#beans bars and burns

[hyperfocusthusly]

Today really did a number on me, so I wrote some self indulgent angst to avoid my problems

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55974070/chapters/142150129

[headspace-hotel]

The knowledge of some common plants

Since many people don't know most of the plants around them, this is information on some plants that are commonly seen in many places throughout the world

This is Lamium purpureum, also called Purple Deadnettle.

It's called deadnettle because it looks like a nettle but it doesn't sting you

This plant is a winter annual—it grows its leaves in the fall, lasts through the winter, and blooms and dies in the spring

Its pollen is reddish orange. If you see bees with their heads stained reddish orange, it is likely because they have visited Purple Deadnettle

This is Trifolium repens, white clover

It is a legume (belongs to the bean family) and fixes nitrogen using symbiosis with bacteria that live in little nodules on its roots, fertilizing the soil

It is a good companion plant for the other members of a lawn or garden since it is tough, adaptable, and improves soil quality. According to my professor it used to be in lawn mixes, until chemical companies wanted to sell a new herbicide that would kill broadleaved plants and spare grass, and it was slandered as a weed :(

It is native only to Europe and Central Asia, but in the lawns they are doing more good than harm most places

Honeybees love to visit clover

Four-leaf clovers are said to be lucky

This is Achillea millefolium, Common Yarrow

It has had a relationship with humans since Neanderthals were around, at least 60,000 years, since Neanderthals have been found buried with Yarrow

Its leaves have been used to stop bleeding throughout history, and its scientific name comes from how Achilles was said to have used Yarrow to stop the blood from the wounds of his soldiers. A leaf rolled into a ball has been used to stop nosebleeds

It is a native species all throughout Eurasia and North America

This is Cichorium intybus, known as Chicory

The leaves look a lot like dandelion leaves, until in mid-spring when it begins growing a woody green stem straight up into the air

Like many other weeds, it has a symbiotic relationship with humans, existing in a mix of domesticated or partially domesticated and wild populations

It is native to Eurasia, but widespread in North America on roadsides and disturbed places, where it descended from cultivated plants

Its root contains large amounts of inulin, which is used as a sweetener and fiber supplement (if you look at the ingredients on the granola bars that have extra fiber, they usually are partly made of chicory root) and has also been used as a coffee substitute

A large variety of bees like to feed upon it

This is Phytolacca americana, known as Pokeweed

It is easily identified by its huge leaves and its waxy, bright magenta stem

It can grow more than nine feet tall from a sprout in a single summer!

If you squish the berries, the juice inside is a shocking magenta that is so bright it almost burns your eyes. For this reason many Native American people used it for pink and purple dye.

It is a heavy metal hyperaccumulator, particularly good for removing cadmium from the soil

All parts of the plant are poisonous and will make you very sick if you eat them, however if the leaves are picked when very young and boiled 3 times, changing out the water each time, they can be eaten, and this is a traditional food in the rural American Southeast, but I don't want to chance it

British people have introduced it as a pretty, exotic ornamental plant. I think that is very funny considering that here it is a weed associated with places where poor people live, but maybe they're right and I need to look closer to see the beauty.

If you see magenta stains in bird poop it is because they ate pokeweed berries- birds can safely eat the berries whereas humans cannot

This is Plantago lanceolata, Ribwort Plantain

It grows in heavily disturbed soils, in fact it is considered an indicator of agricultural activity. It is successful in the poorest, heaviest and most compacted soil.

The leaves, seeds, and flower heads are said to be edible but the leaves are really stringy unless they are very young. Of course, it is important to be careful when eating wild plants, and make sure you have identified the plant correctly and the soil is not contaminated

I have also heard the strings in the leaves can be extracted and used for textile purposes

and that's some common plants you might often see throughout the world

[charliemwrites]

Part 5 of Obsessive!johnny

(CW: extremely dubious consent; I’d go so far as to say straight non-con. No violence. Please be safe, beans! 💕)

It’s your own fault - or no. That’s a dangerous way of thinking it not your fault. But you got complacent. Got desensitized to that looming sense of danger, the threat hiding in the shadow of his eyes. That little voice in the back of your head became background noise, not the guide it used to be.

All it took was a slip of your carefully crafted mask understanding Johnny’s “love” for you. Just one careless comment, a tone too honest.

You don’t even remember what you said now. Just that the feverish light in his eyes changed instantly. Like a shift in sunlight through colored glass. What frightened you was how his expression changed, shut down hard. His jaw tensing, brows going deceptively smooth.

“Is all this not enough for you?” he asks, taking big, measured steps towards you.

You start backing up, heart tripping over itself. “That’s not-“

“How many ways do you need me to prove it, hm?” he asks. “I’ve apologized a hundred times, bonnie, haven’t I? Is that not enough for you? I’m still not worth it to you?”

You put your hands up, all your carefully crafted and scripted responses fleeing in the face of this new, unfamiliar Johnny. He’s - he’s angry at you. Not because of you, or for you, but at you.

“I’ve been patient, haven’t I?” he continues, low voice wavering with something frightening. “Do you know how hard it is, seeing you cry for a life that wasn’t good enough for you? Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying?”

You swallow thickly, try to rally your scrambled thoughts. He just working himself up more and more and that voice that fell so quiet is screaming now. So loud it’s hard to make your mouth work.

“I-I know. I’m sorry,” you manage. “Im just… I lost my temper and said something I didn’t mean…”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, no, hen. I think you meant it.”

He up close to you now, barely a centimeter of space between your bodies. The heat of him is suffocating. You’ve never been so aware of how much bigger than you he is. It thrilled you when he’d loom over you at the bar, cocky confidence and easy smiles.

You meet his eyes.

And for a moment, he softens. You have the briefest golden flicker of hope.

And then he sighs. Deep and resigned. Your stomach flips.

“It’s my fault,” he mutters finally, shaking his head. “Haven’t been treating you right, have I?”

You don’t dare answer.

“Treating you like you’re one thing when you’re really everything.”

You open your mouth, try to speak, to reason with him. He just shushes you with a hand on your cheek, thumb pressing your lips closed.

“Always spoiling you like the princess you are, when sometimes you need to be treated like a slut.”

He jerk’s you around and shoves you onto the bed, plants a big hand between your shoulder blades and presses.

“Soap!”

“Hush up, baby, it’s alright. You don’t have to pretend to be all prim and proper,” he soothes, knocking your feet apart. “I don’t think any less of you for needing cock. Only natural.”

Your underwear rips like wet paper, accompanied by your high-pitched squeal of alarm. He makes a low, rough noise. Pure, animal lust. The fabric of his pants chafes against the backs of your thighs.

“Oh, there she is,” he purrs, “just like I thought.”

You cry out as rough fingers drag through your slit, gathering the slick you can’t believe is leaking from you.

“I’ve been so bad to you, bonnie, not treating you the way you need. No wonder you got all fussy and snappy.” The hazy thought that he might not he talking to you at all anymore burns through you. When you shift, trying to close your legs self-consciously, a sharp slap to your clit collapses your knees.

“We’re gonna set you right, babygirl,” he growls. “Won’t be able to worry your pretty little head anymore.”

He plunges two fingers into you without preamble. The stretch is vicious, but it doesn’t hurt. Not really. You’re too wet. Still, you scream - because Johnny’s spent so many hours playing with you, learning you, that he knows exactly where to press and curl and rub his fingers.

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, tears already collecting in your eyes because he’s being mean about it, twisting to grind his thumb against your clit. It’s too much, you’re not ready no matter what your body says. “Soap, don’t- ngh!”

“Gonna show you why you’re better off here. Right here. Gonna give this pretty cunt what it needs.”

The third finger is a stretch. You try to get away, try to crawl onto the bed to run, but he stomps a boot onto the chain around your ankle and flattens you to the mattress.

“Keep pretending if you want, baby,” he murmurs, “I know what you really need now.”

He’s withdrawing his fingers while you’re still pleading and babbling. You’re horrified to realize you don’t know if you want them back. It doesn’t matter though. Because Johnny’s cock is splitting you open before you can decide, thicker and longer than you’ve ever taken. He curses and groans as he pushes into you, inch by hot inch. Until you feel the fat leaking head tap at your cervix and he grinds, balls kissing your clit.

“T-too much!” you sob. “‘S too much!! Johnny, Johnny, please!”

Heat floods you as he shudders, hips jerking hard and rough. By your head, his fist is white-knuckled in the sheets.

“Did… did you just…?”

“Say my name again,” he snarls.

You blink wetly. “W-wha…?”

“Say. It. Again.” Each word punctuated by a brutal thrust. Something drips down your thigh.

“J-Johnny,” you keen, trying to beg for mercy.

“Jus’ like that.” He’s still hard. Still so fucking hard it’s like you’ve been edging him for hours. Like he didn’t just flood your poor pussy with cum.

“Been dreaming of you saying my name. Haven’t all this time,” he pants, rocking into you hard and fast. Any semblance of restraint is long gone. “Now I know why. Finally fuckin’ earned it. Gonna keep earnin’ it from now on.”

He fucks you so hard the bed leaves dents in the wall. Forces a hand beneath your pelvis to pinch your clit between two fingers and hurtles you shrieking into an orgasm. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t pause for a single beat. Just hitches your knee up onto the mattress and somehow fucks into your harder, faster, deeper. His fingers rub cruel circles into your oversensitive clit and you burn.

“No, no, wait, Johnny- ah! No, I’m gonna - it feels like-”

Wet heat gushes from you, spilling down your thighs, all over the bed and floor. You - you -

“Fuck, you squirted everywhere, good fuckin’ girl, princess.” He slows just a bit, presumably to appreciate the mess you’ve made. You’re too far gone on shock and awful pleasure to do more than sniffle and hiccup pathetically.

And then a death sentence.

“Do it again.”

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Your Soul's Signature Scent

✧ “Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.” - Patrick Süskind

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, I'm a rambler and I love going off track. One pile got a mini wattpad story. CHEERS!

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

✴︎ Pile One ✴︎ (King of Pentacles, 3oP, Knight of Swords, 9oS, 1, Ascension, Worthy,)

Not to be weird but I’d sniff you like rich frat boy coke.

It's hard to describe scents so… walk with me.

You have had a long, stressful day and the world is pissing you off. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place so after work, you open Google Maps in hopes of temporary solace with cheap liquor and bar food. You find one of those dingy sports bars with shitty beer, sticky tables, and drunk grown men yelling at a tiny wall-mounted television.

Not exactly your cup of tea, but as the French say… C’est la vie!

You practically had to beat half of the bar off with a stick, just to find a seat. Drunk old guys + A Pretty Pile One = Sloppy, slurred marriage proposals(?) You couldn’t tell, but “I wanna bring you home to my mama” sounds close enough.

You pay them no mind. You have one goal. Get fucked up. Don’t throw up.

Okay, maybe two goals.

You finally find a stool and raise a finger to signal the bartender.  

“Hey, bartender! BAR-”

“I see you. Don’t call to me.” 

A nervous drop in your stomach almost tips you off your stool. You feel them before you see them. Every bottle clink they make reverberates to that pit in your stomach. You only hear the bartender’s movements among a crowd of bustling people: their shoes stick and unstick to the floor, their fake chuckles at guests’ jokes, every time their hand slides across the bar to collect bills.

Maybe it’s delusion but you’re convinced you hear the steady drum of their heartbeat. 

You finally get a good look at the bartender. In a sea of hostile people drowning themselves to forget their sorrows, you see the calmest, most fearless person in the room. Squared shoulders, back straight, head held high, and the smoothest walk you’ve ever seen; they almost glide.

You watch in complete admiration as they de-escalate a fight, sanitize bar taps, count money, and make a drink all in one go. You haven’t spoken more than two full words to this person but something about their presence makes you want to kneel.

The bartender finally makes their way to you and their eyes lock with yours. Your neck begins to sweat so you quickly dart your head away. A deep, velvety chuckle comes from the pits of their stomach, “Don’t show me you're nervous, I usually charge the Bambis more.”

“Bambis?”

“You’re shivering like a scared little deer, aren't you?��

You have no words so you focus on twisting your hands under the tables. 

They find you cute. With another chuckle they lean in closer to you, “I’ll tell you what, how about I make you a drink to calm you a little, yeah?”

“Uhm, I’ll take a-” Before you could even tell them what you want, their back is to you making a concoction.

Forty-five seconds later, a glass of honey bourbon with an orange slice and a vanilla bean stick slides in your direction. Along with a… cigar?

“I doubt you can handle this, but I want to see you sweat.”

Hands shaky, you press the glass to your lips as the bartender guides you, “Take it slow. Let it sit. Savor it.”

You came in here looking for cheap booze and a deep sense of impending regret, but here you are drinking $400 bourbon you can’t afford and hanging off of every syllable this person says to you.

After a slow sip and a burn behind the ears, you ask, “How do you do that?”

They raise their brow.

“Ya know… command like that.”

They whip a towel over their shoulder, “Once you realize how scared and hurt everyone actually is, worthiness feels less unattainable.”

BAHAHAHA THAT ENDING WAS SO CORNY (and kinda ominous??) BUT THIS IS GETTING LONG AND THIS AINT WATTPAD.

In summary, your soul has a very effortlessly commanding signature. Even if you aren’t aware, your energy dominates every space it enters. You might have people who seem to dislike you for no reason, this is why. BUT YES, a sweet bourbon with a hint of citrus and something smoked on the side is 100% your signature. Also… Petrichor. Your soul scent is the sweetened waft of smoked wood beneath grit and the smell of wet Earth after a storm. 

"Can You Taste The Spice On My Lips?"

✴︎ Pile Two ✴︎ (9oP, 10oP, King of Wands, Lust)

✴︎ BAEEEE, don’t fucking play with me. Your soul just told me to take my shoes off in your million-dollar mansion. You told me to stop acting like a fucking hooligan???

There is a richness to you down to your very core. I’m getting Pushya, the most auspicious nakshatra representing wealth, prosperity, and milk (divine nourishment). But there is also a spiciness here.

SPICED CHAI MILK TEA. That is the scent that jumps out to me. The hominess of full-bodied, sweet cinnamon. The spicy warmth of red chai. Maybe even a little nutty, Spanish almond if you’re feeling crazy.

There is also a gradual build-up here. All earth signs, but primarily Taurus. There is this steady, sensual accumulation of your energy. You cannot be rushed, you savor moments and allow yourself to rest in all the sensations you experience in the present. If you don’t do this, your soul is calling you to do this. Slow down. Chew slower, shower longer, and take time out of your morning to listen to the birds sing. 

The leisurely flow of the universe is inviting you to join its dance. You are safe. You are provided for. The universe is your sugar daddy. Your guides want you to know that what you want, wants you; you just need to slow down.

I sense that your energy is aphrodisiacal. Your sacral chakra is one of your dominant chakras (could be healthy or a leak but it is prominent) and when people enter your presence their chakra gets activated too. People get creative and fiery near you. If their sacral chakra is blocked, this may be repressed and they can hold resentment for the free-flowing energy you have which they feel they lack. 

Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. Abundance. That word is used a lot in this community and you may be tired of hearing it but that's too damn bad! You’re very fucking abundant.

If this puzzles you because you look around and don't see whatever you picture as abundance, it's because it's sitting within you waiting for you to actualize it. You have the skills, the intellect, and everything else under the sun needed to grab your dreams by the balls. I cannot stress this enough.

Go outside, journal, continue your affirmations, and remove yourself from anything lying to you and saying you cannot do this. It is a fucking lie. You have everything it takes to do what the world says is impossible. Shut the world’s opinion out and turn inwardly for your answers, because you have them.  

Ambrosia. Liquid gold. It flows through you. You are the gift. The universe’s greatest gift to you is you. You have the ability to spin anything into gold. 

I have some doomscrollers, spirallers, and people-pleasers in this pile. You may struggle with excess anxiety, digestive issues, acid reflux, and ulcers. Outside influences have tricked you into believing you are a pebble when you’re actually a diamond. 

Baby, you have to cut them off. By “them” I mean all negative energies that cause your mind to get stuck in a loop of self-hate. That includes social media, bad habits, fake relationships. Your solitude will heal you. Your peace of mind will heal you. Once you shut up the naysayers, you’ll finally hear the music that has been drowned out in your body and soul.

I know this is a lot but it is worth the effort. Your potential is worth the effort. A healthy state of mind is worth the effort. You are worth the effort. 

Sidenote: The star and temperance came out while I was cleaning up. BABY YOU A STAR IN THE MF MAKING!

"The great merit of gold is precisely that it is scarce”

✴︎ Pile Three ✴︎ (The World, 6oW, 2oW)

🎵Nowadays, I be duckin' them cameras

And they hype that I'm up on them banners

Callin' my phone, but they know I don't answer (why?)

In the hood, I'm like Princess Diana (grrah) 🎵

✴︎ THE PEOPLE 'S PRINCESS (or prince… orrrr the #1 baddest barnacle in the seven seas, whatever fits).

3, “The creative child” and 6, “The Caretaker” came out. 3 is the number of self-expression and creativity. 6 is the most harmonious number centered around nurturing your community. In the world, you’re the center of attention. In the 6 of Wands, you’re the one decked out in Dolce and Gabanna, playing Robin Hood and giving to the people. In the 2 of wands, you quite literally have the world in your palm.

Your soul’s footprint is destined to be seen and recognized. Baby, you are meant to be loved by the world at large. 

Maybe you have aspirations of becoming an artist, actress, or influencer. If you have dreams of being in the public eye, I am telling you your desires are not coincidental. You are meant for these dreams so do not be afraid to actualize them. The stars are expecting you, your home is in the spotlight.

Everyone incarnates on Earth with a role and purpose, you are meant to have a large platform because what you have to say matters and will elevate our collective consciousness. You have the gift of being able to garner great attention. People like to see you, talk to you, see what you’re wearing, know about your life, and everything else in between. People are like moths to a flame with you, you’re an entertainer to your very core.

You have a youthful, creative, and colorful soul. 

I am getting strong floral scents mixed with a crisp, clean linen smell. Gardenia, Ylnag Ylnag, Cherry Blossom, and Honey Suckle. I just know the bees be tearing your nectary ass up.

You know how Ariana Grande’s perfume line is always sold out? It’s kind of like that. “Oh, Pile Three is wearing this perfume? PUT IT IN THE CART. NEOW.”

Strong Venusian energy. Libra, Taurus, Pisces, 2nd house (especially for my singers), 7th house, Bharani, Purva Phalguni and Purvashada.

People find you very attractive. Yes, physically so, but the true embodiment of beauty stems from the soul. And you are utterly gorgeous. I am getting snow white; the animals flock to her, the sky clears for her, the seas part for her, and the forest protects her.

I am not trying to be redundant but this Earth does not play about you😭. That doesn’t mean you haven’t experienced hardship but trust, you will get the love you crave, tenfold. 

I get the sense that love has felt very conditional in your life and once the metaphorical “love pie” was cut and served, you were served last and there was never enough for you.

I am going to hold your hand as I say this,

Feel this pain. Process this pain fully. Cry all your tears, scream your sorrows out in the open, and let the winds carry it away. Let these feelings of being unloved leave your body because there is no space for them anymore. Eternal love is flowing in to fill those empty cavities. You are so loved. I am so sorry the environment around you has blocked this energy but please know that justice will be served and the love you are karmically owed is growing within you and you will be seen in this lifetime.

