past him hastily, opening the doors inside you make your way back up the stairs, you enter your room and release a breath, rushing towards your balcony to try and catch a glimpse of him. Your eyes scan the gardens, the night doing its job of concealing anything within the green walls, you see nothing, no movement anywhere, it's like he wasn’t even there, you think you imagined him, his deep voice ringing in your ears as you lay in your bed.

The next morning was calm, you woke early to the sound of your maids making their way inside, Clarice helping you dress and doing your hair while Beatrice makes your bed, tidying the room.

“Exciting day today” Clarice says

“What do you mean?”

“The Prince has arranged for you to pick a guard, I suppose he fears a possible war and wants you safe”

You nod at her, “I don’t believe the Prince fears for my safety as much as you do” you whisper, she shushes you, her eyes darting to Beatrice to make sure she didn’t hear, “Bite your tongue child”. You let out a small giggle, amused by how concerned she is, allowing her to finish your hair before you make your way to the throne room, you enter through the massive doors to a room of scattered men, all donning their house armour, you look around and see no sight of the dark knight. You stand atop the small set of stairs, looking down at the men as they announce themselves one by one, giving you their names and listing all their accomplishments, victories in battle, how they were undefeated in jousting in their home. You’re bored after an hour of their bragging, your mind oblivious to the fact that you have to choose one of them to be around you for hours at a time, an older man stands to speak but is interrupted by the sound of the doors opening, everyone turns their heads at the sound, their eyes widening at the sight of the tall man clad in black, he keeps his helmet on as he enters, only removing it to kneel before you.

“Simon Riley m’lady”

“Not Ser?”

“I beg your pardon”

“Everyone else here is a knight, why are you not?”

“I’m the last remaining member of my house m’lady, we’re a forgotten house”

“I expect my guard to be knighted”

“I may not hold a title Princess, but I assure you I would lay my life down for you” He turns his head to look at you as he speaks, and you release a strained breath,

“You may all leave” You address the room, Simon stands, “You stay” You look to him and he nods, the room is consumed in silence as the other men exit, leaving you alone with him, “Why were you in the gardens last night?”

“I needed to clear my head”

“It’s forbidden to be on castle grounds after dark”

“And yet you were there” He looks up to you, you swallow a thick gulp.

“You’ll be assigned to me, keep me safe”

“Thank you, Princess” He bows his head, 

“And don’t wear your helmet inside, it’s unnerving”

He fights the smile that creeps up on his lips as you turn away from him, exiting through the back of the room, you make your way to the Prince's quarters, his guards stand outside the door.

“Princess” They greet you

“Hello, I need to speak to the Prince”

They look to each other and back to you, “He’s busy I’m afraid”

“It’s a matter of staff” You try to push past them but they stop you, you furrow your brow at them, one takes a moment, knocking on the door.

“My Prince, the Princess wishes to speak with you” He shouts through the door, you hear shuffling through the door, the Prince mumbling something before he steps to the door, opening it, he’s half-dressed, his hair a mess, you watch him peer backwards, mouthing something and it all clicks in your head, you feel your chest tighten.

“What did you need my love” The name feels like a stab to your chest,

“I’ve chosen my guard, Simon”

“Simon?”

“The black knight from the feast” You watch the gears spin in his mind

“Yes very well” He turns away,

“He needs to be knighted”

He sighs, “He holds no title?”

“Not yet no”

“Fine, inform him that he should be in the throne room by nightfall, I shall do it then”

Before you can respond he closes the door, the shuffling and giggles behind the door resuming, you spare a polite smile to the guards, turning away and making your way to your quarters.

You sit at the small table in your room, your eyes watching through the window as people wander the grounds, you call for Clarice who meets your side in an instant,

“Please inform my guard he is to be in the throne room after dinner”

“Very well Princess” She smiles at you before leaving, you sit quietly in your room, daydreaming about being outside in the fields, exploring the ponds around the castle grounds, being anywhere but here. The time passes quickly, a servant knocks on your door to inform you that dinner was prepared, you make your way down to the dining hall, the air of the room feeling colder as you sit down, dinners were the same, just you, the Prince and the Queen, the King being in poor health was kept in his room, only brought out for special occasions. You sit and eat, picking at the meal in front of you as the two of them discuss wedding preparations like you aren’t there, they don’t ask for your input, deciding on things alone, after a few minutes you stand to excuse yourself,

“You’re done eating?”

