#but man this scene she really thought he was gonna leave her now

[handfulofmuses]

"I'm not going anywhere."

No but she definitely has some kind of abandonment issues. Her body language, the crack in her voice - almost crying of happiness when Scratch is goofing around.

The friendship between her and Scratch was forced because of the curse, Molly is aware of that. She's excited over the curse because it means her new best friend can't leave her this time.

Then, they almost lost the house. Loved these two episodes by the way, Scratch trying hard to take care of everyone while they work on getting the money and then scaring everyone away who tries to buy the house because to him, it belongs to this family now.

Curse is broken because they left the house and she brings it up that Scratch is no longer stuck with her. She genuinely believed that he would leave her now. Molly is aware of the rocky start and I think Molly herself also knows that she tries too hard in connecting with others - the only reason why Scratch managed to stay that long was because of the curse.

"I'm not going anywhere" was the reassurance she needed from him because that means it's genuine now - no curse keeping them together but his own choice.

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

[luvyeni]

I LOVE YOU ,, 서창빈

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ boyfriend!changbin x fem!reader wc. 1.5k

genre. smut , angst

𓄷 includes ... oral ( fem receiving ) , unprotected sex , binnie kinda rough

request. changbin, miscommunication/lack of communication on both ends, it’s a newer relationship, reader overhears changbin being rather rude talking about someone and reader assumes it’s about them, which leads to reader being closed off and the angsty part, but they make up bc changbin is determined to fuck some sense into reader

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i hope you like it , miscommunication trope isn't my best suit.

❪ masterlist! ❫

you wer under the impression that you and your boyfriend were doing good; you'd been in a relationship for about 5 months now and sure you had a few insecurities; but changbin always said they didn't bother him and that he'd help you through it. you thought he was perfect, that you were still in the honeymoon phase— you wouldn't be meeting his friends at a party if you didn't plan on being with him for a long time.

so you could imagine the heartbreak you felt when you excused yourself to use the bathroom; only to return to hear your boyfriend talking about you; and not in the good way you'd hope. “they're so annoying, i told them not to come.” he said. “don't say anything when she comes back, she's just gonna get upset?”

you wanted to cry; you wanted to go home, you wanted to hit him over and over again until he felt the same way you did, felt the hurt you did. “yn did you find the bathroom?” chan asked , you nodded sitting down on the couch. “here baby.” the man you swore was your boyfriend handed you a drink , you pushed it away , shaking your head. “i don't want it.”

changbin was confused; this was something you normally drank, why didn't you want it? “i’ll go get you something else then.” you turned away from him, he got up, making his way to chans kitchen. “changbin is that you?” he internally sighed at the voice. “i've been looking for you all night.”

“i told you not to.” he said , the girl smiled. “c'mon binnie , you know you still miss me.” he rolled his eyes. “no i don't, i actually told you not to come.” her hand come up to his bicep. “i know your girlfriend isn't doing it right.” he felt himself getting angry, how dare she talk about you in such a way. “changbin?”

he pushed the girl away from him, turning to you. “baby.” he said. “is this why you didn't want me to come?” you scoffed. “so you fuck around with other girls?” he didn't know what you were saying, he invited you. “yn listen let's not make a scene.” he said. “let's go upstairs and talk?” you weren't having any of it. “take me home.” you turned away from him, walking to the door.

changbin barely had time to say goodbye to his friends, grabbing both your jackets, running after you. “can you slow down and just let me talk?” you turn to him with a huff “open the door.” you said coldly. “now.”

the ride back home consisted of him trying to talk and you telling him to fuck off; looking out the window until you got home, you got out of the car, slamming the door, not even bothering to wait for him as you went up to the apartment. “will you please just listen?”

“if you want to break up then go ahead.” you said flatly. “what, I don't want to break up, why are you saying this?” he said , following you into your bedroom. “oh really so you just tell people im annoying and you let pretty girls feel you up while I'm there for fun?” you began to pack all your things. “i’m leaving.”

he stood there trying to put it all together; until it clicked. “you heard what i said?” you scoffed. “yeah, i did.” you picked up your bag. “i'm leaving.” you walked past him, he grabbed your arm to stop him. “let me go.” he didn't listen, holding you. “no, you're gonna listen,” he said. “i wasn't talking about you.”

“yeah sure.” you scoffed. “i wasn't, i was talking about my ex, the girl who you saw touching me, i was talking about her , not you.” he said. “so you just let her touch you like that?” he shook his head. “i was about to push her away when you came over.” he was gently holding your wrist now. “you told them not to say anything when i came over , i heard you, what were you trying to hide?”

“i didn't want you to know , cause i didn't want you to be upset that she was there.” he grabbed the side of your face. “is that why you were upset?” he caressed your cheek, you nodded. “why? i told you before, there's nothing to get upset about, i love you.” he kissed your lips softly, pulling away, pressing his forehead against yours. “i wanted to hit you.”

he smiled. “you did?” you nodded. “you made me so mad.” he kissed your lips again, this time with much more hunger, you whimpered against his lips, he pressed you against the wall. “how many times to i have to prove my love to you before these insecurities go away baby, i'm here for the long run.” he lifted you against the wall. “do i need to fuck some sense into you for you to understand?” he lifted your shirt up and above your head throwing it, your skin was hot against his. “i guess that's what i have to do.” he smirked.

he walked you over to the bed; gently tossing you on the bed, ridding himself of his pants and shirt, climbing into the bed with you. “let's get you out of this.” he pulled your skirt down, leaving you in your bra and panties. “perfect.”

he wrapped your legs around his waist , kissing down your stomach. “b-binnie.” you moaned as he kissed your sweet spots on your stomach. “i’ve barely touched you and you're moaning my name.” he pulled down your panties. “this pretty pussy, i must be neglecting her so much haven't i?” he kissed your cunt. “made my baby feel insecure?” he licked your cunt. “fuck binnie.”

you yanked at his hair, pushing his head further into your cunt, grinding your hips up. he always ate you out like it was first thing he'd eaten in a while, he loved to get messy, the taste of your sweet pussy dripping on to his tongue, it was adding; he loved you, but he probably loved eating your pussy just a much.

“fuck binnie im gonna cum.” moaned, his hummed against your folds, holding your thighs open as you came, you desperately tried to pull his head away from your sticky folds. “binnie.” he hovered over the body, toying with your clit with his thumb. “you want me inside you pretty?” you nodded. “please binnie, i need it.”

he cursed, cock twitching in his underwear. “you need me baby?” he said, “you weren't acting like that earlier.” he gritted through his teeth. “ignoring me when i was talking to you, you think you deserve my cock baby?” you whimpered. “i-i'm sorry binnie.” tears wielding in your eyes. “you sorry pretty?” lining his fat cock with your entrance. “i can't say no to my pretty baby.”

he pushed his cock inside you. “fuck.” he groaned as you opened up, allowing him to push himself further inside your warm cunt, until he felt his tip bumping against your cervix. “so tight baby.” he pulled out, slamming back in , you moaned out in pleasure. “binnie!”

he lifted your hips up; fucking into you. “i told you over and over.” he cursed, sweat running down his forehead. “i love you and i would do anything for you.” he moaned. “and you don't listen.” he hit that one spot that had you seeing stars. “guess you don't really listen unless my cock is inside you baby do you?”

he fucking into like he had something to prove; he wanted to feel how much he loved you, and what you did to him. “fuck gonna go deeper baby.” he held your legs pushing them up into your chest, basically folding you in half as he stuffed cock into your, hitting a ever deeper angle. “yeah, fuck feel how deep i baby?” he cursed. “stretching your pussy out.”

“fuck binnie.” you screamed. “i'm gonna cum!” he stopped moving. “not until you tell me you love me.” he whispered into your ear. “binnie please.” you whined , your orgasm slowly disappearing. “baby.” he slowly grinded his hips, but it wasn't enough. “just say it baby and you can cum as much as you want on my cock.”

“i-i love you.” you stuttered out, he smiled. “i love you too.” he started his movements up again, he leaned in kissing your lips, red from biting them too much. “cum for me baby.” he felt you clenching around his cock. “binnie fuck!” your orgasm triggering his. “gonna cum baby , where can i cum?” you moaned out. “i-inside.”

he hissed, thrust becoming sloppy as he came inside you, his warm seed covering your insides, you sighed as he pulled out , his cum slipping outside of your hole, making him hard all over again. “think this pretty pussy can give me one more round?”

“you do know that i love you right?” he said after he finished massaging your body, climbing into the bed, hold you close to him. “you don't understand how much i love you.” he kissed the side of your head.

“and i’ll spend everyday proving it to you, even if i have to fuck it into you every single night.”

©LUVYENI

[rafesfavgirl]

little old me — r. cameron

soooooo my deepest, darkest, most impulsive thoughts may have won over with this one. hopefully you like it or at the very least, understand why i wrote it :)

❝ who’s afraid of little old me? you should be. ❞

pairing: bf!rafe x dark!reader

context: rafe comes to realize you’re more like him than he thought.

words: 3k+

warnings: definitely +18. mdni. murder, dark!rafe, psycho!rafe, psycho!reader, jealousy, possessive behavior, p in v sex, unprotected sex, sub!rafe (kind of, but not really), choking, praise kink, cutting, stabbing, blood, violence, blood play (idek if it counts tbh), dark fluff (is that even a thing?), SMUT with fucked up plot… rafe and reader being crazy, basically

you stood by the bar beside your best friend, engaged in conversation about some guy who'd pissed her off today by standing her up on a date, your eyes focused on the scene behind her head, where your boyfriend sat on the couch in the living room, a girl with short brown hair beside him, trying to cling onto his arm.

you feel your grip around your glass tighten, as the girl's hand gets closer and closer to wrapping around rafe's bicep.

