#and she has never done any of the same for me she hasn’t even gotten me a birthday present in like 8 years

[basilone]

71) a crucifix and a thigh tattoo for whoever strikes your fancy!

Thank you very much for sending this! 💙 When I saw it, I immediately went "this is a John Brady thing" and that naturally led to a "Brady as tattoo artist"-AU that I didn't even know I needed until I had it. 😂 Soooo. I'm sharing the goodies.

“That looks really blasphemous.”

John exhales softly as the latest line, by some miracle, still ends up looking straight despite her snicker of amusement. “What does?” he asks, wiping at her skin just to check. Yeah. Straight line. “Stop moving, Maddie”– he adds, tapping her hip in warning –“unless you want these flowers to look wonky.”

“Sorry,” she says, booming her apology around the shop with all the aplomb of a woman who’s never been quiet a day in her life. Her next words are slightly quieter. Reserved only for him, if he listens closely enough. “Your necklace. It was on my thigh.”

He grunts, squinting at the rest of the linework that still needs doing. “And?”

“Crucifix on a demon? I’m surprised I didn’t catch fire.” She snickers again, louder once more, nodding at her leg. “See what I mean?”

John glances down, sighing as he realizes his gold chain has indeed escaped his shirt. Half his crucifix is dancing a slow pattern on her thigh, almost as if it is following the lines of the many peacock feathers that adorn the demonic figure he has painstakingly tattooed on her. He’d laughed when she’d first shown up with the idea for it – something from a French illustrated dictionary of demons, fine-lined and intricate – and the flowers he is crafting on her skin now flow forth from the topmost feathers well enough.

“I see it,” he says, mouth quirking around a smile he can’t bite back. “You should really get that angel done on your other thigh, Maddie”– he bows back over his work, not bothering to tuck his necklace back into his shirt –“instead of relying on me to save whatever’s left of your soul.”

“Oi!” Her indignance is a playful bark, as is the tease that follows. “Do you treat all your very beautiful paying customers like that, John?

“I’ll let you know,” he says evenly, starting work on the next petal, “once I find one.”

Maddie’s groan thankfully is not accompanied by any further movement on her part. He smiles to himself as she taps the table twice. You win, she says without speaking. Concedes her defeat more easily than he would, though he has a hunch she’ll try and find something else to win over him before the session’s done.

She always sits without complaint. Marathons a tattoo session the way Bucky Egan marathons baseball reruns, which is as admirable as it is mildly terrifying. He knows to clear his schedule for her. Gets Evelyn to run out for lunch and dinner, in the rather vain hopes that the girl will somehow find her voice somewhere between all the order mix-ups. He hasn’t had to threaten Maddie into eating in the shop since that first session when she’d almost fainted, with Buck’s mild tsk sound the only warning John had gotten just in time.

“You still good?” he asks, all the same, even though it hasn’t been twenty minutes since he last asked. Taps a pattern of don’t lie to me on her lower belly, just above her waistband. “Feeling okay?”

“Peachy, John,” she sighs, head tipping back onto his table when he wipes the excess ink off her skin. “I like this area a lot, it’s a fucking good ache you’re giving me. Don’t know what the heck Max was complaining about”– she continues, obviously remembering Maxine’s loud bitching session on Lottie’s table as well as he does –“because it ain’t as bad as the one you tried on my foot.”

“The one you almost kicked me in the nuts about some four times before Lottie finally quit laughing herself sick and took pity on me,” he grumbles, holding her steady on his table with one hand splayed out on her stomach. “I think Buck’s still got a photo of it that he’s keeping as blackmail material.”

“Blackmail material for you or for me?”

“Me,” he answers, shrugging as he dots a few short lines at the heart of her new flower. “Buck’s not that mean about you girls.”

“Unless your name is Lottie and he’s stinkin’ mad at you.”

John lets out a snort. Leans his arm on her and bends over the last line, which he has planned to sweep up to her ribcage. “They’ll make up. Last time she punched him before they made up and he got weirdly proud about that.” He rubs a small circle on Maddie’s stomach as he hears her sharper breath intake. “Breathe it through, Maddie,” he murmurs, keeping his voice soft and his touch even softer amid the sharp needle punctures, “that’s it. Good. You’re doing great today.”

She sounds almost drowsy. “Yeah?”

“Like a real angel.”

“Means a lot, John, comin’ from a Catholic and all. You’re still trying to balance my scales, huh?”

“Well,” he remarks, working as quickly as he can in the area he knows aches the most, “I’d have you know angels aren’t like those Cupid garden statues you keep thinking I’d tattoo on you. Real angels are beautiful and terrifying at the same time.”

“How does that work?” she asks, softer-voiced than he’s ever heard.

“They exist so close to God that the human mind cannot comprehend what it sees. We know there’s beauty in that – in the colors of a gemstone, the glowing coals of a fire, whatever they are likened to – but also a deep and strange sense of being other, of a sort? They do introduce themselves with be not afraid,” he remembers, as lost in his knowledge as he is in the very last of this line on her skin, “and I believe at least one prophet saw many eyes and many wings.”

Maddie’s voice doesn’t rise above a whisper. “Maybe you should draw a real angel on me after all, John. Just to be sure.”

“Next time I will,” he promises, and tucks his crucifix back into his shirt.

[oglegoggle]

I would like to have my neck and chest kissed. I would like to feel another’s arms wrapped around me. I would like to rest comfortably against somebody. I would like to have my body rubbed where it aches the most from old wounds and the general stress of life. I would like to experience gentle and tender love. I would like to feel at peace. I would like to feel safe. I would like to live with someone who will put as much effort into me as I would like to put into them. I would like to have my needs respected and health & well-being considered. I would like to have a support who will stand with me when I need it the most. I would like to not feel so alone against the world.

[jazzyoranges]

Recollections of the past

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: when you die, Tara struggles living without you

Words: 2k

A/n: thanks for all the love on ‘birthdays and stress’ :D

Warnings: scream 6 spoilers, major character death, angst, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), blood, crying, mention of sex

Tara swears she can hear angels sing when you catch her eye. She looks at you, and her heart soars. It might’ve been the booze, it might’ve been the second-hand weed, but something came over her when you looked at her with the utmost adoration. Tara can’t control her body when she starts to lean in closer, and you end up closing the gap.

Your lips fit together like you’d done this hundreds of times before. You pull the smaller girl on top you, and Tara sighs like she’s just been accepted into heaven. Her hands tangle into your hair, and it’s your turn to sigh as she starts to massage the back of your head.

Unfortunately you’re both humans that need air to breathe, but that doesn’t stop you two from diving back into each other when you’re both ready for more.

Tara made sure she had the first pleasure of saying ‘I love you’ only seconds after you asked her to be your girlfriend.

“Little miss eager, are we?”

“I’d come up with a witty remark, but i’d much rather have incredibly soft sex with you”

“God, you’re such a dork. I’m surprised we haven’t done this sooner”

“God can’t help you anymore, baby. You’re all mine, and i’m not letting you go~”

“You’re saying that like it’s a problem”

“I remember the night i realized i was in love with you. Whenever i miss you, i always think about that night. I know i’m always telling you about it, but you were just so… ethereal. I don’t think i’d ever be able to forget how you smiled at me.”

On particularly bad nights when Tara had nightmares about Amber and the Ghostface attacks, you were always there to tell her it’ll be okay. At first Sam wasn’t too approving, but you reminded her of herself. You gained Sam’s trust when you showed up at their front door in the middle of the night looking like you’d just woken up (which you did) and proceeded to let Tara cry into your neck until the sun came up.

You’d rub circles into her back and massage the back of her head until your hands were numb, and the circulation of blood has long since left your fingers. Even before you two were official, you’d give Tara the most tender kisses you could offer her.

When you kissed her nose, she’d scrunch it up and give you the tiniest smile. When you kissed her cheek, she’d giggle and mumble ‘That tickles’ in a barely audible whisper. Finally, when you kissed her forehead, her wrinkles would disappear like they were never there. Only then would you start to lay Tara back down on her bed and let the smaller girl sleep until the afternoon

Tara found your smell intoxicating like a drug. She needed it to sleep, go outside, or do anything. She just need you around her at all times. Tara would steal your clothes just for the days you couldn’t be in her apartment.

“I haven’t washed any of your clothes. Sam tells me they’ll grow mold, but i’d keep them either way. Your mom let me take home most of your clothes. Sometimes i wish you’d bought more so i wouldn’t have to use the same ones every night.”

It’s been 3 weeks since you’ve died, and Tara hasn’t gotten used to the idea of you not being home. After long nights under the sheets with her, you’d make Tara something to eat every single morning after. Your aftercare didn’t stop until you decided your girlfriend was well taken care of.

Breakfast in bed, relaxing baths, Tara may as well be the queen of England with how much you spoiled her. More often than not, you’re up and awake hours before Tara. You use this time to clean up and tidy until your next round of fun times.

You’d wash her clothes, prepare her bag for classes, and clean up the strewn about clothes from the night before. When Tara woke up, she’d be able to hear the sizzling of bacon on a pan, and your less-than-ideal-singing. Tara found it adorable when you’d mess up a lyric or try and hit a high note.

Tara still woke up to bacon sizzling and music in the background, but your voice was no longer there. Maybe you just got tired from singing? Yeah. Definitely that. Tara waited for you to arrive in her room. You usually came in around 9:30 am, but the clock quickly turned into 10:00 am, 11:00 am, 12:00 pm and even 1:00 pm. Before she knew it, Sam was spoon feeding her at 10:00 pm and you still weren’t there.

“Whenever i smell breakfast and you’re not in bed with me, i always assume you’ll come bursting through the door with a smile on your face with a tray of my favorite food. I’ve spent hours waiting for you to show up, but you never do.”

It’s been 2 months since you died, and Tara hadn’t left her room in days. Sam was growing more and more concerned as time passed. She didn’t want to admit it, but Sam was scared. What was she supposed to do in this situation? Her baby sister was hurting, and she wasn’t able to take away her pain. Sam wasn’t dumb. She saw how you two looked at each other. There was nothing but love.

Sam didn’t want to admit it, but you’d won her over long before she showed it. You were a good friend as well. Always offering to be a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. Now you were gone, and Sam didn’t know how to help Tara heal.

After a particularly long night at work, Sam wasn’t met with the silence of an apartment, but the crying of her sister. Sam wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what. So for now she’d be the shoulder to cry on, just as you had been for the Carpenter sisters.

A nervous Sam opened Tara’s door, and she was met with her younger sister curled in a ball while wearing your shorts and shirt. Sam felt tears prick at her eyes from the sight, but she had to be strong. She had to be there for her baby sister. Slowly walking toward Tara’s bed, Sam leaned down to meet her eyes.

“…Sammy?” Tara croaked, and Sam could feel her heart shatter. Tara’s eyes were bloodshot red and her eye bags were such a dark color they rivaled her freckles. Tears were a constant stream on her face, leaving a damp spot on her bedsheets.

“Oh, Tara…” was all Sam could manage before she got into bed with her younger sister. Sam felt like a mother rocking her baby to sleep after a bad dream. God, Sam wished this was a bad dream. The older sister didn’t believe in any deity or god, but that night she prayed. Sam prayed to whoever out there would listen. She prayed her sister would be alright. She prayed her sister would be able to heal. She prayed for this to be a nightmare, and that you’d be alive and breathing the next day. Her last prayer never came true.

“On really bad days, i wear your clothes and put a heat pad on my stomach and pretend it’s you holding me. Sometimes in the middle of the night i can feel a warmth around me. I used to think it was you, but it ended up being Sam trying to comfort me.”

It’s been a year since you died, and Sam has been urging Tara to go outside more. It started off as easy and simple things. Getting groceries, going to the movies, and checking out books at the library. Tara actually got the number of a very pretty librarian. She was beautiful, kind, and sweet. Tara would’ve said she was the one before she’d met you. The librarian — whose name was Katie — asked Tara for her number.

Sam said this could be good for Tara, but they both knew this could only end in one way. Despite this, Tara agreed to a first date. Then a second date. And then a third date at Katie’s apartment.

But Tara’s heart was never in in. Tara felt bad she was wasting such an amazing girl’s time. Her wake up call was when Katie kissed her, and she didn’t feel your lips on hers. Tara cried, and Katie understood she wasn’t the right one. The brunette apologized and apologized, but Katie knew her heart was elsewhere after the first date.

“When other people kiss me, it doesn’t feel right. It feels like i’m cheating on you. I think about the disappointed look you’d have on your face when i come home, but you’re not there to give it to me. I know you’d want me to move on, but i don’t think i can.”

You died ferociously protecting Tara. Punches, kicks, and bites were exchanged. You fought, and you fought hard. But ultimately, protecting Tara was always bound to be your demise. You were battered and bruised when Ethan took the bag off your head.

“Y/N!”

“Not a step closer, Tara.” He pointed the gun at your head. “Or your precious girlfriend over here gets it”

“Fuck you.”

“A lover for a lover. If Richie can’t be alive, neither can she.” He pushes the gun closer to your head, and you have to suppress a shiver at how it’s covered in blood. “You sisters don’t deserve to be happy”

You look up at Tara, and both of you know one person between you two is going to come out of this alive. You decide it’s going to be Tara.

‘I love you’ are the last words you mouth to your girlfriend before you use all your body weight to knock down Officer Bailey and Quinn. A bullet is in your skull less than a second later.

“I still have nightmares, but they’re mostly about you. They’ve gone down with time, but some nights i have to see your face. I can’t tell whether it’s a curse or a blessing most times”

You died when you were only 22. Young and bright-eyed, you were still able to change the lives around you. Mindy shared many of your interests, Anika was your best friend, Chad learned about his love of football through you, and Sam was the sister you never had. But most importantly, you were the love of Tara’s life.

Tara wished she photographed every single moment she had with you. she knows better now. After your death, Tara spent more time with her family — which Chad named ‘The Core Four’. There were sleepovers, game nights, and movie nights way more often now, as per Tara’s request.

Moments with you were only in memory, and she vowed to never let your name leave her mind. So, Tara started to write. At first it was memories and fun moments with you, but it quickly turned into her experiences with Ghostface, and the story of her life. This was only meant for herself, though. Tara saw firsthand how media affects real life.

“I know how much you loved red velvet, so i got you a cupcake. It’s from a new bakery i know you’d like” The brunette sets down a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting and a candle at the base of your headstone.

The shorter girl looks up at the sky, and is met with a rapidly setting sun. “Well it’s getting dark, and i have to leave soon. I don’t want to worry Sam.”

Tara opens a heart-shaped locket around her neck with a picture of you and her in it. Bringing it to her lips, a few stray tears run down her face. “Happy 24th birthday, my love”

[acradelius]

Can I request some 049 x female Reader headcanons where the Reader is pregnant with 049’s child?

"We're Expecting! Don't Tell The O5 Council!"

Fandom: Secure. Contain. Protect. (SCP)

Pairing: SCP-049 ("Doctor") x Female! Researcher! Reader

Rating: Lime [🟢] - (Equivalent to PG-13)

Warnings/Mention Ofs: Human! Reader, Researcher! Reader, Human x SCP, Human x SCP Relationship, AFAB! Reader, Female Pronouns Used For Reader, Unexpected Pregnancy, Most Likely Post! Contaiment Breach, Slightly Overprotective Doctor, Very Involved Parental! Doctor, Internally "Paranoid"! Doctor, Limited "Normal" Pregnancy Customs.

Word Count: 873 Words

If you'd like to be tagged for all posts, certain fandom posts, or certain character posts then feel free to message me!

There wasn’t much doubt that amongst the scale of ‘Definitely Not Human-Like’ to ‘As Human As Could Possibly Be, But Still Not Actually Human’, Doctor was more so teetering towards the edge of being more human-like than majority of the other S.C.P. beings that were also residing within the containment site, even still after the initial breach. That didn’t stop the researcher, (Y/N), from initiating a relationship with the Doctor, and eventually it became as intimate as it possibly could have. Despite that intimacy, there wasn’t necessarily ever a thought that a pregnancy between Doctor and (Y/N) could possibly happen, at least until viewing the results of the pregnancy tests that (Y/N) had taken. While there was some initial anxiety when it came to telling Doctor, he was actually pretty excited about the news! 

While within the early stages of their relationship Doctor had respected (Y/N)’s boundaries for space and privacy, now that she’s carrying their child, there’s not really such a thing as space and privacy anymore. (Y/N) couldn’t even make the five steps from Doctor’s desk to the bathroom within his laboratory without him jumping up to assist her. “Are you doing well, Chère? Do you need any assistance? Is there anything concerning the baby?” With that being said, the security around the laboratory is increased as well. There’s also more reanimated subjects that are placed around the laboratory, and even the most common places that (Y/N) typically ventures to and from, for an extra form of protection. It had gotten to the point that Doctor had to venture through the site looking for something, but didn’t want to disturb (Y/N) from their nap, so he had one of the subjects lay in the bed with her for protection.