COME BACK TO THIS WHEN YOU’RE FAMOUS AND DON’T FORGET ME.

You better not go Hollywood on me 🫵

The Cosmos' Countess

✴︎ Pile Four ✴︎ (The Hanged Man, Knight of Wands, 5 of Swords)

✴︎ Random, but have you heard stories of those cool warrior monks? Who devotes themselves to their practice but when it’s time for battle they whoop ass?? That’s so you, boo.

You’re all peace, love, and light but you don’t fucking play about protecting your peace of mind. I sense that you live an alternative lifestyle. With the hanged man, you see life differently from the average person, and don’t waste your time with the world’s bullshit. 

You’re not on Twitter arguing about Drake’s tummy tuck (BAHAHA I HAD TO), you know shit like this doesn’t add to your life in any way. You focus your energy on activities and discussions that add to your self-evolution. You have made lots of sacrifices in life to progress forward and the universe sees your hard work and is proud of you. Hell, even I’m proud of you. 

You and the Universe like this 🤞. Here’s an affirmation that already rings true but is good to practice anyway, “I surrender to the natural flow of all existence.”

A lot of you study esoteric divinity practices. Tarot, scrying, rune-casting, psychometry, etc. We also have some healers. This may ruffle some feathers. Maybe your family or friend circle doesn’t understand your interests and may push against it but quite frankly… you don’t give a fuck. 

As you shouldn’t.

Your self-resolutions are impressive. You may feel nervous at times but your faith in yourself makes you fearless. You’ve done your studying. You’ve done your healing. You're ready to take the world by storm, and nothing is knocking you off your horse. You are the first to ride into battle and will be the last standing. I don’t know if you’re aware but you thrive in conflict, your soul spirit is akin to Martian energy and loves a good fight, to be honest. 

Your power is in your belief that everything will work out in your favor. “I have the power of God and anime on my side.” 

If you’re not quite at this level yet and you don’t see yourself as this peaceful warrior, you got the “soothe”, “present”, and “friendship” cards. It’s your nerves, baby. It has nothing to do with you as a person. You are smart enough. You are capable. You have everything you need to ride into this new life. 

The entire collective is being asked to slow down. The hustle in society right now does not allow our nervous systems to regulate themselves so everyone is miserable and drained. Remove yourself from this hustle and ground yourself in the present. You have to soothe yourself and lower your cortisol levels. Baby yourself, you deserve it.

Look up techniques to regulate your parasympathetic nervous on YouTube.

Anyway, your soul caught me off guard, you're that sexy mf fr. Ummm back to scent..

YES, okay so please don’t take this the wrong way because I am obsessed with what I'm getting. Hear me out, I used to take kickboxing classes for a few years and that particular gym’s scent was my favorite fucking scent. 

It sounds weird but it smelled like pent-up stress relief: sweat, blood, and Clorox. 

Of course, I’m not saying you smell like this, but this is how I perceive the scent your soul carries.

Your soul’s scent is victory. Particularly, through a bloody means. Your soul understands the purification in blood. Extremely Martian. You’re chill but you’re really fucking intense dude. I like you.

Oooo and also, hang out with friends!! Genuine contact can help relax your body.

Mmmkaye bye!

The Blood You Spill Is The Blood of Kings

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Date Night

Joel Miller x F!Reader

based on this lovely ask. I've added some zest and a lil smut that came out of nowhere cuz why not. Mommy and Daddy are horny when they're alone.

Warnings: unprotected sex, brief breeding kink, car sex, semi-public sex, descriptions of reader's body related to pregnancy

18+ONLY

- - - -

Joel’s been waiting for this night for over a year now. It really shouldn’t take this long to get a date night alone again with the wife after giving birth, but lord knows the Miller family girls were inseparable the minute Sarah let out her first cry into the big world. 

You’ve been the ever attentive Momma, and Joel couldn’t have been more ecstatic to have the perfect trifecta.

But oh my god he needs a minute alone with you again. You wanted to be with Sarah 24/7 and vice versa. And since the little bean turned 3, she’s become more clingy than ever possible. 

Not tonight. He’s made the perfect reservation, had Tommy clear his schedule to babysit for weeks now, and even picked up a gorgeous necklace and matching earrings to compliment adults-only night out. The kids (being Sarah and adult-Tommy) can have their own fun. Joel needs his wife tonight.

“And she gets 30 minutes of TV max okay? Then you have to read her—one second Joel—one of her books, she might pick it out herself, please be patient, she’s gonna keep switching it on you but that’s ok, and then—oh don’t forget her blanket is in the dryer so its extra warm—oOH and Tommy—“

“He’s got, honey,” Joel tuts. Tommy has been approved for babysitting duty before. He trusts him (as far as the neighbor can see into the house not being burned down).

You and Joel are standing in the kitchen, ready to sneak out the back door while Sarah is dancing to the little trolls on the television in her own world.

“Okay,” you whisper. Joel holds the door open as you hesitantly look back. “I”m just gonna give her a quick kiss--“

He looks his arm into yours and hoists you back. “No! She won’t let you go. She’ll be fine. C’mon.”

Joel and you tip toe out and round the garden to the front door with giggles, trying not to stumble over the long grass and patchy holes in the yard.

You’re almost to the car parked in the driveway when you hear screaming from inside, followed by the door opening and a midget Sarah running towards you with a red, tear-stricken face as Tommy is shouting “Hey get back here bug!”

“Mama!” She smashes her face into your dress and wraps her arm around your legs. Her little body trembles with sobs.

“Sarah, Mama’s here, it’s okay.” You pout and crouch down and hug her, cooing away her baby tears. 

Joel makes eye contact with Tommy who’s standing at the front door with an apologetic look. He shakes his head: mission failed. But he’s not giving in so easily.

The toddler sniffles and wipes her cheeks with puffy fists. She grabs your hand and leads you back inside the house, and Joel follows behind.

You sit and watch tv with her for a few minutes but she starts to look sleepy. Joel nudges you again, and you slide off the sofa carefully as can be. This time, you don’t even make it to the door before you feel a strong grip tugging at your dress.

Twice more over the next 40 minutes, Sarah comes screaming towards you, refusing to let you go.

Joel’s given up on the reservation and just hopes the two of you can snag a bar spot at this point.

“I’m sorry, she just keep slipping—“

“She’s got so much fat,” Joel grumbles as you plant fat kisses on her head and sway her side to side in your arms, “There’s no way she just ‘slips’. Just hold her down, Tommy!”

Sarah is glued to your leg, crying as you once again try to leave the house with Joel.

“No!nonononoNONONONONO!” She wails, bitty nails digging into your calf.

Joel gives Tommy a look just as Sarah is rubbing her face on your dress. "SARAH,” he shouts with a stern booming voice. His thick finger points down at her authoritatively. She hiccups, startled, and listens:

"Daddy and Mommy are LEAVING. Do you understand me?"

Her lips wobbles, eyes scrunching into a terrible fit before screeching at the top of her lungs in tears and going to hold you tighter. 

Before she reaches you, Tommy scoops her up by the belly and slings her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes at the same time Joel hoists you over his and takes you to the truck. 

Joel has to drag you to the car as you watch Sarah's teary red face and outstretched arm yelling for you dramatically from Tommy's shoulder before he closes the front door on her.

You sit in the passenger seat timidly. Joel angrily slams the door before rounding towards the driver side.

“Finally,” he grumbles, putting his seatbelt on and turning the ignition.

You sniffle a bit, looking at the window solemnly.

“You’re not crying, are ya?” He asks hesitantly.

“No!” You cry.

He grinds his jaw but continues to put the car in reverse. His warm hand pats along your thigh as you wipe the almost tears from your eyes. You refuse to let your makeup get ruined.

“It’s gonna be fine, Christ, Mama.”

You nod and cross your arms, thinking about your baby girl and her sad tears the entire ride.

-

At the restaurant, Joel managed to get a table despite the hostess grumbling about their lateness. He’s pleased, finally having you to himself, no child at the hip to worry about, just the two of you again like it all started.

He sips his wine and admires the view: you really put forth the effort tonight, your hair blown out and beautifully full, makeup neutral yet with a sexy hint of red lipstick, and the earrings and necklace compliment your looks perfectly.

Not to mention the boner he’s getting from seeing you in such a dress as if you were back in your 20s again.

"You look so beautiful," he says quietly with a smile.

"Yup sure do,” you say curtly, sipping your water quickly and then twiddling the button at the time on the phone.

He grunts disapprovingly. “Can you really not just relax—“

"We've never been apart from her this long!"

"Yes we have. When we both work. She goes to daycare. Tommy has baby sat her before."

"Mmmhgmmgmfmdmdddfgfggrrhrhrr but she--"

“She needs to learn to self sooth on her own. She’s FINE.” He reiterates. Joel refuses for this night, this one night in a very very long time, to be about Sarah! “What about us?"

You pause and look up from your anxious state, turning to a worried, perplexed one instead. “What do you mean? We're fine, aren't we?" You ask hesitantly, and he absolutely catches the wobble in your voice.

"Yes…! Oh honey, no I didn’t mean it like that. I mean... well…  I never get to see just you anymore."

Your eyes soften with remorse and heartfelt appreciation. “That's what happened when you have children, Joel."

"I know I know, and I love her to death, but Jesus I love you too! I loved you first and I miss just having you to myself sometimes too. I feel like I’m competing with her over you.”

You nod in agreement. “I’m sorry. I know I get so worked up. If she had a sister, it'd be so much easier on her.”

“How are we supposed to give her a sister if I can't get 5 seconds alone with you?" 

You hide the little grin on your face just as he dips to catch it with a satisfied smirk. “If that were the case, you would have taken me to a hotel tonight. Not dinner.”

Joel contemplates with wide eyes of realization at his mistaker of venue. “We can get this to-go right now. Can get to the holiday inn in 10 minutes, and I’m sure they got a room for the next few hours—“

You kick his shin and laugh. 

He can’t stop smiling with you. You’re finally relaxed now, and just as radiant as the first day he met you. Same when he married you, and every day you were glowing during the pregnancy. The only moment that beat it was when he saw you first hold your newborn in your arms.

“I can’t stop staring at you,” he admits. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You bite the inside of your lip and check your phone again for the time. Butterflies kick up in your stomach and nestle somewhere south that has your your thighs clenching together. Throwing your hand up in the air to signal the waiter: “Can I get a to-go for this? We have somewhere to be, right now.”

-

You couldn’t manage to wait for the drive to the hotel. Forcing Joel to pull over on the side of some empty backroad, crawling into his lap and stripping his jacket just as you grind your panty-clad core into his slacked-bulge. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” he groans, pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply. Both your hands are busy trying to undo the other’s clothes—his fingers working to unzip your dress, revealing your smooth back, breasts on display for groping. At the same time you nimbly fight each of his buttons to push your palms against his broad chest. Fighting to suck in air between each forceful kiss. Entangled in one another like horny teenagers.

“I miss this,” he hums against your cheek just as you reposition your underwear to the side with one hand, fisting his cock out of his slacks with the other. His hands glide over your ass, patting your cheek once, ruffling the slit in your dress.

“Me too,” you snicker, finally settling his tip at your entrance. “I miss being able to straddle you without a belly,” you add quickly, and he almost laughs were it not for the synchronous moan you both let out as you sink down on his length fully.

Your eyes flutter, but a gentle grasp of your jaw pulls your face just an inch from his. “I want you to watch me,” he groans. “Watch me make love to you.” Your lips hover over his plump ones as you begin to slowly rock up and down along his massive cock. “That’s it, that’s my wife. So good f’me.”

You nod, whimpering softly. Each little hump pushes his tip deeper, nudging your g-spot effortlessly.

“So full,” you whine.

“You take it so good, baby. Always have.” His arms wrap securely around your hips as you grind on one another. He really was made for you. Your walls always fit like a glove around him, just tight enough to make him nearly blow his load each time were it not for an extreme amount of effort to avoid it. Every change to your body since having Sarah has only made his lips and hands hungrier to feel, the new dips and curves, soft plush areas just begging to be grasped by him. He wants it, wants you and so much more.

“Joel,” you warn, keening with little high pitched etches caught in your throat. “M’gonna cum.”

“Me too,” he rasps. “Gonna do it inside. You gonna take it?”

You nod, tears of euphoria welling in your eyes as you whimper.

“Gonna put another baby in ya? Right fuckin’ here, in my truck behind a restaurant? That how you want it? Dirty dirty girl, holy fuck—“

You gasp, your entire boy trembling against him as you cum. He captures your lips before you let out your moan, walls contracting around him until he feels his lower tummy snap. Balls twitching, he grunts into your mouth as he spills his generous seed deep into your womb. It’s so much, so pent up, so drawn out. 

It’s the best mind-clearing cure you’ve ever had. 

You collapse forward on him, slouched and panting against his sweaty neck. Your soft lips connect with his collarbone. He pecks your forehead, brushing the hair from your face.

It’s not comfortable at all, scrunched up here in his car. neither of you are nearly as young as the recent activity suggest, but with his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you, the fog blurring the windows and separating the two of you from the rest of the world, you could stay like this forever.

It’s quiet in Joel’s arm. Just the two of you—

His phone buzzes in his pocket and you fish out the device.

12 missed calls from Tommy.

You sit straight up and hit your head on the roof. “Ow!” 

But there’s no time to hurt, not when Tommy’s last text message isa jumbled mess : ‘45ssfgh5 vi w2434467777$$75%refft+..87’ 

“Oh my God! OhmyGod—OHMYGOD— Joel, we need to go home right fucking now! What if they’re incoherent? What if something crashed into the house? What if it’s a fire? What if someone broke in—!”

He wipes his face with both hands. Truth is, he knew his phone was going off all night, but if you weren’t getting any messages, then it couldn’t have been an emergency. It was best to deliberately ignore whatever Tommy, a grown adult, couldn’t figure out on his own.

“Alright alright. We’ll go—“

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!” You scratch, setting into the passenger seat and reaching to turn the keys for him.

He slaps your hand away offensively before tucking his softened, creamy cock back inside his trousers and speeding back home.

Low and behold, as you nearly trip out of the car towards the house (the very intact, not on fire, not broken into, normal looking house just as you left it,) you stumble into the front door to see Tommy passed out on the couch with a drooling Sarah propped up against his shoulder.

Clutched in her tiny hands is Tommy’s massive phone that is the side of her arm, with Joel’s contact open and a half jumbled message of random letters and numbers still half written before she must have fallen asleep.

You sigh heavily.

Joel comes in right after you and chuckles as you catch your breath. You smack him on the shoulder. 

“Probably shouldn’t wake her,” he whispers to you with a peck to the lips. You pout but obey, not wanting to make a scene right as she’s asleep.

He walks over to his younger brother and flicks his forehead.

“M’up!” He mumbles.

“You’re supposed to put her to bed before you fall asleep.” He scoops his sleepy baby into his arms and carries her off to her room, leaving the door cracked.

Joel escorts Tommy out just as you unlatch your earring. You glance back towards her room, the light from the kitchen illuminating a sliver of the bed, and Sarah has somehow miraculously disappeared.

You’re running out after Joel, who’s opening Tommy’s truck door just as you both see something waddling in the dark and getting into the back seat by herself.

“Sarah!” 

The toddler rubs her sleepy eyes but doesn’t respond, just sits quietly in uncle Tommy’s truck with the lap belt pulled over her seat.

Joel, on the other hand, sees the opportunity to get you alone, loud, and spread out in bed all to himself for the rest of the night. “Yes, take her!" He encourages. Tommy grumbles with his hands on his hips.

You shake your head in disbelief and shove past him. “Sarah no! Mommy's home! Let's cuddle—“

"No." She says plainly. "I go to MeeMee now."

"No! You stay with Mommy!" You cry. 

She shakes her head again more defiantly, but her little voice cracks as just mumbles. “You lef me!”

Your heart is cracking in a million pieces, chest aching so badly as water blurs your vision. “I’m sorry! Please I won't do it ever again!"

"No!"

"You're never watching my child again. Thomas!” you seethe at defenseless Tommy.

 Now you and Sarah are crying and hyperventilating in the driveway at 10pm.

"Daddy made me!" You wail like a baby yourself. sounding almost indistinguishable from Sarah now. Fat tears spill down both of your faces, sagged shoulders twitching with each sniffle. 

You and Sarah both huff and wipe your puffy red eyes. 

Finally, Sarah speaks up with her little sobs subsided: “Daddy go to MeeMee and Mommy and RaRa stay home.”

“Deal. Joel, pack your bags,” you say plainly, straightening up and reaching out for Sarah, who gladly accepts you in her arms. 

As you walk with her on your hip back to the house without another word, Tommy glances back in amusement.

And just like that, Joel was #2 again.

-

Joel fluffs the flat pillow on Tommy’s bed. The two of them sharing the full mattress since the younger brother only just moved into his new apartment, not having picked up any other furniture at the moment except for his tiny ass mattress.

"You think this is real funny don't you,” Joel grumbles. He tugs on the blanket and shifts uncomfortably over to his side, facing away.

Tommy chuckles and wipes his face, trying to clear the soreness from his cheeks after laughing all the way home. “Hell yeah. You wanted that, all of it, remember?"

Joel just grins happily, subconsciously twirling the gold band on his ring finger. He checks his phone one last time, the picture of you and Sarah as an infant in his arms smiling up at him. "Yeah. Yeah I do." 

-

 He’s achy and exhausted when comes back home in the early morning. Tommy had kicked him off the bed in his sleep, so the older brother just walked home for 20 minutes.

 It’s not until he sees you and Sarah curled up on his bed together, her little pjs riled up over her fat belly, fist clutched above her head, and you with your protective hand around her hip, nose buried in her hair, breathing so softly in unison, that he can't imagine anything better. He kisses both your heads before walking back towards door.

There’s a little rustle and patter noise behind him, and Joel stops, almost shouting and jumping up when he turns to see little Sarah standing on his heels looking up to him. She points to the bed with very pouty lips and tired yet steamy eyes. Joel takes her hand and she guides him to the bed.

She clutches the side and hoists herself up with all her might before Joel joins in on his vacant side. Two tubby fingers grip his cheeks and pull him to stare directly into her soul a she says clearly: “Don’t ever take Mama away again. You understan me?" With a fat digit pointed inches from his eyeball.

He swallows and nods fearfully: “Yes ma’am". 

Switching on a dime, his babygirl smiles gently and kisses his scruffy cheek. Her little head settles onto his shoulder just as he tucks her between the two of you, curling around her and nuzzling himself into your hair.

He sighs heavily and feels himself falling asleep, his family finally wrapped up into his arms. 

"Daddy," Sarah says after 12 seconds of silence, rubbing her eyes. “Chocwit pancakes."

Your head jolts up and you hazily grumble, “Ooo pancakes yes please! Can you put chocwit chips in them?" 

You fall back onto the pillow, pulling Sarah back into your arms with a content, lazy smile.

He rolls his eyes and crawls out of bed just as Sarah and you cuddle closer together and fall back asleep.