"do you know who that girl is?" you cut your best friend off in the middle of her sentence and she snaps her head to what or who you're looking at.

"oh, that's sofia," she tells you, taking a sip of her drink. "she works as a bartender at the club. always flirting with top, kelce, and rafe. why? you jealous?"

heat rises in your chest at the mention of the girl constantly flirting with rafe, but you play it off. "please," a scoff leaves your mouth. "you know he knows better."

you take sip of your drink, and pull out your phone to text rafe.

you: if that sofia girl touches you one more time, i stg i'm dragging her ass across the floor

rafe: chill baby

rafe: you won't

you click your tongue and type away, your best friend watching your every move.

"you good?" she asks.

"mhm," you hum, sending the message.

you: you think i'm kidding?

you: try me, bitch.

you look up to find rafe snickering at your text, which only pisses you off more as he texts you back.

rafe: shut the fuck up, and get over here.

you: fuck no. tell her my drink's empty.

rafe watches as you down the rest of your drink and set the glass down on the bar, before waltzing away and heading outside, throwing him a glare as you do. he rolls his eyes at your antics, but gets up to follow you anyway.

“where the fuck are you going?” he calls after you, trailing closely behind as you cross the front lawn. “you came here with me.”

“i’ll call an uber,” you reply, continuing to walk towards the road. “go back inside and let sofia touch you some more.”

“oh my god,” he groans and catches up to you, grabbing onto your wrist to make you stop and look at him. “will you quit being a brat?”

you tilt your head up at him, fire in your eyes as they lock with his. “and what are you gonna do if i don’t?”

—

a moan slips out of your mouth as your back hits rafe's bedroom door, making it slam shut—thank god, his family had gone to the bahamas—as he kissed you like a man starved.

"still got more to say about sofia?" he says against you, lips trailing down to your neck, and hands trailing up your thighs to hook them around his waist. "jump."

you do as you're told, your legs locking around him and your fingers tangling into his hair, as your lips connected again and rafe's hands trailed up your back—one pressing you against him and one sliding up your hair.

he turns and lets you fall onto the bed with him above you, your legs still locked around him, as he began untying the knot in your shirt. he pushes it off of you, revealing your lacy white bra.

"fuckkk y/n," he groans, hand reaching up to grab at one of your tits.

"you like it baby?" you ask, as he trails wet kisses down your neck and collar bone. "it's new."

"i love it," he says, fingers unclasping it from the front, and lips moving to wrap around your now exposed nipple.

his other hand massages your other boob, finger flicking at your sensitive nub.

you pull him up to attach his lips back to yours. "i want you, rafe. now."

he chuckles against your lips, the vibration turning you on more, the spot between your legs getting wetter. you flip the both of you over so you're straddling him. 

"i like this side of you, doll," he looks up at you with a smirk as you rid yourself of your bra, and he reaches up to grab both your tits. "should make you jealous more often."

"shut up," you say, leaning back down to kiss him, hands entwining into his hair as your hips press down into his.

a groan falls from his mouth as his hands roam over your body, your hard nipples pressing against him.

"need you, pretty girl," he said, hips lifting into yours.

"more than sofia?" you ask, pulling your lips away from his.

"more than anyone," he replies, hands snaking around the front of your waist to unbutton your shorts.

you move to the side so he can tug them off your legs, along with your lacy white thong, while you reach to pull his shirt off his head and he takes off his shorts.

you swing your leg back over him once you're both naked, hovering and grinding your hips above him, slickness coating his dick just enough to tease him.

"doll, come on," he whines, attempting to press you down onto his length.

you place both your hands on his chest and lean down towards his ear. "this'll teach you not to make me jealous."

"y/n…" his voice is much serious now, and you smirk.

"what?" you look at him with innocent eyes, hand trailing down to grab his dick and align it with your center.

you slowly sink down onto him, your body relaxing as he groans.

"so so good," you mewl, hips rocking against his.

he watches you closely, hands moving to grip your hips. he lifts you up slightly and slams you back down, eliciting a moan from your mouth.

"move, pretty girl," he demands, eyes locked on yours as you sit up. "let me see you ride me."

you give in to his words and begin bouncing your ass on him, hands trailing down to his abs to steady yourself. up. down. up. down. up. down.

"just like that, doll," rafe says, hand trailing up your body to wrap around your neck. "you look so pretty riding my cock."

that only makes you pick up the pace, hands moving to rest on his thighs behind you, as your pussy clenches around his length, your orgasm quickly building up in your core. rafe's hands move to grab your tits as you continue, his eyes watching himself slip in and out of you.

"you gonna cum for me, baby?" he asked when you threw your head back in pleasure.

"cum with me, rafe," you moan, your high inching closer and closer.

his fingers pinch at your nipples and that sends you over the edge, your hips slowing down as your high washes over you. rafe follows soon after, thrusts getting sloppier as he comes down.

 you slowly move off to lay beside him, and he reaches out to open the drawer of his nightstand and pull out a small towel. he uses it to clean the spot between your legs before cleaning off himself.

you position yourself under his comforter as he tosses the towel on the ground and joins you.

"remember how good my pussy feels around you next time you let sofia touch you," you say, snuggling into him.

a small chuckles falls from his lips as he wraps an arm around you and places a soft kiss on your forehead. "good night, crazy girl."

—

your eyes shoot open at the sound of rafe’s phone incessantly buzzing on the nightstand, as the sunshine peeked through his bedroom curtains.

making sure not to wake him, you reach over to grab his phone, rage boiling through your veins when you read the notifications on the screen.

3 missed calls from sofia.

sofia: hey, i saw y/n throw a fit and storm off last night. that must be a lot to deal with everyday lol. lmk if you need to blow off some steam ;) xx

“oh, this bitch needs to be put down,” you mutter to yourself, immediately unlocking rafe’s phone—he gave you his passcode months ago without you even asking—and typing away to reply to sofia's message.

rafe: hey sof :) yeah, she's a lot. how 'bout you meet me at tannyhill around 2 today?

you hit send, and the three bubbles appear almost immediately.

god, this bitch was desperate.

sofia: perf, i'll see you then!!

rafe: just knock when you get here, i'll be home alone

sofia: you got it, see u later xx

you roll your eyes and proceed to delete the conversation, before moving to rafe's phone app to remove her 3 missed calls from his log. 

three. who calls a guy with a girlfriend three times? crazy bitch.

just as you're about to place his phone back on the nightstand, rafe groans and shifts, arm slinging over your waist, as a call from ward vibrates his phone.

"baby," you nudge rafe, but he just groans again, arm around your waist tightening. "rafe," you shake him this time and his eyes flutter open.

"morning, pretty girl," he smiles, hand scratching your lower back. "you ok?"

"mhm," you nod, pretending you had just woken up. "woke up from your dad calling, though."

you hold the phone out to him, which was now vibrating for the second time with ward's name.

"sorry 'bout that, doll," he takes the phone from you and sits up, answering the call and pressing the phone up against his ear.

"i'm gonna go pee," you mouth to him, and he nods, as you get out from under the covers and slip on rafe's shirt before walking towards his bathroom.

you close the door behind you and take a quick piss before washing your hands and deciding to brush your teeth.

hopefully rafe wasn't gonna be around the house at 2 today, you thought. you knew he went out golfing with the boys and hit the gym afterwards every saturday afternoon, usually returning around 5 or 6, so it shouldn't be a problem. unless ward had him do something today that required him to stick around the house—now that would really put a damper on your plans.

the door opens and rafe joins you, only wearing a pair of boxers. "mmm," he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin resting against your shoulder. "i'll never get sick of seeing you in my shirt."

his eyes meets yours through the mirror, and you lean down to spit and rinse your mouth.

"what's my baby doing today?" he asked, as you wiped your mouth dry.

"probably just hang around here," you shrug, hands trailing along his arms, as you leaned your head against his. "maybe lay out by the pool for a bit and make some lunch."

"for me too?"

you look down at him, and his eyes meet yours. "you're not going golfing with kelce and top?"

"oh, i am," he nods. "and i gotta take care of some stuff for dad too, so i'll probably be home a little later." perfect. "how 'bout we do dinner? you can dress up all cute and sexy, and i'll take you out on the town?"

"sounds perfect, baby," you smile, connecting your lips with his.

this was gonna be the best day ever.

—

after rafe left around eleven, you occupied yourself by taking a quick swim in the pool, before settling on a floatie and closing your eyes, as the sun beat down on your skin.

ring! ring! ring!

your alarm clock goes off at 1:50 pm, and you open your eyes to take your phone from the cup holder and silence it, happily slipping off the floatie when you realize it's almost time.

you grab your towel from one of the pool chairs and dry off before wrapping it around you, slipping on your crochet shorts, and waltzing inside with more of a pep in your step than usual.

you whistle as you walk through the house and stop in the living room to hang your towel off the back of the armchair and sit down, just in time for a knock to come at the door.

it's followed by another, before the front door creaks open and closes, as the sound of someone's footsteps get closer and closer.

"rafe?" the sound of sofia's voice fills your ears and you smile when she reaches the living room.