Doctor is absolutely involved with the baby, ever since the moment that (Y/N) had revealed to him that she was pregnant with his child. He would spend literal hours just reading out loud to her and the child, whether it be his own research papers, random magazine pages found strewn across hallway floors, or would even spend time reading the files based on his other S.C.P. companions. It’s the same thing when it comes to listening to music, even if it’s various languages that (Y/N)’s unfamiliar with or hasn’t even heard of before. Doctor swears that while he hasn’t had any children before, that he’s done his fair share of research when it comes to pregnancies and even early childhood education, though (Y/N) is a bit unsure since it’s been quite some time since Doctor has been within the general public, especially in today’s day and age. He claims that it’s critical, and a long term benefit, that a developing baby experiences these things.

This pregnancy is definitely something more than just a generic pregnancy for Doctor, but he’s not going to make that known to (Y/N) unless he absolutely has to. As stated above, he’s never had a child before, and hasn’t came across anyone else like himself, so he’s unaware of what to actually expect when it comes to someone like him having a child within someone such as her. He’s not just monitoring the basic and typical pregnancy symptoms and such when it comes to watching over his beloved and her pregnancy. Secretly, he’s also monitoring for any abnormalities, anything that could end up becoming alarming or dangerous for (Y/N) or the baby, and even both. He doesn’t want to lose either of them, and therefore he would rather be able to take the risk of doing this part of the monitoring in secret if that means making sure that (Y/N) and their baby is doing well. While he was alone for the majority of his life before she had come along, Doctor isn’t sure if he would be able to continue on if he was to lose her.

Whenever (Y/N)’s due date, or at least an estimate of when the due date would be, there’s only a certain few other S.C.P. beings that Doctor is comfortable with her being around, even if she’s interacted with them for quite some time before the initial breach. He doesn’t want to take any chances with something happening to (Y/N) or the baby, especially with how sporadic and violent some of them can be. He only wants those that he can absolutely trust to be around them, at least at first, those that he knows will also do their best to make sure that things are going smoothly and stress-free. (Y/N) mentioned how this was slightly unfair once and therefore (Y/N) was only allowed to interact with who he didn’t deem safe enough through the intercom to his laboratory, or writing to each other with erasable markers on the window. This even means creating a whole different room or section of the site that Doctor’s located within to treat his “patients”, as he wants to make sure that the environment is going to be safe and sterile, or as sterile as it can be, for a safe, healthy delivery of his beloved little baby to be.

[ayyy-pee]

request!!! toji (not deadbeat dad au) processing the loss of his wife while having to take care of a child. He's dissociative and feels emotionally detached from his child cuz he reminds him too much of everything he has lost... PS. loveee your work and hope you have a lovely day!!

HELLO SWEET NONNIE!!!

I'm so incredibly late but I wrote up somethinggg. Omg I feel like Toji is just so...like I really feel like he struggled so much after that loss. I hope you like it and thank you for your sweet words!! Thank you for the request too MWAHHHHH

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

It’s all too fresh.

The memories, the shock, the pain. It’s all way too fresh.

It’s been months since she’s been gone, and yet Toji can’t seem to move forward. He’s been stuck in what feels like some horrible time loop that refuses to let him go. Everyday begins the same. There’s this strange sense of familiarity when Toji opens his eyes in the morning. A familiarity in the brief silence of the early morning, because by the time he’s up, she’d already gotten everyone settled. A familiarity in the way the bed is made on her side, because she could never start her day without that one task being done. A familiarity in the smell that still lingers on her pillow, because Toji has not washed these sheets since that day.

Since the day he lost her.

And that’s where the familiarity ends.

Because the distant cries coming from down the hall wake Toji slowly, already a difference from what he’s used to. He’s used to her being up before him, so the cries were never heard. But now it’s Toji who needs to be up, taking care to ease the cries. And he wants to. Everyday he wakes up and he thinks “Today is the day that I’ll make a change”. He’ll be better, because he promised to be better. He promised her.

Take care of Megumi for me, okay?

Her voice rings through Toji’s head, the intense sorrow crashing over him all over again, just as it does every morning when he wakes up, sporadically throughout the day, when he shuts his eyes every night. It’s paralyzing. There’s this foreign feeling in his chest – heavy, and it hurts. It’s a sensation Toji is not used to feeling. The sensation of tears. Toji cannot recall the last time he cried. Perhaps when he was a child, but he quickly learned that that was an unacceptable response. Or maybe it was when he lost her…no, he hasn’t cried in so long. He doesn’t know what that even feels like anymore. Is it the way his lip quivers, his nostrils burn or how his waterline begins to fill with tears?

These days, this sensation has been happening more and more.

He supposes the familiarity actually does continue in a way. Every night Toji promises to wake up and be a better person. And every morning, he wakes up and is reminded of what he’s lost, who he’s lost and he hides beneath his blankets to try and drown out the wailing that’s gradually growing in volume, waiting for him to do something…anything. How could he ever measure up to her? How could he ever provide the way she did? For him, for their son…

Without her, what’s the point? Toji’s life is shit, always has been. What could he give to Megumi that was worth anything?

He has nothing. Without her, he has nothing. She was the only reason it felt like this life he had built was possible. 

The screaming has become unbearable now. And Toji has no choice. As much as he wants to stay here, breathing in the scent of her and imagining her coming through their bedroom doors at any moment, he knows that it will never happen.

Take care of Megumi for me, okay?

That’s what he should do. That’s what he will do.

And so he does. He tries. He lifts his son from his bed, wipes the moisture from his round and rosy tear stained cheeks. He changes his diaper, tries to give his son words of reassurance. He tries. Tries to say what he thinks she would say, because she always knew what words Megumi needed to hear to soothe him, to remedy any pain he was in. He tries.

But he fails. Toji’s words fall on deaf ears as Megumi continues to whine even as Toji has set him up to eat. Toji tries to feed him whatever mush he has in the fridge. He can’t be bothered to try harder than this. It’s already too hard for him. Too painful because when he looks at Megumi, he only sees her…sees his mother, his wife. And he’s in enough pain as is, knowing that she’ll never come back to him. That Toji will spend the rest of his life on earth with this little person who resembles all he ever loved and will never see again. How can he look at him without wanting to crawl in a hole?

Megumi looks exactly like her. The same sweet face, the same long lashes, the same messy hair. He is a carbon copy of his mother. And it fucks Toji up in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Spoon hovering in the air as Megumi refuses to eat, Toji finds his gaze glazed over, locked on to a random spot on the dining room wall. He lets his mind take him elsewhere. Back to just a few months ago, when everything was fine. When he knew that his life had a purpose. He can see himself, see his morning beginning just as he had become accustomed to. The smell of her shampoo still lingering on her pillow, the sound of her voice floating through the air as she sings sweetly to Megumi, and the smell of whatever she had cooked up for breakfast tickling at Toji’s nose.

Life was good then. Life meant something then.

And Toji is aware that this is not right. He shouldn’t feel this way. He has Megumi. Megumi should be his everything. That should be enough for him to keep pushing forward. His son needs him, needs him to do more than what he’s barely mustering up the will to do now. Needs him to pull himself together instead of wallowing in his own self pity and grief. But what can a man do when the love of their life has been taken so unexpectedly it makes them sick?

Take care of Megumi for me, okay?

Her voice calls to him, pulling him from the depths of sorrow he’s drowning him. And it’s only then that Toji realizes he’s crying, that his cheeks are wet with fat tears. That for the first time in who knows how long, he’s letting himself feel enough to evoke such a strong emotion that he’s actually sitting here crying. And Megumi is quiet, finally. His deep blue eyes bore into Toji’s emerald ones and it hits Toji then. 

He can’t do this. He won’t be able to fake it until he makes it. That’s unfair to Megumi. He made a promise that he knows he can’t keep. It’s so obvious that he is not equipped to care for this child who quite frankly, makes him sick to his stomach to look at. Not that it’s Megumi’s fault that he looks like her. But it makes Toji’s stomach churn any time he has to face his own child.

There is no one in Toji’s life that he could depend on, call on when he’s at rock bottom besides her. Before he lost her, he would have avoided doing what he’s debating on doing at all cost. But he has to do it. So, before he can talk himself out of it, before he can stop himself from taking out his cell phone and dialing the number of the bastard he swore he’d never speak to again, Toji tells Megumi, “It’s for the best, kid”. Because while that man was a piece of shit to Toji, Megumi will mean something to him. He’ll be cared for in a manner that Toji can’t give him. 

Take care of Megumi for me, okay?

And he’s trying. But the best way for Toji to take care of Megumi is to not care for him at all.

She’d be disappointed, he thinks. But he also thinks she’d understand.

He lifts the phone to his ear, the man on the other end picking up without greeting. “Naobito…it’s me.”

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f! reader - vol. vi

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist | previous chapter |

chapter summary: you grow closer with sarah, and also with joel... pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 5.2k chapter warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY - oral sex (m receiving). alcohol consumption. Some angst, but mostly fluff, references to divorces/getting remarried/stepparents. anxious thoughts. a/n: this chapter is probably the least heavy. s/o to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about it, as always. lots of character/relationship/backstory for both joel and reader. i give reader a childhood nickname in this story, but it's not her actual name. also i made up a backstory for joel because he deserves it. hope you enjoy!

-June 5th, 2003-

“I think you missed a spot.”

“Yeah, that’s because you won’t hold still.”

Sarah scolds you for what feels like the hundredth time since you sat down. You feel a bit like a rambunctious child, and not so much a grown woman who has over fifteen years on her with the way she’s talking to you. To keep from giggling, you press your lips together tightly.

“You’re the one who begged to do this.”

“I did not,” she says, lacing mock offense into her voice – even with her head tilted down so you can’t see her mouth, you can tell she’s smiling. 

Sarah’s bent over your kitchen table, across from you, holding your thumb between two of her fingers. Meticulously, she’s painting a layer of pink, glittery polish on your nails. It’s been awhile since you started, and the near-suffocating chemical fumes of acetone and nail polish had grown so intense you’d already made her turn on the fan and open the window above your sink. It wasn’t really helping. And she’s got her face so close to your hand – laser focused – you’re a little concerned she’s going to poke herself in the eye. But you don’t dare correct her. This is a weekly ritual. Every Thursday night, you give each other manicures. It’s far more important to her, however.

“Oh my god, relax your fingers, you’re so rigid,” she reprimands you again.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, a bit sheepish. You’ve been anxious, the energy having worked its way out to all your extremities, apparently. 

To be fair, you could do without this. You’ve never really cared about having your nails done growing up, and still don’t. They’ll look good for about two to three business days, and then they’ll chip. It’s always this way, regardless of what topcoat she puts on that claims it will make your nails last forever – maybe you’re just too rough with your hands. However, it’s the one thing Sarah doesn’t give you grief about, maybe because hers always chip, too. 

You keep letting her do it, though. Partly because she likes it so much – and it hasn’t gotten any easier to say no to her. The other part is reminded of what it’s like to be a kid again. When you were first sent away to school, you always kept your nails painted - a small act of rebellion, of self-expression after being forced into the same uniform day after day. When you’d come home on breaks you’d beg your brother to paint his nails, run down the hall after him with a bottle of polish. Vincent would never let you, but he would always find a compromise, which was usually a walk through Central Park, and paying for you to ride on the carousel. He’d stand off to the side, waving each time you passed. In those moments, you liked to pretend that things were normal, that there wasn’t a dark cloud lingering over you both. Because even then, you’d known. On the walk home, Vincent would let you hook your mittened hand in the crook of his elbow, and you’d tilt your head all the way back to look at the tops of the buildings, the sun poking through the clouds.

Sarah draws back from your hand, then releases it delicately to the tabletop, placing the brush back in the nail polish bottle. “There,” she says, screwing on the lid. You both lean forward to admire her work. “I’m getting better aren’t, I?”

“You definitely are,” you look at the obnoxious color – Aurora Berry-alis. It’s the exact opposite of anything you’d pick out for yourself, but you’ve been surprised at the compliments you’ve been getting at work from your coworkers whenever you are going over contracts or pointing out revisions. If anything, you think it might make them pay closer attention when you talk. You nod at Sarah appreciatively. “They look good.”

“I think you’re getting better, too,” she places her hands atop the table alongside yours, so you can compare. You’d painted hers the same color, because you always let her choose. Well, it’s less that you let her, and more that she tells you, and you know better than to argue. The first time she’d painted them, and you’d suggested a coat of clear, she had given you so much grief about how boring you were, that you had given in and let her do whatever she’d wanted. There is nothing more terrifying than a teenage girl thinking you are lame. 

“It’s always easier to paint someone else’s,” you answer. 

Sarah leans forward, and frowns when her eyes land on your thumbnail, the one with the scab at the base of it. “You really need to stop picking at your cuticles.”

“I can’t help it,” you say sheepishly. “It’s a bad habit.” Particularly when stressed, you want to add, but you keep it to yourself.

“Well, it needs to stop,” she says pointedly, before planting her hands on the table and standing up. “I’m gonna get a ginger ale. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“Yeah, grab me one, too,” you blow on your fingers so they dry faster. 

Sarah disappears behind you, and you hear her rummaging through your fridge. “Do you not eat? Your fridge is basically empty.”

It’s only when she mentions it that you recall. “I do, I just forgot to go to the store this weekend.”

“How do you forget to buy food for yourself?”

“I’ve been busy.”

Sarah groans, and a few of your cabinets open and slam shut. “There’s no food here.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “I pretty much only buy stuff for you anyways, at this rate you might as well start chipping in on the grocery bill.”

“You sound like my dad.”

At the mention of Joel, you stiffen. 

Things have been a bit of a blur for the past few weeks. Between both of your work schedules, it’s been difficult to see one another, and even when you’re free – it has to be when Sarah’s away, which doesn’t happen often. And if she’s not in her own house, the second most likely place for her to be is at yours – so that makes it even more complicated. And both of you have agreed that she can’t find out. Because of that, you’ve only seen Joel a handful of times. 

“How is he?” you ask, nonchalantly. It’s a question you have asked her a hundred times before, just like you’ve asked after her best friend from school, Jennifer, or her grandparents, her Uncle Tommy – anyone from her life she talks about regularly. For some reason, you’re still expecting Sarah to hear these three words and sense that you’re not telling her something.

“He’s good,” she says, rustling through boxes. “Busy.” 

Yeah….busy. You could laugh when you think of the absurdity of the situation as a whole. There’s not a chapter in any of your self-help books that could teach you how to properly navigate it. So you’re left to figure it out for yourself, and hope you can without inflicting any permanent damage on her psyche. 

It makes you kind of nauseous actually. You knew her first. You were closer with her, first. It feels like a betrayal – and you’ve done enough of that in your life. This was supposed to be a way to start over, to do the right thing, but the sickness follows wherever you go.  You can’t stop it. What would happen if she found out? Would she be angry, mad, disgusted? She likes you, but as far as she knows, you aren’t romantically involved with her father. And that would certainly change things. 

Where it really gets problematic – you like Joel. So much more than you had expected. Well, maybe you’d been expecting it a little but not….like this. Of course, you know better than to be hopeful. Everything is still tentative, new. You’re figuring it out. It’s nice, at least, to savor the feeling while you have it, because it’s something you have felt so rarely.

All that considered, keeping it from her objectively is the right thing to do – for now. At least, that’s how you justify it to yourself.

“Actually he, uh, has been on a coupla dates lately,” Sarah returns to sit with a bag of stale Doritos and two ginger ales

“Really?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow, pretending this is new information. 

Sarah nods, and is careful to open both cans with the tip of a butter knife she brought over, so as not to chip her freshly painted nails. She speaks so nonchalantly, there’s no way she suspects anything. 

You test the waters. “How do you feel about that?”

“What are you, my guidance counselor?” 

You laugh first, and then she joins in, delighted by her clever joke. Once it fades, she surprises you by sobering up, quickly. “But uh….I don’t feel any way about it…I usually don’t care unless he introduces me to whoever he’s with.” 

“Oh yeah,” you say. “I remember when my dad did that. Always weird, right?”

“Always,” she repeats, sounding relieved that you understand. “But it doesn’t happen often. I think he’s careful. But things have just never felt….right. With any of them.”

“What, like, they weren’t nice?” 

“No, just….I could tell they didn’t really care…” she says. “About me….”

You want to tell her that’s not true. But you’d only be speaking for yourself, and this isn’t about you. 

“What about you?” she asks, and you realize you’ve been frowning. “Did you get along with your dad’s girlfriends when you first met them?”

“I mean, it wasn’t so much a meeting as it was my father introducing us and saying ‘Pixie, Meredith is going to be your stepmother,' and then that was that."

“Your stepmother’s name was really Meredith?” Sarah asks incredulously. “Like in The Parent Trap?”

You consider this, the realization hitting. “Yeah, I guess so,” and you both laugh. 

“Oh boy,” Sarah says. “Stepmom? If my dad gets remarried, I think…things would change…”

“How so?”

“What if she hates me? And then dad stops spending time with me? What if he has another kid, and they forget about me?” She pauses, but not long enough for you to shut it down without interrupting. “I mean, tell me what happened with your stepmom. Did you become an afterthought? ”

“Uh, well….” you wrinkle your nose. “I mean, yeah, but I was never exactly a priority to begin with.”

To you, it’s such a casual statement of fact, so at first, you’re not sure why Sarah looks so distraught by the response. “Oh, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to….” Her shoulders sag, just a little.