 - - - - 

taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[taintedcigs]

— hardest of hearts

“darling heart, I loved you from the start. but you'll never know what a fool I've been.” ‹‹ — florence + the machine, hardest of hearts.

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

summary: jealousy has never been your strongest suit. you realize that even better when you see steve and nancy in close proximity. based on this prompt by @dumplingsjinson (wc: 1.6k+)

warnings: just absolute fluff, maybe tiny angst, and making out, they kinda go hard at it for no reason, this is just an excuse for me to ramble abt how pretty steve is bye.

author's note: ohh if u want pls listen to hardest of hearts by florence + the machine when u r reading!! luv that song <3 and again. ignore the corny summary and i didnt proof-read and wrote this shitty thing in 30 mins yada yada!!! based on this amazing request i got from my lolo bean angel @lofaewrites i hope u like it MWAHHHHH!!!!

pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.

Jealousy.

That ugly feeling clawed at your insides, consuming you whole, bringing out the worst in you and you knew it, yet you couldn't help it. Finding yourself powerless against its caging grip.

The venomous glare you threw at the two of them surely had to burn off Steve's back, but they remained rooted to their spot, talking about whatever the fuck, while Nancy lingered far too close to him for your liking.

Her curls danced in the dim light, swaying with each infectious giggle that escaped her lips at his jokes. The sight of her head thrown back in mirth only made your blood boil more with it.

You wondered what the fuck was so funny that he felt compelled to whisper to her, the sight of them so close to each other had your entire body feeling hot, an ugly feeling consuming you whole. The fragile porcelain filled with alcohol threatened to break under your harsh grip.

And of course, you couldn't help the way you act entirely unreasonable when he comes back to the booth.

Cold, a total raging bitch, your mouth feeling hot the more you snapped at him. And he knew, he knew the exact reason for your attitude. Yet, he couldn't help but find it adorable. How your lips downturn as you scoff at him, just because you're jealous.

You storm out to catch your breath and get some cold air, his footsteps fall into sync behind you, because he can see right through the facade you desperately clung to, see the way your doe eyes flash hurt, thick lashes hiding your disappointment behind the anger.

You lean against the brick wall of the bar, the chilly Hawkins air seeping through the fabric of your coat, almost enough to calm you down before you can hear Steve's hesitant footsteps as he closes the distance between you.

He's making you so pathetic.

The concern in his eyes mirrors the ache in your chest, gaze searching yours for answers you were reluctant to give.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, tone merely honey-glazed.

He didn't let you answer, instead following up with a, "Or are you just... jealous?" That stupid smirk lingers on his lips, making your insides gooey, while you wore that scowl as your mask.

"What?" You scoffed, playing dumb, as you crossed your arms against your chest, almost to protect your feelings.

"Oh my god, you so are," he teases, that damned smirk stretching his mouth into a full grin, reaching all the way to his eyes, causing them to crinkle, so pretty that you are melting all over.

"Shut up, Harrington," you murmur, heat spreading across your cheeks, gaze unable to avoid him. Pools of warm honey-toned brown eyes drawing you in so effortlessly.

"God, do you still not believe me?" He shakes his head with a slight huff, shoulders slumping in defeat.

You know exactly what he's talking about, with the way his brows quirk up, and he tugs at his silky hair in frustration.

Steve told you he liked you. A couple of days ago. But you just scoffed and huffed, rolling your eyes in his face.

You couldn't—more so—you just didn't want to believe it. You thought it was too good to be true.

Couldn't believe that he would want you when he used to be so hung up on Nancy. Blame it on your insecurities, or your attachment issues. Or blame it on the fact that you were scared. So fucking scared.

And you'd rather avoid all of it than have him break your heart. It's unreasonable, but to your idiotic brain, you're being logical.

"H—how do you expect me to when you end up doing shit like this?" Your tone is barely above a whisper, suddenly insecure like you're exposing yourself bare to him. You just need him to convince you. And he knows. He finally knows.

"Like what? Talking to Nancy?" He scoffs, like it's ridiculous. To him it is. That you even can believe the idea that he still thinks about her, when all that invades his mind is you.

"Like talking to your ex, the same ex you were hung up on," you reply back bitterly, words burning your tongue as they barely roll off your lips.

He leans in closer to you, almost to make a point. "Were, like you said." He spits in frustration, "past fucking tense. I moved on, so long ago. You know that."

"And she just said hi, as a friend. Nothing more," he enunciates it carefully and would explain that to you all goddamn night, if it meant it would wash your worries away, he meant every word he said to you. He didn't care about Nancy. It was you. And from now on, it was only going to be you.

You were desperate, so desperate to not show him your true feelings, but of course he could see right through you. "Maybe, maybe she did, but-"

He groans, not even caring that he's interrupting you. "There's no fucking buts, sweetheart, I told you, told you that I fucking liked you, that I wanted you, why do you insist on trying to push me away?"

You gulp when you notice how he has you caged against the textured walls, your back hitting the bricks with a soft thud, his breath flushing your already heated cheeks. "I don't—"

"What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” His words are harsh, not in a rude way, only to get it through your thick skull. Show you how much you actually mean to him.

Rough hands end at your side, that annoying strand of hair falling to his thick lashes, making him look so pretty that you just want his hot mouth on yours. "There is no one else for me but you, and even you can't fucking change my mind, yeah?"

"I don't give a fuck about any other girl unless they're you." Words fall like silk from his lips, and they are heavenly to your ears, blinking quickly to process all of it.

And he enjoys it, sees the way your gaze glimmers, cheeks adorned with a sudden warmth as you give him those doe-eyes that make him want to crumble into you, fully.

You nod dumbfoundedly, almost to let him know that you finally believe him, and he gives you a soft chuckle, raising his brows "Are you going to let me take you out on that date?"

His caramel hues swirl hypnotizingly as they gaze into you, so alluring paired with the striking moles all over his cheek and neck, making you wanna kiss him all over. "Mhmm," you hardly mumble, too focused on taking all of him in.

He reaches up to touch your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin like feather, soft but making you flustered nonetheless, the faint scent of his woodsy perfume invading your senses. "Come on, use your words, honey," he coaxes, fingers leaving goosebumps in its wake as you can feel him all over.

"Y-yeah," you faintly mumble, not so confident in your voice when he looks at you all hungrily.

His mouth slightly curves into a bigger grin, leaning in as he whispers "Atta girl," almost making you whimper at his low tone.

You lean closer, urging his mouth to yours. He groans when you sweep your thumb over his jaw, knees giving out at the sound. Soft candy lips brush against yours, so agonizingly slow that the heat unfurls all over your body.

He takes your slight shock as a moment to slide his tongue inside, a sigh of relief escaping your velvety lips. He tastes like beer, and something sweet, kissing you with so much heat that you can't help the way you melt into him, his touch burning everywhere it makes contact with.

He brings you closer, as if that's even possible, bodies pressed against each other, your breasts flush against his hard chest, and you can almost feel his heart hammering inside, rhythm matching yours.

His cherry-pout mouth suckles at your bottom lip, slight stubble brushes against your chin, and fuck, you want him, so much so that you let out a low whine.

You want to continue. Desire runs through your body like wildfire, burning him with you, but once you hear the honks of the busy street, the realization of where the fuck the two of you are hits you, and only then you break the kiss.

Standing outside of a bar, kissing like two horny idiots, a pretty giggle escapes your lips when you meet his dreamy gaze again, his hues resembling mostly black now, both sets of pupils blown wide. Passion radiates from both of you.

"Was that enough to prove to you that I really, really, really like you, sweetheart?" He asks with a pretty grin, lips all puffy and smudged with your gloss, earning more hearty giggles and a nod from you.

"Or do you need to kiss me in front of her? Get all territorial?" He asks with a slight tilt of his head, brows raised all teasingly, that smirk returning like it ever left, making you huff.

You elbow him playfully before you fist his shirt, bringing him in much more close proximity, again. "Shut up and kiss me again, Harrington."

[doflamingadonquixote]

Worthy {PT 1/2}

Parings: Lucifer Morningstar x Sinner!Dom!Reader

Warnings: no one in this chapter, just a little bit of swearing and an hurt/comfort situation

Words: don’t know, more than 7000

Summary: After returning to the hotel from a day at work, you find Lucifer sitting alone and in misery. A confrontation ensues that you would never have imagined in your unlife.

A/N: English is not my first language, I apologize for any errors but I also rely heavily on a translator. Criticisms and your opinions are always welcome. I decided to divide this mini ff into TWO parts. The second will be more spicy. Let me know who would like to be mentioned for next part! Enjoy!

You rushed in through the front door, waving your umbrella and shaking off the drops of acid rain that were quickly eating away at your jacket.

It was the fourth this week. Something was going wrong with the weather in the circle of pride.

The room had probably emptied by now given the time. There were only a few little sinners left in the armchair, entertaining themselves with their phones.

Their rooms must surely be near Alastor's radio tower. After several complaints it was discovered that the closer you were to it, the more those little gadgets seemed to have problems or interference.

“Don't be too late. Tomorrow morning Charlie will set up the new program for the week.” You communicated to them, moving behind the chair and letting a hand ruffle the younger sinner's hair.

He muttered something but nothing that was too rude towards you. As you approached the staircase back to your rooms, a white-clad figure at the bar caught your attention.

Lucifer was bent with his elbows on the table, between his fingers a half-full glass of some liquor that he had stolen from Husk's supplies.

With a loud sigh he brought it to his lips but before it could reach them, your fingers blocked the advance of the glass, pushing it down by the top again.

Lucifer turned to look at you quickly but his shoulders visibly relaxed when he acknowledged your presence.

“Whatever answer you are looking for, you won’t find it in that glass, sir.” You warned him and, in the distraction of his gaze on you, you slipped the glass from his hand, brought it to your mouth and emptied the contents down your throat.

The liquid burned faintly, causing you to cough barely. Yes, it had definitely touched Husk's good reserve.

“You've been out a long time today. Any news?” He asked as he watched you set the glass down in the sink, beyond the counter.

“Not much, really. Sinners are still very hesitant.” You shrugged but turned a happy smile on him. “At least they listen now, though. They don't accept, but they listen to what you have to say. Small steps.”

You and Lucifer met after Charlie hired you while she was in a meeting with Camilla. You worked with her in the beginning, identifying potential clients all around the circle.

Charlie probably saw some salesmanship in you that she could also exploit in convincing sinners to redeem themselves.

You were not a longtime sinner. You had recently died so you hadn’t had a chance to take an interest in the royal family.

The first time you saw Lucifer you expected something more threatening, malevolent.

Instead, you had been confronted by a little jumping baked bean who made pancakes in profusion for breakfast.

You had immediately sympathized with his personality. You considered yourself a very mild-mannered fellow so his influence was a healthy touch for your motivation as well.

You had also worked together on some proposals to present to the newcomers though with some difficulty in agreeing among yourselves.

For some strange reason his idea about the duck pool exceeded yours in preference. Seeing the hotel sinners enjoying themselves in the yellow duck pile was hilarious and utterly unbelievable.

Because of that, you had grown very close to the King and respected him very much.

Therefore, seeing him in such a pitiful state as he was in at that very moment threw a sense of unease upon you.

“Shitty day for you too?” You asked, almost as if you were disinterested. If he didn't want to answer, he could have ignored you and not felt forced to necessarily say anything.

However, the soft sound of sobbing reached your ears loud and clear.

You turned quickly but his face was bent away from you on his shoulder, not allowing you to look at him properly.

The only thing you could see was the tremor in his back and how his hands had closed forcibly on his crossed arms, resting on the counter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the two remaining little sinners giggle over something they had seen on their phones, oblivious to what was happening a few feet away from them.

You didn't know what to do. Touching him seemed to be too much, and you weren't sure of your comforting skills at that moment. You felt you did not know him well enough to afford certain words of comfort.

So you did the only thing you thought wise.

Hide him.

Your coat slipped over him with a gentle rustle, covering him totally from head to toe thanks to your stature.

Lucifer turned in wonder at you, his eyes bright and red with unshed tears under the loose hood falling over his face.

You gave him a smile as his cheeks turned a soft rose color.

“You know, if you have any problems you can talk to me, right? I can't assure you a very good therapy session but I think it's good just to talk about it.”

The ex Angel remained motionless for a few seconds, and you read the situation as a choice to prefer silence.

You didn't blame him, in fact you were a little embarrassed that you had the temerity to propose such a thing to him.

You got up from your chair, ready to say good night to him and retreat when one of his black hands twisted around your wrist, preventing you from moving further away.

You blinked a few seconds, confused but returned with your butt to the chair, your body fully toward him.

“Today is eight years since Lilith left.”

You smiled sadly. You had to understand that Lilith was the reason. After all, she alone had the ability to make him unhappy, besides his daughter but she never made him unhappy.

“Oh, that must suck.”

“Yeah.”

You frowned. After eight whole years had the man still not moved on? And Lilith hadn't even deigned to give an explanation or try to communicate with him the whole time? What man waits for his wife for eight years without moving on with his own life? How could she refuse the love of such a pure being?

Fuck, she really doesn't deserve him! If only he were yours…

“Do you really think so?”

Lucifer's voice made you jerk.

“What?” You asked confusedly, forcing your heart to suppress that senseless anger born out of nowhere.

“What you said, that she doesn't deserve me...” his lips quivered and his eyes had reached the size of those of an needy dog.

Shit, had you said that out loud!?

“Um, I think so,” you shook your head, looking away from him. “I'm sorry, I had no authority to say that. It's just...I don't know...you're an exceptional person, Lucifer. You deserve the best.”

You bit your lip. That drink really must have had powerful effects to let you open up so much with a being who could disintegrate you with a snap of his fingers.

“I..…T-Thank you.”

Flabbergasted, you noticed how the king's pale face was slowly turning a scarlet red and stretching to below the collar of his shirt.

He was flattered by your words? Did he not intend to kill you for disrespecting him?

“I only said what I think.” You added at the end, as if to solidify that you had gotten away with it.

You went back to looking in front of you, now unsure of how to continue that conversation, and you noticed how a light complexion had been added to your own cheeks as well.

But it seemed that Lucifer had not finished.

“If I were yours...”

The lump of saliva you were trying to get down stuck in your throat and you began to cough convulsively in surprise.

“D-did you hear that too?!”

What the hell was wrong with you that day? You had never been so brazen and indelicate. But there was something about Lucifer that set off all the right points for you.

You couldn't reason with him.

“Do you mean it? Would you appreciate me if I was?”

His body language had changed. He still looked embarrassed but the way he leaned toward you, the fluttering eyelashes and a little pout on his lips clearly told you that something had changed for the better.

You didn't blame Eva for accepting that damn apple. The man was driving you crazy and you were sure he knew it.

The hood of the vest over his face brushed your forehead, awakening you from the little trance you had entered.

“I would. I would adore you as the king you are and deserve to be.” Your hand reached his neck, preventing him from advancing any further. “But you are not in the right condition, sir. I don't want to take advantage-“

He puts a finger to your lips, forcing you to be silent while, with the other, he gently supports your face.

“Show me.”

[fhatbhabiee]

Cuz I Loved You | Part 2

DBF!Joel Miller x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: very light smut, joel being an ass, pregnancy, dad lectures, flashback, break up

part 1

It was quiet. Almost a bit too quiet. Your eyes scanned the small waiting room, glancing over the faces of the other people there.

Guess what they say is true- you really aren't alone.

The nurse opened the door and called out your name. When you walked back with her you could feel the world moving in slow motion. All the sounds around you were muffled but you could sure as hell hear your heart about to beat out of your chest.

It didn't take as long as you thought- in and out but you left with a souvenir. You smiled at the black and white photo, admiring the tiny little bean growing inside of you.

“We're gonna be just fine, bean. I promise you.”

— • —

They both stumbled into Joel's house and up to his bedroom. He flung his t-shirt off the same time she pulled her skirt down and kicked it somewhere in the room. Joel had picked her up at the bar, wanting- well more like needing something to stick his dick in and he was getting tired of his hand.

She was about to drop to her knees but he grabbed her wrist.

“Bed.” he demanded. She finished getting undressed and laid down on his bed facing him. He walked over and quickly flipped her on her stomach, grabbing her waist and flipping her over.

He thrusted into her, groaning at the sensational feeling he missed so much. It wasn't you but it'll do.

Fuck. Why did he have to think about you? He shook his head trying to get your face out of his mind but it wasn't working. Your smile was burned in the backs of his eye lids, the sound of your voice echoed through his ears. No matter what he thought of, your face popped up.

“Get out.” he let out a frustrated grunt as he pulled out and tucked himself back in his jeans.

“What?” she asked, confused

“I said get out!” she quickly got up from the bed and got redressed. She grabbed her shoes and left without saying anything else.

—

“Joel, we gotta go!” Tommy yelled out as he knocked on Joel's bedroom door. Joel jerked awake, headache hitting him like a truck the second he opened his eyes. He slowly got up and opened the door, the smell of alcohol hitting Tommy in the face.

“Jesus…” he muttered under his breath. “What did you do last night?”

Joel shrugged his shoulders as he walked back over to his bed. “Remember kicking a girl out of here last night. That's about it.”

“Why did you-”

“Can't stop thinking about her.” Joel muttered, cutting Tommy off. Tommy let out a small sigh and sat down next to Joel. He knew exactly who Joel was talking about.

“Brother I hate to break it to you but you can't get all sad and upset about missing her when you were the one that broke it off.”

“You don't get it…”

Tommy scoffed. “Joel, I know you better than anyone. Things got too serious between the two of you and you got scared- scared because the last time you had something serious she left you with a kid to raise on your own.”

Joel stayed quiet. He knew Tommy wasn't wrong. He really did want a life with you, he just let his fears get in the way. He hoped that after your dads birthday party he'd hear from you but it's been months and still nothing. He pushed you away and that's his own fault.

“Get dressed, we gotta get to work.” Tommy said before walking out of his bedroom.

— • —

“This damned thing.” you grunted, struggling to clip the baby seat in the back of your car. You felt a strong hand on your back, grabbing your attention.

“Let me get it.” Your dad said, reaching over the car seat and clipping it in within seconds.

“I totally had it.”

“Mhm.” he muttered as the closed the back door of the car.

“So…” Your dad started, leaning against your car. “I told your mom I wasn't gonna say anything but-”

“Dad if its about Joel-”

“He deserves to know.” You let out a sigh, annoyed that he's about to give you the same lecture again. “This is his kid too.”

“Yeah and he's the one that said he didn't want to start over. He's the one that broke up with me.”

“You need to stop being selfish and think about what that kid is gonna think when it grows up without a father. Get it through your head.”

“I'm being selfish? Joel wants nothing to do with this!”

“How do you know if you haven't even told him?”

You stayed quiet, secretly hating the fact that your dad was right. You still haven't told Joel and if you're being honest you hadn't planned on it. He made it clear when you broke up; he didn't want to start over. So why tell him?

“I gotta get going…” you muttered before getting in your car. Your dad grabbed the door before you closed it all the way.

“Do me a favor and think about it.” he muttered before closing the door.

—

After leaving your parents you decided to stop by the baby store and browse around- bit of retail therapy. You were walking around the store, searching for new clothes for the baby when you heard a deep voice call out your name.

You turned around and there he was.