"hey, sof," you say, causing her to completely stop in her tracks, a few feet away.

"oh, y/n," she was clearly caught off guard. "i didn't know you'd be here."

"of course you didn't," you shrug, sitting up. "because you came here to see my rafe, isn't that right, sof?"

"uhh…"

"no need to lie, sweetheart," you drawl. "i've been expecting you." you pull out the pocket knife that you had stashed in the armchair earlier  to prepare and spin it around in your fingers.

the color instantly drains from sofia's face, as you flip the knife open, the blade catching the sun's light.

"here's the thing, sof," you stand up and slowly approach her, the growing crazy look in your eyes making her uneasy. "i'm a very possessive person, and i don't like sharing what's mine." you shake your head, eyes focused on hers.

"and rafe… tall and handsome as he is… is mine," you glide the edge of your knife across her collarbone as you round her, making sure not to cut her just yet. "and personally, i didn't take it very well when you called and texted him this morning."

"i- i don't know what you're talking about," her voice shakes, clearly afraid of what you might do if she admits to it. 

"hey, i saw y/n throw a fit and storm off last night. that must be a lot to deal with everyday. let me know if you want to blow off some steam," you recite the text message she sent rafe from memory, making her breath hitch.

"that— that wasn't an accident," sofia shakes her head. "i didn't mean-"

"oh, baby," you whisper against her ear, making her head turn towards you. "don't you know i hate liars?"

"please," sofia begs, eyes closing shut as tears stream down her face. "y/n… you don't have to do this."

"and you didn't have to text my man," you tut, trailing the knife down her back. "but you did, so i'll make it quick."

"no!" she shouts, pushing you away from her, and beelining for the door.

"you really shouldn't have done that," you chuckle, a smirk coming across your lips, as you follow to tackle her before she reaches the door.

you turn her around, so you're straddling her, both your knees pinning her arms down. "i tried to be nice…" you say, gripping a handful of her brown hair as you lean down to cut across her collar bone.

she screams in agony. "stop, stop, stop!"

"consider this a lesson, sof…" you trail off, knife moving down to dig into the side of her stomach. "rafe," stab. "is," stab. "mine." 

you pull the knife out from her side, blood splattering on your stomach, as you drag it up her body, towards her chest.

"and," stab. "you," stab. "don't," stab. "take," stab. "what's," stab. "mine."

the color drowns from her face as her eyes turn lifeless, and she stops squirming underneath you.

at this point, your chest, face, legs, and arms are covered with blood splatters, your hand holding the knife bloodier than any other part of you.

you stand up and hover over her, a smirk coming across your lips at the sight of her dead body.

"look, dad, i took care of it, a'ight?" the familiar sound of your boyfriend's voice booms through the house, as you hear the backyard door slide close.

shit. shit. shit.

he wasn't suppose to be home until later. what the fuck was he doing here?

panic begins to build up inside you, as rafe's footsteps approach you, and you round sofia's body to pick up one of her hands to begin dragging her towards the front door. maybe it was a good thing she tried to run.

"yeah, i got it," you hear rafe's voice again. "i think y/n's taking a nap right now, so i'll take the druthers out and-" he suddenly stops in the entryway connecting the living room to the kitchen, eyes on you. "i'll call you back later."

he ends the call with ward, phone coming down to his side.

"i told you i'd drag her across the floor?" you joke, shrugging a shoulder.

"holy shit, y/n!" rafe rushes over and crouches down to feel sofia's pulse.

nothing.

he looks up at you. "did you do this?!"

"no…" you give him your innocent eyes, and drop her hand, pocket knife hiding behind your back.

"what the fuck, babe?"

"hey, don't act like this is all on me!" you argue, pointing down at sofia's body and pacing around the room. "she was the one who was texting and calling you nonstop this morning! she should've known better! no one takes what's mine. especially not you!"

"you— you did this… because of me?" rafe slowly stands, eyes refocusing on your crazed out state.

"of course i did," your shoulders falling limp. "i— i love you, rafe!" you shake your head. "i— i can't lose you. not-"

before you could get another word out, he was pushing you up against the wall, lips hungrily kissing yours.

the knife clatters onto the ground, as your bloodied hands tangle into his hair, and he hooks a hand around your thigh to bring it up beside his waist.

"you— you're not mad?" you ask between kisses.

"are you kidding?" he mutters against you. "fuck no. just a little more work for me."

"wait, wait, wait—" you place a hand on his chest, and push him away just enough to look at him. "what does that mean?"

"there may or may not be a dead body in the cargo bed of my truck…"

"you killed someone?"

"it was necessary?" he shrugs, a cute little smile on his lips.

a laugh falls from your mouth before you can stop it.

"what?" rafe asks, chuckling at the sound of your adorable laugh.

you shake your head, hand trailing down his hair. "we're so fucked up."

"and that's just how i like it."

i hope y'all don't think i'm absolutely insane now lolz. i swearrrrr i just wanted to try something new.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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tags: @chiaraanatra @ijustwanttoreadlols @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @solanathascientst @10ava01 @werewhatkilledthedinosaurs @void21 @groovycass @azrielsgirll @rroslitas @crvptidgf @star-girl-05 @redhead1180 @shadyshadyy @prettypimpcess12 @emotionsmgcbabe @outerbankspov

[mythicmanuscripts]

Had another Aegon thought that definitely falls under himbo!Aegon/sub!Aegon in which his wife runs everything and being sexy while doing it. Basically they'd been promised to betrothed when they were younger but reader being from a different house thought it best to try and learn High Valyrian to be better suited. But upon finding out Aegon doesn't speak it she keeps it hidden but uses it to defend Aegon whenever Aemond tries to offend him. Just imagine she's sat besides Aegon when Aemond has his whole speech in High Valyrian knowing Aegon can't understand or respond, to suddenly have the biting words of his queen come to his defense having never heard her speak it before.

Man would be looking at her believing she was secretly some goddess or smth!

God I love himbo!aegon so much!! I’m gonna make it a tag just so we can group it all together.

I started out fully intended to keep this SFW and well, I had to put a cut in by the end so we all know how that turned out….

So firstly, I’ve never thought of this before but now that I have I can’t stop: I think Aegon would absolutely have a competency kink? Any time he sees you just completely in your element and doing anything that he doesn’t know how to… he just goes full empty no thoughts only pretty wife.

It’s an interesting development because he’d hate it if it were anyone else. Normally people being so good at things he can’t even grasp leaves him feeling insecure, stupid and inadequate to be king. But with you it’s completely different? With you he just stares in awe and then promptly gets very very turned on cause pretty wife!!! Pretty wife is so smart and talented and he is merely her little gremlin that follows her around asking for attention. He loves it so so much.

(Picturing a scene where Allicent is telling him off and trying to say he lets his wife run everything and he’s no real king but instead of him getting insecure and ashamed and doing whatever Allicent says, he instead just goes “yeah! Yeah she does! It’s great!”)

He loses his little mind every time he sees just how smart and good at politics you are? He hears you saying the perfect things and controlling the situation perfectly and then the next time you’re alone you even tell him what to do next time and just… no more thoughts. None whatsoever his wife is too smart and pretty for him to have thoughts. She is a beautiful powerful queen and he is merely a horny little jester.

You don’t tell him about trying to learn Valyrian mostly because you know it’s a bit of a sore spot for him? He genuinely has tried to hard to learn it, but it’s like his brain just wasn’t made for it. So you keep your lessons to yourself, and decide to worry about how to tell him at a later date when you’re fluent.

The problem, however is that even after you become fluent you still don’t know how to tell aegon without upsetting him. Sure he’s happy to have you make pretty much all decisions, but language skills or lack there of will always be a sore spot for him.

So for the next few weeks you spend most of your time trying to come up the best way to tell him.

When you walk into that small council meeting later that week,’you had absolutely no intention to reveal it there but then Aemond decided to be Aemond. You can understand every insult he hurls at his brother and you know aegon doesn’t understand.

What really makes your resolve break was when you looked over at Aegon and he was just sitting at the head of the table staring down. You can tell just from his body language that he’s trying not to cry and you know it’s not because of the insults themselves but because he actually can’t understand them and he feels so stupid.

You can’t take seeing that and so you fire back at Aemond, speaking to him in Valyrian. The look on his face when he realised that you understood every word he just said was incredible.

Aegon, meanwhile, is utterly astonished and just staring at you with shock and happiness plastered on his face.

He obviously doesn’t understand what either of you are saying, but Aegon knows you so well and he can tell by the tone of your that you’re defending him.

The moment the council meeting is over Aegon runs to put out a pillow down on the floor and kneel there, asking you about how long you’ve been studying been studying it and why. When you tell him you learnt it because knew he struggles with it and you wanted him to have someone he can ask to translate and speak for him without worrying of being misrepresented or misled.

Needless to say, Aegon burst into tears after that because it is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him. You end up having to pull him up and into your lap because he was literally just sobbing while kneeling on the floor and you won’t allow that for your good boy.

You end up giving handjob while he’s on your laps and you make sure to tell him he’s doing so well and you love him very much.

All of this is to say when you fired back at Aemond in Valyria Aegon has never been more turned on in his life and he is once again reminded how utterly incredible his wife is.

Also, now you can help him with it!! Aegon stopped his Valyrian lessons a long time ago because he just couldn’t get it quite right and all the teachers were just so patronising and made him feel horrible, but now you can teach him!! He doesn’t feel stupid at all when you tell him he’s gotten something wrong and correct him and he also feels so so good when he gets something right.