“Oh,” you wave your hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m fine. What I’m trying to say is from everything you’ve told me about your dad, and everything I know myself –” which is more than you think “– he would never let that happen.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” she says, bobbing her head. “But I can’t help but think about it.”

“Those are just thoughts…” you offer. And you’re no longer even approaching this conversation with the context of being the woman who is with Joel. You just want to make her feel better. “Doesn’t mean they’ll come true.”

It seems to placate her. “Yeah. You’re right,” she nods, and takes a sip from her ginger ale. “I do worry about my dad, though. It’s just the two of us, and I know he gets lonely. And who knows, maybe someday he’ll end with someone I actually like. That could be fun,” Sarah smiles a little. “So long as they don’t boss me around.”

“Boss you around?” you ask, taking a sip from your own can and raising your eyebrows. “I wish them the best.”

“Shut up,” she says, then giggles. “But also…fair point.”

Suddenly, you sit up from where you’d been leaning back into the wood of your kitchen chair. And it seems like as good a time as ever to change the subject, because you’ve far overstayed your welcome lingering. “Oh, by the way, before I forget…stay right there, I have something for you.”

“What? What is it?”

You rise from your seat, and walk a few paces to the basket in the corner of the room. “You’ve got that camping trip coming up soon, and it gets chilly at night….” You dig through your knitting materials until you find what you’re looking for. Once you do, you place it in front of Sarah on the tabletop. 

“What? No way!” she exclaims, picking up the baby blue knit cap in front of her. “You knitted me a hat?”

“Yeah,” you say, a bit sheepishly. “I meant to wrap it but-”

“It’s so cute,” Sarah cuts you off. “Can I try it on?”

“Of course, it’s yours.”

She jumps up from her seat and saunters to the mirror that hangs above the credenza just inside your front door. You follow her, standing behind her as she tugs the hat over her head. “What do you think?”

“Here,” you murmur, reaching over her shoulder to brush a piece of hair from her eyes, tucking it under the beanie, and pulling it further down in the back so it covers her ears as intended. Then you both look in the mirror. “I like it. Do you like it?” 

“Yes,” she says, incredulous. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”

“I’ve hardly been knitting lately because it is so hot here. And you’ve been talking about how excited you are for this trip since I met you, so…it only felt right.”

Sarah whirls around quickly to wrap you in a hug, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind her – arm across the back of the pink hoodie she’s wearing. There’s a vague sense of longing in your expression, and you wonder what it might have been like to have someone in your life who could have given you the things your parents never did. Maybe there’s still a way to right all the wrongs. And not just for yourself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-June 6th, 2003-

“Come in!” 

You’re closing the oven when you hear the knock on your screen door. It slams shut, and you peer through the entrance of your kitchen to the front foyer – just to make sure you haven’t invited an axe murderer into your home. 

The concern is fleeting, because you see it’s just Joel, bent over, untying his work boots and slipping them off. You like to think of yourself as easygoing, but you don’t allow him to wear them inside the house. All it took was some side eye the last time he’d tracked dirt all over your clean carpets, and then you never had to ask him again. But really, it was a minor inconvenience compared to some of the shit your past boyfriends had pulled. For example, this past year you actually had to utter the sentence ‘I don’t want you stashing your coke in my underwear drawer’ out loud to a grown man. So, even if the bar was so low you could step over it – and hardly bend a knee – it was something you had learned to appreciate about him.

You’ve made a roasted whole chicken – which is surprisingly easy, and mostly involves root vegetables and a lot of butter. Then it just cooks in the oven. It’s sort of your go-to when you actually decide to cook, but it’s too much food for one person. But you like that if you make it at the beginning of the week, you can eat leftovers for several days after. You hope Joel will appreciate it – not that you are trying to impress him, well, who are you kidding? You definitely are. It’s just one of those things you are ashamed to admit to yourself. 

You turn to the sink, pulling off the yellow rubber gloves you’d bought to wash dishes in – in an effort to preserve your manicure. “Hey,” you say, when you hear his footsteps shuffling behind you. 

“Hey,” Joel answers, and before you can turn, his lips are on your cheek, his hand on your shoulder, and he takes in the scene of your kitchen. “Would you like some help?”

“I’m good,” you look around. It was maybe a little messy, but the dishes were soaking and all you have to do is wipe off the countertops. It tends to happen when you cook. You’re not great at mise en place. Still, you have a system, and it works for you, and it stresses you out to have helpers in the kitchen. “Everything’s in the oven already.” 

Turning finally, you take Joel all the way. He looks tired. Shoulders slumped, hair mussed. You reach out, pull a piece of sawdust out from one of his waves, flick it into the sink. “Why don’t you go sit in the front room?” you ask him. “I’ll be in, just give me a second.”

He’s been busy, putting in extra hour into his first contracting gig, and it appears it’s starting to take its toll. 

“Okay,” he nods, hesitant, stepping back. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel settles onto your couch with his hands over his face. He’s upset with himself. For as much as he likes you, he’s barely seen you since your first date – and tonight, the one night he gets the chance, he’s utterly spent. 

He rubs his eyes, looks towards your record player in the corner of the room, some melancholy jazz playing over the speakers. In the kitchen, dishes clink together, and a cabinet shuts lightly. Joel lets his head loll back against the plush cushions of your couch, savoring the only peace he’s felt all day.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” your voice cuts in, and Joel doesn’t know how you had snuck up on him, but when he peers up at you, standing over him, you’re holding out a frosted tumbler. 

The floral apron you’d been wearing when he first came in is gone, so he sees more clearly the blush button-down you’ve paired with khaki slacks. Your hair is clipped back from your face, reading glasses on your head. He thinks of your coworkers who get to see you looking like this everyday, and gets a little envious. “What’s this?”

“A drink,” you say. “I thought you might need one.”

“Is it that obvious?” He feels a little guilty that it’s so clear to you what’s wrong, and you’ve barely spoken yet. Despite everything, Joel can’t help but feel warm, accepting the beverage graciously. The thin layer of ice coating the outside of the drink melts the second his fingers wrap around it, brushing against your own. 

“Only a little,” you give him a soft smile before clinking glasses.

It’s some kind of whiskey, served over ice and it’s fucking good. It goes down far too easy, and he immediately takes another pull. You settle next to him while he does, but not so close that you’re touching. Joel is no stranger to how tentative you are with him, still. But he likes you regardless. He’s holding something fickle in his palm, and he understands he’d better hold still so as not to break it. 

“Long day?” you ask, and reach out to trace your knuckle up his arm absentmindedly. 

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs. “Things just keep goin’ wrong.”

“And you’re the problem solver now?”

“Something like that,” Joel says. You’d already drilled him about the ins and outs of his job awhile back. Being a contractor, while it’s a step up from his last job, and makes him more money – is much more demanding. People actually answer to him, now. 

“I’m sorry…that sounds stressful,” you empathize. “I’m sure you’ll get a handle on it soon enough.”

Joel nods. Even if his brain has been telling him otherwise, he’s inclined to believe you. 

Carefully – but not at all hesitantly, you reach out, hand curling around the back of his neck. Its the same one you’d been using to hold your glass so it’s comfortingly cool against his skin – still heated from a day spent under the sun. Joel feels his heart rate pick up as you move in closer. When your lips connect with his own, the kiss is gentle, affectionate. A proper greeting. 

A flash of something, white hot, swipes up the sides of his neck, into his face. He’s a little embarrassed at the effect your touch has on him. Everything is still so new. And he’s hardly gotten the time alone with you to get it out of your system.

You deepen the kiss, it becomes deeper, more sensual, and he feels the switch flip. Almost as though you can sense his arousal, your hand slips down, swiftly unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. Your mouth never leaves his, you never pull away to look down, and he’s hard by the time you cup him through his underwear. And he’s still so taken aback he can’t stifle the noise he makes – directly into your mouth.

Your fingers hook through his belt loops to shuck his pants and underwear down, and the comfort of your body pressed against him disappears. Blinking open his eyes, he reaches out to pull you back. “What are you-” he cuts himself off when he sees you kneeling between his parted knees. 

In response, your hands plant high on his thighs. “What does it look like?” you ask, your chin tilting back, eyes glimmering.

Oh. 

“May I?” So polite, considering the offer. 

Joel nods wordlessly, and he watches you lean forward. His eyes squeeze shut right before you take him in your mouth – because he knows if he doesn’t ease his way into this, he won’t last. 

You don’t waste time teasing or kissing or anything like that. You’re not gonna drag things out. Maybe it’s because dinner’s in the oven and your time is limited, or maybe this is just how you are.

He aches, and in one go, you wrap your mouth around him and take him as deep as you can, he feels your throat constrict when you can’t go any further. Then, you do it again, again. It goes on that way, until he’s coated with saliva and the slide of your lips up and down the length of him feels as soft as the silk of your shirt, which he’s unintentionally fisting, trying to hold back. 

Your hands squeeze his thighs, massaging them gently while you work diligently. It’s fast, but not so fast he can’t enjoy himself. Sloppy, but he prefers it that way. It’s perfect. He thinks you’re fucking perfect. 

He decides he has to see you, watch you, and leans back to take you in more fully. One of his hands rises to slip under your chin, angles your face so your eyes lock with his own.  “Look at me,” he says, a little press to get you to engage. He’s learning how to push you– just enough to get what he needs without scaring you away. And he’s rewarded when you moan around him, the vibration around his cock only bringing him closer to release. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he murmurs, and you groan again at the praise – he relishes in how well he’s getting to know you, learning what gets you off – in the short time you’ve been together. “You look so pretty with your mouth full.” 

Then he moves his hand to sift into your hair, collecting it gently at your nape so it stays out of the way, and he can gently guide you along.

You pull off him for a moment, your breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet. You look so good, out of breath and overworked all just to please him. And you don’t relinquish all contact, your hand replacing, your mouth so you can jerking him off, twisting slightly at the top and letting your thumb run over the head of his cock. “You work so hard, Joel,” you mumble. “Just want to take care of you.”

“Fuck,” he growls at the words. Words he’ll remember on nights when you aren’t lying next to him in bed. He’s got to hold out a little longer, just to see what else you might say. 

It’s all you offer, though, because you wrap your lips around him once more. 

He’s getting close. It wasn’t going to take much to begin with – but it’s the first time you’ve ever gone down on him, it’s been a long day, everything is compiling together to make him feel hotter and hotter, the pressure at the apex of his thighs reaching its precipice. One of your hands leaves his thighs to cup his balls, the other working the part of him your mouth doesn’t reach. He loses all his composure, his head falling back as his hips roll forward, choked sounding phrases leaving him. “Keep going, baby – just like that– so fucking good–”

You obey, because of course you do, and before he knows it – he’s coming, hard. You don’t pull back at all, just swallow him down as he pulses down your throat.

Joel covers his face with his hands and tries to steady his breathing, thoroughly spent. He’s fucking hungry, still, but at this rate, he may fall asleep soon. Warm palms land on his chest. For a moment, he’d nearly forgotten where he was.

“You good?” he opens his eyes to find you hovering over him, amusement in your expression.

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, reaches out. “You can’t be fucking real,” he murmurs softly, hand on your cheek. 

“Oh,” You pull back to retrieve your drink and take a sip. “I’m very real.” 

“Come here.” He rasps, pulling you forward into a kiss. 

When he attempts to deepen it, you pull back slightly. “Hey, uh…dinner’s gonna be ready any minute.” 

“Oh?” Joel asks. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “And I’m actually….well I’m actually kind of proud of it, so maybe we shouldn’t get too distracted.” 

“Really?” Joel settles on pulling you against his chest, and you settle there easily. He’s hit in these moments with the awe that you let him this close, that you’re willing to do even more for him, you already have. “Sarah told me you can’t cook.”

“What?” you say incredulously, your head lifting off his chest. “That’s not true. I can, I just don’t.”

“You seemed to know what you’re doing.” 

“I do,” you say confidently, then grimace. “Well, I mean, I can follow a recipe.”

Joel laughs. “I’m sure it’ll be good.” Your head goes back against his chest. He’s careful not to disturb you too much when he reaches for the remainder of his whiskey. “What is this?”

“Dunno,” and instead of reaching out for your own glass, you bring the hand that holds his own down to your lips to take a sip. He strokes your hair, watches you. “Bourbon.”

“It’s good,” Joel says, and drinks again. He wants to down the glass, then steal from yours like you did to him, but it tastes expensive. 

You continue on. “A client gave it to me today for some pro-bono work I did. It’s probably meant to be served neat, but….it’s too hot for that.”

“Nice of you to help them out.”

You make a noise of affirmation, almost dismissive, and Joel continues on.  “I should be doing more of that sort of thing.”

“It’s alright,” you shrug.

“You know I…..” you trail off for a minute, like you’re trying to decide if you want to share something with him. “All I do is work for corporations all day. I have to be kind of….manipulative? Self-serving. It’s a little exhausting. It’s nice when I can use my skills to actually help people, you know?”

“Can’t really picture you being manipulative,” Joel let’s his thumb graze over your cheek. 

He thinks you might laugh, but instead you pull back, your expression unreadable. It’s easy to see that you’re studying him carefully, and he strokes your arm, giving you the space to continue. “You should know I haven’t always been the best person, Joel. No one has ever really looked out for me, so….”  you trail off. “But I’ve been trying. To be better.”

You say it like you’re not convinced. Like you’ve been told it’ll never be possible. Joel gazes tucks your hair behind your ear reverently. “Wherever you’re at right now,” he says. “Is plenty good for me.”

“Yeah well,” your eyes flicker away – maybe it was too much. “Helps that I’ve been spending all my time with you and Sarah.” You smile gently, then change the subject. “Did you see, she did my nails?” 

Joel looks down at your hands. 

“What do you think?” you ask. 

“They’re very….pink.” 

“They are.” 

Joel is thankful that Sarah has an outlet that’s not himself for something like this. He tries to imagine what it would be like to show up at work with his nails painted, and knows that he’d get shit for the rest of his life. “Better you than me, I guess.”

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

He laughs. 

“Where is Sarah, tonight, anyways?” you ask Joel. 

“My parents take her out for dinner at the end of every school year,” Joel says. 

“Oh,” you seem a little surprised by the mention of his parents. “Do they live nearby?” 

“Not too far,” Joel says. “About an hour and a half drive out of the city, close to Fredericksburg. They’re on a ranch….out in the sticks.” 

“Is that where you grew up?” 

“Yeah,” he can’t help but smile to himself. “It’s different now, but….my parents owned a strawberry patch.” 

“Are you serious?” 

It seems like a different lifetime ago, but Joel still remembers it all so vividly. The busy spring season, visitors from the city flocking to his family’s little farm in the middle of nowhere to pick the ripe fruit straight from the vine. His father had taught him how to mend fences and keep the pests away, and his mother taught him how to tend to the plants, to prune and nurture. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Joel shakes his head, continuing to recall. “Tommy and I would always try to sneak as many strawberries as we could without our parents noticing,” Joel recalls. “And then inevitably eat so many he’d make himself sick, then we’d both get in trouble.” 

“Oh my god,” you shake your head in disbelief. “This doesn’t sound real. I need photos.” 

“I have them…somewhere,” Joel says, and he’s sure they’re buried in a box in the back of his closet. 

“It sounds so…idyllic,” you say, shaking your head. Joel had never thought much of it. Of course, when you’re a kid, your perspective is so narrow. Maybe he didn't realize how good he had it, and he supposes, to the right person, it might sound like a lie. It dawns on him that you're both so fundamentally different, but it doesn't feel that way.

A timer dings in the other room. 

“That’s the oven,” you say, shifting away from him and standing up. You offer him your hand to help him off the couch, and he bats it away, buttoning up his jeans before joining you. “Let’s eat.” 

Joel realizes that all the stress from the day has melted off, and he can’t even remember what exactly had him so flustered earlier. Right now, everything feels alright. 

---

tags: @netflix-imagines @waymorecake4me @yaskna@venomous-ko@lomljigg@yeehawbitchs@ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done@melancholicmelanin@reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer@superflymaterial@mikkorantanev@zbeez-outlet @nadja-antipaxos @strawberri-blonde @jabbajambler @ponyboys-sunsets @kyuupidwrites @r4efromvenus @loveatfirstsight-atlastsight @korianderbandit @nicoleoeoeoe @hotgirlsshareaccounts @madisonred88 @crustyrustydusty @sflame15-blog @issybee0611 @darkemeralddiamond @grandmana @totallynotastanacc @ay0nha @virgogaia @lunarxeclipse @marysucks-blog @jabbajambler @surazim @naiomiwinchester @raindrcpsangel @dorotheapascal @mythical-mushrooms13 @chernayawidow @user294829329 @gushington-central @hollyismentallyillhelp @dresseduplikeacarcrash @corvusmorte @aheartgonewild @19891213 @emoslave44

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[cressidagrey]

The Starlight Princess - Chapter 3

Summary: 

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

Warnings: 

Discussion of the Death of Rhys’ Mother and Sister, Discussion of pre-mediated death, Tamlin bashing, Underage (?) relationships

*Azriel, you can’t do that.* 

*Yes, I can.* 

He really could. 

He wasn’t even hesitating. It wasn’t even a real question. He was certain.  

*No, you can’t. He’s a High Lord,* Seren snapped at him.