“No way…” he muttered, eyes going straight to your swollen belly.

“Tommy.”

“H-How far along are you?”

“Almost 7 months.”

“Almost time then huh?”

“Yeah… Tommy I don't mean to be rude but what are you doing in a baby store?”

“Maria’s pregnant.” he smiled.

“Oh congratulations.” you said pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you. I'm so nervous but excited.” he chuckled, hugging you back.

“Oh you're gonna be a great dad Tommy don't sweat it.”

“Speaking of…” he trailed off, eyes going back to your belly. You crossed your arms over your chest, taking a step back from Tommy.

“It was good seeing you Tommy.” You flashed him a quick smile before walking away. The entire car ride back to your house you knew that Tommy was gonna tell Joel. Only thing is- what was Joel gonna do when he did find out?

— • —

“Wanted to talk to you about something.” You said as you sat in Joels lap and wrapped your arm around his neck.

“Talk to me baby.”

“Have you ever thought about maybe… having another baby?”

He chuckled. “Honey I'm 54, I tossed out that card a long time ago.”

“I know but maybe-”

“There is no maybe. I'm not having another kid.” He snapped. You gave him a small nod and got off his lap, walking up to the bedroom.

Joel didnt speak to you the rest of the day, until later that night when he walked upstairs and found you typing away on your laptop.

“What's with the baby talk earlier?” He asked. You closed your computer and set it on the nightstand.

“It was just a question Joel.”

“Okay, well then, do you want a baby?”

“Yeah.” You paused. “Not right now but I'd love to have a baby somewhere down the line.”

“It's not gonna be with me sweetheart I can tell you that now.”

You felt the familiar lump form in your throat- sensing a feeling in your gut on what was about to happen.

“So is it a deal breaker?” You asked, scared to know the answer.

“Yeah.” He muttered. “It's a deal breaker.”

—

Joel sat back, processing everything that he was just told. “How far along?” He whispered.

“7 months now.”

Joel looked over at him and gave him a small nod. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You deserved to know.”

beta'd: @dancingtotuyo & @clawdee thank you so much 🤍

divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

[anqelically]

GOODBYE, MY DARLING | BEAST!OSAMU DAZAI

SUMMARY. you’ve set up a meeting with a member of the port mafia to gain information, yet the man that greets you treats you like an old friend from the past

WARNINGS. fem!reader, 2.8k words, beast!au spoilers, angst, you take oda’s place

NAVI | BSD MASTERLIST

you were never too keen on the idea of meeting someone whose face you’ve never seen. as a cautious woman, who also worked as a detective for a living, you’d normally deny a meeting with someone unfamiliar. however, to deny a gathering in your current situation could cost the life of a boy you took in as a subordinate.

the lives of those younger than you were of the utmost importance.

ryunosuke akutagawa was your subordinate, who, blindly, stormed into the headquarters of the most dangerous organization in yokohama. in order to save his little sister, akutagawa broke into the port mafia’s building by himself to get her back.

since he was a member of the agency, it was part of your mission to rescue him. as you walked towards a lone bar in ginza, you never forgot that. a cigarette burned away in your dominant hand as you walked towards bar lupin.

your aim was to aid akutagawa in what would happen after his escape from the port mafia. the reason you were meeting with the person in charge of of monetary security for the mafia was to gain information. with a threat dangerous to the port mafia, a bargain can be made. the akutagawas can be safe from the port mafia, and the port mafia can be safe from the government.

the cigarette in your hand was put out when you rubbed it against the brick wall. you threw the unfinished product into the trashcan nearby before you took quiet steps down the stairs towards the bar. you were sure it was the location based on the sign outside.

the moment you had opened the door, the mellow, low tune of jazz reached your ears. your e/c eyes scanned the almost empty bar in front of you. at the actual bar itself sat one lone man. from his stature, he was definitely not the old man you were expecting.

his hair, dark as coffee beans, covered his face before he turned around. a smile adorned the unfamiliar man’s face as he looked at you with a shine in his rich, brown eye. the other one seemed to be wrapped in bandages, just like the ends of his arms. he was handsome, if you had to say. but for someone dressed like a port mafia hitman, he greeted you like you knew each other well.

“n/n, it’s been a while,” he spoke, voice soft. “were you smoking again? i can smell the stench from a mile away, you know.”

“i suppose it’s not unusual for you to smell it,” you responded. “but you say it’s been a while... have we met before?”

the man closed his eye, an almost silent sigh escaping his mouth. once you could see his uncovered eye again, the shine that was once there seemed to dull. it was still there, but harder for you to see in the dimly lit bar. he pushed down the sphere of ice in his drink.

“no, we haven’t met yet. this is the first time. the first time i’ve entered this bar, first time i drank here, first time we’ve met here, in this crazy world. a whole lotta firsts, wouldn’t you say, n/n?”

“yeah, it’s a lot.”

you found yourself sitting one stool away from the man. a bittersweet silence was draped amongst the two of you and for some reason, you felt the urge to change it as soon as possible. you wanted to fall into light conversation you’d normally have with someone close to you. it was odd, really. you were here for a purpose, yet you sat by idly.

“hey, i’ve got a question.” if the man wasn’t going to speak first, you would. you asked, “if we’re going to sit here, what should i call you? i doubt you’d want me to call you mister bandages.”

“well, calling me yours would be just fine,” he playfully smirked at you. “darling wouldn’t be bad either.”

“so it’s going to be like that?”

“of course it is. i have a nickname for you, and you have one for me. it’s only fair, isn’t it? but, i have a question for you. if we’re going to be here, what would you like to drink? pick your poison, belladonna.”

you let your chin rest on your hand, “well, i usually only drink with my coworkers and when i’m tired. i always have a lime margarita, if you can make that for me, darling.”

he smiled as he went behind the bar, “hm, i suppose i can make it. but since you’re here with me for the first time, how about we drink something else for the first time too? i can make a mean french martini, surprisingly. i’ve watched it get made plenty of times.”

“if you insist, go ahead. if it tastes bad, don’t be surprised when i give you 0 stars.”

“ouch, how low.”

dazai, to your surprise, began to create the drink as if he knew the bar like the back of his hand. he grabbed the right drinks from their respective places without even looking at the labels to create the cocktail. it was as if the bar was his.

while he was at it, you asked him something that had been bothering you from the moment he first talked. “you called me n/n when i entered the bar, so it’s safe to say that it refers to me. why call me that?”

“why?” he hummed. “i should ask you that. do you not like it?”

“it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. it’s just… no one has ever called me that before. everyone just calls me y/n, but not you, clearly.”

he lowered his gaze and the corners of his lips turned up. that smile of his, you could read it clear as day. you were able to tell that this man wasn’t smiling from what you’ve said, not even genuinely smiling. he smiled for the sake of himself. you didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling, but you were sure it had to do with yourself. there was no way it didn’t.

“and no one’s ever called me their darling until you have, n/n. it’s another first for the both of us, and we did it together. but hey, i have some stories i’ve been living to tell you. can i?”

after giving him the go-ahead, he excitedly talked about dealing with a bomb and giving his underlings firm tofu. the way he told his stories was like a little child coming home from the first day of school and telling their parents about their new friends.

once he was done, he slid the drink right in front of you and took a seat. however, it was not the seat he was originally at when you walked into the bar. getting closer that he was, he sat on the stool to your left. he held up his drink and, as if it were engraved into your body, you clinked your glass against his without a thought.

“well go ahead, taste it! let’s see if it really is worth 0 stars,” he urged you.

the way he stared into your eyes with anticipation, it was another strange thing you’ve noticed. he was genuinely happy. he was probably the strangest person you’ve ever met, and you’ve met some odd people.

after having a thought, you picked up the glass. you pressed it against your lips and took a sip, aware of the eye on you. once you swallowed and set the drink down, you could see a satisfied smile in your peripheral vision.

“good, huh?” the brunette asked.

“it really is,” you confirmed. “not 0 stars.”

“see? what did i tell you, belladonna? a french martini suits you, though. you can always ask me to make you some if you want.”

“maybe. i’d ask if you can cook as well, but your firm tofu says otherwise.”

he chuckled, “yeah, i’m not much of a cook. i always had someone else cook for me. it was edible too. she was much better than i was at cooking. at a lot of things, actually.”

“she seems like a woman of talent.”

“that’s right, she was. i’ve missed her… i’ve missed her a lot these past years.”

“a mother?”

“nope, my mom had been long gone from my life. this woman… she was much more than that.”

you couldn’t find anything else to say, so you remained quiet. that was, until the bandage-wearing man brought up why you two even decided to meet in the first place. he asked for more details.

“a subordinate of mine is in danger, and i want to cut a deal. it’d be a miracle if he came out it one piece, let alone with the person he’s been searching for. if he makes it out, i have no doubt that the port mafia will hunt him down. i want to cut a deal that’ll benefit us both.”

after contemplating, he murmured, “akutagawa’s lucky to have come across a good teacher like you.”

“excuse me?”

“you don’t need to worry about akutagawa. after today, the mafia will never lay another finger on him. there’s no catch; he’ll be able to live the rest of his life in peace... besides, this is what i’ve had planned since the beginning... if he makes it out of the mafia headquarters alive, that is.”

what he told you was was confirmed your suspicions. taking another sip of the martini, you looked him straight in the eye. you’ve let yourself come off as laid back, but now your expression was stern. he was caught off-guard.

“tell me, why did you lure him? why did you lure akutagawa into your headquarters, osamu dazai?”

it went silent, so much so that the music didn’t reach either of your ears.

“guess you’ve figured it out. i can’t fool you, can i?” he quipped. “you’ve always been quite intelligent.”

“you’re the gave out the hints. when talking about the tofu, you talked about underlings. you spoke like you had a lot of them. then, you talked about akutagawa without me even saying his name. not to mention how you’ve had plans from the beginning. only the port mafia’s boss would know, and be able to plan much. you’re the reason akutagawa is searching for his sister in the first place. this is over.”

“no, wait-!”

dazai reached out his arm, but he halted at the familiar click of a gun. his eye widened and he could only look at you with a horrified expression. he didn’t even have to look down to know your trusty pistol was in your hand.

“please put the gun away,” dazai begged, his face contorting to an expression of sorrow.

“i’m sorry, but i’m afraid i can’t do that. if i do, who knows what’ll happen to me? but then again, i’m already screwed if this is a trap. the port mafia’s boss is cunning, so i’m done acting like we’re close.”

“i didn’t want to become the boss! i… and i didn’t think of it as an act, not at all. it’s the truth, i swear.”

he looked at you so sincerely that you almost dropped the gun from your side. raw emotion was behind his words, or so you thought. maybe he could still be lying to you? maybe lying to himself. after all, there are liars so good that they’ve deceived themselves.

you looked down at your lap, “i guess that i’ve got to come up with another plan for saving akutagawa. well, if i can leave this establishment alive, that is.”

dazai insisted, “this isn’t a trap. i would never even dream of doing something like that to you, n/n.”

“my name is l/n y/n, not n/n.”

another shot to the chest.

“right, y/n. you asked me why i lured akutagawa to the mafia headquarters, right? well, i did it to protect this world.”

you raised a brow, “this world?”

“this is but one of countless worlds. and in another world, the original world, you and i were- we were—”“

“i love you,” he recalls the light touch of your fingers burning up his skin, “and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“—we were friends. you and i were friends in the original world. we drank at this bar and spent time together talking about the most insignificant things.”

dazai can also remember your last moments. you were laying in your own pool of blood when he finally caught up to you. when you spoke to him, you spoke in that same calm voice you’ve always had. and then, the smoke of the cigarette in your hand had dissipated into nothing, just like the light in your eyes.

“even if that were true, that doesn’t change what you did to akutagawa and his sister. you separated them, and now here we are,” you reminded dazai. “we may have been close in the original world, as you call it, but we are enemies now.

“i love you—“

dazai’s eyes searched for something the air that wasn’t there. his eye darted around, and his lips would slightly part and shut after a few seconds. his face twisted as he continued to remember everything.

“—and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“it was hard... it was really hard fighting mimic without you in the organization. i had no choice but to take over for mori and make enemies of everyone around me to expand the business,” dazai finally looked back at you. slowly, his hands reached for your cheeks. “everything i did was for this world’s- for you. i needed a world where you can sit here, happy with the people around you again.”

for a reason you couldn’t decipher, the hand that held your gun began to tremble. well, maybe it had been trembling for a long time and you were only now just recognizing it. dazai’s hands, cold and soft at the touch, held your face as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.

it was a touch of a lover.

coming down to that conclusion, everything made sense to you. dazai always looked at you like you were closest thing to him, a lifeline if you may. his nicknames, the flirting, it was all because...

“we were in a relationship, weren’t we?”

dazai would’ve missed your words if the proximity between the two of you wasn’t this close. the way he froze in his spot had answered enough, and you could only sigh. slowly, you put your gun back into your jacket and rested your hands on dazai’s.

you gently pried his hands off of your face and held them between your own. you felt no specific feelings from the action, but you were sure dazai did based off of how his face softened.

“i’m sorry, but you have to leave your feelings out of this. i don’t know how you know what happened in the original world, and i won’t ask. i just have to tell you that i don’t feel what you do. like i said, you and i are enemies here. as long as you control the port mafia and i’m part of the armed detective agency, it’ll remain this way.”

“nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“i see,” dazai took his hands back and rested them on his lap. “well, the reason i invited you here in the first place was to say goodbye.”

“you really don’t plan on ever seeing me again?”

“you said it, didn’t you? we’re enemies as long as we’re associated with the organizations we’re in. so after today, i won’t see you again. it’ll only hurt more if i do.”

“then this makes this a goodbye,” you watched as he stood up from his stool, hands in his pockets.

“yes, it does. a life with someone you can say goodbye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. am i wrong?”

“i guess you wouldn’t be... i haven’t said goodbye to anyone and have it pain me,” you replied, feeling bad for the port mafia’s boss.

“i hope you don’t for a long time. but one day, that time will come. you won’t be prepare for it, but all i can tell you is to let it in. feel everything, and see where it takes you.” dazai faintly smiled before he turned his back to you and began to walk away, “goodbye, n/n.”

“goodbye, my darling.”

painfully, dazai grit his teeth and resisted thew urge to look back. in goodbyes, that’s what they always do. they turn around and crash into the person they’re supposed to be leaving. he didn’t want to do that. this was his goodbye to you, even if it didn’t mean much. if he was going to keep this world functioning, he won’t leave it with you in any pain.

‘be happy, okay? even if it’s without me, be happy. as long as you’re alive, somewhere, i’ll be happy too’

it was a final thought he kept to himself.

NOTE. this remains one of my favorite fics i wrote (i <3 beast!dazai) so i had to bring it over first 🤞🏻

—reblog to support an author + join my taglist !

@lovedazai @enoojnij @spenzitz @aeshiiteiru @chuuyrr @ma3mae @piichuu @dreamlessimp @4nthonyyliving @ruru-kiss @worldussysblog @janbannan @underthetree845 @little-miss-chaoss @siiyoko @osameowdazai

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.

So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?

Warnings: None.

Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.

Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.

After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.

[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]

It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.

[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]

The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.

It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.

When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.

[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]

[How could U tell?]

[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]

He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.

When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.

An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.

[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]

[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]

[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]

[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]

He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.

[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]

The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.

Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.

[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]

[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]

[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]

[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]

The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.

[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]

[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]

The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.

Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.

[I'm getting kind of hungry]

[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]

[What?]

[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]

And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.

Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.

[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]

[I know it's Ur day off too]

Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-

[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]

[Meet me downstairs in 30?]

[incorrectbatfam]

Could you please do some headcanons about Batmans cooking disasters over the years?

Age 5: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

Age 6: He decorates a cookie so badly another kid cries until they throw up

Age 7: He tries to make a PB&J and the countertop is sticky for a week

Age 8: He tries to make Martha's chicken noodle soup but ends up crying on the kitchen floor surrounded by half-chopped vegetables

Age 9: He tries to impress a houseguest by recreating Thomas's mixology tricks (sans alcohol). There's still a stain on the ceiling to this day

Age 10: He makes green eggs. It's not on purpose. He's never even read the book

Age 11: He makes lava in the school cafeteria

Age 12: He tries to make cheese bread by drilling holes into a baguette and filling it with melted nacho cheese

Age 13: He melts a cutting board in the oven

Age 14: He folds a Pop Tart

Age 15: The chocolate-covered bananas he makes for the school bake sale come out looking very very wrong

Age 16: He's asked to drop a home economics class after mistaking refried beans for pumpkin puree in a pie

Age 17: He boils eggs in the carton

Age 18: He makes his entire freshman dorm evacuate after burning his ramen to ash

Age 19: He sculpts a severed hand out of meatloaf and is sent to the university psychologist

Age 20: He tries to bake a cake but doesn't have a cake pan, so he pours the batter right in the oven

Age 21: He tries Thomas's mixology tricks again, this time with alcohol. One of the tricks is flipping it over his head. He ends up losing part of his vision for 3 days

Age 22: He burns water. Harley Quinn is there. She still holds it over his head

Age 23: He packs his first patrol snack as Batman. It's a chocolate bar wrapped in a tortilla. The chocolate melts onto his gloves and he drops the tortilla down a sewer grate

Age 24: He makes an ice cream cookie sandwich to eat while he and Batgirl work on a case, but he's so engrossed in the work that he doesn't notice it melt until Babs points it out

Age 25: He enters the first annual Justice League cook-off and immediately gets banned from ever entering again

Age 26: He tries to comfort little Dickie Grayson by making fried cornbread from a book of Roma comfort recipes. It turns out about as well as you'd expect when you give Bruce Wayne hot oil. Bruce is genuinely bummed out, but Dick says it's the thought that counts

Age 27: Clark delivers a huge hunk of beef from the farm. Instead of waiting for Alfred to come back, Bruce and Dick try to break it down with a power saw

Age 28: Bruce and Dick's latkes are burned so badly they can play floor hockey with them

Age 29: He makes stuffed mushrooms. Badly. Like imagine the worst way you can fuck up a mushroom. It still won't compare to what Bruce did. And it's for a potluck with the West-Allens that Barry won't let him live down

Age 30: Bruce sees Dick struggling to make ravioli and he's like "Let me show you how it's done" before proceeding to make it infinitely worse

Age 31: Bruce sees a hungry Jason Todd and the first thing he does when they return to the manor is make a double-decker bread sandwich. That's bread with two more slices of bread in between

Age 32: Bruce packs Dick and Jason's lunchboxes when Alfred is out of town. They're supposed to include a salad. Instead, Dick gets a whole head of lettuce and Jason's is just a bottle of ranch

Age 33: He makes hot chocolate after patrol... but forgets the chocolate

Age 34: The Manor is too cold, so Bruce tries to warm it up by making Jason's favorite soup. His hands shake the whole time. Suddenly, he's eight years old again, sitting on the kitchen floor surrounded by scraps reminding him of his failure

Age 35: Jack and Janet Drake are out of the country again, leaving young Timmy by himself. Bruce decides to bring some dinner over. It's baked perfectly, but it's full of things that shouldn't be anywhere near a casserole dish. They end up ordering takeout and watching old detective movies together

Age 36: Steph walks through how to make waffles. Bruce is standing there, watching closely and taking notes. They still come out looking radioactive

Age 37: Cass asks if they can get smoothies. Bruce says he can make them at home. She gives him a warning look but that's not enough to stop him. Cue Bruce forgetting to put the lid on the blender

Age 38: Jason's first night back at home, Bruce tries to make that soup. It shoots out like a geyser and hits the lights. He's panicking until he hears Jason laugh, and then the soup doesn't matter

Age 39: Damian screws up hummus and he desperately tries to hide it so people won't see him as inadequate at something so basic. Instead of getting upset, Bruce assures him it's okay and offers to fix it. (He doesn't fix it, he just makes it worse)

Age 40: Bruce's birthday happens while he's fake-dead and away from home. He grabs a convenience store cupcake and sticks a single candle on it. Then he closes his eyes, pretends his family is around him, and makes a wish. (The candle droops and sets the hotel sheets on fire)

Age 41: Back at the Manor, he attempts to make lemonade on a particularly hot day. Selina offers to help, but Bruce declines, saying, "How hard can it be?" (Spoiler alert: it's not supposed to be full of seeds)

Age 42: Kate shows him a video of Canadians pouring maple syrup into the snow to make candy, so he gets her to boil the syrup so they can do it together. The problem comes when they can't control the pour and end up with a glob the size of Damian

Age 43: As part of a school project, Bruce and Duke try to deduce the Coca-Cola secret formula. Duke's teacher takes a point off because at the beginning he told her he'd taste the results, but there's no way he's doing that now

Age 44: The family gets together to make a full English breakfast Alfred's birthday. Each person takes a part—Dick has eggs, Jason has the grilled tomatoes, Tim has mushrooms, Duke has the bacon, Steph and Cass are tag-teaming the sausages, Damian just has to open a can of beans, and Bruce needs to put bread in the toaster. It goes South immediately when Damian reaches for his katana instead of the can opener

Age 45: Bruce puts tinfoil in the microwave. Alfred shakes his head and laughs

[delirious-donna]

Second Chances Are Not Promised [Part Nine]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: A few days have passed since you chose to run from Kento rather than face a reality where he rejected your advances. You hate to admit that you miss him, but does he feel the same way and would you ever find out even if he did?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: angst, emotionally charged argument, NSFW throughout, I don't want to spoil the story too much and I don't think there is any triggering content but the NSFW is there for a reason

Part Eight | Series Masterlist | Part Ten

The past few days had been some of your worst. Torn between annoyance at being this emotionally distraught at the actions of a stupid, coward of a man and the genuine hurt that penetrated your heart at the thought of him. Leaving had been a necessity, and although it meant some strategic couch surfing until you were finally able to return to your cozy little student apartment, it was the lesser of two evils.  