And honestly, even if he does get much better at Valyrian he’d still rather have you translate for him because then he gets to hear you speak Valyrian.

[boiohboii]

A broken house

(Charles leclerc x daughter! Reader)

Masterlist

I just saw remembered this heartbreaking scene from an old theatre play (is that what they're called?), like when colors on tv first became a thing old, and I just had to write it down. WARNING: implications of cheating, abandoning children, Charles is not a good guy at all, a daughter confronting her dad, not proofread, just something quick right before bed

Charles never imagined he would ever be in this situation.

When he first held yn in his arms, his precious, precious daughter, his oldest and the apple of his eyes, he vowed to never hurt her, to never see her cry and to never let her expirence heartbreak, so what was he supposed to do when she's standing right in front of him cheeks flushed, fists by her side and angry tears falling out of her eyes.

He was the reason, he was the reason and he never thought he'd be. And to make it all worse, he doesn't feel sorry. He doesn't know where it all went wrong and he doesn't know when he became so cold-hearted towards the sunshine of his life, his pride and joy. But it's too late now, too late to try and talk, too late to try to explain and too late to even get a speck of the love yn held in her eyes for him. He knew it was too late. It was just too late.

"So what," yn refused to accept her father's silence, she needed to hear him say it, admit to his wrongdoings "you're just gonna leave us?"

"You don't understand," Charles tried to reason, his eyes not even meeting his daughter's identical ones "she needs help."

"THAT'S YOUR REASON!" yn's voice boomed through the empty house, thanking anything and everything that her mother and siblings aren't home yet "that's your reason to abandon us! What about mum huh? what about your wife? The woman WHO SACRIFICED HER YOUTH FOR YOU! TO FOLLOW YOU! TO HELP YOU! And what of my siblings, what are they gonna do? What did they do to deserve this? What did any of us do to deserve this?"

Yn looked at her father, slowly walking towards him, she refused to believe that's the same man who showed her what love is, who carried her on her shoulders to hear her laughter, who promised to sheild her from the world's treachery. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, the man who promised to protect her is the one clawing at her heart and watching it bleed, too much of a coward to even lift his eyes from the floor.

"Please," yn's voice broke as she thought of her home tearing apart, her mother and her baby siblings "please take a moment and think about it, about our family, just for five minutes. Please."

"I'm not going to waste my time."

Yn's breath hitched in her throat, her voice gaining power as her disappointment and anger took over, yet still so quite.

"All four of us don't even deserve five minutes of your time. Are you that impatient to leave with her? Don't worry, I won't hold you back, but I swear to you, I swear on everything that you believe in that you will regret it. There will be a day where you will wish for the time to go back for an hour, a minute or even a second, you will wish you'd have thought this through and really kept in mind who actually loved you before you ruined it all. But even if all the years turn back, we will never forgive you, we will never miss you and we will never think of you as the man you once were. We will never love you again."

Yn doesn't know where it all went wrong, she doesn't know how could 20 years of loving someone, your father, all just go down the drain because of one voice call. She doesn't know what she's supposed to do or what's she supposed to tell her mother, her siblings, her grandparents, but she knew one thing; it was too late to try and talk her father out of it, too late to not let this moment tarnish all the good memories they had together, too late to even leave a bit of her love for her father in her heart. It was just too late.

[suni-writings]

Running out of time. | part 3

jude bellingham x fem!reader

When two people who didn’t know how to love met at the perfect timing to ruin each other.

part 1 | part 2

wc: 2.9k

(content warning: angst, troubled relationships, situationship, slight mention of suggestive content, [sort of] unrequited feelings, hurt/comfort)

hope you enjoy this last part as much as i enjoyed writing this little story. don't forget that requests are open!

‘hey :)’

‘gonna keep leaving me on read?’

‘guess I’ll keep your coat with me’

She sighed when she read the texts. Jude was trying to reach out to her every day. Of course, his scene at the bar was more than enough to keep the man she was seeing far away from her. On one hand, it was Jude’s fault. Who would want to be Jude Bellingham’s competition? On the other hand, it was her fault. Her fault because she not only listened to his words, but also obeyed him. One thing Jude got right — it seemed like they weren’t done. Not yet at least.

She thought she was over him; she really did. She had put her life back on tracks — everything she had left on hold because of whatever happened between her and Jude, she went back. To her numerous projects, to her podcast, to writing articles about sports. To her friends, that she seemed to have disappeared a little bit of their lives. To focusing on her upcoming university semester, which, despite the good grades the previous semester, they could be better.

She had liked Jude wholeheartedly, she believed. She could have ended up loving him, if things had kept flowing the way they did when they were alone. She had allowed him to come over to his place, to know her routine, to know her. Told about her life, about her previous relationships, about everything that hurt her. She allowed him into his life with open arms, with him saying he would always be honest with her. Not that he wouldn’t hurt her, but he would be honest.

Hurt was something that came with liking someone; it was inevitable, especially when it came to her. Anxiety always took over her whenever it was about romantic matters, as if searching for any excuse to jump off; to just not be there, to not be vulnerable, to not allow anyone in. To be alone, something she had mastered.

She had trusted Jude, and he broke her trust. It was as simple as that. And now, he was trying to right his wrongs.

And she was confused; she didn’t know exactly how she felt about him. She had spent over a month assuming things about him, ruining the previous image she had of him being someone she could rely on, someone nice, someone that cared about her. It was replaced with thoughts of him being a selfish, almost sadistic person, as if he wanted to see her feeling bad — although she never gave him the delight of knowing how much harm he had caused.

Now, it was hard to identify the person he was being, to the person he was, to the person she assumed he was. The lines seemed blurred, and she didn’t have any evidence to support any feelings besides his ridiculous attempts of making conversation. It truly surprised her that he didn’t attempt to come over, respecting her privacy and her desire to be far away from him.

Perhaps, that said something about him.

Her phone buzzed again, and she rolled her eyes as another text popped up on her screen.

‘texting you before the match’

‘need my lucky charm’

‘can you reply at least once?’

‘can you fuck off?’

‘well, better than nothing’

‘hi, princess’

‘when are you giving me my coat back?’

‘does that mean you want to see me?’

‘no’

‘I’ll return it when you want to see me’

‘I might hate you, you know’

‘nah, you don’t’

The way he could easily get reactions out of her was annoying. She was so used to being logical, to keeping her composure, to being someone who would hardly react to anything at all. And yet, ever since they broke thing off, he could get her snapping in a matter of seconds. She knew Jude liked it — perhaps, it was his way of knowing she still felt something, despite not even her knowing what she felt.

She didn’t want to let him in once again, since she didn’t have the assurance that she wouldn’t be wrecked again. And being his friend was out of the picture – she couldn’t even think about the hypothesis. Jude knew her body with the back of his hand and the tip of his tongue. Not to mention how hurtful it would be if he ended up treating her better than he did when they were together.

She couldn’t afford to be hurt again.

So, she just decided to postpone whatever conversation they could have and slowly digest her feelings about what happened, about what was happening and about how they were. Associating the past to the present before deciding.

It was a quiet night; she didn’t like nights like those because it gave too much room for her thoughts. She tried distracting herself by reading, trying to watch something and even cooking — only to watch her fail every single one of her attempts. Jude was constantly on her mind, especially now that he had stopped texting her for a week.

Maybe he had given up.

Maybe he had found someone else.

Maybe he realized how famous he is and how he doesn’t need you at all.

Every single thought of hers, when it came to him, seemed too hurtful. She didn’t even know why she was so pressed that he wasn’t texting anymore when she had only been leaving him on read. Did she care? Was it bruised ego, or did she actually have some hope? She didn’t have an answer for any of her questions.

When she heard a knock on her door, she didn’t realize how late it was or how, in no way, it could be one of her friends deciding to bother her because she hadn’t been replying. That happened whenever she was too contemplative, and they were used to that. She just automatically opened the door and her eyebrows raised at the sight.

Jude was standing there, with a grey sweater and matching sweatpants, and a black beanie on. She was taken aback, suddenly remembering how comfortable he used to dress whenever he would come over, because he felt comfortable with her.

“You’re drunk.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement. She was sure she could tell if Jude was drunk or not from a mile away — he would always have a huge grin on his face, his eyes would become smaller, and he would always tilt his head whenever someone would speak to him. And, of course, the fact that he wouldn’t be standing there if it wasn’t for the alcohol.

“I scored the last match, the one I texted you before,” he said, his voice slightly dragged. He was drunk, but not that much. Good to know. “Did you watch it?”

She furrowed her eyebrows, leaning her head on her doorframe.

“I didn’t,” she confessed. Why did she feel bad about that?

“You didn’t,” he echoed and licked his lips. “I scored.”

“I know,” she replied. Every time he scored ended up all over the internet. There was way she wouldn’t know.

“For you, I mean. I blew a kiss to the camera, but I know you wouldn’t see it. Not when you didn’t even want to reply to me.”

Guilt washed all over her, even if she knew Jude didn’t blame her at all. He knew he was just dealing with the consequences of his actions, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Then again, what would ever stop Bellingham from trying anything? He was used to falling and getting up. To losing and keeping his head up.

Maybe that’s what he meant when he said he’d show me what’s in store if I wanted war, she thought. He knew he had lost the battle, but not the war.