You stop in your tracks, “Not particularly hungry this evening”

“Well, I should see you in a few moments in the throne room then,” He says, turning back to his conversation, disregarding you.

You make your way to the large room, the walls high, large windows separating the spaces in them, you stare at the ceiling, it’s ridiculously tall, with large chandeliers hanging from the crossing beams, there are pictures hanging on the wall, you stride past them not bothering to spare them a glance as you hear the doors open, The Prince walks in beside his own guard, Simon trailing behind them, your gaze softens as you look at him, he kneels in front of the Prince, removing his helmet, you’re close enough now that you can properly make out his features, the sharp line of his jaw, the scar that crosses through his eyebrow, and his eyes, dark and rich, his hair falling slightly across his forehead as he bows his head. The Prince declares a few words, taking a sword from his guard and tapping it onto Simon's shoulders, the knight stands to his height, he towers over the Prince, having to look down to meet his eyes, he swears a few words, giving his oath to the Prince before everything is settled. The Prince nods, stepping away and leaving the room, Simon turns to you,

“Ser Simon” You nod

“Princess”

You stand there looking at him, words unable to make their way from your lips, you simply turn and leave, his eyes following you as you exit making your way up to your room, he trails behind you, his helmet under his arm as you reach your door, he stands with his back to the wall, his eyes focusing around the halls as you enter your room. You step in and close the door, your back falling against the hard wood as you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, bracing yourself against the door, you take a few seconds to gather your thoughts before moving further into the room, stripping yourself of your dress to put on more comfortable clothes, feeling like you could properly inhale without the burden of a corset.

You spend an hour alone in your room, pacing around trying to occupy your mind, the pale walls doing little to aid your efforts, you think to yourself for a minute, your legs carry you across the rooms towards your door where you stand for a moment, collecting yourself before opening it,

“Princess, is there a problem?” He asks

You shake your head, you’re entranced by his gaze, “Where is your family Ser?”

“My family?”

“You come here holding no title, no accomplishments, who are you?”

“I’m no one”

“Nobody is no one”

He smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling, “I come from England Princess, my family owned a farm before the war, and now I am here”

“And your family, what of them”

“Dead m’lady”

Your face drops, your heart thumps with empathy, “I apologize for my words, I had no idea”

“How could you have”

“Yes well, how did you come to be in the country?”

“I’m not sure, I left home one day and just kept going until I arrived in the countryside”

“And you chose to stay here?”

“It’s beautiful here”

“It seems that way”

“Seems?”

You stumble over your own words, careful to not give yourself away, “I simply mean it’s not my home”

“You’re not from here”

“No, I come from Florin”

“I have never been”

“Well I hope you get to see it one day, it’s beautiful, tall cliffs with waterfalls, every part of it breathtaking”

He watches you speak with deep interest, hanging on to every word that falls from your lips, “You miss it?”

“More and more every day” You admit

“And you can’t go home”

“Not if I am to be Queen” Your smile fades

He nods, you turn your gaze to him, oblivious to the fact that he’s been staring at you the entire time, his eyes memorizing every feature of your face, every smile line and ridge, you turn from him quickly, nervous under his stare.

“It’s late Princess, you should be in bed”

You turn back to him, a polite smile on your face as you walk back into your room, your hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment, wishing you could keep talking to him. You lay in your bed wide awake, the words exchanged with Simon the first conversation you’d had that didn’t concern the details of your marriage, he was the first person to ask about your feelings, your home, you figured he must’ve just been being polite, too nervous about getting sent away to say anything different to you.

Simon stands guard over your room while you sleep, turning away any guard who tried to take his position, intent on ensuring your safety within the confines of your room.