The idea of remaining in Kento’s apartment after his rejection turned your stomach. To be faced with him knowing that there was an attraction between you, that it wasn’t all some torrid fantasy in your head, and still he chose to turn away from it, would be too damaging. The beginning of tears blurred your vision whilst you thought about it, of those restless hours trapped inside the room which smelled like him resurfaced the agonies that had not yet begun to heal. 

Over and over, you chastised yourself for allowing another person to whittle you down to your very core components, and with what you considered to be clearly little compassion for the results, but the blame should not fall upon your shoulders. Nanami Kento was a man of logic and reasoning, you had come to learn this and that had ultimately been the downfall. He allowed the fear of things not working out for the best to ruin any chance of ever finding out. It was his fault, that much was true. 

Stupid man… 

It would be easier if you could hate him. If you could shield your heart with the burn of fury and hatred. No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, softer memories invaded your mind to override the unpleasant ones. The Chinese takeout and Kento’s rigid posture before he succumbed to your invitation to join you. The visit to the bar and the conversation that flowed as easily as the drinks. The museum trip and the adorable couple that had given unsolicited advice in such a cute way you couldn’t be mad. The movie night… the faint dream-like memory of a kiss against your forehead and distantly murmured words that left you with a dopey smile and a fluttering in your chest. 

You still caught whiffs of his scent despite having washed all the clothing from your stay as soon as you could. The lingering smell of expensive coffee beans that you could never afford, wafts of leather and earthy notes that you couldn’t give a name to, had a way of invading your nose even in the dead of night when your body begged for sleep, but your brain refused the respite. Along with how you could perfectly recall the taste of him when his tongue swept into your mouth, it was torture—a torture of your own making. 

Another night, another failed attempt at sleeping more than in short fits and starts. None of it was restful either, dreams assailing you from the mundane to the wildly vivid. You grabbed up your phone and groaned at several messages and a missed call on the screen. Since your return, you hadn’t spoken to Karin and because she wasn’t due to return to school until the day after next, you weren’t even sure if she knew you were home. Would Kento have called her? Did he care enough to let her know you’d ran? 

Pulling the covers over your head, you sighed and dropped your phone onto the mattress. There was no desire to reply to the messages, none of which had come from Karin, which made you assume that Kento hadn’t informed her of what transpired. Your eyelids drooped low, the pull of sleep tugging at you like the dark tendrils of water trying to drag a poor victim to their lair to remain eternally. You put up no resistance, letting yourself be submerged until only darkness filled your mind. 

~ 

The noise of muted conversations, tinkling laughter that sounded far from genuine and the constant drone of air conditioning drowned out Kento’s thoughts. It was amazing to think that not long ago he longed to be here, to return to the luxury of his corner office and the accounts he knew like the back of his hand. Now, he hated it.  

There was no comfort to be found in the continuous noise of the printers, the clipped footsteps of assistants in the most uncomfortable looking high heeled shoes he had ever seen and the forced conversation he had to endure from his colleagues. In truth, Kento had no interest in playing the games he was accustomed to. Office politics no longer felt compelling or exciting.

He felt… done. Done with the routine, the faked smiles and the forced conversations. “How’s the wife and kids? Did you get up to much over the weekend? When are you going to settle down, Kento? Surely, you’ve got a different girl in your bed every night that you could choose from.” He hated it and it was your fault.

Kento had lost count of the times his phone found its way into his palm, his sister’s contact info blaring like a beacon on the screen with his thumb poised over the call button. Where were you? Were you okay? Those questions plagued him day in day out, and only his pig-headed stubbornness kept the answers from his grasp. Abruptly, he slammed his pen atop the desk. It bounced from the force of the impact and shot off the edge to roll beneath a cabinet, a reprieve from his anger.

Once more, the memory of your petal soft lips assailed him. The taste of you manifested in his mouth and he let his eyes slide shut as he slumped back in his chair. His cock throbbed behind the tight hold of his trousers, and no amount of adjusting and readjusting would alleviate the gut-wrenching ache that resided within him. He remembered how your fingers felt moving closer to the hairs at his neck and how he…

The memory couldn’t remain pleasant, though he longed for it to take a different path. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have your nails scratch against his scalp. He wanted to find out if you would tug his hair or play with it gently. What might it be like if his hold of your waist had not been so timid, if he had caressed your sides and kneaded at your hips how he really wanted to. Would you have let him lead you to his bed to tumble amongst the sheets? Would you cry out his name when he tasted you for the first time? Kento was panting like a dog cruelly trapped in a car on a summer day.

A knock on the glass wall of his office shook him from his twisted fantasies. He jolted upright to see the nefarious grin of a rival colleague who clearly assumed he was napping on the job, not aware of how close Kento had been to taking his dick out behind the cover of his desk and fisting himself furiously to endure a painful orgasm that would not sate the yearning he was at the mercy of. Instead, he scowled at the man with hot, seething hatred written across his face. The man paled and quickly walked away.

“That’s right. Run back to your office. Email your little cohorts and begin my assassination,” he hissed, fury bubbling under his skin and making him want to scratch at his arms until they bled.

The door slammed behind him as he made for the exit, head bowed over his phone until he raised it to his ear whilst taking the stairs two at a time to reach the parking lot. Each shrill ring cut his nerves to the quick until at last, she answered, and he could finally breathe again.

“Karin? Don’t talk just listen…”

~

A knock sounded at your front door, quiet and innocuous, it wasn’t enough for you to warrant moving from the couch. Your movie was more important even though you weren’t paying it the slightest bit of attention either. A moment passed in which you assumed your visitor, whoever they were, had gone away, but no. Once more a knock sounded, and this time it was firmer. The person’s knuckles rapping loudly against the cheap wood veneer.

Annoyed, you grabbed up the remote control and increased the volume in what you hoped was an obvious sign that you didn’t wish to be disturbed. There were only a few people it possibly could be and none of them needed to see you in your current state of moping.

However, the knocking continued and this time it was positively furious. The entire frame of the door vibrated from the pounding fist hammering against it. Now you were curious, or perhaps it was fear that had you turning to glance at the door which shook with yet another blow.

Maybe it was the landlord or the police, but wouldn’t they have called out to announce themselves? Fuck, what if it was someone hurt or in need of help and you were wilfully ignoring them. The Good Samaritan in you would be silenced for only so long. It only took a few hurried steps to reach the trembling wood, your hands reaching out to brace against the wall so you could glance through the peephole, and what you saw made the air in your lungs seize completely.

Kento.

It was Kento pounding on your door and looking as determined as you had ever seen him. On the other side of the door, he too froze in place, and you clapped a hand over your traitorous mouth. He had heard your gasp of alarm. Your heart physically ached from how violently it thrashed inside your chest, knees wobbly from working to keep you on your feet.

“I know you’re in there, I heard you gasp. Can you let me in? I’d like to… talk. Please?”

Hot tears trickled down your cheeks and you angrily swiped them away. The sound of your name from his lips, so soft and tentative, only worsened the angry twist of your heart and stomach. You weren’t sure how long passed, but clearly, it was enough to have him call out again, a resigned sigh evident in his intonation.

“I’d really rather have this conversation more privately,” he muttered, stepping as close to the door as he could. “If… shit… if you’re worried about being alone with—”

Kento jumped back as the door swung wide open, his alarm at the suddenness made him blink and when he found composure… there you were. The corners of his lips twitched with the desire to beam at you. His shoulders lost a little of the tension he had been carrying all this time, and he let out an exhale that lightened his load just the tiniest bit. Your expression was one of fury but even that couldn’t dissuade the hit of dopamine that coursed through his blood at seeing you after these days apart.

“Get in here,” you yelled, stepping aside to allow him access to your apartment before slamming the door shut with a rattling echo shaking the whole room. “You think I’m afraid? Seems like you’re still an idiot.”

You might harbour the desire to wring this man’s neck, but not once had you ever felt afraid of him, not for a single second. Not even when he had burst in on you in his bath, naked and vulnerable. The mortification on his face had dissolved any concern for your safety in an instant. Wow. That moment felt so long ago now, but in reality, not that much time had passed.

Kento shrugged, unknowing what else to do and at last you took him in.

So, this was him suited and booted. He looked good, annoyingly handsome, and you could kick yourself for thinking that. This was the outer shell of the man you had met on that first fateful day; his shirt was crisply pressed and a surprising navy blue with neat tan trousers showing sharp creases down the legs, his expensive timepiece adorned his wrist and the brown polished Oxfords on his feet managed to shine in the dinghy low light of your living room. There was no jacket in sight, though you knew instinctively that one should reside over the width of his broad shoulders, and then you noticed it. A garish yellow splattered tie decorated the length of his sternum. It should have thrown his entire image, but somehow it didn’t.

Your nose wrinkled at the strange tie, head canting to the side and if you didn’t know any better, you might have said that this was the real Kento shining through the gloom of the mundane. There, at the heart of him, resided a man who didn’t want to fully abide by the standards laid out for all to adhere to. A small spark of a rebellious spirit weathered by cupped hands against the cruel winds of corporate culture. It would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t certain sobs were more likely to emerge than laughter.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?”

It was your turn to shrug, already knowing the only possible answer. “Karin,” you answered bluntly. “I thought you were the one that disliked pointless questions.”

He winced at your cool tone, eyes falling from your less than impressed expression to bore holes through the floor. He deserved your ire—your anger and vexations—what he couldn’t stand was your indifference. The impact hit far harder, ice settling over his heart when he hesitantly gazed at the woman, he so ruthlessly scorned.

To Kento, you seemed tired. Dark circles underlined your dull eyes, not a single sparkle, of which he knew resided within them, remained. This was his doing… Despite that being the case, he felt the brush of butterfly wings in his stomach, soft and heartfelt. You were beautiful. So beautiful, and he knew this would be the last chance he’d ever get to make this right. To prove that he knew of the mistakes he had made and promise never to be so stupid ever again.

“I came to apologise,” he offered, slowly stepping closer only to see you take the same step back, much to dismay.

“I don’t accept. You can leave now.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and you followed the bounce of the front strands that refused to return to their original position. He was ruffled and hating every second of it. You were glad of his discomfort, at least he now felt an ounce of what you did.

Kento sighed. “I won’t stay if you really wish me to leave, but I’d prefer if you’d hear me out at least.”

“What could you possibly have to say? You rejected me, Kento. You fucking kissed me then shoved me away. There is nothing more to add.” You shot your reply like the bullets of a machine gun, fast and deadly.

“I was trying to protect—”

You interjected before he could finish, pacing back and forth like a caged predator who belonged in the wild, not on display like this. “Don’t you dare say it was to protect me. Don’t you dare assume that you know what is best for me! I make my own decisions in life, and no man is going to step in and change that.”

He raised his hands in surrender, eyes fixed into the depths of the floor and the passage of your feet.

“Protect us both… maybe more so me than you. I-I hate myself for only considered the implications that affected me,” he admitted quietly, shame burning in his gut. “We’re so different but also alike. I can see myself in you at that age and remember the dreams I had, and how they all revolved around success and money. I was driven just like you are, but you’re better than me. So much better and I don’t think you even realise it.”

Your pacing slowed as you listened, the pounding in your ears still very much present but growing quiet so you could hear the words being said and the unspoken ones too—for there were many.

“I admire your strength and determination, how you refuse to let anything, or anyone stand in the way of your happiness. You don’t let expectations change who you are. You were right when you called me jaded, because I am—or I was. Happiness was never a primary focus and it’s only now that I’m understanding what a fundamental mistake that was.”

“You sound like the male lead in those lovey-dovey romcoms you hate so much.”

His face split wide with his first smile in days. You watched in alarm when he bent over to clutch his stomach, until laughter poured from him, and the unabashed honesty of the noise made you glance away before you too were caught up in it. You weren’t ready to show him that side of you again.

“I guess I do, and I told you that I don’t hate them all.” He paused to slowly raise his arm, fingertips daring to brush against the back of your arm and when you didn’t pull away, down to your knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

The shield around your heart was straining against the emotional onslaught. He sounded so genuine, and you reminded yourself that not once had he said anything that he didn’t mean, even when those things hurt. You took your hand back and hugged your arms around your middle.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” You asked, pointedly ignoring his last remark and how badly you wanted to reiterate it back to him. “You’re certainly dressed for the office, except for that tie. Not sure if I love or loathe it.”

“I should be at work, but I walked out.” Kento shrugged as if that was the most obvious and rational thing he could say. “As for the tie…” He smiled down fondly, picking up the yellow material and letting it fall back against his chest. “I’ve always liked it. Makes me stand out against the other suits in the room.”

You couldn’t deny that.

Uncertain how else to further the conversation, or if you should try at all, you shuffled your feet against the floor before finally resigning to the wants of your heart. “You want a coffee?”

“Does that mean you’re not kicking me out?”

“It means… do you want a coffee?”

“I’d love a coffee.”

He followed you into the small kitchen, eyes taking in his surroundings for the first time and what he saw was a modest student apartment, much like the one he had lived in, but you had imprinted all over it. There were pieces of art hanging on the walls, leafy green plants on nearly every windowsill, cushions and blankets draped haphazardly over the cheap looking couch and little photos and mementos stuck to the fridge door and some cupboards.

Your face stood out in the ones that caught his eye, bright smiles that radiated joy and he even spied Karin in a few. The two of you were almost worlds apart but clearly cared for one another. He hoped that his intrusion into your life wouldn’t spoil that friendship. Although he was getting ahead of himself. One cup of coffee did not mean you were willing to give him another chance, and he hadn’t even asked yet.

“I’ve only got instant, didn’t know I’d be visited by a coffee connoisseur today,” you grumbled whilst finding two mismatched mugs.

He had to fight not wrinkle his nose and it did not go unnoticed, your eyebrow rising in a challenge to either put up or shut up. Wisely, he chose the latter, only shrugging in acceptance and gratefully taking the steaming mug when offered.

“You know, I’ve made your morning coffee every day since you left. It didn’t feel right only pouring one cup.”

What was this man doing to you? He was killing you with these heartfelt admissions in such quick succession, that’s what he was doing to you. The urge to cry tightened your throat, because for all your seething over what had happened, you had missed him. It was his voice you heard in the dead of night, his scent that tormented you when you least expected it, and his hazel eyes with warm caramel flecks that crinkled happily when you were lost in thought.

“Mm.” You didn’t know what else you could say, and you weren’t ready to admit that you felt the same way. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, you took a small sip of the cheap instant coffee and masked your grimace behind the rim of the mug before setting it down.

Kento took the few steps to put himself directly in front of you and you were frozen, staring right ahead into the centre of his chest. You didn’t dare to lift your gaze from the ridiculous yellow splattered tie, you couldn’t. He was so close that you could feel the heat from his body, it radiated outwards and teased at you like wandering tendrils. Your heart was thundering, so much so that you missed his arm moving as you worked to control yourself. His fingers gently lodged beneath your chin, slowly bringing your face upwards to meet his eyes, and it was a mistake.

Those intelligent eyes were sorrowful, and it thickened the lump lodged in your throat. It felt like time was suspended whilst he grazed his fingertips along your jaw and over your cheek until he was cupping your face so gently that you nearly wept on the spot. You let him explore the soft apple of your cheek, allowed him to run his thumb beneath your eye and felt the moisture of tears you weren’t aware you had shed stain the swirling thumbprint. He was so close and yet not close enough.

Caught between the urge to shove him away and drag him close, instead, you did nothing. You refused to put yourself in another vulnerable situation with him, if he wanted something then he would lead the charge and take what he sought. You wouldn’t be made a fool of again. You wouldn’t—

His lips found yours—tentative and slow. Lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed when he leant in to close that final gap. Your gasp was swallowed whole, washed away by the sweetest kisses that were nothing like the one you shared in his apartment. Angry passion fuelled that kiss, but not this one. It was a kiss reserved for deeper emotions, dare you say, the first budding blooms of love. There was an apology at its roots, and you accepted with your reciprocation.

It was like coming home, nothing else felt like this, and before you knew it, your arms were around his neck. This time, when you moved to delve your fingers through his lush head of hair, he didn’t stop you. Kento groaned against your mouth at the sensation, your nails gently scratching along his scalp in answer to a question he had long wanted to ask. You melted against his body; chest tightly pressed to his whilst you sobbed through a moment of clarity.

You were the one to pull back this time, a hand leveraged against his shoulder, but it was different to when he stopped you. Your finger sunk into the stiff material of his shirt, your way of not letting him escape, because this wasn’t over. “Kento… I need to know.”