The cold breeze blowing on her face brought her back to reality, and she realized she couldn’t leave him on her doorstep. She could, actually, but it wouldn’t be right of her. Not when he was drunk, vulnerable and something could happen. She’d rather have him inside her house than to let him wander the streets in that state, given who he was.

“Jesus, Jude,” she sighed, shaking her head and signaling him to come in, which he happily obliged. He stumbled until he managed to find his way to her couch. “Are you cold?”

“Not at all,” he shook his head and she nodded. “But could you just— sit next to me? Please.”

Truth be told, she never had to deny him much stuff. But she had learned that, even the little things she had to deny seemed hard to say no. And she found herself once again, in the same situation. She knew she could get hurt.

And yet.

Maybe there was a reason why she couldn’t deny him that. A reason why her feet were making their way to him, despite her heart pounding in anxiety and fear. Maybe, just maybe, there was a reason why she was choosing to walk to him instead of succumbing to her fears and shutting him off.

As she sat next to him, she noticed the way he looked at her; even drunk, it seemed like he was analyzing and memorizing every detail, every freckle, every single portion of her face. As if he didn’t know when it would happen again.

How wrecking must it be to adore someone and not being able to see them; to yearn in silence. To accept the fate and not try to change it. To accept any crumble that could come to you, because it would be better than nothing. Because even hurt would be better than indifference.

Amongst many things she had learned about Jude, she knew he didn’t accept fate. He didn’t believe in it. He believed he had control over his choices and everything that happened after that were nothing but consequences, which he could also change the course of. It hurt seeing someone who was always so self-assured suddenly show such an insecurity.

However, that was something she would’ve never noticed if she didn’t know him that much.

“I like you,” Jude said, still looking at her. For once, it didn’t seem blurted out — no, it seemed like something he had been thinking about for a long time. Nothing like the other times she heard that, no spontaneity in his voice. “So much. Hence why I tried so hard to at least get you to talk to me. It’s not about not being able to live without you, it’s about knowing my life could be so much better with you in it. Although, I must admit, I don’t do a pretty good job living without you.”

She stood quiet, suddenly catching herself also analyzing his features. He was still as beautiful as she remembered, unfortunately.

“I hurt you, I get it. I do. I broke your trust and, apparently, I can’t win it back. I’m in a losing battle every time I even think of texting you,” Jude let out a sad chuckle, his hand caressing her cheek softly, as if she could disappear at any moment. “I like that about you. Your judgment of knowing what serves you and what doesn’t. You said you weren’t the love of my life, but God, you could be. I’ve felt like I was too young to say that out loud, but it’s hard to not have thee thoughts when I’m miserable without you around.”

There was so much she wanted to say; like everything he said could just be a result of his wounded ego, or that she only served to caress his ego. Like it didn’t make any sense to her him even considering her the love of his life after how things had played out between them. But above all, she wanted to say how much her judgment was broken, because, at that moment, she didn’t know if she was doing what served her or not.

But, instead, she just leaned her cheek against his hand and gently shook her head.

“You’re drunk, Jude,” she whispered. “You have no idea of what you’re saying.”

“I’m not that drunk. Just enough to gather courage to come up to your house and overstepping a boundary. I know I overstepped on a lot of your boundaries that day at the nightclub, but I was also aware of how much it hurt you. I wouldn’t even think of not leaving you alone if I didn’t drink, and I really need to pour out my heart to you. If this must be my last attempt, then so it be. But just listen to me, please.” He begged her. It broke her heart to see that, in the end, he was just as wounded as she was.

They had met each other at the perfect timing to ruin each other; when neither of them wanted anything serious, when neither of them could commit to one another. When both of them were so bruised by past relationships that it’d blind the present and destroy what they were building. At least, that was how she saw it. She knew she had barely let herself enjoy it, always waiting to be hurt, always wanting to predict so she could leave before.

What a pathetic, yearning mess they had become.

“Okay,” she nodded slowly as his thumb ran through her cheek. “I’ll listen.”

He took a deep breath and stared into her eyes, admiring their shade and getting lost for a moment.

“My mum always told me that what was meant to be mine, would be mine. Close to the ‘what’s bound to happen, will happen’ kind of discourse, but not quite. The same way she always told me that what goes around always finds its way back around,” he tilted his head and sighed. “I know I’m paying for what I did; I don’t blame you for acting the way you have been or for trying to get over me because I’d do the same. I’d get over you if I could. But my mind just assumes that you’re meant to be mine. That, if I work hard enough, if I show my efforts, if I keep falling and getting up, at some point you’ll see that too. But it’s not football, you’re not a prize and I’m not really taking what you feel into consideration when I think that way.”

His hand traveled from her cheek to her hair, gently caressing it.

“The truth is, I can’t get over you. And I’ve been trying to right my wrongs, but at the end of the day, it’s all up to you. Despite of what I do and what I don’t, it’s your call. I’ve been at your mercy for so long and I don’t even think you’ve realized that,” he spoke, his voice shaking. She had never seen him so vulnerable. “I’d do anything to have you with me once again. I never took you for granted, though I know it seemed that way. I knew what I had; I knew I wouldn’t find better. You had warned me. I adored you then, but I let everything get in the way, my job, my past, my insecurities and I ended up wounding you. I made some decisions I regret, I acted selfish, but I swear to God, I still adore you. Even more than I did back then. It’s so much more than liking and I’m tired of pretending like it isn’t. Of acting nonchalant about it. If you’d ask me to commit here and now, I would. I would promise I’d never break your trust again if you’d let me in.”

He looked into her eyes once again.

“I’m at your fucking mercy,” he whispered. “And, looking back, I don’t think there ever was a moment I wasn’t.”

Jude’s words flooded her senses. As she tried to digest, she realized she knew the answer to this all along. She knew the answer when she suggested a break to be considerate about his feelings; she knew the answer when he had walked up to her while she was with someone else, and she didn’t ignore him. She knew the answer when she obeyed his only request. But especially, she knew the answer from the moment she had chosen to sit next to him instead of making him leave; the moment she chose a maybe instead of a certainty and let him stay.

In a loss for words, she suddenly held him tight. Dumbfounded, it took a while for him to wrap his arms around her; however, when he did, his head fell to the crook of her neck, and he inhaled her scent he had missed so much as she kissed the top of his head. The yearning and the waiting were so much that she didn’t even realize what she was missing until he held him again, a single tear falling down her face.

“Jude?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah?” Jude replied, leaning away just enough to look at her face and wipe the tear with a concerned glance.

“Do you think you can repeat all of that to me tomorrow, when you’re sober?” She asked and his face lit up.

“Tomorrow. The next day. The day after. Whenever you want me to say it.” He replied with a huge, genuine smile as his arms were still wrapped around her waist. She knew she would be fine. She knew they would be fine.

For once, she chose her peace instead of battling wars inside her head. For once, she chose her emotions against her logic. For once, she was willing to not run away.

“I’m not letting you go again.”

[munson-blurbs]

Hey can I do one of the spirit Halloween requests. Sour Patch Kids/Butterfinger. And can it be with Eddie please. Can include smut if that's OK. Thank you 😊

Enemies-to-Lovers/Shy!Reader/Eddie Munson

(+ 3 other anon requests)

I couldn't figure out a way to make it smutty without it seeming forced, but there are definitely some raunchy elements. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Eddie is mean to Reader, allusion to masturbation (18+ only, minors DNI), Reader wears a skirt

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Absolutely not.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, a sneer cursing his lips. 

“Come on, man!” Mike grumbles, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I told Nancy I’d help her out.”

Eddie scoffs, turning away from you and your best friend’s younger brother. “Yeah, well, I didn’t promise shit,” he retorts. “We don’t need anymore players, and we definitely don’t need her.”

Your lower lip quivers, and you bite it to stop from crying. “I, um, i-it’s okay, Mike,” you hurriedly reassure him. “I’ll tell Nancy you tried.” You turn around and leave the drama room, tears blurring your vision. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Mike yells loud enough that you can hear him halfway down the hallway, despite the pounding in your ears. “Nancy said she’s really into DnD. She could, I dunno, be our sub when Lucas has a game or something.”

“Am I speaking a different language? No. N-O. Not happening.”

Gareth cocks a bemused brow. “Are you still pissed off about—”

“SHUT UP!” Eddie’s bellow reverberates around the tiny room. “Look, are we gonna play or not?”

“I gotta go make sure she’s okay before Nancy kicks my ass,” Mike huffs, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Thanks for nothing,” he spits at Eddie.

No one says anything for a moment; the Hellfire Club is eerily silent. Finally, Jeff speaks up. “That was pretty harsh, Ed.”

“That was harsh?!” Eddie guffaws and clenches his jaw. “Me telling her she can’t join Hellfire is harsh, but she can talk shit about me to her friends, and that’s totally fine? Cool, got it.” He shakes his head at the memory. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been walking to your locker to ask you out, only to overhear you telling Nancy that you wish he would disappear and leave you alone.

“Why do you even care so much?” Lucas asks, now thoroughly invested in the drama.

“Because he loves her,” Gareth pipes up, “and she thinks he’s an obnoxious prick, which is accurate.” He’s unfazed by Eddie’s glare, having been on the receiving end of his anger many a time. “Dude, you embarrassed the shit outta her in history! Why would she be nice to you?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Eddie insists at the same time Gareth says, “As soon as she walked into class, he jumped on his desk and shouted, ‘there’s the prettiest girl in Hawkins!’”