*Truth teller will slit his throat just as easily as every other living being.* 

Seren came up short at that.

*Tamlin has known what happened to you for centuries. He helped. I could have forgiven that if he ever bothered to tell Rhys about it,* Azriel seethed.  *But he hasn’t. He has left you there, alone, without help. He has known what he did, Seren, for three centuries. He had more than one opportunity to do the right thing, and he hasn’t done this. I am going to kill him. Your brother should have done that years ago.*

He had more than one reason to kill Tamlin. And they were good reasons too as far as he was concerned. 

*And what do you think will happen to you if another High Lord figures out that you assassinated the High Lord of Spring?* Seren asked him, her voice shaking.  *They are going to hunt you to death.* 

*If they know that it was me.  I do not intend to get caught,” Azriel answered with a mental shrug. 

And even if they did…if it paid for Seren’s return, it was…fair. 

*NO!* 

It was a scream, a bellow in his head, her harsh disagreement with his thoughts. 

So loud, so intense, so shocking, that he flinched. 

* I’ll rather spend another 3 centuries as a fucking pond than let you take the fall for rescuing me!* Seren snapped at him. *I’d rather die than have you take a life for no reason but me!*

No reason but her? She was more than enough reason. 

*I have killed for less, Seren,* he whispered. *Your freedom? I won’t even hesitate. I don’t care what I need to do to get you back.*

No price he would need to pay would be too high. 

He had killed for less. He had been ordered to kill, used as a sword in the hands of a madman. He had been…

*And you hated him for this,* Seren said tightly. *I can live with a lot of things, but I cannot live while you hate me.*

It brought him up short. Why? Why did it matter to her so much? Why did it…Why did she care? 

*Are you serious right now?* Seren growled at him. *Because I love you, you idiot!*

…what? 

 *Because I loved you before I even knew what that was,* Seren hissed at him, anger burning in her voice. *Because there has only ever been you, Azriel! Because you were the standard I compared every other boy to and they all came up short. Because I wanted to run away with you! Because I would have thrown away my whole life if it meant that I could have spent the rest of my time on this cauldron-forsaken earth right by your side! I would have rather had a week with you than a life without you!* And then quietly:  *Because a life without you isn’t worth giving any effort to. And I won’t do it. I won’t take that risk. I don’t want to come back unless I know that I’ll have you at my side. 

His mind was blank, unsure about what to think, unsure of what to say…his heart trembled at her words, at that furious declaration of love that he had never gotten from her before. 

She hadn’t told him she loved him when she had asked him to run away with her. Then it had been her reduced to begging because she didn’t want to be a broodmare sold off to the highest bidder. 

But now there it was. 

The words that he had never thought he would get to hear from her, because he didn’t think for one moment that she saw him as anything other than an older brother. 

The feelings he had for her that he had ruthlessly quashed, because he had no business to feel any of this for her, for Seren. 

She had been too fucking young and…it had been wrong. 

*Oh don’t start me with moral rights and wrongs. I knew exactly what I wanted. My mother was 18 to my father’s 900. I was 17 and you were 140,* Seren cut him off. *It wasn’t like you were trying to seduce me.*

*Your parents were every fucking example of where it could go wrong,* he shot back

*Well, unless you want to marry off your daughter to the highest bidder, you’ll probably do better.* He didn’t. He would never want to do anything like that. His children should be able to choose whoever they love without any input from him. 

And still…he was stuck on…He was stuck on her words. 

She loved him?  She loved him? 

He didn’t deserve that by any stretch of the imagination, he wasn’t worth her love. She was the Princess of the Night Court and he was a bastard that had spent the first decade of his life shoved into a cell in his father’s keep and…she would be better off without him. 

*Cut your self-sacrificing bullshit.* 

She was never going to let him get away with a single thing, was she? He couldn't find it in himself to care. 

And he wanted to give in to her. He always wanted to give in to her.  

*Seren,* he responded weakly. . 

*Azriel,* she sniped back. *Tell me no because you don’t want you, but don’t you dare bullshit me with you not being worth being with me.*

*You know I want you,* he gave back sharply. *You are in my mind, Princess. You know exactly what I feel for you.*

How much he had missed her. How it had always been her and how every other fae that had ever been in his bed had only been a weak replacement for her. 

How much he loved her. 

*Your brother is going to kill me,* Azriel said weakly. *I love you,* he whispered. 

He was probably going to pay the price with burning in the pits of hell for this but he didn’t care. 

If it made Seren happy…it was worth it. 

And she was happy. It bled all over him, every bit of her feeling, delight and happiness and surprise popping in her head like bubbles of the most expensive champagne, and he delighted in that…sunk in that sweet, intimate touch of her mind like into a hot bath. 

*And because I love you, I am going to kill Tamlin,* Azriel said calmly. *It’s not the first time I acted as an assassin and I highly doubt it will be the last. And I am not going to lose a single night of sleep over this, Princess. Because he had over 300 years to do right, and he never did. And I'll do this for us, and I will never fault you for that either.*

She was quiet. Long enough that he expected her to disagree with him again, but he could feel her war with herself.

“Wait until the next full moon. The wards will be weaker then,” Seren finally said quietly. *And don't you dare get caught, Azriel. I'll never forgive you.*

He bit back a smile at that. 

*Full Moon is in three days.* 

Three days. He could deal with three days, right? 

*And once I’ll be home…*

*I’ll be there. I promise you, I’ll be there.*

It was the easiest promise he ever gave. 

But that didn’t stop him from preparing.  

It was an unspoken agreement between himself and Seren that he didn’t tell Rhys. Or anybody else. 

The less people knew, the better. Better only to be his own hopes to be dashed…

And still, the day after, he sought out her room in the House of Wind. Always kept pristine…he could feel Rhys’ magic all over it. Kept as an unspoken reminder of his sister. Never touched, her things never taken or thrown away. 

It was still looking just like it had when she and her mother had left that last time. 

*Anything in particular you want?* he asked her as he stepped into it, carefully, not wanting to disturb anything…other than picking up a dress for her to wear if the breaking of that curse would leave her bare. 

Better safe than sorry, wasn’t it?

*My swords,* she said immediately. *There is a loose floorboard under the bed…I kept them stashed there.*

*Of course,*  he agreed with a chuckle. Of all the things she could want it were the swords first. 

He found them, carefully stashed there…still as perfect as they had been when he had gifted them to her. 

The Amethysts in the hilt glowed brightly as he picked them up carefully, the Illyrian runes inscribed into the hilt…

Brighter than all the Stars in the Night Sky. 

*I am a princess, I am allowed pretty and deadly things,* she harrumphed but and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

*Of course you are, sweetheart,*  he agreed indulging. All the pretty and deadly things she could want. 

*And the purple dress in the chest at the foot of the bed,* she continued. He found that just as easily, the purple dress put on top of everything else in that chest. He picked it up and his gaze was immediately pulled to a black dress lying beneath it, the fabric sparkling with dozens of embroidered dancing stars. 

It was beautiful. 

But he had never once seen her wear that. 

*Did you make it?* he asked her softly. 

*No. My mother did. For my wedding,* she answered, her voice hoarse. 

A wedding dress. Made before she had ever even become engaged. Like her mother had somehow known that…that she wouldn’t be there anymore should that ever happen. 

*It’s beautiful,* Azriel told her, staring at the dress for a moment longer. 

He didn’t allow his thoughts to wander down that road, though he couldn’t help but want to see her in it. 

*Anything else?* he asked her, forcing himself to be practical. 

*Shoes are behind the door. Underwear is in the drawers. Black, please,* she told him primly, though he was quite sure that she was mentally laughing at him when he picked out her underwear like one would a poisonous snake. 

He left her room after that, unable to stomach spending even more time in it. And then promptly ran into Nesta. 

“New weapons, Az?” she asked him instead of greeting him, nodding to the twin swords he kept in his hands. 

“Something like that,” he answered easily. He…wasn’t going to explain Seren to her, or what he was planning to do with the swords or anything, but thank the gods, Nesta didn’t ask him about that either. 

“Did you find what you were searching for in the library? Gwyn said you had a face like thunder,” she teased him.  

*Who’s she?* Seren asked, a note of something in her voice. Was that jealousy? He couldn’t help but bite back the smile at the small hint of it. 

*Nesta. Cassian’s Mate,* he answered calmly, immediately answering the unspoken question of how Nesta stood to him. 

*She’s gorgeous,* Seren said pointedly. 

*Pretty and deadly,*  Azriel agreed. “I did,” he told Nesta aloud. “I found what I was searching for.”

“That’s good,” Nesta agreed. “You’ll come to dinner at the River House tonight?” 

“No, I have plans,” he said immediately. If you called a plan cooking dinner and talking to the cursed Princess making herself a room in his head. 

*Excuse me, I am great company,” Seren complained and he forced himself not to start laughing. 

Nesta would think he had gone off the deep end if he did. 

*You are, Princess,* he promised her. She was the best company. 

“Alright. Don’t work too late,” Nesta told him pointedly.  

“I won’t, I promise,” Azriel gave back easily. 

He wasn’t planning on that. 

But in the end, he didn’t even get to go home, until he could feel Seren’s terror in his mind.

*What’s wrong?* he demanded sharply. Something was happening. He didn’t know what…but at that time he could nearly feel the slight disruption around him…could nearly feel the whole of Prythian shudder…

*The wards are failing, Azriel.*

[guiltyasdave]

are you ever dreaming of me?

series masterlist • this is part IV

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: This got very dark very quickly, but it had to be done. It’s basically just one big love letter from me to Dave and his character. I know Dave’s behavior in the last chapter has been a little frustrating but I hope it’ll make more sense now (it’s still frustrating though ngl). I also know this is not as smut-heavy as the other chapters, which might come as a disappointment to some. Stay with me here, more filth is coming soon, I just had to get emotional for a second. <3 (also, please be nice because I lowkey hate this, actually)

word count: ~3.1k

summary: Dave’s side of the story.

warnings: ANGST, bits of fluff if you squint, age-gap, mentions of killing people, mentions of death, mentions of rough sex, power imbalance, able-bodied reader, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dubios morals (Dave is cheating on his wife… kinda), idiots in love, this whole serious is still very much 18+ only, mdni… did I mention angst? (As always, please tell if if I forgot something!)

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Dave York isn’t a good man.

He isn’t a good man and he hasn’t been in a long time. He probably had been, once, when he first joined the military, when he still thought that he was doing the good thing, the right thing. Before he killed his first man. Now he’s living in shades of gray, where nothing is as simple as right or wrong.

He knows that what he’s doing is not right, but then again, the people that he’s killing aren’t good men either. He’s doing what he’s good at, what he has been trained to do for years. He doesn’t really know what else he’s good at. If there even is anything else.

He makes enough money to provide well for his daughters, the only thing in his life that he really cares about, the two girls that he loves more than anything. He loved their mother too, once, when they were both young. They were high school sweethearts, got married quickly simply because that was the thing that you did, only to realize later that adult life with each other wasn’t what either of them had imagined.

He’s never told Carol what exactly it is that he does, trying to protect her, which then led to her not understanding what was going on when he came home feeling cold and empty, a void inside of him that nothing could fill. They both grew distant from each other, not sharing any real connection anymore, just living aside one another. It works for him; their daughters are still the top priority for both of them, and they’re going to do everything in their power to give them the best possible childhood.

He suspects that Carol is seeing someone else, with the way she’s sometimes working late for no good reason, sliding out of the room to answer her phone at odd hours, the way he occasionally finds a position on their shared credit card bill that he doesn’t have an explanation for.

Dave knows that if he cared, he could easily find out every little detail about it. If he cared, he would probably be angry at how she’s not even making an effort to hide it. But the thing is - he just can’t bring himself to care. Has never done the same thing either, neither out of spite, nor because he had any desire for it.

Until he met her.

Sitting in a hotel bar, two seats over from him, when he’d just gotten a job done and figured that a quick drink might help him fall asleep easier. The whiskey’s burn in his throat didn’t ease the coldness that felt like it had permanently settled into his chest, not that he’d expected it to.

He had just decided to retreat to his room and get out of the city first thing in the morning when she sighed loudly and downed her own drink abruptly. He had noticed her when he walked in, the way he always clocked every person in any room he entered, and every possible exit route. He had absentmindedly noted that she was attractive, then dismissed the thought immediately. Probably here for a date, much younger than him, not paying him any mind. Not a threat, and therefore not important.

Not important at all, until he found himself turning to her and offering to buy her another drink before his mind had even caught up to his actions, learning that she had just been stood up for what would indeed have been a date, noticing the glint of interest in her gaze as she eyed him up and down, feeling a kind of longing that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Getting her to go up to his room with him had been easy. A mutual understanding of wanting each other, the desire to turn a shitty evening into something else, something that he doesn’t think either of them understood at the time.

Kissing her for the first time had been easy, too. Touching her, feeling her hot skin under his fingertips, her entire being so much softer, lighter than he was, felt easy. It felt right, like something that he hadn’t known he was missing right until that moment. He wanted to devour her, make her his, get her as close as he possibly could, before he inevitably had to give up this fleeting moment of something that suspiciously felt like happiness, and happiness never stayed within his reach for too long.

Sinking into her for the first time, hearing her gasp, her breath hot against his neck, felt even better. This was never gonna last, things this good never did. The way she clenched around him when he first slapped her ass and her whimper of “harder, please” turned him feral in a way that he hadn’t known before. How she gave up all control to him so willingly when his entire life had felt out of control for so long - it was addicting. He had known that he would come back for more again and again before he had even spilled himself into her for the first time.

He hadn’t planned for her to stay the night. Hadn’t planned for the way she kissed his lips in the morning, acting a little shy, like she was worried that he might send her away, but so clearly showing him that she wanted more of him, if that was what he wanted. And god damn, did he want to give her more, give her all that he had to offer, if only it wasn’t for the fact that any more of him would be enough to scare her away for good.

So, he didn’t give her more. Made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, told her about his marriage, told her that they couldn’t be a thing. She was quick to hide her disappointment, but not quick enough for him not to notice. He half expected her to walk out then, that this wasn’t something she wanted, but instead she scribbled down her phone number, gave him a flirty smile and told him to call her “whenever”.

He knew he was being greedy, that he should have kept it a one time thing that he could keep a fond memory of, but of course he called her. Kept making stops in her town before flying back home, started spending weekends with her, the feeling of being around her too good to let go of.

He knows that it’s not right, that he’s probably taking advantage of her in some way. Of course he sees how badly she wants to please him, how she looks at him like he’s hung the moon for her. She has never denied him anything, no matter what kinds of depraved things he’s wanted to do with her. Hesitated, yes, but she has never said no. Never called red, never asked him to stop. Not when he first told her to call him “sir”, not when he spanked her for the first time, not when he’s edging her until she’s barely coherent, not when his fingers tightened around her throat for the first time. He could leave her a crying, shaking mess on the floor, and by the end of the night she’d still look up at him with those wide eyes and thank him.

It’s addictive and he can’t stop, always comes back for more when it feels like his whole life is spiraling out of his control again, when the darkness around him is threatening to swallow him whole. She’ll let him grab at her with rough hands, mold her body into any shape he wants, let him spit filth at her and let lose until he feels grounded again, until some of the darkness around him has dissipated.

Lately, work has been weighing on him even harder. Maybe he’s just getting older, maybe he has finally reached his limit, he’s not sure. With the whole week off, an incredibly rare occurrence, he knew who he wanted to spend it with. She had seemed stressed lately, like she needed a break too, so it was easy to convince himself that he was doing this for her. That it wasn’t just a selfish plan of his to spend more time with her.

Because somewhere along the way he has come to enjoy the time with her way too much. He enjoys lying in bed together, both of them catching their breaths, laughing about a stupid joke, the little tidbits from her life that she shares with him, the rare occasions when they’re walking around her neighborhood. The way she shyly grabbed his hand the first time, like she was scared that he would pull it away. The smile that she tried to but couldn’t hide when he didn’t.

This isn’t right and it’s not going to last, he’s well aware of that. As clear as he has been about his intentions, he still feels like he’s leading her on sometimes. But it feels too good to stop, to let go of one of the few comforts that he has in life.

The past few days with her have been heaven. He hadn’t anticipated how much he would enjoy spending so much uninterrupted time with her, how good it would feel to be around her the entire day, just watching her be herself and listening to her talking. And he has been talking as well, the feeling of speaking to someone without an ulterior motive, of someone listening to him just because they wanted to, more meaningful to him than he could put into words.

And all throughout, she had so willingly bent to his every wish, put all her trust into him, secure in the knowledge that in the end, he would take care of her.

So, Dave had let his guard down. Relaxed. Then the dream happened.

Last night, he had come home to find the girls slaughtered in their house, their small bodies soaked in blood. It’s a recurring nightmare, a fear that he can never entirely shake off, that haunts his subconscious every couple of weeks. He’s being thorough in his work, never leaving loose ends, keeping his private life concealed from the world that he moves in. The risk that anything could happen to them is as low as he can push it, but it’s not zero. Never zero, and it’s eating at him. Usually, he wakes up alone, gasping for breath, the sheets soaked with sweat. Him and Carol haven’t slept in the same bed for a long time.