“I want you. I have wanted you for longer than I realised. I hate that I hurt you to understand any of that. It will never happen again. I’m sorry… I will repeat that as many times as you need to hear it, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.”

The words poured from him like a fountain. It was the most candidly you had heard him speak, and the gravity of that wasn’t lost on you. Kento was opening the door for you. He was welcoming you into his inner sanctum and hiding nothing from you. There were no veils in place to hide shadowy recesses, only pure light that defeated every phantom doubt there could possibly be. It made you smile, watery from unshed tears but you didn’t cry, you laughed.

Kento was a statue as he waited for your answer, for something to tell him if he had won his second and final chance. He was too scared to move, every muscle locked into place and when you laughed, he knew. Those beautiful eyes turned up to him with fresh tears sparkling but happy. The sparkle was back, and he could drown in their depths if you’d only let him. He let out the breath he’d been holding, and his head bowed forward until his forehead rested against the gentle slope of your shoulder. The sound of laughter seemed to turn up the colours in his world, everything seemed far brighter, and he crushed you to him.

“Words are pretty and all, but if you really want me like you claim…” you mused whilst your arms weaved beneath his so your hands could trail the length of his spine with deliberate slowness. “… show me.”

He huffed a laugh whilst your unique scent tickled his nose. You were always challenging him, whether in small inconspicuous ways or in monumental ways that forced him to look inwardly and reassess his priorities. This was nothing new, and for the first time, he wanted nothing more than to rise to this particular challenge.

“With pleasure.” Kento turned his head, planting a series of wet kisses to your neck and savouring the stutter of your breathing. Your fingers stilled from where they were teasing near the space occupied by his belt, and he seized the chance to let his lips curl away from teeth. He licked a strip over your frantic pulse before sinking his teeth into you.

Your body shuddered, held up only by the support of the counter and Kento’s grip on you. The pain was short-lived as it gave way to pleasure, careful lips kissed away the lingering hurt and you were fast developing a second heartbeat between your legs. He was acting on instinct, that was the only explanation, and you wondered how far those instincts would take him. You wanted him to drive this, to do as requested and show you how much he wanted you, but that didn’t mean you were going to be some shrinking violet. Pulling him into a bruising kiss, you smiled into the depths of his mouth at the answering grunt from his chest.

~

A trail of clothes led from the kitchen to your bedroom, the door kicked shut by a polished shoe right before it was yanked off and left in a heap with socks and trousers. Your nimble fingers worked free the buttons of his shirt, loosened his tie enough to tug it over head just as he stripped you out of the sweatshirt that hung far too loosely on your body. Instead of discarding the yellow tie, you looped it over your head and let it hang between your breasts. Framed by lace and sensitive skin that was singing from his hurried touch, you silently thanked all that would listen for the decision to wear a bra at all, let alone the expensive one that was usually reserved for intimate encounters. How serendipitous of you…

Kento stopped in his tracks, completely overcome with the sight of you. Perfect skin yet unmarked by his touch, soft curves and his tie around your throat. This was better than any wet dream, far more hedonistic than the lewd thoughts that crept into his brain when he fisted himself in the lonely hours of the night. This was reality, and what could be better than that?

“You’re so beautiful. You’ve no idea how many times I wondered what this might be like… and nothing compares to this,” he enthused, taking your hand and leading it to the obvious bulge tenting his underwear.

He groaned when you curled your fingers around his erection through the fabric, hips bucking forward involuntarily. Grinning like the cat who got the cream, you moved higher to hook those same fingers into the waistband and tugged him close so you could feel his cock twitch against you.

Tumbling onto messy sheets followed easily, amidst breathless kisses and explorative hands. Everything was new and exciting, there seemed to be no inch of your exposed skin left untouched and that only left what was still covered. Kento’s breath fanned hot and heavy over the lace of bra, enough to tighten your nipples. Your spine arched from the bed when he licked over the cup and wet you with his saliva, his hand slipping to the small of your back to keep you there so that when his teeth nipped at you, you could only squirm.

He repeated the action on the other side, leaving you panting and desperate for friction. The palm at your spine wandered to the clasp of your bra and he paused, offering you eyes full of sincerity. “May I?”

Your heart seized in your chest. Where had you found this man? You’d never know a man to get you into bed and down to your underwear and still ask for permission to proceed. Any lingering thought that this might be a one off to scratch the itch that had buried deep beneath your skin disintegrated in an instant. There wasn’t a future you envisaged where you would give him up, not without a fight.

Cupping his face in both hands, you kissed him and whispered. “Touch me like nobody else does.”

A wet path trailed from your clavicle to right below your belly button, little bruises blooming in places and the indentation of fingertips in others. Kento looked like a God from his position between your thighs, his chin shiny from the arousal he coaxed from you using his surprisingly silver tongue. Blond tousled hair and ruddy cheeks, swollen lips and brown irises almost completely swallowed by midnight pupils. Sweat dripped from your temples whilst you floated back down to Earth, your fingers tangled in his hair once more and you felt him lean into the touch before crawling over you.

“Sweeter than honey…”

Your skin flushed hotter—not a feat you thought possible—at his words, followed by the taste of yourself on his tender lips. His tongue pushed deeper and deposited the tantalising tang directly onto your tastebuds. Your body cradled him; legs wound tight around his hips to indulge in his guttural groans when his cock moved through your swollen folds.

Precum and the mess he’d made of you hastened his movements, hips rutting downwards whilst he captured your hands and entwined your fingers at either side of your head. The velvet glide of his cock through your sex stole the air from your lungs, the tip teasingly torturing your already abused clit. His jaw was set in firm determination, and you huffed at the expression. There was no way this was ending without him fucking you, whether he realised or not.

“Kento… please.”

His eyes flew skyward, barely held restraint fraying with each subsequent mewl of want. He squeezed your fingers when you rocked your hips and shifted the position in an attempt to nudge him towards your entrance. Hearing you speak his name would always be his undoing, it had been like that since the very first time you addressed him as Kento. It had never sounded better than from your lips, and he shuddered at the inflection, at the desire written openly across your features. You didn’t hide from him, didn’t obscure your true feelings behind a mask. He wanted to return that, and whilst he might be new to be using so open, there was no better time to start.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

You paused, blinking your eyes open to watch him above you. “Of what?”

“That… that if I cross this final line, I’ll never let you go. You deserve everything, and what if I can’t give you that?”

“Keep me forever, Kento. You don’t need to cross this line for me to know that I want to be by your side whilst you figure your life from here out. I want to be a part of it. Let me look after your heart and you’ll have given me everything I could ever ask for.”

He loved you. He knew it in the very centre of his soul, but there would be time for that declaration. Right now, wasn’t the time. “Now who sounds like they’re in a lovey-dovey romcom?” He teased, nudging your nose with his whilst his heart felt lighter than it had in forever.

You bit at his bottom lip, feigning a growl of annoyance whilst your eyes narrowed on him and the brilliant smile he gave you. Without warning, he moved and all at once he was exactly where he needed to be. Inch by slow inch, he eased into your body. You swore through the exquisite stretch, only silenced by his mouth which descended upon you hungrily.

It had been a while since you last had someone in bed with you, and despite being worked open by skilful fingers and tongue, it was still a snug fit. When he bottomed out, the coarse golden hairs at his pelvis rubbed at you with that delicious friction and stimulation, and you sighed in contentment. The fullness was welcome, and he fit you like a glove, like he was meant to have found his home here by now.

“O-okay?” He asked with a shake in his voice, and you nodded enthusiastically. The pace he set was slow, bone deep and so heartfelt that it seemed like your body merged with his. Kento spread your thighs further apart with his knees. He made every thrust count, hips angled to massage the sweet spot he’d discovered earlier.

You were clenched around him so hard that he swore he’d cum in record time, in fact, he was still astonished not to have spilled in his shorts when your first orgasm had wet his face. It was a moment he was likely to never forget and would be subject to many a dirty thought in years to come. He continued to be amazed at how expressive you were, and seemingly that didn’t end in the bedroom. It was refreshing. No one was like you, but that was okay because he had found you and even though he messed up, you were better than he ever could be. So sweet and joyful. You accepted him, flaws and all, and only offered him a helping hand.

Kento was lost in the sensation of being joined with you. His heart beat in time with yours, chests flush together whilst he took you higher and higher to completion. The orgasm approaching felt different to any before, it spread throughout his body like warm honey, and he glanced down at you in panic that he would find his end before you did.

“Fuck… there. Right there! Don’t stop… oh god, I’m gonna—Ken!”

His stomach dropped into his toes, the strength in his arms near failing him when you broke apart to milk him with sweet sucking pulls that he had never experienced before. The incessant pulsing was too much to deny, and he pulled out with a fierce growl that forced your eyes to snap wide. Kento sat back on his haunches, hand ready to wrap around his aching dick to pump the final few times and spill his seed, but he hadn’t counted on you leaning up on an elbow to reach him first. Your hot touch jolted electricity down his spine and the wet glide of his foreskin had barely reached down to the base before he was shooting his load across your quivering belly and thighs.

He moaned unabashedly and the sound thrilled you right down to your already overstimulated core. Both your eyes and his fixed on the sticky pool he was creating on your skin. His cheeks turned a burning red at the continuing spurts of cum that seemed to never want to end, until at last he was drained completely.

A moment of silence fell, only disturbed by your combined heavy breathing. Kento couldn’t find it in him to look you in the eye, a sense of embarrassment settling on his shoulders at the sheer mess he’d made. Clearly, he didn’t understand that you adored the painting he’d created. He was the paint, and you were the canvas. You scooped your finger through the creamy paint, tracing designs with his essence.

“I… I don’t know what to say now,” he said softly.

Your head canted, humming quietly whilst beckoning him to you with two grabby hands and not relenting until he flopped beside you. His face buried into the crook of your neck, forcing you to dig it out with laughter bubbling in your throat. Suddenly he was shy… adorable.

“Why say anything at all? We have all the time in the world for words. Let’s just enjoy the moment.”

He kissed your bare shoulder, reaching over you to his discarded shirt and using that to clean your stomach so he could cuddle you into his arms comfortably. You were right, there wasn’t much needed to be said right now, except he did have one question… “Did I show you?”

Throwing a leg over his hips and nuzzling his nose with yours, you smiled and gave a nod. “More than I expected. Although… next time, finish inside.”

Kento nearly choked on his saliva which only made you laugh more. His neck and ears burned white-hot, and you pretended not to notice whilst he looked everywhere but at you. “I’ll—uh—I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Mm, good because we have a lot of time to make up for and I intend to keep you in this bed until your legs give out.”

“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” he teased with a bark of laughter.

“Yep. So, I suggest you get used to it, love.”

[elsa-fogen]

have you ever used character a.i?

i tried it today, i got yelled at by al for having a musli bar for breakfast, he then burned the hotel down because he put a can of beans in the microwave. its a fun time.

No i don't and i don't recommend using it at all

@tyrantchimera explain why please

[imaslutforcuddles]

ESCAPISM

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

summary | after being broken up with, you plan on being sad and lonely but others convince you sex just sounds too good not to drown in. You end up meeting someone at a bar, who you might just love forever.

words | 2k

warnings | smut (18+) oral (f receiving) fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), pinv, DRUGS (don’t mix drugs and alcohol), substances, high sex, subby reader, drunk sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare, little angst, self pity, breakup bullshit, swearing, sex jokes, bitches, arguments, mention of cheating, idiots in love, a little bit of a sad ending.

A/N | i have been living off of escapism and i couldn’t not write a fic about it, imagine meeting eddie in a hot and sweaty club... Reader is called bean as a nickname in this because it’s cute, don’t judge. Also, this has a platonic love circle with y/n, robin, and steve (although he’s not really brought up in this). Their like a lil family. I might do a part two if yall want. DON’T DO DRUGS KIDS. 18+ MINORS STAY BACK.

a little context if you care to listen                                                                          find myself in a shit position                                                                                the man that i love sat me down last night and he told me that it’s over

You shoved a box in his hands with tears streaming down your cheeks, “There. it’s all your shit, now fucking go.” 

He grunts a little but stays put, “You know i still care about you right.” 

Sighing you start to push him out the doorway and onto the cold, “Have a good life Jason.” 

You aggressively moved your hand toward the door signaling that he needed to leave, when his heavy body wouldn’t move.

Huffing as your eyes start to burn, 

“Just leave, never ever talk to me again.”

He stares at you longingly as if he hadn’t ended just fucked another girl.

“I’m sorry.”

You slam the door and smack your face in disgust, 

how could he have done this to you?

- Three weeks of sulking later -

Robin groaned, “Oh come on y/n! We have to go out and get some, or at least you. God knows how long its been since you’ve been eaten out!” 

Your eyes widened and you huffed, “Jesus Fucking Christ Robin! I’m fine!” 

She stares into your soul arms crossed and eyes squinting. 

Raising your hands in defeat you exhale the air you had held while having a staring contest with robin, “Fine, but i don’t need some random dude to make me feel better.”

Robin shrugged, “Ehhhh not sure about that, but you at least need some weed or something.”

You smile and snuggled deeper into your bestie, “Love you robin.”

She grins and looks over at you, rubbing your shoulders with her soft palms.

“Love you too bean.”

Nights with Robin had been frequent since the breakup. It would start the same very time too, you’d call sobbing about him or about your depression and she’d show up at your doorstep with open arms. 

Things would be so different without Robin, you can’t believe you have a friend as amazing as her. 

-

dumb decision

The next day you saw her, she came in with a wide mischievous smile and two occupied hands, holding with clothes fit for a prostitute. 

“Robin what the fuck is that?”

She shrugged, looking from the outfits to you. 

You grasp the thin fabric if your hands, it did feel really nice..

“A little something to cheer you up? We can look like hot chicks, maybe fuck, maybe get some free drinks.”

You hesitated, free drinks.. 

“Alright fine.”

-

and i’m out on the town with a simple mission,                                                        in my little black dress,                                                                                            and this shit is sittin

So here you are, sitting in the back of the club holding a glass of champagne waiting for someone to sweep you off your feet and fuck you into oblivion.

As much as you didn’t believe in fairytales, this might as well be one. 

You scoff as a girl in your ‘friend group’ makes some lame joke about being horny and ready to party, and Robin hands you a joint and leans down to the shared table you were sitting at to snort another line. 

You take a long hit from the shared joint, “This is so fucking depressing.” 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be if you weren’t such a slut.” 

Some other girl across from you shouts over the music blasting around you, 

“What the fuck did you just call me?” 

Your face starts getting hot, you did not leave the comfort of your house just to get hated on by some random friends that Robin met up with at a shitty club. 

“I called you a slut. I mean come on, you got cheated on. It seems like you were too slutty for poor Jason.”

She grinned and you took another long hit. 

Damn can this shit start working?

“Do you even hear yourself? Your a fucking dumbass. So stop running my energy your not even worth it.”

Her smirk disappeared as your face stayed unfazed and stoic Your getting fed up with these girls around you. 

How did she even know his name? Bitch probably fucked him too.

Grabbing your glass, you got up and headed to the bar for some more liquid courage.

“If the drugs won’t fucking cooperate maybe the alcohol will.” You groan.

Walking up to the bar you had almost wished you stumbled a little. To at least show your a little high, but no.

“What do you want?” A bartender grunted to you, if you weren’t so done with people’s attitude you might have actually cared that he was grumpy. 

“The strongest shit you have.”

He took a deep sigh and smiled, “I’m sorry i was a bit rude there,”

You shook your head, “It’s all good buddy.” 

He grabbed a glass and a bottle of what looked like a mix of Spirytus and tonic, you tut and grin. “What makes you so sure i wouldn’t like something sweeter instead of tonic?”

Looking up at you he chuckled, “You don’t look like a sweet type.”

Putting a hand to your chest you fake a sniffle, “I’m offended. I’m totally the sweetest person you’ve ever met,” you pause waiting for a name. He smiles realizing why you’re not continuing, “Eddie, my name is eddie. What about you sweet stuff?” 

“Aha funny, i see what you did there.”

When you finally tell him your name his face softens, “That’s a beautiful name, it suits you.”

Eddie reaches for your hand, “Would you like to hang out with me after my shift?” 

You squint your eyes, “That depends.” 

His face contorts, he’s confused. 

“On what sweetheart?” 

Smiling you put your other hand on top of his, moving in closer to him. “On how quickly you can finish serving everyone else and start serving me.”

You grin while he just stands there awkwardly, “You don’t understand what i’m saying do you?”

Eddie awkwardly chuckles and shakes his head.

“Not in the slightest.”

Smiling, you reach for his collar to pull him onto your lips. You feel him tense up but soon relax and kiss back, “You don’t have to kiss me just because I kissed you.”

He smiles at your concern, “Don’t worry,”

Leaning in as close as he can from across the bar counter, he pecks your lips again. 

“I wanted to.”

Watching him grin as he writes his number down on a nearby napkin and slides it over to you just makes you even more horny. 

“Text me, I get off at one.”

You tuck it in your bra and smile, “Oh, I definitely will.”

He nods and walks off to serve more people, “Can’t wait sweetheart.” and you watch him the whole time. You watch as his arms flex while tossing around drinks, you bite your lip as he smiles at other customers. 

You would have watched him the whole night but robin eventually found you staring, all alone and took pity on you.

“You look fucking depressing,”

Scoffing you get ripped from your spot on the stool, “I’m good right where i am robin.” 

You wish that you would start to slur your words a little. I mean, it would make sense after all the glasses of alcohol you’ve been inhaling.

“Alright, let’s get you home.” 

Robin may have come to get wasted, but she doesn’t want you to regret your decisions more than you already do now.

She slid her hands under your slick armpits and held you up by your waist, thinking that without her you probably would have fallen straight on your face.

 And yet, you were fine without her. 

Scoffing to yourself and shaking your head, you push her away. “Just because i’m not with him anymore doesn’t mean i need you to take care of me!” 

You could tell Robin didn’t expect you were somewhat sober, she thought you were just wasted like all her other friends. But she shakes off the hurt and surprise in an instant, she knows what you’re doing. 

“I don’t think that you should be yelling at the only person who’s here for you.”

She walks away with a huff and leaves you alone. While, you frown and turn away to look at eddie. Who is still serving anyone with the flick of a wrist. 

“Hey! Eddie.” 

He turns to you and smiles mouthing a hello back. 

When you wave at him to come over, he can’t help but feel a growing buz at the bottom of his stomach. 

“What can I help you with sweetheart?”

“Your shift is over.”

You watch the confusion fall over his features, “I thought it ends in thirty-” Smiling, you grab him by the collar and pull your lips to his ear. “Your shift is over Eddie.”

He almost purrs at the way your voice whispers his name.

~

You push him against his bedroom door and moan into his mouth, “Mfmh Eddie.”

Eddie smiles at your whining and flips the two of you around, pushing his groin to yours. The making out only stops for a second as eddie pulls at your shirt, you grin and help him take it off.

Harsh puffs are pulled out of your mouth when Eddie latches his lips to your throat, sucking red spots all over it. 

“Agh,” You pant and pull him closer to your neck, and push your center towards his own.

“I need you Eds.” 

He grunts and pushes you onto his bed, grabbing his belt and ripping it off his pants.

You start to drool watching him undress, his body was lightly toned but oh so beautiful. 