All of the guys let out a collective groan. “You can’t do that with a shy girl!” Lucas groans. If Eddie wasn’t six inches taller than him, he’d smack him upside the head. “Max would kick my ass if I did that to her.”

“She probably thought you were making fun of her,” Dustin points out, and Eddie’s face falls when everyone else nods in agreement. “Have you tried, like, talking to her and not at her?”

“No,” Eddie admits, scuffing the toe of his Reeboks on the tile floor. “Shit, I gotta fix this–I’ll be right back.”

You’re nearly at the double doors of Hawkins High’s entrance when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and muster up all of your courage, but your words still rush out too quickly. “I’m gonna tell Nancy that Hellfire wasn’t my scene. You’re in the clear, okay? Just…go away.”

But he doesn’t go away; he comes closer. The anger that previously flamed behind his eyes is extinguished, replaced by concern. “Can we talk?” he softly asks. “We can go in my van so it’s more private. Please.”

“Fine.” The desperation in his tone convinces you to give in. You follow him to the van, offering him the smallest smile when he opens the door and motions for you to go inside. Pushing aside a stray guitar pick, you take a seat on the carpeted floor. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, twisting his rings around his fingers nervously. “I, um, I’m sorry. For, y’know, the whole thing in history class.”

You suck your lip between your teeth before responding. “S’okay,” you mumble. You really want to tell him off so he knows how hurt you were by his teasing, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words.

“No, it’s not. I…I should’ve told you when it was just the two of us,” he counters, drawing a confused look from you. “What?”

“Told me what?”

“That I think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins.” He offers his own puzzled expression when you scramble to your knees and lean for the door handle. “Wait! Where’re you going?”

There’s a lump in your throat that you force yourself to swallow before you can speak. “This is obviously a big joke to you, Eddie. ‘Ha ha, let’s point out how ugly the nerdy girl is!’” 

“No. No.” Eddie’s voice is firm but kind. “It wasn’t a joke. I really think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins. And I like you. A lot,” he adds with a nervous laugh. “That whole, uh, performance was my way of flirting.”

You’re still unconvinced, cocking a brow in disbelief, so he continues. “How about this: since I embarrassed you, I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret. And if I’m lying about liking you, you can tell everybody.”

You relent for the second time today. “O-Okay. That’s fair.”

“All right.” Eddie rubs his palms on his jeans, slick with anxious perspiration. “So, remember that time that I got to class, all…sweaty and out of breath and stuff?”

You nod. “Mhm.” He’d told Mrs. Click that he’d been in gym class, but you knew he’d just come from lunch like you had. You’d figured he’d had a deal out in the woods and ran back to school. 

“Well, um,” he looks down at the carpet, “it was because I saw you in the cafeteria wearing this cute little skirt, and I had to…take care of myself. In the boys’ room.” He presses his palms to his eyes and says, mostly to himself, “No fuckin’ way did I just admit that.”

You’re shell-shocked. Like joining Hellfire, the skirt in question was another one of Nancy’s ideas to ease you out of your comfort zone. You had no idea he’d even noticed. “Y-You liked it?” you ask dumbly. 

“Ohhhh, yeah,” Eddie chuckles. “I gotta stop thinkin’ about it before…” His eyes drop to the zipper of his jeans, a small tent already visible against the seam, and he hurries to switch subjects. “D’you still wanna play DnD with us? I promise I’m usually less of a dick. And a perv.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I have my doubts about that last part,” you tease, only half-joking, “but, yeah. I would love to play with you guys.”

“Awesome.” Eddie’s face lights up. “And maybe after, you and I can grab something to eat? Maybe catch a movie or somethin’?”

Before you can chicken out, you kiss his cheek. “It’s a date.”

The two of you walk back into the school, Eddie’s hand on the small of your back. “Oh, um, one more thing?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you change into that skirt?”

--

[xo-cod]

O.M.G! I love COD and Garcia from Criminal Minds (she’s my fashion inspo!) so you combine both, I’m on cloud nine!

Remember that episode/s where she got shot by an ‘Angel of Death’ unsub because he thought he was catching on to his crimes and tried/tries to kill her after taking her out on a date?

Well, imagine that happens to Penelope! Reader.

they'd take it so hard :( this can be read platonically/romantically i don't really know anymore LMAO 🤍

posted it again because i didn't like the way the first one looked <3 ooc/rushed!

part two

》》》 after the shooting 《《《

ghost was silent as his knee bounced while he waited for you to wake up, the room silent other than the beeping letting them know you were alive. and the occasional humming from soap who softly toyed with your hair, his fingers gently caressing against your cheek very tenderly. it had been like this for hours until heavy footsteps echoed through the corridors, letting them know the rest of the team were back

"got the bastard back at base" price spoke as he came back into the room with gaz. simon and johnny weren't to be trusted not to kill the man since they needed him alive so they both remained like glue, stuck to your bedside. even when one of the nurses tried to suggest to leave for a few hours to freshen up, ghost shot her a hard stare which made her back off in the same breath.

"she awake yet?" gaz was next, his voice gentle while ghost shook his head. his jaw clenched as his hands gripped the arm rest on the chair. seeing your state, seeing how vulnerable you were, seeing you dance upon the line of life and death and he couldn't do a thing.

"told her not to go on that bloody date. look at 'er now" simon's voice was harsh, angry at himself for not being able to protect you. hell, they weren't even the first on scene. your neighbours had heard the shot and worriedly called the ambulance.

"s'not her fault lt, she didn't know" soap spoke coming to your defence, his hand still cradling your palm in-between his big warm ones.

"christ's sake johnny, she got shot at!" ghost snapped, his brown eyes narrowing at the scot who sighed as he looked back down at you.

you were both the heart and brains of the 141, your intelligent analytical skills saving them more times than they could count but you were always so humble about it. you hadn't looked so frail before, gone were your pretty clothes and your little jewellery pieces. all you had on was a sickly hospital gown, catheters placed in different parts of your body accompanied with a breathing mask over your mouth

"how's the wound?" price interjected, removing his bucket hat as he came closer to the bed. his heart went out to the youngest of the team, it was never easy to see the sight of his soldiers injured and beaten down. it was especially never easy to see his soldiers laying cold on a bed, knowing their attacker was out and about

"she flatlined, messy wound. but one centimeter over and it would've torn right through her heart" soap spoke looking at price who nodded slowly as he came to the side of the hospital bed.

"a fighter" his voice was gentle, his thumb sweeping the apples of your cheeks ever so softly. silent for a moment as he glanced down at you, missing all the little eccentric pieces that made you you. but, you weren't dead. you'd be fine, he knew that. it didn't take the sting of not being able to prevent it any easier but you were a soldier, a capable one at that. you were fine, you were going to be okay

for now, they were to tend to pressing matters that lay for them back in base. and notably, none of them were going to be gentle about it. time was ticking, the quicker they dealt with the matter at hand the faster they'd be back to you again.

"take it easy, pretty. we'll be back soon" price bent down and whispered, his fingers fondly running through your hair before he straightened up with a swift nod and headed out the door to the car

"you're gonna be just fine, mama. i promise you" gaz whispered as he kissed your temple tenderly before leaning back, his eyes hardening as he remembered who put you in this position. the fear and pain you felt and they hadn't been anywhere close to you.

even if you were capable, even if you were one of the most intelligent soldiers on their team, you were the youngest. and each of them had taken you under this wing. someone had messed with you and subsequently, messed with them all collectively. he took a soft breath in, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your palm careful not to knock over the drips before he followed suit like price.

"when i come back, those pretty eyes of yours better be awake bonnie" johnny chuckled sadly, his thumb drifting over the bandage wrapped around your chest as he sighed softly looking back to your sleeping face again. he kissed your cheek hesitantly, too nervous to knock over the breathing mask.

he hated seeing you like this. you had grown to be one of his closest friends here and the fact that he couldn't protect you as well as he thought took a hit on him. soap had always taken things a little harder when it came to you, he couldn't wait to tear the bastard that had messed with you. he stiffened back up and followed the rest of his team out, one last lingering look before he left.

and then ghost eyed you, his brown eyes narrowing a little at your body. you were still, too still for his liking. and though he knew you were alive, he couldn't help but the rise of slight panic at the thought of you dead. it was irrational, he knew, but it happened to him before. being forced into a position he thought could never happen to him and then it did, his worst nightmare a living reality. but he'd be damned if he couldn't do everything in his power to protect you from the same fate.

"i'll be back, lovie. i'll make the sorry bastard pay for what he's done to you," his tone was cold, hard, determined.

"you'll be okay" a soft murmur, the reminder mostly for himself and to calm those nerves. he pulled his balaclava up a little to reveal his scarred lips as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. his fingers gently rubbing your skin, head leaning against your temple very slightly but still enough to feel you. to feel you alive and breathing, knowing that you were here and that you were going to be okay. a minute passed before he straightened himself up and looked at you with a nod.

leaving your hospital room with a new goal in his mind, to make the man pay for everything he ever did.

[astroboots]

PUNCH-OUT LOVE 2

Artwork by @guruan

LOST AND FOUND

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You're sent on a wild goose chase for your missing handbag in the Lost and Found section and find something else instead: Miguel O'Hara.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist

[Previous Chapter]

The stage is empty. 

The gargantuan defeated Knock Out King, all 340 pounds of him was loaded on a stretcher minutes ago. He was lying face up as if he was taking a restful nap on a hammock while he was carried out into the crowded noise of fascinated and hushed whispers. 