Last night, it had been different. It had been different because she had been there beside him, shaking him awake and holding him in her arms until he calmed back down. It had also been different because she had been part of the dream. Just as dead, just as blood-soaked as his daughters.

She had been so sweet when he woke up, and it broke his heart. He wasn’t a good person. He was endangering everyone around him, he was endangering her by not being able to end this thing with her, and yet here she was, oblivious, comforting him.

He had always thought that eventually, he would be the one to break things off. But what if it was her? What if she figured out what a pathetic excuse of a man he was, that he couldn’t give her anything? Not a real relationship, and no future. He couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let her see who he was. What he did, what he was afraid of - and just how realistic those fears were.

He couldn’t even bear to picture the look on her face if he ever told her. The betrayal, the disgust, and eventually the fear. He couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t. But how could he go on with this, knowing that every minute that he spends with her, he puts her in danger? Someone could find out. Someone could find her.

So does what he does best. Makes a plan. Suppresses his emotions until he’s sure of what to do. How to keep her safe. The logical part of his mind arrives at a solution pretty quickly: She’ll be safest if she stays away from him.

The emotional part of him, the part that he tries to keep shut down, doesn’t approve of this idea.

He has to tell her. Sooner rather than later, while the dream is still fresh in his memory, while he can still see her dead body when he closes his eyes.

Because he obviously knew about the dangers of being with him when he first laid eyes on her. When he kissed her for the first time, texted her for the first time, walked up to her apartment for the first time, when he booked this damn vacation because he’s unable to stay away from her. Unable to think straight when it comes to her. There’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t be with her and yet, he always finds a reason not to quit.

He tells himself that he’ll speak to her as soon as she gets up. Then once he’s done with his phone call. Maybe after they’ve had breakfast. At the end of the day, when they’re back in the room. He never does. He can’t.

The tension has become unbearable at that point. He knows that she’s confused, that she has questions that he doesn’t have answers for. His life feels out of control once again, so he tries gaining it back in the only way that he knows.

He half expected her to refuse him, but she seems just as relieved as he feels when he tells her to get down on her knees. Afterwards, he doesn’t feel better. Possibly hates himself even more.

He can tell that she’s off afterwards, and he’s battling himself to comfort her. This is not what he should be doing. None of this is what he should be doing.

Usually, she tucks herself into the space between his shoulder and his chest before he can even say a word. Not tonight. Tonight, she had her back turned to him before he had even switched off the lights, the “good night” that she normally breathes against his neck nothing more than a murmur from her side of the bed.

He stares at her backside in the darkness of the room, the way she seems to be curling in on herself, and he has no idea what to do. What they just did seemed like what she wanted, she had appeared eager, enthusiastic even, but maybe he read her wrong. Shit, he hadn’t even asked for her color once.

It’s quiet for a long time. He finally feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep, when her hears her sniffle. His eyes fly open again. It’s only minimal movements, but he can see her tremble ever so slightly. Fuck it, he thinks to himself as he reaches out towards her.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

You tense at his words, at the fact that he’s apparently awake. Has probably been the whole time. You try your hardest to make your voice sound normal, even though you know that it’s pointless.

“Nothing.”

It comes out even weaker than you had anticipated. You keep your back to him and feel him shuffling closer, his hand gently pulling at your shoulder to turn you towards him. “Baby. Talk to me.” His voice is soft in your ear and your heart is beating painfully in your chest. Baby. He has never called you Baby before. You feel a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes and shake your head but let him turn you around until you’re facing him.

His eyes search your face in the faint moonlight that’s filtering into the room and his hands cup your damp cheeks, his thumbs gently running over the skin under your eyes. The worry that’s so evident in his expression right now makes you want to break down. You’re exhausted, and confused, and you don’t understand the man in front of you and his contradictory behavior at all. So far you’ve been crying silently, but you can feel your bottom lip trembling as you try to suppress the sobs that are threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Did I- shit, was I too rough, did I hurt you? You didn’t say anything, but I never asked- I should’ve checked, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” you whisper, cutting off his frantic rambling. He didn’t, not in the way that he’s referring to, anyway.

“Then what’s wrong?” he pleads, his hands still on your face, “Talk to me.” You inhale deeply. You really don’t want to have this conversation, but maybe it’s best like this. Rip the bandaid off, make it quick.

“Do you want to leave?”

Your voice breaks on the last word. He stares at you for a beat, his eyes wide. “Do I- What?” You shrug, unable to bring yourself to ask a second time. One of his hands slides down to your shoulder, holding you there. He doesn’t speak, his eyes boring into you.

You can’t hold his gaze any longer, your eyes dropping down to his chest instead. “You’ve been… weird. Today. I thought- I don’t fucking know, that I had done something or that you’ve-” a sob breaks free and interrupts you, “that you’ve had enough of me. That you don’t want to go on with… this.” You gesture helplessly between the two of you.

You’re certain that now you’ve said too much, that if he hadn’t had enough before, he definitely has now. You’re supposed to be fun, a distraction, not someone who’s clinging to him, but you’re feeling too exhausted, too raw to keep pretending like this thing between you doesn’t mean something. To you, at least.

“Fuck,” Dave mumbles, and you gaze up to see the anguish in his eyes before his arms envelop you and he presses you against his chest, speaking into your hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a minute as you’re inhaling his scent, trying to calm yourself down, when something occurs to you. “You didn’t say no,” you whisper into his chest, “you said that I didn’t do anything, but… you didn’t say that you don’t want to leave.” Dave freezes for just a second, searching your face, then he sighs heavily. He sounds defeated, you think.

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter

let me know if you wanna be added, also no hard feelings if you wanna be removed! 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

series masterlist

[strniohoeee]

Dolor Pt. 2

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N hasn’t seen Chris in a year and a half, but with the help of her friend she’s surprised by them🤭 Will those feelings still be there for one another?

Warnings⚠️: None, I’m not too sure how I feel about this one, but I had no other idea on how to write it so I hope y’all enjoy 🙃

Song for the imagine: ANGEL- Brent Faiyaz

Read part 1 here🫶🏽

Don’t ever leave my side, baby I’ll die

But from what I know, you’re always here to stay

You’re an angel in disguise

It has been a solid year and half since Chris and I broke up, a solid year and half of never seeing him or his brothers. It was very hard, but it also flew by. I wasn’t sure where a year and half went. It was honestly scary.

We both told each other we’d love to cross paths, and reconnect in a few months to be friends, but life got in the way, and that never happened. I’m honestly glad it didn’t, we were both so busy I believe it helped us move on from one another faster.

We all stood mutuals with each other on instagram and TikTok, but we just didn’t interact with each other. I watched them grow in all aspects, and it was amazing. I thought I’d be there to witness it first hand, but instead I was watching from the sidelines….it hurt me, but it had to be done.

My TikTok was flooded with videos of them from their tour they were just on, and it’s honestly crazy how much people can change in a year and a half. That didn’t even look like Chris. He was much more mature looking, sculpted cheekbones, shorter hair, stubble on his face…..Chris was looking good.

I shook that feeling off because I could not allow myself to fall back in love with Chris. It took me a long time to move on from him. I will always love the kid, but to fall out of love was hard. I hadn’t seen or talked to any other guys since splitting with Chris, and I wasn’t too sure if that was the same with him. Deep down I hoped it was.

I was scrolling on TikTok one day when I saw a clip of the triplets from their recent podcast video, they were doing a Q and A video, and somehow Chris pulled out a question asking about me. I decided to watch the video

“Okay so this person says how’s Y/N, and how have you been since the breakup. I’m currently going through my own break up right now, and I just need some advice” Chris read out

“So uh this is a good question. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve last seen Y/N, and it’s crazy to say it’s been that long, but it has. With the relationship we had and how special it was it took me a full year to finally be able to feel okay, and understand why we split up. It hurt and some part of me still hurts, but we told each other the night we broke up that we both will be okay because we’re strong, and that’s something I’ve been holding on to. I presume that she’s okay, I’ve seen her instagram posts and her TikTok’s, and she looks amazing. I actually really miss the girl. So I hope she’s doing great, and for you going through your break up just know everything happens for a reason and you’ll be okay take your time and work on yourself” he said

Oh god this was making it so hard for me not to call Chris and ask to see him….I missed him so badly

I scrolled some more and another clip popped up

“This person wants to know do you still love Y/N” Nick asked Chris

“Oh 100% that woman is my everything. Like we’ve said in the past we hope to cross paths again” Chris said nodding his head

This has to be a sign? Like this has to be a sign that I have to see him, that Chris and I are meant for each other right? Or am I being delusional……

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to call him, text him or just ignore all this and keep it pushing in life. I felt torn between my decisions

Today I was getting ready to film with Larray and Arrington. I had gotten so close to them within the last year, and we always filmed together. Larray was my biggest supporter in all this, and he was also friends with the triplets which kind of made it hard, but he never got in between anything. Although he hoped and prayed that we’d get back together one day I always told him time will tell.

He had an idea where we all stay in his car for 24 hours with special guests. I wasn’t sure who these guests were, and I wasn’t sure why he wanted us to stay in a car for 24 hours, but I agreed I knew it would be fun.

I had driven over to Larrays house, and let myself in

“YOOOOO” I yelled from the door

“Were in hereeee” Arrington yelled back

Oh god I was the last one here….I hated this, but anyways I walked to Larrays room, and when I walked in my heart sank

“Oh” was all I said as I walked in

“Hiiiii baby” Larray said, causing everybody to turn around with him the triplets face dropping

“What’s? Uh….whats going on” I said looking at Larray

“We’re filming a video, and I brought my friends” he said back

“It’s been so long” Chris said looking at me saddened

“It ummm it has” I said smiling at him

“We have missed you so fucking much….holy shit” Nick said running over and hugging me

“Uhh it’s been so fucking long I missed yall too” I said hugging him

“Matt you look so different now” I said jaw dropping and giving him a hug

“Good different I hope” he said hugging me

“Of course good different” I said laughing at him

I moved to Chris

“You look so different too” I said pulling him in for a hug

“I’ve missed you” he said hugging me tighter

“Missed you too” I said pulling away

After chatting for a bit Larray decided to film his introduction for his channel

“Alright bitches we are filming a 24 hour car video today, and of course I had to bring in my ride or dies Arrington and Y/N” he said and both Arrington and I made an entrance

“And then you know Larray had to stir the pot, so he brought the triplets” Arrington said to the camera causing us to laugh

“As uhhh most of you know there’s uh an elephant in this room between uh two people, but ummm we won’t talk about it” Larray said

And we just laughed at him

“You are so messy” I said to him rolling my eyes playfully

“Alright let’s get to the car bitches” he said and we ran out

I sat in the passenger seat, Chris and Arrington in the back, and then Nick and Matt in the third row

“Alright so right now we’re driving to Target which is 45 minutes away because Larray decided to do this video during rush hour” I said to the camera

“Uh- is that a drag?” He asked me

“It sure is” I said to him

“So Y/N….you said Matt looks different….you already had Chris so will you try another brother” Arrington asked me

I looked back at him jaw on the floor, as Chris and his brothers were laughing

“You weirdo Arrington, I will not fucking get with Matt” I said shaking my head

“Could you believe this kid” I said looking at the camera

“Ouuuu the fans want to know how many boyfriends since Chris” Larray asked me

“Boyfriends plural? Do they think I’m a slut….its only been a year and a half guys, and there’s been zero guys since Chris” I said shrugging my shoulders

“OHHHHHH CHRISSSS” Larray and Arrington yelled at him hyping him up

“She loves me too much to do that” Chris said to the camera

“Uh-“ I said turning around to look at him

“I’m just kidding” he said and touched my face playfully

“SAW THAT” Nick and Matt yelled from the back

We had finally gotten to Target, and Chris and I were paired up to go on the hunt for some things, and we had to vlog it together

“Alright guys I’m here with uh….my ex” I said to the camera

“What a great reunion” he said looking at the camera

“Who would’ve thought a year and a half later we’d be in Target shopping for a video together” I said looking at him

“I honestly thought it would’ve happened sooner, but I mean hey” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Oh whatever” I said rolling my eyes at him

Him and I were doing some shopping and grabbing some stuff, and we had found ourselves in the coloring book aisle

“Look the Disney coloring book, your favorite” he said leaning down to grab it

“You remembered?” I asked him

“Of course I did, and you only get specific coloring pencils cause you’re weird” he said laughing

“Hey don’t be mean” I said laughing at him

“It’s cute” he said smiling at me

“Do you ever think about us?” I asked him

“Pretty often actually” he said looking at me

“Do you think you see a future with me” I asked him

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and every time I picture my future you’re a main character in it” he said looking into my eyes

“This year and a half has been rough, and I so badly wanted nothing more than to cave and call you over, and just hold you tight” I said looking down

“I sat in my room for so many nights wondering if the decision I made was right, and after a while I just became numb to the feeling, but I want this again….I want us” he said

“I think we should start slow first. I want us to truly work out this time no break ups no nothing” I said to him

“I think so too, you should come film with us again we miss you so much, and the fans miss you too” he said

“I’ve seen…all over my tik tok” I said smiling at him

“Yeah they love you and I love you too so much” he said pulling me in for a hug

We finished vlogging some, and headed back to the car with everybody getting back in our original seats

“Okay everybody we are back, we’re going to go eat something and then we’ll be back in the car for the next 24 hours” Larray said

After we ate we went back into Larrays car trying to stick out this challenge and just chatting with each other asking each other questions

“How many girlfriends since Y/N?” Larray asked Chris

“None. I told yall she’s the love of my life” he said looking at the camera

“Awww Chris” I said looking at him

“HEY CITY GIRLS UP. Do not fall for this” Arrington said

“Shut the fuck up” I said laughing at him

“What’s one regret you have” Nick asked us

“I think my biggest regret was completely dropping you guys out of my life. Like no interactions no nothing that hurt the most” I said to them

“We appreciate that” Matt said

“How do you guys feel after seeing each other” Matt asked Chris and I

“Is this a hot seat? What are we doing” Chris said

“Shut the fuck up and answer” Nick said

“I feel at peace, like seeing him was the last piece to my puzzle. I still love Chris of course, and we’re hoping to take things slow, and eventually get together again” I said to them

“Yeah. I love her so much, and seeing her today brought back all those memories. Memories that made my heart flutter, and I knew I couldn’t let her go again” he said looking at me

“Yall cute as shit this has got to stop” Larray said

“So yall heard it here first they are back together” Arrington said to the camera

“WOAH WOAH NO” we both said putting our hands out

“We are taking it slow…we are not dating yet, and trust me you guys will know when we’re back together. It’s a maybe for right now” I said to the camera

“But she will be in our videos again” Chris said

“SHE WILL?” Nick and Matt said

“Yes she will!” He said to them

“FUCK YES FINALLY” Nick said getting excited

We had chatted for a good thirty more minutes before we decided this challenge was not going to happen

“Alright guys we did not make it, but we love you and we’re heading inside now” Larray said

“BYEEEEEE” we all yelled to the camera, Chris pulling me in and kissing my forehead

“Are you guys going to soft launch your comeback before I post this?” Larray asked us

“You know that’s not a bad idea actually” I said looking at Chris

“We could do that. I’d love to do that” he said pulling me in and kissing my cheek

“Yall soft launching but he smoochin on you” Matt said looking at us

“Uhhhh mind your business” Chris said sticking his tongue out at him

“OMG to keep it like private you guys could do like a couples shadow picture” Nick said

“Waittttt I love that let’s do it” I said to Chris

We had snapped the picture, and Chris posted it collabing with me once again so I can post and share it. Nick and Matt also shared it to their story saying the gangs back together and they can’t wait to film with me again. Immediately the love we got was INSANE

❤️nicolassturniolo,matthew.sturniolo,larray, and 450,000 others

christophersturniolo: I told you guys we’d always always find a way back to one another. Although we aren’t dating again we will be thinking about it for our future. I love this girl with my whole fucking heart, and I’m so glad we’re in each others lives again. She was my right person at the wrong time.My number one girl💍. Were back BITCHESSSSS🥳

Sturnioloteam: STFU THEYRE BACK

arringtonallen: mhmmm I was here for this picture so back off everyone

nicolassturniolo: mama and papa🫡

matthew.sturniolo: yall cute or whatever…..

larray: yall can thank me for this reunion MHMM💅🏽

Y/Nusername: my number one guy…love this kid so much💋

sturnioloooooo: I knew mom and dad would find each other again

The immense love we received was insane. Had you told me a year and a half ago today that all that pain would be gone, and we would find each other again I would laugh in your face. I guess I am making it to the end of his story….🥀

The End

I hope you guys liked this one I feel ehhh about it, but I had to have a happy ending🥹 but anywho let me get to writing some more 🖤

-J💅🏽

[bullet-prooflove]

"And I’ll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose" with Stuart Scola, pretty please??

Tagging: @trublu2u @burningpeachpuppy @district447 @stelacole @kmc1989

Little Changes - Stuart notices when you start to make little changes.

The Last Time - You and Stuart face a problem regarding your wish to start a family.

Fresh - You decide you need to start fresh.

Seduction (NSFW) - You decide to seduce Stuart.

Stuart still dreams about you being a mom. He thinks about it everytime you’re in the vicinity of a child, picking up a fallen toy or stopping one from running out into the road. You’d be the fun parent, the creative one.