As you start to reach for his dick he stops you and sighs, “As much as i’d love for you to touch me, I need to be inside you.” 

He grips your dress and pulls it off you in an instant groaning at the way your panties were drenched in your juices. 

“Is that for me?” 

You whine and shake your head. “It’s all f’ you Eds.” Pushing your head back you moan as he puts his fingers on your clothed core. 

He chuckles and rips your panties off, pushing a finger in between your folds and huffing at how warm you were. 

“A-ah Eddie!” Your body shakes at the sudden contact, and he pushes the finger inside you making your eyes widen and back arch. 

“Mmh is my sweetheart sensitive?”

You whine as he sticks another finger inside, pumping in and out slowly. 

“Eddie more please!” You beg and plead as he just stares down at you with a smile. 

He nods and smirks, “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

Eddie moves closer to you and starts to lick your clit. You just about cum then, but continue pleading for more. 

“Please, please, please!”

Soon enough the licks turn into sucking and slurping. As if he was a man starved, Eddie eats you out like a meal. Your back arches even more when you start to feel a coil in your stomach building up. As if he heard you, Eddie sucks on your clit harder and it snaps.

Your body shakes and your thighs close around Eddies head as he continues licking you through your orgasm. 

Eddie then comes up for air, as he smiles and huffs. “Your pussy tastes fucking amazing.”

With a whimper you pull his body closer to yours and reach down to grasp his cock, “Need you.”

He almost growls as you pull out what you wanted most and stroke it, “Damn sweetheart, your hands are soft.” 

You chuckle and help position him so he can push in comfortably. 

When he does finally fuck you it’s slow and soft. At first, you thought it was just going to be sweet until he started speeding up and pushing in harder.

As you moan he just pistons faster and rougher.

“You like that sweetheart?” He grins when you moan loudly in response, not being about to give a worded answer. 

You can feel his shaft getting harder as he gets close to release. 

Eddie grunts and huffs, pushing as fast as he can into you. 

“Ugh sweetheart i’m gonna cum!”

He reaches down to your clit and rubs, as you writhe and squeal gripping his shoulders. “Oh, Eddie!”

The both of you reach your peak together, hands pushing against each others bodies. 

When Eddie comes down from his high, he gets up and grabs you a towel wiping his cum off you. 

“Here you are sweetheart.”

He smiles and gets in bed next to you trying to hold you close, but when you feel something other than lust for him you push away. 

“This was just a hookup, an escape. Okay? Nothing more.”

Eddie frowns, but nods moving away from you. After a couple minutes of silence, you decide it’s too hurtful to just stay when you’re trying to convince yourself you aren’t good enough for him.

“I think I should just go.”

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: language, violence, m masturbation, smut

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

Back in your apartment, the two of you set to work quietly organizing everything spread out on the living room floor that you could think of to pack. The biggest section was food. Luckily you were still used to a dorm room diet, so you had tons of useful items to take on the go. You had focused on the cans with protein like tuna, chicken and beans, then moved on to granola and protein bars, nuts, dried fruit, ramen noodles, cereal, instant rice and easy mac. Joel packed each of you a flashlight with extra batteries, and handfuls of matches and lighters he had found rummaging through your floor. Justin's camping equipment came with a canteen, plate, bowl, and foldable silverware for each, and a small first aid kit, which Joel significantly bolstered after raiding all the bathrooms on the floor.

He told you to only pack one or two extra sets of clothes, that you would have to break into houses or stores along the way if you needed more. He didn't want to waste the space in your packs that could be used for food and medicine.

You both set to work filling your bags with as much stuff as you could. Joel slipped a map into his pack that he had picked up from a kitchen drawer down the hall, and you had snuck in an unopened box of tampons and a folded up picture of your parents in yours when he wasn't looking.

It was around midday when you were all set to go, making sure to eat something left behind in your cupboards one last time.

You closed the door behind you, but you didn't lock it in case someone came along and needed something. Then sadly, you turned and gripped your baseball bat, following Joel down the long hallway, down the stairs and to the lobby.

Before Joel pushed the lobby door open to the outside, he turned to you.

"Which way's the subway?"

You pointed down the street to the right.

"It's about 3 blocks that way, not far. It's mostly all apartment buildings and a few stores on the corners."

Joel nodded, cracking the door open to listen for any sign of trouble. It sounded clear, so he ventured out to confirm before pulling you out behind him.

"We gotta be quick, but not too quick. Don't want to accidentally sneak up on somethin' out here," Joel explained in a hushed tone. "If you hear anythin', stop and don't make a sound. And you tell me if you see anythin' at all, understand?" You walked closely next to him as he was speaking, the whole time looking all around you frantically, your senses in overdrive, and your heart hammering in your chest. All you did was nod, not wanting to risk making too much noise.

The streets were quiet. Joel peeked around the corner and made sure no soldiers or infected were nearby before ushering you across the open street and back behind the safety of a building. One block down.

The two of you trotted down the sidewalk, swiveling your head around every few feet to see if there was anyone behind you. You almost made it to the next corner when Joel swung out his arm to stop you. You held your breath, heart racing as you focused on the noise he heard. It was the slow rumbling of an engine that reminded you of the FEDRA truck you heard patrolling outside your apartment last night. Joel must have figured that out, too, because he grabbed your arm and pulled you over to hide behind a dumpster that was sticking out of a narrow alley. You both crouched down and waited for the truck to pass. Fortunately, it didn't turn down the street you were on, where you would have been exposed.

Once the noise faded, Joel stood up slowly before motioning for you to follow. Again, he poked his head around the corner and took extra time to make sure no one was around before dragging you across the street once more. One more block to go.

You were halfway down the block as you passed a pawn shop, windows smashed in and the place ransacked. You grabbed Joel's arm and his head whipped around in a panic. You shook your head to tell him nothing was wrong and pointed into the pawn shop.

"Weapons?" you mouthed.

He hesitated a moment, trying to decide if you should press on or see if there was something useful in there before ultimately deciding to check it out. If the subway had infected in it, it would be better if there was more than just one knife between you. Joel stepped through the broken glass door carefully, glancing around at the small shop before holding his hand out to guide you through the opening. You both took a quick look around, noticing anything valuable was long gone, and most of the knives were picked over, but you did find a decent sized switchblade for yourself. You tucked it into your jeans pocket, and you carried on down the street towards the subway entrance.

You had a long way to go down the dark tunnel, but so far it had been quiet and uneventful. Your flashlight beams bounced off the brick walls as you walked in silence, trying to stay focused on your surroundings. Your anxiety spiked with every new subway station you passed, reminding you of just how much deeper into the city you were getting. From what the soldiers had said, more densely populated areas were worse off, and so far in your limited experience that had proven to be true.

You were two stations away from the one you stopped at for work when you first saw people. It was just two families, huddled together on the platform. They had seen your flashlights long before you saw them, so trying to sneak by was useless. They seemed like they were just innocent survivors, so Joel kept walking, holding his head up. He made eye contact with two of the men in the group and gave them each a firm nod, hoping to convey you were just passing through and not looking for trouble. They nodded back wordlessly, and you carried on your way.

The next station had more people who had sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, and lanterns. It looked like they were trying to wait it out underground long-term. A few of the men approached the end of the platform to address Joel.

"You soldiers?" one of them asked.

"No, just passin' through, tryin' to stay off the streets, sorry to disturb you all," Joel replied. He paused for a moment, and looked back at the men who were still watching you carefully. "Any of you see any infected down here?"

One of the men shook his head. "Nah, man, that's why we're sitting tight down here. Soldiers must be keeping them busy up top."

Joel nodded. "Thanks... good luck to you."

Finally, you approached your stop for work and found the platform to be filled with people, just like the previous one. They were kind and immediately helped you both up off the tracks. You introduced yourselves and explained you were headed to Joel's apartment not too far from there. One of the women, Josie, warned you the closer you got to the heart of the city, the worse it was.

"We heard, thank you. Once we get up top it won't be a long walk," you said, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead to clear the sweat collecting there. "We've been walking for hours. Joel?" You turned to him, interrupting a conversation he was having with Josie's husband, Peter. "Can we rest here for a bit?" Joel turned back to Peter.

"That ok with you folks?" he asked. Peter and Josie nodded, seemingly the leaders of the small group of strangers huddled on the platform.

The two of you slunk down against the tiled wall, pulling out protein bars and your canteens after sitting down. You shut your eyes for a few minutes, leaning the back of your head against the wall, chewing and grateful to be taking a break.

"You holdin' up alright?" Joel asked softly beside you. You nodded, keeping your eyes closed.

"I'm just tired," you replied, taking another bite of your protein bar without looking.

"It ain't much further, once we get on the street it's another few blocks. We should be able to get there before - "

Joel's sentence was cut short by screaming, and your eyes flew open in surprise as you dropped your protein bar and grabbed your bat while fumbling around in your pocket for the switchblade. Joel was already standing, gripping his bat and trying to locate the source of the scream in the group. One of the men, who looked asleep when you arrived, was snarling and had his teeth clamped down into the shoulder of an older man, blood pouring down his arm and soaking both of their shirts. Peter and another man jumped into action to pull the infected off the poor man screaming in agony, struggling to pin it to the ground.

Joel charged forward before you could stop him, your hands desperately clawing at his t-shirt, but he was already throwing himself into the group to help. You watched in horror as the three men struggled to hold it down, and just as Joel was getting ready to bash its skull in with the baseball bat, it lunged forward, knocking Peter and the other man off to the side and pushing Joel onto his back.

Joel held the infected up by its shoulders as it pinned him down, snapping and growling inches from his face. Joel's jaw was clenched tight, his eyes flashed with rage as he summoned all the strength he could manage and pushed it off him, making it stumble backwards. It was just enough time for Joel to reach to his side for his hunting knife and plunged it into the infected’s skull with a guttural yell.

The infected went limp immediately and fell to the floor. Joel stood over the body, tense, covered in blood, and panting heavily with the knife still clutched in his hand. Peter and the other man rushed to join the rest of the group helping the one who was bit in the shoulder, but you raced straight to Joel, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Surprised, he lifted one arm to place it reassuringly on your back, the other still clutching his knife.

You let him go, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as you frowned at him angrily. He looked down at you, the adrenaline wearing off, and saw the anguish on your face. He reached his hand out to you, but you slapped it away and instead shoved his chest heatedly, making him stumble just a bit in surprise.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" you seethed, narrowing your eyes at him and fighting to keep the tears from falling. "You could have gotten killed!"

Joel stared at you, still panting slightly, then put the knife back in its holder. He couldn't gauge your reaction. Were you upset he would be killed because then you would be alone, or upset because of something else? He sighed and reached out to you again. This time, you didn't shove him, but you didn't go to him, either.

Josie approached you, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Thank you, Joel, for saving my husband," she said, clutching his outstretched hand in her own, then turned to you. "Don't be mad at your boyfriend, dear, he just saved us all."

Your mouth fell open, and before you could correct her, she went back to Peter and hugged him tightly. Joel cleared his throat beside you, seemingly pleased with himself.

"You heard her," he winked at you. "Can't stay mad at me." You scowled back at him, and with a more serious tone, he added, "us or them, remember?"

You sighed, relaxing your brow. You knew he was right, but you were still pissed off. You turned on your heel and headed back to your abandoned protein bar, effectively ending the conversation.

Joel joined you and watched as the group deliberated quietly on how to deal with the man who was bit. You had learned he likely only had a few hours before he turned, based on the location of his bite. Ultimately, Peter volunteered, and he quickly and privately put the man out of his misery with a kitchen knife. You winced when you heard the squelch of blood from across the platform, burying your face in your shoulder.

You didn't stay much longer after that. Once Joel had gotten his strength back, you picked up your belongings and gave your farewells. Josie and Peter thanked Joel again, and you headed up to the familiar street corner, dusk fast approaching.

It took you both an hour to walk to Joel's apartment, which normally would have taken ten minutes, but he insisted on going slow and being careful at every turn. When you approached his building, you had to crane your neck all the way back to take in the full height. His building definitely used to have a doorman: it was fancy. You walked into the ornate lobby and turned around in a slow circle, taking in everything from the detailed crown molding to the beautiful, tiled floor that looked more like a piece of art. You almost felt bad for stepping on it. Even the ceiling was vaulted and decorated in tiny, intricate squares with gilded chandeliers hanging from it. Finally, you looked straight ahead and saw an arched window that overlooked a private garden.

"Shit," you whispered, "I almost got an apartment in this building."

Joel turned back to you, surprised, then realized you were being sarcastic when he saw your grin. He smiled to himself and shook his head, leading you down the hallway towards the stairwell door.

"I take it you're not on the second floor?" you asked him quietly as you began to climb the stairs.

"No, little higher than that," he replied. "30th floor."

You stopped dead in your tracks, which made him stop and turn back to you questioningly. He could tell what the problem was when he saw the pained expression on your face without you even having to speak.

"I know, it's gonna take us a while, but we can stop and rest whenever you need to." You sighed and hung your head, continuing your journey up the stairs.

You made it to the halfway point before you had to take a break, sitting on a step, panting and chugging water from your canteen while Joel leaned against the wall across from you, sipping his own water. The sun was going down, so you each dug your flashlights out of your packs before continuing.

"Not much further," Joel panted, turning the corner of another staircase, "then we can rest. No point in diggin' around in the dark, it's been a long day." You nodded, choosing not to speak to conserve your energy, and focused on the flashlight beam ahead of you.

You weren't sure how long it took, but finally you climbed the last step to face the door marked with a big, red "30". That's when you looked up and noticed you were on the top floor. Of course he lives on the top floor.

Joel pushed the door open a crack and peeked down the hall, which was very short and only had two doors and an elevator at the other end. He held the door open for you to walk through, then gently closed it. You frowned, looking back and forth at the two doors, puzzled.

Joel looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight when he saw your confusion, before mumbling, "It's a penthouse," and brushed past you to unlock his door.

You had never seen a penthouse before, but you knew they were for people who were really rich, especially in New York City. He opened the door, locking it behind you. You couldn't really see much other than what your flashlight exposed, but you could tell the room you were standing in was massive. You briefly flicked your light around, taking in some couches, bookcases, a fireplace and some other furniture. You stopped when you noticed the entire wall was top to bottom windows with a balcony attached, and covered your flashlight quickly. Joel kicked off his sneakers, and noticing the dimmer light, turned his flashlight to shine on you questioningly.

"Can't people see in? Like, the lights moving?" you asked. He shook his head.

"Privacy windows," he explained, then turned and headed towards another room. You quickly kicked your own shoes off, skittering after him, sticking close. The place was so huge you were afraid you'd get lost, and the darkness mixed with the eerie silence from lack of power and road noise made the hairs on your arm stand up. As you walked, you shined your flashlight on everything around you, baffled by how far the apartment seemed to stretch. You were so engrossed in your surroundings that you bumped into him when he had stopped walking.

"Oops, sorry," you whispered.

"Why are you whispering? We're safe here," he replied at full volume. You shrugged.

"I don't know, this place is huge, Joel, give me a minute - oh my god, is this your kitchen?!" you exclaimed as your jaw dropped, noticing the kitchen island in front of you that must have seated ten people. On one side. Easily. The island, made of marble or quartz, was white with silver and black specks. You noticed the counter was the same all over the kitchen, even on the built in bar in the corner. The cupboards were a light oak that was soft against your fingertips as you gently trailed them against the wood, wandering around his kitchen in amazement.

Joel watched you as you walked around his kitchen, gently touching the handles of the knives in the block and running your fingers along the countertop. You looked like you had never seen anything like this before, and his chest ached when he wondered what would have happened that night if you agreed to come home with him. You could have seen this place in a whole different light. He could have made you a drink from the bar and played you some music over the sound system. If he was lucky, he could have laid you down on the kitchen island you were so currently fascinated with, your fingers gripping the edges as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear to explore your soaking wet folds, pushing one finger inside you, and then another, slowly teasing you until you begged him for more.

Having you in his place was clouding his mind, he needed to focus. He cleared his throat before heading towards the pantry door. You eagerly followed closely behind and when you realized the pantry was a room as big as your own kitchen, you moaned with envy, causing his eyes to flutter shut momentarily.

"This place is amazing," you told him, sifting through the food on his shelves. You grabbed some peanut butter and crackers, turned and headed back to the kitchen.

"Where's the silverware?" you asked over your shoulder.

"Drawer next to the sink," he replied, and watched as you grabbed a butter knife. He picked up a can of Beefaroni off the shelf and opened the drawer in the kitchen with the can opener after picking a fork out from the silverware drawer you left open in your haste to eat.

He sat across from you at the island, eating his cold Beefaroni out of the can while you slathered crackers with peanut butter and popped them in your mouth. You smirked at his choice of food.

"Chef Boyardee?" you asked curiously, eyebrows raised. "I'm sure your private chef could have made you the real thing from scratch." Joel chuckled.

"Alright, I ain't got a private chef. Besides, this is the real thing. Nothin' beats it."

You smiled, fascinated that a man who lived in such a lavish apartment would have Beefaroni as his guilty pleasure. Feeling full and sleepy, you twisted the top of the peanut butter jar closed, and out of habit ran your tongue along the butter knife to clean it. You didn't even realize how that looked until you heard Joel's breath hitch and he looked down to study the empty can in front of him. Your cheeks felt warm from embarrassment, but luckily, he couldn't see it under the cover of darkness. You cleaned the knife (with a sponge, this time) and Joel's fork, putting them back in the drawer.

"Alright, let's get some shut eye. We should try to get an early start tomorrow, I want to get out of this city as soon as we can," Joel said, grabbing his pack he had set down when you walked in, and headed further down the hallway.

You followed him nervously, looking at the expensive-looking art on the walls and even a few statues on pedestals before reaching his bedroom. He pushed the door open, and your flashlights bounced around the room to illuminate the corners the moonlight hid from view. As expected, his bedroom was spacious with a bathroom and two walk-in closets attached. You noticed one of the closets was void of any clothes, and the other was packed to the brim. You poked your head in his bathroom, sighing enviously when you saw the huge, glass walk-in shower and built in vanity. You turned around to find Joel had dug out a couple lanterns from his closet and placed one on each end table so you could conserve your flashlight batteries. You clicked it off and walked over awkwardly, not sure what the sleeping arrangements should be. Unlike you, he has couches more than big enough to accommodate a grown adult, but the thought of being alone in the living room of this huge apartment made you nervous.

It hadn't even been a question in Joel's mind.

"Hop in and make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back," and he left the bedroom, back down the hallway to double check the locks. You rummaged in your pack for some more comfortable clothes to sleep in, and quickly changed before he returned, nestled under the covers on the most comfortable mattress you had ever been on in your life.

When Joel reentered the bedroom, his thoughts didn't even have time to catch up with how fast he felt the blood rushing to his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut as he blindly walked right to his closet and shut the door so he could change into his pajamas, willing his erection away. He groaned quietly, leaning his head against the wall of the closet, frustrated with how distracted he's been. If he doesn't stop, it could get you or him killed. He would have to do something about it before heading out tomorrow. He was lucky so far, you've had relatively safe places to hole up in, but that was going to end.