The ring lights are dimmed down now and most of the crowd have gotten to their feet and are pouring out of the stadium.

You're still glued to your seat, the hard plastic of the chair, bruising against your tailbone. But despite the discomfort you make no moves to get up. You're too busy staring up at the evacuated stage, reliving the scene that had unfolded before your very eyes minutes ago.

The swift motion of punches flying through the air, evaded with precise dodges. The refraction of ring light bouncing off brown glistening curls. The sheen of sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat as he closed in and landed the final blow that had his opponent reeling back and crashing to the ground.

"You alright?"

You snap out of your thoughts at the familiar voice, and find yourself blinking up at a pair of inquisitive eyes.

"You look completely zoned out, like you're on a different planet.” 

“Sorry, Jess,” you say, “I’m– I was distracted.” 

Standing on her feet, Jess gestures towards the exit in the back of the arena. "Should we start heading out? Gonna be a real pain in the ass grabbing a taxi in this crowd, we better hurry"

With a brief nod, you rise in your seat, feet wobbly and a bit out of balance as you file out of the arena in the crowd.

Maybe it's the heat in the arena, overcrowded as it had been mere minutes ago, but you feel like you're sleepwalking. Even as you're physically leaving the stadium, your mind is still left behind, sat in the front row seat, staring up at Miguel O'Hara.

The flash of knuckles as O'Hara's fist connected to his opponent's jaw. Watching the other man's bottom lip wobble as spit flew out of his mouth seconds before he landed in defeat.

Your veins still thrum with adrenaline. Your heart thumping in excitement. You can't contain the rush of emotions that swells in your chest.

That was amazing... He was amazing.

Still in a daze, you’re acting on muscle memory as you follow Jess out into the lobby, until you reach the outside and are standing in the back of a long and seemingly unending line for a cab.

"Shit, Uber prices have surged like mad," Jess is muttering next to you, frantically swiping at her phone.

She's cursing away, trying for every alternative taxi app: Lyft, Via, Gett, with little success.

You're only paying her half-attention.

Standing under a canopy of the parking zone, you're staring up at the evening above, but you’re not really seeing the light-polluted starless city sky. All you see is the sharp focus of mahogany eyes as they turned in your direction and settled on you. You can feel it still. The intensity that resided in them, burrowing into your skin and has made a home in you. An itch that you cannot scratch that is consuming you from within.

"Hey!"

The sharp sound breaks your concentration. "Did you hear me at all?" Jess asks.

There's a terse impatience in her voice that means she's probably been calling for your attention a handful of times by now while you were zoned out.

"No. I--sorry," you say sheepishly. "What were you saying?"

"Can you try getting on Uber? I have a shit rating there and no one will accept my requests."

Nodding absentmindedly, you reach for your handbag slung across your shoulder. Your shoulder feels awfully light, and you swipe at empty air before you realize, there's nothing there. You're not wearing your handbag.

Crap.

"Did you leave your handbag inside?" she asks. 

You revisit your steps. You last remember having it on when you sat down and hung it on the back of your seat. You were so out of it when you left the arena, you don't think you ever picked it up.

"I think I left it inside, I'm gonna head back in, I'll be right back."

“Alright, but hurry!” she shouts after you as you run back inside. 

Without the tight squeeze of having to manoeuvre your way through the impatient crowd, your journey back into the stadium is a much quicker one than when you entered before the game. 

Everywhere you go is empty this time around. The glitz and glamor has completely faded.

There is a strange atmosphere in the arena in the aftermath when it's devoid of people. Your footfalls echoes and bounces of the walls, and you become aware of your every movement.

You rush through the rows hurriedly, eyes scanning the plastic seats even before you have reached your own previous seat. 

When you finally do, there's nothing there.

Shit.

On stage, there is a member of the cleaning staff, mopping up the grimy sweat and grubby soap from the squeaky vinyl floor.

"Excuse me," you ask, and the man ducks up to stare at you. "You wouldn't have happened to see a handbag that was hanging here would you?"

"Check lost and found," the man says brusquely as he continues to sweep the stage unbothered by your presence.

That’s seemingly the only thing you are going to get from him. He doesn’t pay you anymore attention, even as you shift your feet to try to catch eye contact and regain his attention to ask where the lost and found section is. It doesn't work.

After two awkward shuffles, you decide to take your luck elsewhere. You make your way back down the row of seats in the hopes you might find an usher who can point you in the right direction. 

But the corridors are even emptier now. The only people wandering down the aisles are not paying you any notice and actively avoiding any eye contact you try to establish in order to initiate a conversation. In other words, they’re behaving like New Yorkers do in New York. 

You sigh, trudging along another dimly lit hall when you spot a tall lanky man munching on a half eaten donut. He’s clad in slippers and a pink bathrobe with the most angelic looking cherub baby, bouncy curls and all, strapped in a BabyBjörn to his chest. 

You’re not entirely sure that he works here, or that he would have any better idea than you at finding the Lost and Found section. 

The only reason you decide to approach him anyway is the bright security badge in big bold capital letters reading “VIP ACCESS” hung around his neck. 

Gently you tap him across the shoulder, and the man turns around.

His eyes go big and rounded, pupils dilated with shock at the sight of you as he stares down at you. “Oh holy shit!” 

The man seems high. 

Shaggy hair and unkempt scruff on his jaw, wearing sweatpants over a stained t-shirt. He certainly looks the part of a stoner, save for the part where he has a literal child strapped to his chest. 

“Sorry," you try politely. "I lost my bag and the custodian said I should go to–”

The man in front of you nods enthusiastically, but you get the sense that he’s not really taking in the words you are saying. 

“Yeah, yeah! Of course,” he interrupts. “Right down the hall. You won’t miss it, it’s the only room there” 

You peek down the hallway he’s pointing you towards. Except you can't see down the passage he’s suggesting you take because there is an obstruction. Two in fact. Two mountainous security guards standing shoulder to shoulder to block anyone from going down that route. 

That doesn’t seem right. 

Why would a Lost and Found section be so heavily guarded? 

“Are you sure that’s correct?” you eye the bodyguards cautiously, trying be polite about the obstacle the two large men blocking the said hallway presents. Especially when they are only three feet away and definitely within hearing range. 

Luckily, stoned as the overly friendly man in front of you may be, he seems to catch the drift without any further hints from you. 

“Oh right!” He grabs the security badge hanging around his neck. “Take this,” he says and drapes it over your head with dramatic flair as if he’s rewarding you with the honorary city keys. 

The two men part as you approach. You feel like you are Moses, the chosen one, and the red sea is parting before you. 

You look back one more time, and in the sliver of space between the two security guards you see your friendly stoner flash you an amicable salute in your direction as the angelic looking baby waves at you with a squeal. 

“Good luck,” he shouts over to you. 

Strange man. 

You continue down the hall, to the flickering of the glaring fluorescent light that is entirely too bright as you reach the only room at the dead end of this hall. 

It’s odd. Why would a communal space such as a lost and found section be so damn hard to find and this heavily guarded. Why on earth would anyone need a security pass just to reach it? Is this some elaborate scam run by the boxing organization? Do they make massive winnings from reselling spectators' left behind belongings on Ebay? Because otherwise this seems like exceptional poor planning on the architect’s part. Either that, or the friendly stoner pointed you in the wrong direction… which seems like the most probable option. 

For a second, you contemplate turning around to find the man again and ask him if this really is the right place. But Jess is waiting. She must be either pissed or incredibly worried at how long you’ve taken already. A twinge of guilt pass over you, you're hoping it's the former rather than the latter.

Shaking your head, you open the door and the first sight that greets you are rows after rows of oldfashioned lockers standing like sentinels. 

There are no boxes here. No junk items of lost wallets, or jackets. Instead all you see is the vision of the man standing several feet away from you. His wide impressive back filling up the space of the empty room as he looms over an open locker. 

“Parker, I told you I’m not in the mood.” 

You freeze, shoes stuck to the floor as if the soles have set in with industrial cement to the tile. 

It doesn’t matter that you can’t see his face, or that you’ve never heard him speak before. You’d recognize that perfect silhouette in a heartbeat after tonight. A man of proportions so exceptional, you’re not entirely sure he’s a real flesh and blood human. 

It's a presence so large that even in this changing room he looms so tall, you swear he must have to duck to not hit his head against the ceiling. 

He seems like he’s sprung out of the imagination of a 13 year old boy’s idea of what a Superhero from the Golden Age of comic books should be.

Miguel O’Hara. 

In front of you, he slowly rises, straightening his posture. Somehow, and you don’t understand how that’s physically even possible, he grows even taller with the movement. 

It’s like the scene out of Jurassic park when the Velociraptor is inches away and approaching. Even as you watch him slowly turn to face you, you’re too frozen to flee out of the room. The only thing you find yourself doing is breathing harder and harsher. Until it’s too late and he’s turned fully around, facing you. 

O’Hara stands unmoving, towering with the presence of a monolith. 

Even though you’re clearly not the person he was expecting. Even though you’re clearly not this Parker person he thought he was speaking to, he’s not saying anything. His face is stoic, not betraying a hint of emotion. The sole clue that he’s even registering your presence is the way his perfect arched brow arches. 

He doesn’t say a word. Just stands there, just as still as you are, eyes locked on you. 

He is assessing you, you realize. Stern, sharp and penetrating eyes, starting from the tip of your toes, up the length of your legs to your shoulders until his assessing stare lands at the crown of your head. 