For you that dream has died, you’ve buried it, grieved for it…

“I’ve accepted it,” You tell him your first day returning to the field in two years.  “There’s no point in keeping my life on hold for something that’s never going to happen.”

The whole thing wrenches at his chest because he knows that having a family is still within your reach, that you still have options but you won’t even consider them.

“Surrogates change their minds, adoptions fall through.” You tell him when he tries to discuss it with you one morning over breakfast. “I can’t face that level of uncertainty.”

He can tell the conversation is over because you get up and head upstairs to take a shower.

The thing is, you may have moved on but Stuart hasn’t. He hasn’t told you that he still keeps a tiny stuffed panda in the top drawer of his desk at work, he bought it the first time you took a pregnancy test because he was so sure it would take. He takes it out when he’s alone sometimes, runs his fingers through it’s fur.

That’s what he’s doing when Jubal escorts the social worker to his desk, the one that’s apparently been trying to track him down over the last few days.

“I don’t understand, I’m not working any cases with kids.” He says as he tucks the panda back in the drawer and closes it.

“This is more of a private matter.” She tells him.

It’s in the conference room he learns he has son. A  three year old called Jack.

Back when you broke off the engagement to go undercover Stuart fell into old habits, drinking, fucking. One of the people he did that with was Nina Chase…

Nina Chase who had recently been killed in action during a raid on fentanyl lab.

Nina Chase who he had apparently gotten pregnant after a one night stand and had neglected to mention that the last time they ran into each other on case.

“Are you sure?” He asks the social worker because right now his head feels like it’s going to explode and he has no idea how the hell he’s supposed to feel.

“You’re listed on the birth certificate and in her will.” The social worker confirms as she removes the documentation from her satchel and pushes it across the desk towards him. He flicks through it, studying the details intently. It’s when he sees a picture of Jack that something just clicks, the kid has his eyes, the exact same shade of blue.

It’s the letter that comes with the will that confirms what he’d already guessed. The two of them had hooked up a month before you walked back into his life. By the time she found out she was pregnant you were back together, engaged again. She hadn’t wanted to fuck that up.

He’s waiting for you in the kitchen when you get home, a glass of whiskey in his hand and the documentation in front of him.  

“I know that face.” You say as you set your bag down on the kitchen counter. “That’s the ‘you’ve done something I’m not going to be happy with’ face.”

You come to stand in front of him, your hands resting on your hips and his heart pounds in his chest because this, this is going to upend your entire world and truthfully he doesn’t know where you’re going to land.

What he does know is, he’s going to raise his child, with you or without you.

“Sasha.” He says softly as he pushes the file towards you. “We need to talk.”

Stuart? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Haruhi and her frogin freind are out shopping together

How would three character of the host club be when they stalking them!

You and Haruhi have finally gotten together after so long. Traveling with your father’s business you’ve met quite a few people in your travels: karate masters, a flamboyant blonde, a really persuasive guy with glasses, and so many more. But nothing is like the market in your hometown or rather one of your hometowns. 

Unbeknownst to you and Haruhi, the Ouran Host Club can’t help but follow after the mysterious person they met just last Summer. 

Tamaki Suoh

“What a surprise the damsel we’ve been talking about happens to be here! Charge onward!” 

He’s too excited and far too loud about his ambitions to follow you

Their ‘king’ isn’t exactly the best at covert operations despite his inclination for them

And if you or Haruhi don’t already know he’s there one of you will find him out

If it's you, you’ll call him asking ‘what brings you here?’

And he happily will join you two 

Buying whatever he sees your eyes linger on 

even if it's only a moment

When the day finally ends and you wave goodbye to make sure Haruhi gets home he waits for you

Now Tamaki Suoh could very well stay away from you watching protectively as you get home

But he’s too much of a gentleman to let you go alone

Or that he absolutely feeds off of your attention

Even if you originally refuse he won’t let you he’ll still escort you

Even attempting to invite himself inside but when he notices your frantic breathing and darting eyes he excuses himself 

Making a show of driving away before instructing that they return in a couple hours

“My poor angel! All alone in such poverty! I just have to make sure they sleep well!”

Kyoya Ootori

“I’d also appreciate an in-depth look at their…personal life.” 

He has to control his excitement with a push of his glasses

Typically he’d leave such a job to his…hired help 

He gets plenty of updates from them but nothing beats getting the facts of his future spouse from ground zero

If he wasn’t so pretty and such a smooth talker it might have been easier not to be swarmed 

But eventually, he gets a disguise good enough that he can continue to silently follow after 

He’s sloppy because he hasn’t done this before or rather its been a while since he has

But he manages to maintain his cover

Making sure to make note of your conversation and preferences as you stop for food or buy different items 

When the day ends he tails you from a distance by driver as he notes the safety of your route and neighborhood 

Being sure to complain threaten the city council about the lack of lighting in specific alleyways

Of course, he will collect the Ootori photographers’ work for the day and decide which one he wants for his calendar, his wallet, his corkboard, his office wall, his bedside, his ceiling

“I’ve seen enough of their common lifestyle, it's time I elevated that. After all, we can’t have my love of all people being forced to live so below their means.”

Hikaru Hitachiin

“Well, aren’t you two cuties looking happy today!” 

He’s already an avid stalker of yours 

Now Haruhi is so used to this behavior she can wave it off calming any suspicions you have when you recall how this same situation occurred once before

Just like he planned

But now there's no shaking him off now 

He’s following the both of you all throughout the day

Being sure to pick off your food with the toothpick that you’d been sucking on

Or being sure to lick the strokes on your popsicle you bought just moments before

Taking every opportunity to pull at your fingers whenever he wants to look at a ‘commoner’s’ stall

He’s even walking you home 

Actually, he’s decided he wants a sleepover 

You can’t refuse him, can you?

Because he does have that photo of you

How’d he get it? He’ll never tell

But you best cook him some commoner alternative to Italian cuisine

Otherwise, you’ll just have to pack up and come to his house

“Don’t forget (Y/n)~ you owe me for destroying this picture~! So what’s it going to be?”

Kaoru Hitachiin

“Hey, I’m glad I ran into you here! Been trying to widen my horizons and decided to try the commoner’s market! Mind if I hang out with you guys?”

He’s a lot more casual 

Having a bonafide reason why he’s here 

You would have never guessed he had bugged your phone when you last met

He’s great at acting casual 

Oddly less mischievous without his brother 

It's easy to oblige when he asks you to pose a ring for him

‘Don’t worry about it! It's for a friend of his!’ is what he says

Or when he asks about what you like off-handedly returning with it in hand from a supposed bathroom break

He’ll walk you and Haruhi home 

So nice you only think it nice to offer your bathroom for the long drive he was in for on the way home

He couldn’t be happier to see the forgotten clothes strewn in your bathroom in person

Or letting the water run while he holds your toothbrush in his mouth then switch it with his decoy

“Thanks for spending your day with me! We’ve got to schedule one of around one of these days, preferably just the two of us!”

Mitsukuni “Honey” Haninozuka

“(Y/n)-channn!!! Come try this commoner food! It really is delicious!”

Honey has two stalking styles the silent type that makes use of his ninja prowess 

And the type that just abandons watching you from afar entirely

He typically resorts to the former when you're out with potential rivals 

Sabotaging every way he can before he results to pummeling the problem this person

But this time, it's personal

Haruhi is his friend but you are his future his sweetie cake just ripe for the taking

And while with most friends he doubts you’d be interested as he’s pretty confident they get the memo

But he knows Haruhi just draws people in that way 

And he will not let that happen

So every time you go to look into her eyes he’s shoving ice cream, cake, tarts, his face in between you two

It's so much like his normal personality so neither of you questions it

It's also nothing to question when he walks you home before letting himself inside to give you whatever sweet you like

If you don’t like sweets he’s just bringing cake that he can invite himself to eat it

You can’t really stop him when he insists on exploring your home as if he didn’t already memorize where everything is

Moving faster than you can grab a hold of him he might let you go if you hug him+

“Wowww (Y/n), your house is so small! Y’know you should come to my house, it's way bigger! You can even have your own room at my place!”

Takashi Morinozuka

“...I didn’t want to disturb you two.”

He’s really good at this 

Athleticism and stealth when he really tries give him the advantage

The only thing that can throw him off his game is you

He either gets lost as he watches you gush over a keychain or a stall you were particularly passionate about 

So busy swooning silently that he’ll hardly notice when Haruhi finally taps him awake 

With him, she’s the only one who can quite obviously tell 

And since Mori has hardly shown any worrisome behavior she invites him

He’s so excited to be noticed by you 

And will enthusiastically nod his head whenever you talk to me

Probably offered by Haruhi he’ll walk you home

Only now speaking more than he typically would

He can’t help but blush as he sees you continue to look at him only him

When he bids you goodnight he’ll stand in front of your home for awhile 

Intensely watching your silhouette pad around in the window as you start your nightly routine

Imagining himself alongside you after his timer goes off he leaves reluctantly

Switching out with his subordinates

“Goodnight, (Y/n).”

[meidui]

Hiii 👋

I hope you’re well, I wanted to thank you for all the content you provide. I’m able to satisfy that little monster inside while I gobble all the Steve, Tony and Marvel content you provide us.

I also didn’t know if you take request/ writing ideas?

I don’t know if there’s any fic out there like this or what to even use to search for this… if there’s not, then it’s okay I just saw it and was intrigued by it. Apparently I like to hurt when our boys are in pain.

Im soo sorry this is a bit of a long one… 🫂 please bear with me..

So I was reading this post a few days back (I don’t remember who posted it) about when Hulk/ Bruce Banner told some people that “Steve Rogers was not a virgin, he lost his virginity with a woman during the USO tour.” But they explained that it complicated the love story with Peggy and Steve since Steve had feelings for Peg and that she was the love that gotten away.

Then it goes into, how Steve was very impressionable - when that one woman that pulls him over to kiss him before he seen Howard and Peggy seen. And that technically Steve is property of the US government because he was part of the military AND the serum - after all, all he wanted to do was to serve his country, even if there was a price to pay for it. And that in ways like that, that Steve was abused by the government and goes along the same fan theory of Bucky getting sold to other officials during the time he was under Hydra’s control. That Steve was sold, or his body was to other powerful individuals in the government.

I just thought of this and it makes sense… and puts another layer of depth we don’t think about. That there are parallels to his story as it does with Bucky.. but I was thinking, that during Captain America: Civil War where they’re in the final fight ( Bucky & Steve against Tony ) they’re not just throwing punches but talking/ yelling at each other. And Tony goes “what so wrong with you that you won’t do this simple thing for me? It’s not like you’re selling your soul over to ‘the man’/government.”

And Steve, pour baby Stevie, stumbles when those words hit his ears. Stumbles and shatters. His ears echoing with the words and his mind flashed back to the times where he had been. And he breaks down, completely and utterly broken. Sobs, like he hasn’t before and both Tony and Bucky see this. Had never seen this pillar of America Values and “I can do this all day” attitude crying as he slumps to the ground and that’s when he tells them ( doesn’t have to be all but the bullet points of what happened ) what he went through while he was under the hands before he joined the Howling Commandos. And even can be when he got recalled after each infiltration of a Hydra base.

Can even have them still holding a grudge but Tony on some level understands. He’s seen what some government officials have done, has seen what some people in power will do. Hell what he let happen with the weapons until he was kidnapped in Afghanistan. So they work together to bring down Hydra, Shield, the US government that is backing the accords and while this happens, they are creating their own accords. Something that appeases the people & other governments but also doesn’t jeopardise all inhumans, super hero’s, etc. The people that don’t want the attention or the change in their normal lives as if they would if they had to register.

And Bucky, sweet, mind recovering Bucky, goes all mother hen. “I didn’t know this Stevie, if I had, we could have gotten you out. Went on the run and not let them hurt you again.” That he understands too because even though he is still trying to figure out what happened to him with the mind control, something in his core knows that he went through something of the same calibre.

Okay, so this is very specific (I kinda went full in 😬)… and there might not be something like this, but maybe along the lines 🤷‍♀️ ? But have you read anything like that? Or know how to search something like this…?

(If you like this idea and wanna write it, I’m okay with that. )

hello!! hehe thank you there's also a little monster in me that has to make stevetony content or else it'll throw a tantrum

omg i love this so much, this was the angstiest treat ever and it reminds me of finnick after he won the hunger games 😭 i don't know of any fics that are exactly like this, but here are some similar ones! thank you to steve fic connoisseur extraordinaire @bulkyphrase for finding them <3

America Thanks You by @lbibliophile

Captain America was born on the USO stage, but his duties went beyond that. Behind the stage lights, ‘Captain America’ does whatever is required to aid the war effort.

Natasha and Tony learn what didn’t make it to the history books.

put on that red light by Anonymous

Steve does what is asked of him.

For Sale, One Super Soldier, Slightly Used by valtyr

Movieverse hookerfic. Don't judge me. I guess maybe issues of consent in the social pressure kind of way?

Not a Perfect Soldier by @captaintoomanybattles

In a world where HYDRA was wiped out in the '40s, Steve is found by the Army rather than SHIELD. General Thaddeus Ross wants a perfectly obedient super-soldier at his command, and to that end, he sets out to break Steve to his will. As Steve struggles to come to terms with all he has lost, his life in captivity is only made bearable by the presence of another prisoner-- another super-soldier known only as "Soldat".

Then the Avengers strike a deal with Ross to "borrow" him for missions, and Steve is faced with a team who dislikes him, an organization he doesn't trust, and the question of what he's willing to do to escape Ross's clutches.

[lynnbeth5172]

Blacked Last Night V

This felt odd.

He felt it when he walked to her dorm after he finished an essay, he had his notes for French in hand and a small crunchie bar in his pocket. It was currently 8:30, he knew he should probably be asleep or something but he had nothing else best to do.

Michael hasn’t been to anyone’s dorm but Vivi’s, feeling his hands sweat as he made it to her dorm room. So far he hasn’t seen Oliver with his posh friends, he was well.

Knocking on her door and hearing the rattling of a pill bottle and footsteps coming near the door, opening it hesitantly.

“Hey…” She opened the door slightly more, she was in a blue long sleeve and a pair of jeans. She looked pretty, with her hair tied back into a braid; though it looked slightly messy, as if she had laid in her bed. Though still very pretty.

“Hi, sorry if it’s late but…just thought we’d do it now.” He felt heat rise in his cheeks and he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut, Vivi hesitated but opened the door.

“Won’t take too long, right?”

“No,  just a few words then I’ll leave.” He came into the room and glanced at  her again.

“Do you know any other language?” 

“Erm…Latin .” He scratched the back of his head and sat at the desk, he put his notes on her desk as he felt her come near the desk; looking down at his notes, she looked at him before he gave a small nod.

“Start with simple…say ‘Hi’ in French,” 

“Salut.” He felt as if he said the words wrong but he didn’t mind much, Vivi nodded and smiled. Patting him on the shoulder, there was a small bit of warmth there that spread though he ignored it.

She glanced at his notes again.

"You have good handwriting, very neat." Michael froze and felt red come to his face, was he blushing? Did she just compliment his handwriting? No one has ever done that, say for his cousin and mother but besides that. No one ever said that.

"Um...thank you, I.." He searched for a compliment and looked at her, she glanced up at him and he found his voice:

"I like your eyes."

Vivi glanced up and looked almost surprised but soon a smile appeared on her face. He wondered if that was the first compliment she ever received about them, people would be truly stupid as to not notice her eyes.

"Thank you, used to think that were too big but now...I think they suit me well." She smiled and looked away, was she blushing as well?

"They aren't...they're quite lovely." They looked at each other a bit longer before quickly looking away, Michael excusing himself to go outside for a breather.

God Gavey get it together, you two are just studying...she was just trying to be nice. One compliment and you're hard as a fucking rock...what's gotten into you?

He took in another breath, it's okay. It's fine...granted him being hard wasn't fine but it'll go away, probably just need to touch himself for it to truly go away but she'll notice.

Just shove it down.

Quickly wiping his sweaty palms onto his trousers, he took in a breath and made it back inside her dorm. She now had her hair down and it made her even more pretty, ignoring the hardness in his trousers and sat back down.

“Sorry that I did that…never was told that I had good handwriting.” He scratched the back of his head and felt his face become red, it was true; almost no one truly complimented him, his family did only. Oliver did as well though it felt as though it was almost a forced compliment.

“It’s okay…I feel the same, been the same for me; Usually people would say my eyes were too large for my head…looked odd compared to my lips.” He looked at her then at her lips, again. They looked lovely.

“Just not used to them often…especially after I developed agoraphobia, heard they called me weird or something.” Michael felt a prick of shame in his gut, he had been one of them who said that. He remembered hearing Farleigh Start say that as well.

“Well you complimented me…and I did that same for you.” He hated how embarrassed he felt, looking at Vivi’s lips again before looking away and at the table.

“True I suppose.”

An awkward pause.

“So…back to French?” He nodded and they went on;

“Comment se passe ta journée?”

“Assez bien…” He felt his face become red again and he felt her staring at him.

“How do you say it then?”

“Assez, don’t say it too hard…make it roll off the tongue.” He tried again, sounded slightly better but not as good as hers. Vivi smiled and said he tried and was good enough.