[vigilskeep]

i have never thought of the bg3 paths as railroaded before but oh my god... i see your vision. i think that, for all that can be picked apart in the writing of dragon age, the worldbuilding in that series is so so interested in complicating all factions that you can envision a character who /makes sense/ while bouncing through various ideologies. and the sort of fantasy writing in (most of) the forgotten realms doesn't really allow for that.

dao is particularly the light of my life because the origins mechanic is specifically intended to let you create a character who has a distinctive perspective on the world that’s grounded in the worldbuilding. one of my favourite aspects of this is several origins having completely different codex entries on their own culture as opposed to those an outsider would get. it’s really good! it’s also a reasonably grounded world (while obviously silly) because, like, the basic fundamental premise of thedas, from which they ikea flatpack built almost every feature, is “how would people react to magical and fantastical diversity? the same way they react to human diversity.” you’re meant to feel like, aside from i guess the darkspawn, people are normal and have real motivations. sure it has to fulfil certain roles in a story, and dragon age was manufactured too quickly and purposefully for everything to land feeling authentic, but evil in dragon age should feel recognisable. and in most of the origins they give you a chance to do something that is bad, but also totally makes sense, because of the context of your character belonging to this world where these things happen

in dnd/the forgotten realms it’s a bit different because capital e Evil exists, so there are people and deities and devils (and, to open another can of worms, races) whose entire goal is to Do Evil. it’s also harder to produce grounded evil because in a world where i’m being given basically no context and just told to make whatever i want, i don’t have an inch of the kind of social information i get from for example a dao origin: what my character has been taught to believe they should do to survive, who they are willing to sacrifice, whatever. bg3 also happens to have a main plot goal that is, at least for the first part of the game, broadly selfish (“i am sick, and i need a cure”) which works really well for getting a bunch of people with vastly differing moral standards to band together for the same goal, and not so good for any kind of “greater good” type blurred morality, so that’s out too

however much the worldbuilding factors into this, bg3 specifically went for quite a clear distinction between the good path and the capital e Evil Path, and i find it pretty hard to vary up the good path. when i say railroaded i mean you either do the specific thing that gets you a quest down the line or not. i was really disappointed actually in my playthrough where i totally fucked up in the druids’ grove and caused a fight to break out, because it immediately instakilled tons of characters i knew i would need down the line. the few it spared needed some of the dead ones to stay alive in later quests, so it’s like... oh. that’s just... over. for both factions. bg3 arguably lets you do basically anything you want but they are able to do that because if you fuck around it just breaks the entire quest line from coming up again, which means playing a character who fucks up is not even really going to get me consequences it’s just going to cut content from the game. does that make sense? and then the Evil Path is just straight up evil, like... there’s no way for me to complicate and empathise, here, especially playing a blank canvas character whose motivations i would have to make up from nothing, and who faces basically no consequences for not doing this. the only neutral/cowardly/self-interested option in act 1 is to do neither path, which gets me the least content because i literally don’t get to play the fucking game

i don’t know, i’m not saying it’s necessarily bad just that it’s hard for me, personally, and how i like to create characters. especially when you have my constant restart disease and you have to do this all over again a dozen times just for a handful of different dialogue. does any of that make sense

[jettwrites]

poltergeist!art anon again, lovedd what u wrote abt him! sorry I love this au I have too many thoughts...

hmm I was thinking that he may have a human form that he can turn into but he can't really control it fully bc he never really had the need too, since you're the only interesting person to move in (it's always been elderly couples). He looks the same as before he died just kind of off... his skin a little too pale, his eyes more greyish than baby blue, etc.

side note, when he finally gets to fuck you, your tummy glows bc of his phantom cock <3 (going insane w this thought).

and idk If this sounds mean but art soo looks like he would drown in a pool ☠️

anon never be sorry i am currently rotting over this au so you are just my supplier. SORRY THIS TOO ME SO LONG BTW!! totally lost motivation for writing in general, but now i’m working through my inbox!! feel free to send me any thirsts or asks 💗

but OMFG him drowning is so smart. it explains why his lips are tinted a bleak blue and the temperature of his oddly pale skin is unreasonably frisk. he’s trapped in the vicinity of the old creaky house due to drowning in the pool out back — enclosed by invisible fences. if he dares to travel past the barrier, he’s immediately brought right back to the place where he lost his life.

he’s been trapped there for decades, growing even more bored with each new tenant. he quite literally gets enjoyment out of watching the walls deteriorate, floral wallpaper warping into something grotesque. normally, ghosts are supposed to get a kick out of tormenting and scaring the life out of whoever crosses their pass. however, this is not the case for art. the boy prefers to keep himself invisible and would rather not have to bear the panicked shrieking from an elderly couple at the sight of his decaying drowned corpse. doesn’t even want them to see his previous living form — afraid of them running away, leaving him with only his own company once more. instead, he opts to stay completely hidden.