When he finally got himself under control, he exited the closet and got into the other side of the bed. You already had your lantern off and you were laying on your side with your eyes closed, exhausted from all the walking and events of the day. His bed was much larger than yours, and he hoped the extra space would help him get his mind out of the gutter. He turned his lantern off, and leaned back into the familiar pillow and sheets, closing his eyes. It was silent for a few minutes before you spoke.

"Joel?" you squeaked.

"Hm?" he replied, keeping his eyes closed.

"This is the nicest apartment I've ever seen, how long have you lived here?"

"About six years or so," he said, shifting a little under the covers. "But I like your place more," he admitted.

"My place?!" you said, outraged. "You could fit my entire apartment into this bedroom, you're crazy."

"Yeah, well, your place felt more..." he trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Like a home. This place feels like a museum."

"I'm sure you could make this place feel just as cozy," you yawned before adding, "this bed, for instance, is the most comfortable thing I've ever laid on." Joel smiled.

"Glad you like it." Sweetheart.

He waited until he was sure you were sleeping deeply enough before he locked himself into his bathroom and pulled his sweatpants down just far enough to free his throbbing cock, stroking it steadily with one hand while the other propped him up against the wall, eyes screwed shut. His thoughts picked up where he left off in the kitchen, his fingers deep in your pussy, but then he would add his thumb to your swollen clit, making your back arch off the cold counter and gasp his name. His thumb would pick up the pace, keeping up with your moans, rubbing tight circles and flexing and thrusting his fingers inside of you until your body finally stilled under him, whimpering his name as you came.

He imagined you gazing up at him hazily, the same way you looked at him last week outside the bar, but now you would reach out and grab the waist of his jeans, pulling him closer and whisper hoarsely to him, "Please, Joel, I need you, I need more..."

He imagined what it would feel like to slide inside you, your cunt soft and warm, so welcoming and taking him inch by inch. He would grasp your hips, his feet firmly on the ground and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, one of your hands lost in your own hair and the other firmly holding onto his wrist, eyes rolled towards the back of your head, moaning, as he stretched you out. When he would start moving, he would go slow at first and enjoy the way your tits bounced gently along with his movements. He would do his best to take his time, but he imagined you asking him - begging him - to fuck you harder. Of course, he would give you what you wanted. He would slam into you, over and over, groaning as he would feel your cunt squeezing around him, warning him you were close. His thumb would travel down to your clit once again, pressing firmly from side to side until you were screaming his name and he felt your warm release spill over his cock.

"Fuck!" Joel grunted out into the darkness, as he shot thick ropes of cum over his hand and onto the tile floor, completely losing himself and forgetting to grab a tissue.  He stood there a few minutes, catching his breath, his forehead pressed against the bathroom wall. Finally, he pushed himself away and cleaned up his mess carefully, using his flashlight to make sure he didn't miss anything. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hoped that would help keep him sharp and focused for tomorrow.

He opened the bathroom door quietly, relieved to see you hadn't moved a muscle since he left. You were still sleeping peacefully, facing his side of the bed with your lips slightly parted. He smiled at the sight, setting his flashlight down and about to slide back into bed when he heard a noise coming from down the hall. He froze, listening intently, trying to figure out the source. He glanced down at you once more to confirm you were still asleep and headed quietly out the bedroom door, carefully closing it behind him.

He walked down the hallway, now on high alert, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He walked by a statue, grabbing it and turning it upside down so the square base was upright in his hand. He gripped it tightly as he neared the kitchen, now hearing rustling and seeing a beam of light coming from the pantry. He glanced around the room before peering around the open pantry door, seeing someone crouched on the floor and rifling through his food, but all Joel could focus on was the revolver on the floor next to him, shining in the moonlight. Shooting one more glance over his shoulder, Joel stepped inside, silently placing the statue down on the floor, and then lunged forward, quickly wrapping his arm around the intruder’s neck, and using his other hand to lock his arm in place. Joel yanked them both up to a standing position, putting his foot over the revolver and shoving it under the shelves in the pantry, out of arms reach. The intruder slapped wildly at Joel's arms, then tried clawing at his face, desperate to loosen his grip so he could breathe, but Joel didn't budge, his grip strong and unmoving, his face contorted in a fury and a heat he never felt before. It didn't take long before the man passed out, but Joel held on a few minutes longer to make sure the air didn't revive him.

Once he was satisfied he was dead, Joel laid him gently on the pantry floor, frantically trying to catch his breath. He slowly picked the statue back up, temporarily forgetting about the gun, and then closed his eyes a moment as his breathing began to stabilize. He reopened them, nostrils flared, and jaw clenched. He needed to make sure the man was alone, and you were safe.

He left the pantry, glancing around the room once again before stepping forward. He was about to enter the hallway to head back towards the living room when something hard hit him across the chest, sending him crashing loudly back into the kitchen, dropping the statue. Joel gasped for air in the darkness, scrambling backwards and reaching around blindly to try to find his statue, but the other intruder kicked it away and pinned Joel down with his own baseball bat. The bat was being pressed to his throat, and Joel struggled to push against the man's weight.

"Who else is here with you?" the intruder sneered. Joel was barely able to make out his face in the darkness.

"No one," he gasped and shook his head, pushing back harder now that he was reminded of you sleeping sweetly in his bed, hoping and praying you stayed in there.

"Bullshit," the man spit. "I saw the shoes by the door. Maybe I'll have a little fun with her after I kill - "

Suddenly, the pressure was gone, and Joel coughed, holding his throat. He whipped around frantically, trying to find anything to use as a weapon, when he heard wet thumping over and over. He stood up, desperately trying to make his eyes adjust to the shadows. Remembering the flashlight, he scrambled back in the pantry and snatched it up, casting the beam of light over the scuffle.

You were bent over and brutally caving in the skull of the man who almost killed him.

Over and over, you aimed the corner of the statue at the man's disfigured face, beating him to a bloody pulp, the squishing sound of blood echoing in your ears. Joel calling your name and grabbing you around the waist was the only thing that stopped you. You dropped the statue and looked him in the eye, like a wild animal cornered and ready to strike. He grabbed your face, repeating your name until your eyes focused back on him. The enormity of what you did hit you in an instant: you just killed a man.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your lips trembled as you continued to stare into Joel’s eyes. He shook his head when he saw the emotion on your face.

“No. No, no, no, no. C’mere,” he said, pulling you into his embrace, and it was then you let the tears flow as you sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, gripping his t-shirt in your fist like a lifeline. He snaked his arm up your back, so his hand rested at the crown of your head, and his other arm tightly squeezed you around the ribs. You both slunk to the floor of his kitchen, holding onto each other for dear life, the horror of the world around you finally making its mark on you both.  

Chapter Nine

[anqelically-archived]

goodbye, my darling | osamu dazai x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: beast!au spoilers, angst, you take oda’s place (but aren’t exactly like him)

navigation | bsd masterlist

you were never too keen on the idea of meeting someone whose face you’d never seen. as a cautious woman, who also worked as a detective for a living, you’d normally deny a meeting with someone unfamiliar. however, to deny a gathering in your current situation could cost the life of a boy you took in as a subordinate.

the lives of those younger than you were of the utmost importance.

ryunosuke akutagawa was your subordinate, who, blindly, stormed into the headquarters of the most dangerous organization in yokohama. in order to save his little sister, akutagawa broke into the port mafia’s building by himself to get her back.

since he was a member of the agency, it was part of your mission to rescue him. as you walked towards a lone bar in ginza, you never forgot that. a cigarette burned away in your dominant hand as you walked towards bar lupin.

your aim was to aid akutagawa in what would happen after his escape from the port mafia. the reason you were meeting with the person in charge of monetary security for the mafia was to gain information. with a threat dangerous to the port mafia, a bargain can be made. the akutagawas can be safe from the port mafia, and the port mafia can be safe from the government.

the cigarette in your hand was put out when you rubbed it against the brick wall. you threw the unfinished product into the trashcan nearby before you took quiet steps down the stairs toward the bar. you were sure it was the location based on the sign outside.

the moment you opened the door, the mellow, low tune of jazz reached your ears. your (e/c) eyes scanned the almost empty bar in front of you. at the actual bar itself sat one lone man. from his stature, he was definitely not the old man you were expecting.

his hair, dark as coffee beans, covered his face before he turned around. a smile adorned the unfamiliar man’s face as he looked at you with a shine in his rich, brown eye. the other one seemed to be wrapped in bandages, just like the ends of his arms. he was handsome if you had to say. but for someone dressed like a port mafia hitman, he greeted you like you knew each other well.

“(n/n), it’s been a while,” he spoke, voice soft. “were you smoking again? i can smell the stench from a mile away, you know.”

“i suppose it’s not unusual for you to smell it,” you responded. “but you say it’s been a while... have we met before?”

the man closed his eye, an almost silent sigh escaping his mouth. once you could see his uncovered eye again, the shine that was once there seemed to dull. it was still there, but harder for you to see in the dimly lit bar. he pushed down the sphere of ice in his drink.

“no, we haven’t met yet. this is the first time. the first time i’ve entered this bar, first time i drank here, first time we’ve met here, in this crazy world. a whole lotta firsts, wouldn’t you say, (n/n)?”

“yeah, it’s a lot.”

you found yourself sitting one stool away from the man. a bittersweet silence was draped between the two of you and for some reason, you felt the urge to change it as soon as possible. you wanted to fall into a light conversation you’d normally have with someone close to you. it was odd, really. you were here for a purpose, yet you sat by idly.

“hey, i’ve got a question.” if the man wasn’t going to speak first, you would. you asked, “if we’re going to sit here, what should i call you? i doubt you’d want me to call you mister bandages.”

“well, calling me yours would be just fine,” he playfully smirked at you. “darling wouldn’t be bad either.”

“so it’s going to be like that?”

“of course it is. i have a nickname for you, and you have one for me. it’s only fair, isn’t it? but, i have a question for you. if we’re going to be here, what would you like to drink? pick your poison, belladonna.”

you let your chin rest on your hand, “well, i usually only drink with my coworkers and when i’m tired. i always have a lime margarita, if you can make that for me, darling.”

he smiled as he went behind the bar, “hm, i suppose i can make it. but since you’re here with me for the first time, how about we drink something else for the first time too? i can make a mean french martini, surprisingly. i’ve watched it get made plenty of times.”

“if you insist, go ahead. if it tastes bad, don’t be surprised when i give you 0 stars.”

“ouch, how low.”

dazai, to your surprise, began to create the drink as if he knew the bar like the back of his hand. he grabbed the right drinks from their respective places without even looking at the labels to create the cocktail. it was as if the bar was his.

while he was at it, you asked him something that had been bothering you from the moment he first talked. “you called me (n/n) when i entered the bar, so it’s safe to say that it refers to me. why call me that?”

“why?” he hummed. “i should ask you that. do you not like it?”

“it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. it’s just… no one has ever called me that before. everyone just calls me (y/n), but not you, clearly.”

he lowered his gaze and the corners of his lips turned up. that smile of his, you could read it clear as day. you were able to tell that this man wasn’t smiling from what you've said, not even genuinely smiling. he smiled for the sake of himself. you didn’t know what he was thinking or feeling, but you were sure it had to do with yourself. there was no way it didn’t.

“and no one’s ever called me their darling until you have, (n/n). it’s another first for the both of us, and we did it together. but hey, i have some stories i’ve been living to tell you. can i?”

after giving him the go-ahead, he excitedly talked about dealing with a bomb and giving his underlings firm tofu. the way he told his stories was like a little child coming home from the first day of school and telling their parents about their new friends.

once he was done, he slid the drink right in front of you and took a seat. however, it was not the seat he was originally at when you walked into the bar. getting closer than he was, he sat on the stool to your left. he held up his drink and, as if it were engraved into your body, you clinked your glass against his without a thought.

“well go ahead, taste it! let’s see if it really is worth 0 stars,” he urged you.

the way he stared into your eyes with anticipation, it was another strange thing you’ve noticed. he was genuinely happy. he was probably the strangest person you’ve ever met, and you’ve met some odd people. hell, you worked with them.

after having a thought, you picked up the glass. you pressed it against your lips and took a sip, aware of the eye on you. once you swallowed and set the drink down, you could see a satisfied smile in your peripheral vision.

“good, huh?” the brunette asked.

“it really is,” you confirmed. “it's not worth 0 stars.”

“see? what did i tell you, belladonna? a french martini suits you, though. you can always ask me to make you some if you want.”

“maybe. i’d ask if you can cook as well, but your firm tofu says otherwise.”

he chuckled, “yeah, i’m not much of a cook. i always had someone else cook for me. it was edible too. she was much better than i was at cooking. at a lot of things, actually.”

“she seems like a woman of talent.”

“that’s right, she was. i’ve missed her… i’ve missed her a lot these past years.”

“a mother?”

“nope, my mom had been long gone from my life. this woman… she was much more than that.”

you couldn’t find anything else to say, so you remained quiet. that was, until the bandage-wearing man brought up why you two even decided to meet in the first place. he asked for more details.

“a subordinate of mine is in danger, and i want to cut a deal. it’d be a miracle if he came out in one piece, let alone with the person he’s been searching for. if he makes it out, i have no doubt that the port mafia will hunt him down. i want to cut a deal that’ll benefit us both.”

after contemplating, he murmured, “akutagawa’s lucky to have come across a good teacher like you.”

“excuse me?”

“you don’t need to worry about akutagawa. after today, the mafia will never lay another finger on him. there’s no catch; he’ll be able to live the rest of his life in peace... besides, this is what i’ve had planned since the beginning... if he makes it out of the mafia headquarters alive, that is.”

what he told you had confirmed your suspicions. taking another sip of the martini, you looked him straight in the eye. you’ve let yourself come off as laid back, but now your expression was stern. he was caught off-guard.

“tell me, why did you lure him? why did you lure akutagawa into your headquarters, osamu dazai?”

it went silent, so much so that the music didn’t reach either of your ears.

“guess you’ve figured it out. i can’t fool you, can i?” he quipped. “you’ve always been quite intelligent.”

“you’re the one who gave out the hints. when talking about the tofu, you talked about underlings. you spoke like you had a lot of them. then, you talked about akutagawa without me even saying his name. not to mention how you’ve had plans from the beginning. only the port mafia’s boss would know, and be able to plan much. you’re the reason akutagawa is searching for his sister in the first place. this is over.”

“no, wait-!”

dazai reached out his arm, but he halted at the familiar click of a gun. his eye widened and he could only look at you with a horrified expression. he didn’t even have to look down to know your trusty pistol was in your hand.

“please put the gun away,” dazai begged, his face contorting to an expression of sorrow.

“i’m sorry, but i’m afraid i can’t do that. if i do, who knows what’ll happen to me? but then again, i’m already screwed if this is a trap. the port mafia’s boss is cunning, so i’m done acting like we’re close.”

“i didn’t want to become the boss! i… and i didn’t think of it as an act, not at all. it’s the truth, i swear.”

he looked at you so sincerely that you almost dropped the gun from your side. raw emotion was behind his words, or so you thought. maybe he could still be lying to you? maybe lying to himself. after all, there are liars so good that they’ve deceived themselves.

you looked down at your lap, “i guess that i’ve got to come up with another plan for saving akutagawa. well, if i can leave this establishment alive, that is.”

dazai insisted, “this isn’t a trap. i would never even dream of doing something like that to you, (n/n).”

“my name is (l/n) (y/n), not (n/n).”

your words were another shot to his chest.

“right, (y/n). you asked me why i lured akutagawa to the mafia headquarters, right? well, i did it to protect this world.”

you raised a brow, “this world?”

“this is but one of countless worlds. and in another world, the original world, you and i were… we were—“

“i love you,” he recalls the light touch of your fingers burning up his skin, “and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“—we were friends. you and i were friends in the original world. we drank at this bar and spent time together talking about the most insignificant things. it lasted for a while.”

dazai can also remember your last moments. you were laying in your own pool of blood when he finally caught up to you. when you spoke to him, you spoke in that same calm voice you’ve always had. and then, the smoke of the cigarette in your hand had dissipated into nothing, just like the light in your eyes.

“even if that were true, that doesn’t change what you did to akutagawa and his sister. you separated them, and now here we are,” you reminded dazai. “we may have been close in the original world, as you call it, but we are enemies now.”

“i love you—“

dazai’s eyes searched for something in the air that wasn’t there. his eye darted around, and his lips would slightly part and shut after a few seconds. his face twisted as he continued to remember everything.

“—and there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“it was hard... it was really hard fighting mimic without you in the organization. i had no choice but to take over for mori and make enemies of everyone around me to expand the business,” dazai finally looked back at you. slowly, his hands reached for your cheeks. “everything i did was for this world’s- for you. i needed a world where you can sit here, happy with the people around you again.”

for a reason you couldn’t decipher, the hand that held your gun began to tremble. well, maybe it had been trembling for a long time and you were only now just recognizing it. dazai’s hands, cold and soft at the touch, held your face as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.

it was a touch of a lover.

coming down to that conclusion, everything made sense to you. dazai always looked at you like you were closest thing to him, a lifeline if you may. his nicknames, the flirting, talking about this unnamed important woman in his life. it was all because...

“we were in a relationship, weren’t we?”

dazai would’ve missed your words if the proximity between the two of you wasn’t this close. the way he froze in his spot had answered enough, and you could only sigh. slowly, you put your gun back into your jacket and rested your hands on dazai’s.

you gently pried his hands off of your face and held them between your own. you felt no specific feelings from the action, but you were sure dazai did based off of how his face softened.

“i’m sorry, but you have to leave your feelings out of this. i don’t know how you know what happened in the original world, and i won’t ask. i just have to tell you that i don’t feel what you do. like i said, you and i are enemies here. as long as you control the port mafia and i’m part of the armed detective agency, it’ll remain this way.”

“there’s nothing in any universe that would change that.”

“i see,” dazai took his hands back and rested them on his lap. “well, the reason i invited you here in the first place was to say goodbye.”

“you really don’t plan on ever seeing me again?”

“you said it, didn’t you? we’re enemies as long as we’re associated with the organizations we’re in. so after today, i won’t see you again. it’ll only hurt more if i do.”

“then this makes this a goodbye,” you watched as he stood up from his stool, hands in the pockets of his black overcoat.

“yes, it does. a life with someone you can say goodbye to is a good life, especially when it hurts so much to say it to them. am i wrong?”

“i guess you wouldn’t be... i haven’t said goodbye to anyone and have it pain me,” you replied, feeling bad for the port mafia’s boss.

“i hope you don’t for a long time. but one day, that time will come. you won’t be prepared for it, but all i can tell you is to let it in. feel everything, and see where it takes you.” dazai faintly smiled before he turned his back to you and began to walk away, “goodbye, (n/n).”

“goodbye, my darling.”

painfully, dazai grit his teeth and resisted the urge to look back. in goodbyes, that’s what they always do. they turn around and crash into the person they’re supposed to be leaving. he didn’t want to do that. this was his goodbye to you, even if it didn’t mean much. if he was going to keep this world functioning, he won’t leave it with you in any pain.

‘be happy, okay? even if it’s without me, be happy. as long as you’re alive, somewhere, i’ll be happy too’

it was a final thought he kept to himself.

note: this pained me sm to write, but i had to for the sake of my imagination </3

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