After a while it became a bit easier for him to do, some words were easier to pronounce and some weren’t. Vivi got up and went to get something off her bed, it was a blue spined book with the words “Unfortunate Events” and “Carnivorous Carnival”.

“Book lover?” She grinned and he smiled back.

“Yeah, didn’t bring many books but I brought the few I’ve been reading; Carnivorous Carnival and a few others, what’s your favorite book?” He chewed his lip and thought, he hadn’t read anything much recently. He used to enjoy X-men, or Edgar Allen Poe. Things he used to read at school.

“Used to read comics mostly, or poems…”

“What kind of poems?”

He shrugged and played with his glasses.

“Dark poems…think Poe.” She smiled at that, putting her book onto the desk.

“Haven’t read him in a while…should probably ready again.” He grinned at that, feeling joy in the fact that Vivi will read stuff he enjoys.

“Haven’t read Carnivorous Carnival…may read it now.”

“It’s part of a series, I have the first book somewhere…hang on.” She went to find the book and after a moment of admiring her, she found it and gave it to him. The cover showed an old man with behind something while three children were in focus as well.

“The bad beginning…that’s one way to start a series.” She grinned and handed it to him.

“My uncle traveled to America and brought these back, sorry if I sound like a bookworm.” He smiled and put the book with the notes.

“It’s alright…in fact I think reading a story with you would be good-“ He stopped himself, blushing. He thought about it…Vivi and him at a coffee shop, it seemed nice.

“Together? As in we read a book together…like a date?” She looked curious and he could see her face go red, he wondered if this was the first date she ever went on, like it was for him.

“Yeah…want to?” He clenched his hands into fists and took in a breath, if she said no then he’d feel humiliated but hopefully they’d be friends still.

“Sure…I read at the pub sometimes so you wanna go there?” His heart sank though it was in a good way, excitement and nervousness bubbled inside him…she said yes!

Michael don’t freak out…Oliver may be there, may have to go earlier

“Yes…can we go slightly early? Don’t want to run into trouble.” She nodded and smiled as she went near him again, he blushed and smiled. Her smile turned into a grin and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, he froze and licked his lips…oh god…

It wasn’t his first kiss, he remembered when he was younger; a girl came up to him and kissed him, it was a quick peck but it still left little Michael confused. He remembered that, it was Valentine’s Day and for his class they were to give out chocolate to people in the classroom. He was six at the time and went home excited, remembering back to it. He didn’t see her after that, if he remembered correctly she moved.

He smiled at Vivi and looked at the papers again, making sure they looked slightly more neat next to the book.

It was his first date…even then it felt weird to say.

———

Been a bit but I did it❤️I hope the romance didn’t come off as too thick but yea❤️

Taglist: @arcielee @fan-goddess @aemonddtargaryen

@bellaisasleep @sepherinaspoppies @synkverv

@knewwaver @liv-cole @annoyingkittydetective

@zae5 @slytherincursebreaker @valeskafics

[tarithenurse]

Sticky Situation

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing/starring: Dean Winchester x fem!angel!reader Word count: 2148 Content: Depiction of gore, smut, naïve reader, sex pollen/stuff so a bit rough and unceremoniously, probably incorrect monster and angel lore, confessions of sorts, doubts, fear of dub/non-con (but it’s not – you’ll see), also some reference to soft smut. A/N: The second result of the CAH-inspired fics. This time it ended up with a SPN-fic. The concept is simple: I’d picked a bunch of black cards from Cards Against Humanity and let you all vote on what should be the basis of my next project. You chose “Why am I sticky?”. So this is really not my fault. Betaed by the lovely TanteFrutsel-CreativeNurse.

Sticky Situation

... Dean ...

Fishing his phone out of the pocket, Dean hits a few buttons and listens to the dial tone.

Sam picks up on the third ring: “How’d it go?” he sounds distracted.

The hunter surveys the chaos. Three monsters down. [Y/N] is kneeling over one of them, angel blade poking gingerly at a decapitated corpse. She and Dean had been hunting what they thought was a nest of vampires at first but the angel had quickly verified that, no: this was something else. Something new even to her. Then again, she hasn’t been an angel for that long, according to herself.

“Why...am I sticky?”

“Comes with the job,” the younger brother chuckles.

“But it’s pink!” Sam had been their go-to when they realized it wasn’t vamps, suggesting the usually efficient method of killing. Now Dean hoped there were other answers...although they’d manage to end the immediate threat.

There’s a moment of hesitation. “Not just blood?”

“No. The blood was black but then one of them barfed on us. Is it gonna kill us?”

This time the pause is filled with pages ruffling. Meanwhile [Y/N] has taken to investigate the colourful substance she too is covered in. With a snap of the fingers it’s gone and she does the same to Dean who nods at her gratefully, making her smile shyly. She’s okay although a bit...inexperienced. Technically, she’s more than okay. In fact, she’s rather cute and Dean has had a hard time getting her off of his mind even when she’s not around.

“Oh,” Sam’s voice cuts through the derailing train of thoughts, “so good news is, you’re not gonna die -”

“Thank fuck.”

“- but these are a kind of incubus and if you gotten any of the ‘pink stuff’ on you, you will start to feel -”

But Dean doesn’t listen. A potential crisis averted, he just finishes the call and stuffs the phone in his pocket.

“Thanks for removing the junk.”

“What was it? I’ve never encountered such creatures before.”

“Nothing that can kill us.” Dean runs a hand across his neck – it’s starting to get warm and his clothes are chafing. Maybe the stuff did have some effect. Should I have listened to Sam? Nah. Dean’s feeling confident. After all: he’s got an angel to fix him if he gets wonky from whatever the shit was.

“Are you alright?” [Y/N] asks.

Truth be told, Dean’s less alright than a moment ago. Hot and bothered, his clothes feel uncomfortable against his skin and he’s starting to feel another problem, one that he’s not ready to deal with: having the angel he desires nearby. Shaking his head, he tries to refocus one something else than her figure and scent.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks – unconvincingly.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she notices the pearls of sweat starting to form on his forehead. She doesn’t believe him. “Dean. Let me help you.”

She reaches out before he can tell her not to and places a delicate hand on his cheek. It feels like a summer’s breeze passing through and into him, momentarily relieving the ache that’s growing along with his cock...but as soon as she’s done, it all returns at full force.

Dean groans the moment she lets her hand fall from his clammy skin. “Let’s just get back to the Bunker.”

“I don’t understand,” she trails after him out of the warehouse anyways, “my powers...”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But you’re in pain.”

He dismisses her even though it's true. His entire body is burning up. It feels like...like he needs to take an ice cold shower but he instinctively understands that the fix to this won’t be as simple. He knows that he needs to cum. Regardless of having dreamt of [Y/N] in oh so many ways, he still realizes that he can't ask this of her.

They make it to the Impala in silence and Dean pops the trunk, tossing the weapons in carelessly. He’s just about to slam it closed when he hears a foreign sound. A soft whimper. Looking up at his friend, he sees her leaning heavily onto the car, a hand clutching her lower abdomen. Panic rushes through him: did she get injured?

“Dean...I...what’s happening?” she pleads and when she looks over, he sees how blown her pupils are. “It hurts. And I...I...crave...” her voice trails off.

The hunter knows he ought to keep his distance but seeing [Y/N] like this overrides everything, even his own lust for a brief moment. Rushing to her side, he wraps an arm around her to support some of her weight, but the nearness is dangerous as her scent threatens to overwhelm him. A new tang has been woven into it. Jasmines. Strong, sweet, intoxicating.

He grits his teeth as he tries to power through what's clouding his mind. “Hey, look at me,” he says.

She doesn’t so he turns her face towards him with a hand cupping her cheek. Right away, she leans into his touch, sighing. He feels it too, the momentary relief that the skin contact brings. Wanting more, he grabs her face with both hands and presses his forehead to hers.

“[Y/N], we’re gonna be fine. It’s just the junk. Sam was saying something about -”

He never gets further as her lips crash onto his. Baffled, Dean relishing in the brief alleviation. It feels even better when he slips his tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the first time. Then the pain spikes in his groin and he is brought back to reality and he basically jumps back a few steps.

At that moment a text pings in and Dean is grateful for the distraction...at least until he reads the few words: “I was wrong: without a sexual release, the pink stuff will kill you.”

There’s a whole other paragraph of information but Dean only picks out a few of the words in his haze. Incubus. Succubus. They all have the same reputation: fucking while devouring their victims. Well at least there will be no devouring but it really does feel like he’s about to die if he doesn’t get some release now.

“Get in the car,” he growls, startling the angel, “get in and...get off. It might help.”

“I don’t understand...” She just stands there, head cocked and eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He groans silently, his own urges threatening to overpower his remaining sense of modesty. “I don’t know if it’s lethal to angels but this...this can kill me. Us, unless you...uhm...cum?” This is not the talk he had ever imagined to have with his crush but oh well...desperate times and all that. “So get in the car, get a hand in your pants, save yourself.”

He turns to open the door for her, one hand discreetly palming his erection through the jeans.

“Dean,” she whispers, “I...don’t know how to.” Of course she doesn’t, she’s an angel. Sweet, innocent, far removed from any ideas about lust. “But it hurts, Dean. Please help me...help yourself too...with me.”

His neck almost breaks at the speed of which he turns his head to look at her. Already, she’s pulling on her clothes, tossing the discarded items to the ground without a care. And fuck, she looks gorgeous.

Dean shouldn’t do it. He should triple check and even then still turn her offer down because it’s not what she really wants. It can’t be. But the last bit of restraint has burned away and he’s on her in two steps, pulling her close so he can drown in her scent again, his lips bearing down on her neck and exposed breasts.

Frantically, [Y/N] tugs at his flannel before resolutely snapping her fingers and suddenly they’re both completely naked. Nothing keeps Dean’s erection from bouncing against her abdomen...and it feels right.

They move feverishly, hands exploring curves and expanses, relishing in the comfort of the contact until that isn’t enough either. They both groan as Dean dips his finger between her legs: she’s drenched. Lifting her, supple legs wrapping around his waist, he stumbles the few steps around to the hood of the car and sits her on the edge, feet resting on the bumper and thighs spread wide so he can see everything. Fucking delicious. He pushes her onto her back, breasts heaving with each laboured breath.

A new pang of pain spears him and the hunter knows what they both need.

He tries to go slow, he really does: running his cock head between the folds so the pre-cum mixes with her juices, lubing him up so he can easily glide in. She’s tight and it’s so freaking good. Inch by inch, he fills her up. The sounds she makes...he could never have imagined anything hotter or filthier coming from her.

“I got you,” he whispers hoarsely as he bottoms out completely.

Hoisting herself up on her elbows, [Y/N]’s gaze is glowing as she implores him: “More. Please move.”

Switching his grip to her waist, Dean pulls out almost completely before ramming back in with a grunt. Again and again and again, spurred on by her sounds. It feels amazing and he knows he can’t last long but there’s still a part of him that wants her to feel good too. He reaches for her clit and begins to rub circles with his thumb, making her moan loudly.

“S-so good!” his angel babbles.

It doesn’t last long for both of them to come undone and Dean collapses onto her. It’s an awkward position but nothing can ruin the post-bliss haze as he feels himself soften a little bit still inside her.

Or so he thinks.

Something does break through the fog soon enough as the lust reignites his body once more. And he can see it’s happening to [Y/N] too.

“Dean,” she begs, breaking his heart.

He kisses her. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable first.”

Then the hunter coaxes her into the wide backseat of the Impala.

...

Dean barely registers that he’s lying on his back in the Impala because there’s another sensation: much more comfortable than usual, his morning wood is nestled snugly in a tight heat and a warm and subtle figure lies on top of him. Seemingly asleep (despite previous claims not to need that sort of mundane arrangements) [Y/N] is breathing slowly with a little smile on her lips. Ever so gently, he manages to pull out but he can’t do anything about the flushness.

What the fuck? Wrecking his brain, only bits and pieces start to come back to him before her eyes flutter open.

“Dean?” she mumbles, squirming only for a fraction of a second before she freezes completely.

She takes a moment to take it all in while sitting up as much as the low roof of the car allows. Nimble hands skirt over her naked body and delve between her legs without any sign of shame.

“Why am I sticky?”

Dean remembers now. He remembers everything and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth because he knows what he did was wrong. He took advantage of her. Afraid to meet her gaze, the hunter breathes deeply before turning his face to find...just a frown. Maybe she can’t recall everything? But no, he sees the moment it all comes back to her.

“Oh,” she gasps.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N]!” he rushes, “I...what we did...I should never ha-”

A finger lands on his mouth to shush him. “If I remember correctly...you’d have died otherwise?”

That’s true but he knows it would have been better to pick that route rather than throw himself onto her the way he had. He explains as much but she doesn’t seem to understand.

“Dean...even without the risk of impending death...you didn’t do anything I didn’t want.”

“Wait, what?!” That’s the last thing he’d expected to hear.

She smiles shyly. “I’ve been...feeling things about you.” A moment passes where she’s trying to say something more, opening and closing that pretty mouth before eventually settling on: “Have you...do you...?”

“Yeah, me too,” Dean admits before returning to his concerns, “but what I did...I took advantage of you! You couldn’t say no and I’m so sorry!”

“So it would be different if I asked now that I’m not under the influence of the incubus?”

“Yes,” he barely manages to say before she wriggles her pelvis, slick core rubbing along his still happy morning wood.

This time her smile is big, cheeky like he’s never seen before. “Dean...I want to.”

“Fuck...yes!”

Hoisting herself up a bit, she reaches down to align his cock with her entrance before sinking onto him. It feels much better than last night as she slowly rides them both to renewed highs, guided by his hands on her hips.

Upon completion, she collapses onto him, snuggling in with Dean’s cock still buried deep inside.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] mumbles against his neck.

“Anytime, angel.”

[zozo-01]

"i want it to last forever. (all the magic and fun at sea.)"

This was supposed to be a prompt fill for our lovely @autisticempathydaemon, but alas! School and work caught up to me and I couldn't finish it, but I am making up for it know! As always, all the thanks to our lovely @gingerbreadmonsters to making sure that even if I can't get an Aussie accent right, I can at least get the British one accurate! There will definitely a sequel of sorts where I explain the lore and magic of this world, as well as expose everyone's dark past!

CW: Alternate Universe, My beloved Siren/Mermaid AU, Alexis and Christian are so stupid and in love, Sam and Darlin' being Mother Hens separately, The Pack is here but they are not important (as of right now) I.E. Darlin' is a Solaire, Christian feeling guilty over Darlin' (not romantic), Light Mentions to Darlin's past (Specifically Quinn but he is not mentioned by name), This is small fries compared to my actual Siren Fic, Eventual Sam and Darlin' but that's not why we are here!!!

click here for the ao3 link!!!

--

Press your shirt flat, comb your hair down and check your breath. Daily things that Christian should be doing to maintain his appearance, but never found any reason to. He’s a special breed, one can argue a dumb breed, of humans who don’t care about what others think of him. Given that fact, he doesn’t need to maintain his looks. Who gives a shit about what others say?

But she wasn’t just anyone and he needed to treat her as such. And he’ll try his best with his limited abilities.

He doubles, and triples and quadruple checks himself in the mirror. Ok, so far so good. He doesn’t look like he just rolled out of bed which is a general improvement from his status quo. It wasn’t like simple improvements were good enough for her. Although, if she asked him out while looking like a drowned rat, then maybe she didn’t care for his looks.

(Or at least he thinks that's what she said. To be quite frank, he hasn’t even heard this girl speak. She could definitely understand him, so it wasn’t a language barrier on her end, she just refuses to open her mouth. So far, they have only been able to communicate with nods and what he thinks was sign language. It looked more like flailing hands to him, but it got the job done. Now all he needs to do is not get stood up by the most ethereal woman he’s ever laid his eyes on.)

(Cool. Absolutely no pressure at all.)

He grabs his keys and walks out the door with the nonchalant attitude that has gotten him this far in life. Surely if he treats this tangible Venus like she was a normal girl, then she’ll fall in love with him in no time!

Or punch him in the face and spit on his grave. Either or work.

The rest of the drive was silent. He didn’t bother to come up with creative nicknames or smooth pick up lines because why should he? She decided to ask him out for him, not some casanova. This is what she asked for and this is what she’ll get.

He parked his car by the bridge, and waited for her signal that she’d be on the bridge. She said that when he sees a bright blue light, that will be his que to get on the bridge. A weird signal if you asked him, but hey who was he to judge-

A flash of blue erupted from below the bridge, followed by the sounds of rapid waves. Was Christian going to question the near mystical light? Not by the seven oceans he wasn’t. All he knew was that’s probably his signal so he exited the car and walked onto the bridge.

And low and behold, there she was in her glory.

(Christian did compare her to Venus earlier, and it is his nickname for her, so you can see how much horseshit his earlier thoughts were. But it bears remembering now. There was seafoam under the part of the bridge where she stands. Her midnight hair flows in the wind, moving the same way waves ebb and flow in the ocean. Even her dress had something otherworldly about it, from the way it hugged her body like wet fabric, despite it looking dry as a bone, and the shells and gems that adorned it. There was something off about her in the most tantalizing way possible.)