when you walk in — all giddy and excited to finally be living on your own — something sparks inside him. a strange sensation he hasn’t felt in he can’t even remembe how long. maybe it’s your hopeful eyes or the way you carry yourself. the way you dress, or your naive mind. it causes him to constantly keeps a watchful of you. spectates your day-to-day schedule and stalks the douchey men you bring home. the ones you let defile you. he watches you undress by lurking in the corner of your room, lacey panties, and matching bra ending up in a pile by his feet. he finds himself stroking his heavy leaking cock over your body countless times, fisting the length in a tight vice-like grip. imagines pumping you deep with a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages — love — stuffing you full to watch the bulge that forms around your pelvis. poking from the inside with each thrust in and out, in and out, in and out. wishing to one day see the way your belly glows due to being pounded by his phantom cock, tucking his luminescent seed inside your tight cunt that milks him ever so lovingly.

it’s sick and twisted the way he thinks of you. the way he protects you like a guard dog. the way he watches your every move like a hawk. the way he lightly runs a heavy thumb over your plush bottom lip while you sleep. how he glides over your teeth and pushes into your mouth. it’s crude — but he just can’t help himself, having been deprived of this feeling for soo long :((

[storm-angel989]

Valentino x daughter reader how would he react to reader sneaking out then coming home in the middle of the night drunk and how would the rest of the vees react. Also don't forget to drink water love!

Hi!

I actually think I have a double of this request, so I'm writing two different stories so I can answer both requests <3

Here is the first one! Enjoy!

<3 Mandy

Being Valentino’s daughter wasn’t easy.

Sure, my Aunt and Uncle were Velvette and Vox- and together the three of them made up the most powerful overlords in all of the Pride ring. 

But being Valentino’s daughter meant that everywhere I went, I had an escort. Which meant misbehaving as a general rule was greatly frowned up, if not proactively prevented. It meant wearing a VoxTech watch and clothes that were almost certainly bugged and tracked- just in case.

Many demons want to hurt us, mi amore, my father explained to me when I was little. We just want to make sure you’re safe.

At age five, those safety features came in handy. All my teachers bent over backwards to be nice to me- especially after I hit Vox’s face on my watch for the first time and he came raging into the school. At age ten, it meant birthday parties under the watchful eye of either one of them, or a body guard. At age thirteen, it meant my friends group kept secrets to include me in the latest parties. And by sixteen, I had perfected the art of sneaking out of the tower at night.

But maybe not the art of sneaking back in. 

Somehow, I found myself in the lobby of the V tower, the room spinning. Sure, I had been drinking, but not enough to get drunk. Never enough to get drunk. My Daddy had warned me early on to say no to drugs and to watch my drink. 

Carefully, out of view of my Uncle Vox’s cameras, I slipped into the elevator and hit the sixth floor button. Our flat was on the seventh floor, but if I entered on the sixth floor and climbed the staircase, I could sneak in a hellofalot easier. I leaned back against the elevator and sank to the floor as the lurch of the elevator knocked me off balance. As I heard each floor ding past, I giggled to myself. 

The door opened and I slowly made my way towards the back of the dark flat. I wasn’t technically allowed in here but I wasn’t…disallowed either. Was that the right word? Not like my Daddy’s studio where I wasn’t allowed, ever.

Slowly, I climbed up the stairs, pausing to catch my breath every few steps. The feeling of vibration, of the room spinning was getting worse. Wait! I had just the thing! I sank to the floor just outside the door that led into our flat and dug around in my purse until I found it. A shot of vodka, given to me by a boy at the party. What did they call it? Hair of the dog? What a silly name. 

I swallowed the contents of the bottle and pulled myself back to my feet as I pushed open the door. My stomach churned and I couldn’t tell if I was hungry or if I needed to be sick. Tiptoeing down the hallway, I made my way towards the living room. I just needed to get to my room, just a few more steps….

All at once, the lights came flooding on. I groaned and sank down to the floor for the third time. Shit. Had Uncle Vox installed motion sensor lights since the last time I went out?

“What are you doing Ninita?” my father’s voice growled from the elevator. 

“Daddy? Wh, why’re you awake?” I slurred. 

The feeling of the room spinning was worse now. I laid on my back and pointed my knees to the ceiling. 