He cleared his throat, blessing her with his presence as much as she’s blessing him with hers and causing the young woman to snap out of her daze. “Hello, Venus. Excited to see me?” Confidence and borderline cockiness were dripping from his voice. It all came from a place of genuine care, whether she knew it or not was up to her.

Venus smiled at the arrogant boy, moving her hands to sign to him. It still looked like gibberish to him, although if he stared hard enough and paid enough attention, he’ll be able to understand her…

The girl shook her head, not in disgust or apathy, but in amusement. Like she found the miscommunication on his end cute. She pulled out a notebook and a pen from her pocket and began to write down what she was trying to say. Quite a large book from a small dress, but he’s seen weirder.

She flips the notebook over to reveal the message. Thank you for meeting me here.

Christian puffed his chest up, pride filling his tanned body. He ran a hand through his golden hair, replying, “I’m just doing a favour for you.” Please don’t focus on how fast his heart is beating or how he wiped his shirt to get rid of the excess sweat.

Or the strange feeling of being watched from a distance.

She rolled her eyes, and usually it would insult Christian. Lord knows he doesn’t like being made into a joke, but if making himself a fool is what keeps Venus smiling, then he’ll become the butt of every joke from here on till the day she dies. (A long time away that day is.)

Venus opened up her notebook and continued to write in it. How has your day been, Christian?

Ah ha! An excuse to talk about himself. It’s what he excels at the most! He opened his mouth, ready to go on about his day. “Well the waves and weather were nice today, so I went surfing. Taught some assholes what it really means to shred it on the water. Like, seriously, do you want to know what these little shits did!” He then went on a tirade about these teenagers and how they wouldn’t listen to any of his warnings as to why not to ride a monster wave. Lo and behold, Fred and Bright wiped out hard and he has no sympathy for them.

She covered her mouth, muffling the angelic laugh that Christian was convinced she had. It’s a little weird that he’s never heard a sound from her, at least he thinks it is. Even non-verbal people let out sounds, heavy breaths or quiet sighs, to prove that they’re alive. But Venus hadn’t done any of that. He wonders what’s preventing her from letting out any sounds. He's known about how trauma can cause people to go mute, he's seen it happen with Bright. But dare he be crass, Venus seems quite well adjusted to society.

(The two bodies in the water with scales down their bodies say otherwise. Neither of them wanted to be there, but what the Ocean demands, the Ocean receives.)

"Let me guess, you're into surfer boys?" Brash and overconfident was unbecoming of most men, at least that's what Darlin' used to say. But they're dead and therefore, their advice and words don't matter anymore. Somehow it works for him and it's working on her so he won't lead the dead dictate his actions.

Returning to her notebook, Venus scribbled down some words. She turned it over, revealing the words she wrote down. I've never spoken to a 'surfer boy' before. Are they all as haughty as you?

Ouch, that was personal. She didn't have to call him out on his attitude like this. She didn't need to mimic the ghosts he lives with all that accurately.

Ignoring the accidental jab to his heart, he rolls his eyes and lets her words leave quiet wounds on his body. "Well I'm sure that you'll be begging for me later, princess." Assuming that Venus would ever beg. Voice aside, she doesn't seem like the type to beg.

Christian dropped his bravado and leaned back against the bridge. "How about you? How's your day been?"

Venus looked back at her notebook, taking her time to write down every detail of her day. Once she was done writing, she flipped her notebook back to Christian.

It's been good. I went out with my brother, his partner and one of my friends to get some food. We had some beignets and they were really good! I haven't had good ones in quite some time. Plus, my brother got powder sugar all over himself and he looked like he failed to smoke some cocaine, so that was amusing.

"An eventful day," he chuckled. He tried to picture a younger, male version of Alexis covered in powdered sugar to make himself feel better for the fact that he'd be the fool doing the same thing. "Maybe you can take me there one day? I've never had a beignet before."

Venus smiled and nodded her head, and he's planning to message Milo about a styling intervention. It would be worth it to look good for her.

The same blue light from earlier flashed again, and Venus's eyes widened. She frantically looked between the ocean and Christian, her face puzzled and brain working to come up with an excuse. Realizing that she was looking for an excuse, he decided to free her of that burden.

"Look, I get if you need to go." He watched her face relax and kept going. "I have work the next day, anyways." He fiddled with his car keys, trying to find a way to stretch these seconds into eons. "It was nice seeing you again. I hope it won't be the last time?"

She shook her head while writing in her notebook. We can grab some beignets tomorrow if you're free? Meet me here again at noon and we can go together.

"Perfect!" His smile bloomed at the thought of spending more time with his girl. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

He turned back to go to his car, not paying attention to the large splash from behind him. Heart lighter than air, he danced his way back to his car. There was no person worth more sleepless nights and tired mornings than Venus and he can't wait for more time with her.

The drive back home seemed shorter while he was lost in his head. But the minute he parked in his garage, he knew he had to focus in order to stay silent. While Sam never cared about what Christian did with his time, the fact that he came back later than what he promised was all he needed to fear the coming of the Southern Mothern Hen.

Creeping his way inside, he was relieved that the lights were turned off and not a soul was in the living room.

Until a single lamp was turned on and Sam was sitting on the couch.

"Mate-"

"Do you know what time it is, young man?" He didn't give Christian any time to respond. "I'll tell you what time it is. It's damn near midnight, when you said you'd be back by 10 PM." The southern man got up and started pacing around. "I thought, 'you're a grown man, you don't need me to follow you like a mama duck, even after you're meetin' some mysterious woman.'"

Sam stopped in the middle of the room and gave Christian a death glare. "But nooo, you had to stay out longer and make all of us worry over your sorry ass!"

"Uh, who is us-"

"Not the point, Christian!" He rubbed his temples and let out a fatherly sigh. "I know you love this girl, but seein' her on a random night by a bridge? I'm just worried that you're going to get caught up in some stupid shit."

Despite only being three or so years older than him, Sam always spoke with the wisdom of a man who's lived a thousand lifetimes. He should really listen to his advice before he does end up like Darlin'.

(He can't help but think of the parallels between his situation and Darlin's. Guilt still fills his body when he thinks of them, and he's left to wonder what would happen if they had a Sam in their life to step in. Sometimes he feels unworthy for Sam's care because he doesn't deserve it. They did. But they'll never get that help because they're gone and it's no thanks to him.)

Christian sighed, letting go of his defensive guard. "Alright, I'll be more careful. But like, fuck…" He fell onto the couch in desperation. "I really like this girl, Sam. I don't want to mess it up."

"And you won't." Sam sat down to pat Christian's back. "I'm just askin' you to exercise a level of caution. I mean, last time you mentioned her, you didn't even get her name."

"..."

"You got her name this time, right Christian?"

"I'll get it tomorrow?"

"Oh my Lord, you love sick fool."

–

Thank God Christian turned his back to Alexis just in time for him to not see three figures appear from the water onto the bridge. Bless his oblivious heart for missing every sign.

"Chrissy? The mysterious human man was Christian? Alexis Solaire, you are better than this." Of course Darlin' was the first one to speak. It made sense, they knew him back from when they were human, so they had the most opinion. Which is exactly why she didn't want to tell them about her little date.

"Oh come on, he's not that bad. He's… interesting." Interesting was code for an asshole that has caught her attention. But it wasn't her fault that they were both assholes who gravitated towards each other.

"He's interesting alright! Interesting enough to shove a knife into!" They paced up and down the bridge, the waves beneath them moving wherever they did. "Oh my lord, now I know why William made us follow you. I thought it was because he was just being a worried bitch but no! He had actual reason to worry!"

Finally she found an opening to speak her piece. "Great point, why on Earth are all three of you here? And what gave William the right to send three of his sirens to follow me?" She couldn't help but feel patronized. She was a grown woman, older than the three in front of her in both human and siren years. If there were any of them who can take care of herself, it's her.

Vincent yawned and rubbed his eyes. "None of us want to be here, so William said that if we didn't, he's going to station us in the Drake Passage to sink some ships." He shivered at the thought, and Alexis couldn't blame him. The last time she was there, her human skin matched the blue shade of her scales.

"And like, I would send an army after my daughter if I knew her man was Christian," they shuddered. She wonders if Darlin's hatred was because of an unfinished past with him, anger and resentment brewing inside her friend over how they died.

"Oh, don't be so ridiculous, Darlin'," Porter chuckled. She was waiting for him to pipe up with some smart comment. "He's... quite the character, certainly, but if that's what it takes to get Alexis's head out of her arse, then..." He crossed his arms and laughed at the dark glare she gave him.

Darlin' smacked the backside of his head, ignoring the faux pout on his face. "Porter there are better men to teach that lesson." They all raised their eyes at Darlin', wondering who would be a 'better lesson' for their dear princess.

Not appreciating the confused yet amused stares from their friends, Darlin' just mumbled about how she could have learned from their mistakes rather than making her own. It was fair game, but that was assuming that Darlin's 'mistakes' were their fault. They were not.

"Can we go home? Me and Lovely have reservations at a restaurant and I need to go." He yawned, a telltale sign that Vincent was tired and needed to recharge with Lovely. It was sickeningly adorable, and she was happy that he found someone to spend his eternity with.

Darlin' wasn't having any of it. "Shut up, Vincent! Some of us have actual problems like making sure our friends don't end up with mediocre men." Harsh words aside, it was clear that they didn't mean to sound rude, they were just angry over the situation.

"Well, at least this 'Christian' won't be able to kill her," Porter mused. He made a dramatic turn towards Darlin', ready to push them to their absolute limit. "That was why you came, wasn't it?"

For fuck's sakes Porter, that was low blow. Even for her.

Rightfully so, Darlin's claws and fangs appeared, eyes sharpening like a shark. "You absolute fucking asshole!" They tackled Porter back into the water, and thankfully, Porter's head hadn't floated back to the surface. Yet at least.

"Do you really like him?" Vincent asked from beside her.

She thought about it. Christian was definitely the man who's made her feel more… she didn't what he made her feel. Alexis Solaire (formerly known as Alexis Getty) didn't feel love. For as long as she could remember, the most she would feel was a strong 'like'. But love? She wasn't sure she was capable of that feeling.

But that was until William and Vincent sparked the familial love she didn't have towards her own biological family. Or how Porter and Darlin' bonded over the platonic love they all share for each other.

Maybe Christian would be the person to teach her romantic love.

"I don't know Vince, but I think we should check on Darlin' and make sure they haven't mauled Porter by now."

Vincent's demeanour perked up with realization. "Shit- We can't have them rip his arm off again!" He jumped back into the water, trying to stop the coastal line from becoming shark-infested again.

Alexis looked up at the moon. She still doesn't believe she deserves this chance of a beautiful second life. All of her mistakes and regrets always prevented her from living in the present. But with how Christian carries himself, being able to let things bounce off him, it inspires her that maybe she can do the same thing.

She smiled. She can't wait to see Christian messy with powder sugar all over his mouth.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Trouble in Paradise

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

(This is related to Lose You to Love Me)

Liked by urbanwyatt, privategarden, druski2funny, saweetie, claybornharlow, champagnepapi, shloob_, and 4,593,078 others

jackharlow: Dreams do come true

saweetie: so so proud of you!

2forwoyne: I literally thought you were going to break, but you proved me wrong each time lmao

jackharlow: saweetie thank you and 2forwoyne it was hard as shit for me not to lmao

privategarden: jackharlow all of us couldn’t be more proud of how well you did!

shloob_: SIGMAAAAA!

quiiso: shloob_ I’m literally saying it every few minutes lmao

urbanwyatt: quiiso and getting on my nerves lmaoooo

quiiso: urbanwyatt you would have more fun if you joined in

jackandy/naremyparents: you did amazing! But, I have one question.... did anyone see wifey there?

jackharlowsource: jackandy/naremyparents I haven’t see any pictures and people were telling me that she wasn’t there

jackandy/naremyparents: jackharlowsource I feel like if she was, we would have gotten something, especially with the two of them. this isn’t like them at all. they are always celebrating each other’s accomplishments

urbandjack24: jackandy/naremyparents it seems ever since that anitta shit came out, it’s like something is off about them. of course everyone’s feelings are valid, but why do I have a feeling that Jack was really hard on her about it? 

jackandy/naremyparents: urbandjack24 well she needs to be really hard on him about giveon. even though it was never confirmed, there was speculation that he fought him as well. you know ever since that night when they went to the same event in New York and then Jack went to his concert, he’s been quiet as shit and hasn’t bothered her

allthingsy/n: I said what I said, Jack needs to take a long look at what he’s done too and not just her. I’m not excusing her behavior but it’s like he can’t be a hypocrite either. you can’t get mad at your wife for doing the same things that you’re doing

Liked by urbanwyatt, softtcurse, neelamthadhani, privategarden, saweetie, sza, quiiso, 2forwoyne, and 4,293,065 others

y/ninsta: Maybe just maybe NOLA has been my favorite city so far!! #777 

saweetie: THE OUTFIT! THE OUTFIT!

y/ninsta: saweetie that was all mortirolo!!!!

saweetie: OKAYYYY NICOLE, I SEE YOU!

mortirolo: saweetie had to get my baby cousin right!

theestallion: y/ninsta did you get the beignets I ordered to your hotel room for you?!?!

y/ninsta: theestallion yes! they were so amazing! thank you for thinking of me!

theestallion: y/ninsta always!!

claybornharlow: missing you! hope you’re having fun!

y/ninsta: claybornharlow love you my baby! missing you too! come visit me when I get to Texas!

claybornharlow: y/ninsta say less!

sza: y/ninsta okayyyyy cutie with a booty! I see you mamas!!

jackandy/naremyparents: the pics and videos look amazing from last night queen!!

allthingsy/n: oh yeah something is definitely up, jackharlow isn’t even liking her pics and she isn’t liking his. something happened

jackandy/naremyparents: allthingsy/n I knew it smh but we’re only on the outside looking in, it could be nothing and we’re making a big deal out of it

allthingsy/n: jackandy/naremyparents nah, the way that they talk and go hard for each other this is definitely out of the ordinary and I don’t like it. jackharlow y/ninsta I thought we told yall to kiss and make up!

Liked by urbanwyatt, saweetie, champagnepapi, softtcurse, claybornharlow, private garden, druski2funny, and 5,283,096 others

jackharlow: Nowhere but up from here

2forwoyne: this entire year has been amazing and privategarden is so proud to just be along for the ride

jackharlow: 2forwoyne wouldn’t have it any other way. My day ones

jackandy/naremyparents: Jackkkkk, where is your wife?! we miss her! 

urbandjack24: jackandy/naremyparents I’m surprised you actually asked him since his response last time was outta pocket 

jackandy/naremyparents: urbandjack24 I figured that I would at least try

y/ninsta: love this picture of you. definitely stealing that sweater

allthingsy/n: oh shit, she’s here! hiiiii y/ninsta!!! we miss you and Jack going back and forth and being horny under each other’s posts

jackandy/naremyparents: now let’s see if he actually responds to her

jackharlowsource: y/ninsta I wanted to apologize from how I came at you before. it wasn’t my place

mortirolo: jackharlowsource you damn right it wasn’t

danivalentine: NICOLE!

mortirolo: in the words of my baby cousin y/ninsta, these hands are rated E for everybody INCLUDING her husband smh I spare no one

saweetie: and here I was thinking that y/ninsta was always ready to fight, turns out in was Nicole the entire time lmao

jackharlow: thank you and I got you one similar to mine in pink, miss you

urbandjack: uh oh! they’re interacting!!!! we got something! we got something!

Liked by urbanwyatt, shloob_, privategarden, saweetie, champagnepapi, laflare1017, theestallion, claybornharlow, and 2,354,027 others

y/ninsta: my muthafuckin body, my muthafuckin choice! stacey, thank you for joining me on stage and encouraging our young people to vote for change that they want to see in the world 🥰

saweetie: OKAYYYYY OUTFIT! 😍

claybornharlow: I can give you a change in your spouse

danivalentine: CLAYBORN!

claybornharlow: danivalentine 👀

allthingsy/n: now you know something is wrong if jackharlow doesn’t even come under here to fight clay

jackharlowsource: I really hope that they fix whatever is wrong. there was a time where you wouldn’t see one without the other and now they’re acting as if they don’t want to be bothered with each other

urbandjack: jackharlowsource we only speak positivity because I can’t take anything else. my stomach fucking hurts and I’m going to need for everything to be okay again

allthingsy/n: maybe jackharlow just needs his ass kicked by Nicole to whip him back into shape so he can talk to his wife and about his wife without acting outta pocket

mortirolo: allthingsy/n I like you

danivalentine: NICOLE! CUT THE SHIT!

mortirolo: danivalentine I didn’t do anything!’

jackharlow: claybornharlow don’t play with me

allthingsy/n: uh oh! okay! we got some more interaction

allthingsy/n: jackharlow!! how’s your wife?!?

jackharlow: allthingsy/n giveon could probably give you a better answer than me

saweetie: jackharlow delete that before nicole sees it

druski2funny: jackharlow umm......

2forwoyne: jackharlow now you know good and damn well we wouldn’t let him near her

jackharlowsource: mentioning giveon would know better than him? so issa wrap yall. trouble has officially hit paradise

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