“I’m just coming home from work. The better question is, why are you up? And what the fuck are you wearing?” He demanded.

He knelt down next to me and leaned his face down next to mine. I stared at the ceiling and swore I saw my Uncle Vox and Auntie Velvette looking down at me. But that would be silly, right?

“Daddy, why are you working so late?” I mumbled. 

“Have you been drinking?” Vox’s voice demanded.

“Sure looks like it,” Velvette’s voice chimed in.

“And smells like it. Alright, let’s get you to bed little girl,” my father’s voice said firmly. “Or at the very least on your side.”

“I haven’t been out, I swear!” I half yelled as my father pulled me to my feet. I felt myself pitch forward and his arms caught my waist.

“We don’t care where you’ve been, can you tell me what’s in your system at least?” Valentino asked as he half carried me to the bedroom. “Vel, I need you to…get her into pjamas or something.”

“Vodka! Oops. I mean, soda. Rum! Coke?” I answered with a giggle. “The good stuff.”

“The drug or the drink?” He asked as he sat me on the bed. 

I felt his fingers under my chin and I giggled as I fell to the side. 

“I’m going to assume the drink,” he mumbled. 

I watched him step back and turn away. Velvette stepped forward and the next thing I knew I was in my pajamas on my side. All the sudden, the joy I felt went away, replaced by an ache in my belly. 

“Who wants to babysit?” I heard Valentino ask.

“Daddy? I don’t feel good,” I mumbled.

I felt hands lift me upright and my head rested against the plastic of the garbage can. 

“That’s right ninita, get it all out,” I heard my father mutter. “Vel, can you braid back her hair? And Vox, go downstairs, grab an IV kit so she doesn’t wake up with…”

“No, Valentino. Don’t baby her. I mean, don’t let her die but let her suffer the consequences of a hangover,” Vox replied. “Let her wake up feeling shitty.”

“Vox is right, you know, maybe it will make her less likely to do it again,” Velvette added. 

“I think I’m good! Gimmie the…gimmie the IV Daddy,” I lifted my head up.

Valentino gently wiped my mouth. “I think it’s time for bed, ninita. We can talk about this in the morning.”

“Daddy I’m fine! I’m…” I leaned over the garbage can as more liquid came up. “Ugh…my tummy hurts.”

“Yeah, it’s going to,” he muttered. “Just get it out of your belly.” 

The next thing I knew the sunlight streamed through the window. Every part of my body ached and I groaned at the aching in my head. 

“Good morning sunshine! Nice to see you’ve finally joined the world of the living!” Vox’s too loud voice echoed in my bedroom.

I cringed. “Ow, Uncle Vox turn the sun off.”

“Aw, baby does your head hurt? How’s that tummy feel? A little nauseous?” He asked. “Here, I’ve got two pills and a red gatorade for you. Down they go. When you’re ready, I’ll make you toast.”

“What happened? Where’s dad?” I muttered as I took the proffered medicine. “Ugh, my head. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“You’re the one who decided to drink last night,” Vox said lightly. 

“I need a shower,” I grumbled as I swung my legs off the bed. I stood up and the room spun. I felt Vox’s hands hold me for support. 

“Let’s get you hydrated before you go solo, com’on. Out to the living room,” he said.

I flopped on the couch and closed my eyes. Fucking hell, was this what a true hangover felt like? God, I never wanted to drink again. 

“Not feeling too good, hm mi amore?” My Dad’s voice floated across the livingroom. 

I felt his hand on my forehead. “No, Daddy, I don’t.”

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before trying to sneak out,” he said lightly as he pushed back my hair. 

I felt a cool cloth cover my forehead and eyes and let out an exhale. “Ah, Daddy that feels good. You don’t have to worry about me sneaking out, I’m never drinking again, I swear.”

“If you change your mind, I promise getting out will be a lot harder next time,” Vox’s voice added. 

“Just make the pain go away,” I begged.

“Sorry sweetheart, time is the only cure. But we can discuss your consequence when you’re feeling better,” Valentino replied. “Until then, might as well close your eyes.” 

I groaned. “You’re the overlord of lust and depravity, don’t you have a magic cure or something?”

I heard him laugh. “Oh sweetheart. This is one lesson you have to learn on your own.”

[sadesluvr]

hi! I was wondering if I could request something angst/fluff where the reader defends Mike to his aunt Jane and the custody case worker about how he gives his all to take care of Abby by himself? I wish someone could have advocated for him during the scene where they discuss the case and his aunt talks down on him a lot :’( thanks so much for sharing your writing!

A/N: Hi Anon, thank you for the ask and being patient! My inbox was a little crazy…It wasn’t specified what relationship they have, so it’s neutral, and can be read platonically or romantically. I hope you like it :) 

When Mike had asked you to accompany him to a meeting with Abby’s safeguarding officer and their she-devil of a relative - Aunt Jane - you’d said dropped your things without hesitation. You knew it was going to be rough, as the woman had been on him practically since the day their mother had been buried, but you never expected to be blindsided. Still, from the moment you’d walked into the room and seen the catatonic man with a briefcase clutched to his chest, you knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“Just look at my nephew — It's not even 10:00 and he can barely keep his eyes open!” 

That’s because he can’t sleep properly. He’s literally on prescription pills, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?

“And this degenerate is who they trust with the wellbeing of a mentally ill child?”

Degenerate was such a strong, vile word. You’d visibly flinched at it, both in disgust and agitation. Mike hadn’t seemed to react, but you knew that deep down he was internalising each and every word that was leaving the woman’s mouth. 

Abby is not mentally ill, she’s just introverted. All kids are different. 

“You’re the doctor, and you're making me feel like I'm the crazy one - and after what he did to that poor man…”

Oh, of course it was time to break out the tears. Luckily no one - bar herself - was buying it, instead producing a deep collective sigh shared between yourself, Mike and Valerie. Even though the display was all fabricated, you knew that there was a darker side to her behaviour. She’d probably grown up entitled; being able to cry her way out of things so she could mould her victim and bend those in her path to her will. You were livid, and you were sure Mike was too.

“I have tried to play nice - but I have to think about Abby now…Enough is enough - Doug —” 

The click of the briefcase and a rustling of papers brought the final blow. She wanted custody, and there was a high chance that - should the case go to court - she would get it. From the corner of your eye, you cast a glance over at Mike, watching as he let out a sigh and straightened his back as he came to terms with what was in front of him. His hands trembled slightly, and he bit his lip, mind likely racing to find the appropriate words. With a cocked brow he looked up at you, and you ran your tongue over your lips before pursing them. 

You didn’t want to hold back anymore.

“Pardon my language, but this is bullshit,” you spoke, and Jane seemed amused by your sudden aggression. Valerie looked at you with wide eyes, but subtly nodded her head for you to go on. “Mike is a good carer, and he has been for the past few years,”

“Have you not listened to anything at all?” the blonde woman scoffed. “Abby is sick. She’s not progressing like her peers,”

“Obviously, sickness runs in the family,” you said pointedly. “We’ll all be damned if Abby has a fraction of whatever you’ve got going on up there,”

“Are you implying that I’m some sort of sociopath? It’ll say a lot when a judge grants her to me instead of him,”

“Can you stop using Abby as some kind of bargaining chip?” you said, rolling your eyes. “She’s a human. A growing girl who’s lost her family at such a young age, and Mike is the only real person she has left! Yes, he’s made mistakes, but what parent hasn’t?”

Mike’s heart swelled slightly at the flippant use of such a strong word. He was always the ‘older brother’, forgetting that he was basically two things.

“Mike was barely an adult when your sister died, but he’s done a hell of a job becoming one. He’s never missed a doctor's appointment, spends half of whatever shit salary he earns on keeping clothes on her back, and he’s even sitting here silently, not acting out because Abby means just that much to him– ” you spat, feeling your heart race as it pumped blood furiously around your body. Pausing, you loosened your jaw and dropped your shoulders. Your voice had certainly escalated, and the last thing you needed was to be detained.

Mike’s brown eyes were wide, and there was a small smile that lay hidden under his flushed face. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know that he’d really fucking needed that.

“--- Take it from someone with experience…You don’t separate those two. They’re a package deal.” you said softly, glancing over at him again, reminiscing on the moment you’d met them. Being close to the pair, you’d seen it all; the good, the bad and the frequently ugly, but you’d never once doubted Abby’s love for her brother. It was evident that your speech, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t mean much, but you knew you were going to fight like hell beside Mike to make it a small part of a larger story.

They were going to get their happy ending.