It’s the same focused and unwavering attention you felt on you from across the stage not even half an hour ago when you were sat in the rickety plastic chair and he was standing in the boxing ring. 

Electricity sparks, bright and sharp, along the surface of your skin until every hair stands at alert at his attention. 

“I’m so sorry. I think there’s been a mistake”, you try to explain. “I lost my bag, and I asked where the Lost and Found section was and for some reason some random pothead told me to come down here.” 

You flash the badge at him. “They gave me this and nobody stopped me, I didn’t mean to interrupt you in your… uhm….” 

Your eyes land on the trickle of water that’s pooled on his neck. The wet sheen of his brown curls fresh out of the shower, then drift lower. 

More bare skin. Your sentence trails off mid-word. Words slurring at the tip of your tongue. It feels heavy in your mouth and syrupy, like you’ve been given the good stuff at the dentist and you lose track of what it was you were trying to say. 

His skin is tanned and marred with black-brown bruises, a testament to what his body has been put through. Somehow every inch still manages to look impossibly soft and you are itching to skim your fingertips all over him. 

Your eyes linger on his bare chest and hard stomach. He’s only clad in a towel. It modestly wraps around his narrow hips, and you catch the sparse trail of hair that graze down below his navel and every single one of your brain cells is erased of any coherent thought. 

Then he finally breaks the silence.

"What did you think of the fight?"

You blink up at him at his question. Did you miss a sentence while you blacked out? You must’ve. How did you go from walking into the wrong room-- interrupting and invading someone’s private space as he’s come right out of a shower-- to him asking you a casual question as if this is nothing out of the ordinary and you’re just sat across him at a cafe to catch up? How is he not calling security to throw you out of here? 

And what does he mean, 'what do you think?'

What are you supposed to think about it? You know nothing about boxing.

Wracking your head, you try to think of something clever to say that doesn't make you sound like a complete novice. You're replaying videotapes of boxing matches from your childhood, grasping at phrases used by announcers during the fight.

Words like footwork, technical knockout and roundhouse punch flit through your mind, but you don't know how to string them together into sentence that sounds remotely half intelligible.

In front of you, O'Hara tilts his head to the side as he observes you. Your fingers tingle from the attention of his focused gaze on you. In all of your life, you can't ever recall being this affected by a man just looking at you.

Shit, he's still waiting for an answer isn't he? He's still looking up at you with those expectant narrowed eyes, waiting for you to answer. You open your mouth, blurting out the first thing that comes to your mind.

"I liked it. It was like a dance."

The moment the words leave your mouth you regret it. Your cheeks burn with heat.

Oh god. You sound like a brainless moron.

What an incredibly ditzy thing to say. Why not just compare him to a fucking mime or a tap-dancer while you're at it?

You're better than this. But you blame your lack of cognitive functions at how the sight of this half-naked man has incinerated every last one of your brain cells.

You brace yourself for him to laugh you out of the locker room. But he doesn't. Instead that stern expression on his face breaks. His full lips curve into a small, disarmingly sweet smile.

The smile softens his features. His brown eyes go warm when he looks up at you, brows rounding and no longer tense. It's nothing at all like the angry sharp lines etched into every line of his face when he was on stage, fists braced for a fight. 

"Yeah?" he asks, so much more soft spoken than you had expected a guy of his size to be.

Still out of sorts, you nod your head dumbly at him. "Yeah."

The smile on his lips grows. You don't know if it's a trick of the light, but as dim as this gray and dingy locker room is, it seems to go a little bit brighter with it. He looks at you with a nostalgic familiarity that is reserved for a longtime friend. 

Oh god help you. He's not just scary, and alarmingly handsome in a way that makes him belong on the glossy covers of GQ. It's so much worse than that... he's cute.

You physically shake your head to snap yourself out of it.

Get a fucking grip. You’re meant to be on a seemingly futile journey to find your handbag, not a prowl to get your rock offs. 

Oh shit. 

… Except that's what this is, isn't it?

That’s why he hasn’t chased you out of his room. 

That’s why he’s trying to make small talk. 

Why he’s asking you what you thought of the match. 

He thinks you're a groupie. Some starstruck boxing fan, that's wormed their way past his manager to get a backstage pass and a chance to ride the boxing champion. You should probably say something to correct his misunderstanding...

You look back up at him. That warm and unassuming smile that's still there on his face.

Yes. You should do that. Speak up and explain the situation. But for some reason you don't. You stand there in place. Mouth parting and closing like a dumb goldfish, unable to find the words to explain the situation.

Until a terrible whisper of a thought enters your brain. What if you don't...

It lasts entirely too long. Two whole seconds before you remind yourself that it would be wrong for one. Because that would be operating under false pretenses.

...

Except would it though?

There is no membership to join the council of groupies that you need to apply for beforehand. There's no harm and no foul here.

After all, whether you're a groupie or not, if you're both willing adults, then what's the problem here?

...

The problem is that it would still be a lie, and you'd know.

Your mind is playing ping pong in the thought process.

It's like there is a tiny angel sitting on your right shoulder and a miniature devil on the left.

You look peer up at him again, biting down on your lip at the sight before you. All dark eyes and tanned skin and pouty lips. Shit.

The devil and angel may be in disagreement about the ethics of this situation, but here's the thing, they are in complete and total agreement over one thing.

Both of them want to fuck him.

To be continued.

A/N: Guys guys so sorry it took forever. Life has been wiiiiild as of late. I have quite a few WIPs going on at the moment and having a bit of a think about which ones to continue/prioritise so if you do want to see more of this one please let me know! Let me know if you enjoyed this, if you want to see more and what you would like to see.

Big thank you to my bestie Guruan who made the beautiful art banner for me. This is my treat to her because I'm unable to send her icecream in person.

And of course as always all my love and gratitude. If I could I would give her my heart on a platter: @thirstworldproblemss I got a bit stuck on how to get these two in the same room together and she helped me plot this chapter. Thank you for always letting me rubberduck things with you.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

This is the freebie of all freebies. Write whatever you want whenever you want how often you want. Save this in your inbox or post it, I do not mind either way. I always love to see what you write, doesnt really matter what :)

You look the man in front of you up and down and don't bother to keep your lip from curling, "No."

"Come on baby," he purred, stepping closer, reaching out to straighten your jacket, forcing contact. He screams of lust. Of the need to dominate and control. He sees what a lot of men see when they look at you.

A fragile little doll. A breakable little girl. A lost little lamb. Someone who just needs a daddy. A protector. Easy prey.

"Touch me," you warn, "and you'll forget to sit before you take a shit." You don't bother to specify whether or not it'll be because you'll mindfuck him until he bashes his head against a wall to make it stop or because Batman, Nightwing, or any number of the other heroes in the vicinity right now will curb stomp him until he's a blithering idiot.

His eyes are lifeless. Like a puppet's. And when his hand closes around your wrist his skin is hot and dry. It feels like crepe paper left in the sun and he reeks of burnt sugar. Target. Suspect.

So before you carry out your promise, you ping Cass. Trusting her to alert Bruce. You might not QUITE be able to mindfuck him into oblivion but NO ONE was ever going to prey on you again. And as he pull you close to his chest, it was immensely satisfying to make him piss his pants in the alley, writhing in wordless unhinged terror as you skipped your new black velvet boots neatly out of the puddle.

"Hn."

"Interesting way to make new friends, Changeling," Clark observed, surveying the scene. Trying not to react to the fact that you look a little too pleased with yourself.

"I did tell him not to touch me," you inform them, watching dispassionately as his sobs turned to vomiting.

"Can you let up before he aspirates things into his lungs," Bruce sighed. At least it was focused rage. And at least he'd probably cooperate as long as they didn't leave him alone in a room with you. That was... something.

And while you don't reply, at least not verbally, he can tell that you comply. Mostly because the man stops writhing and starts gibbering. "Shut up," Batman said rolling his eyes, watching Clark grab him by the back of his coat. "Just tell us what we wanna know or we'll let her do it again. Harder."

"Okay, Okay, Jesus," he protested, "I didn't know I thought she was kidding!" He looked at you and your lip curled reflexively making him flinch. "Everyone always said you were just a joke."

"Let's go," Superman said, "This drug is gonna kill-"

"Anything you wanna know! Just don't let her do it, please!" he pleaded, letting himself be lead away.

"What did you say to him?" Bruce asked, watching Clark load him into a transport where Jason and Dick were loading some others that had been rounded up.

"That if he touched me he'd forget to sit when he took a shit. Granted, I didn't say how."

"Vulgar."

"What was I supposed to do? Scream?"

"Just don't make anyone else piss themselves," Bruce sighed.

"Then don't let Stephanie pick the outfits. She dressed us like sexworkers not nuns and people keep taking liberties. It's gross."

"Point." Bruce admitted. "Point taken." He pinched the bridge of his nose and not for the first time, he just wanted all of you to be little again. You were 19 now. Still a kid. But he wondered if he'd ever stop seeing you as a little girl in his head. Because as Cass took you to the next location and he went to help Stephanie, it took an absurd amount of self-control not to call after you to put on a jacket or something.

[ave09]

Please write for will. I AM DESPERATE

BET! i just wrote something cute and fluffy but if you have any specific scenario (specifically angst bc im in. a mood) send ‘em to my box!

real

will graham x reader

(based on szn 1 bbg will)

one word to describe the day: draining. jack was on your ass the entire day, hounding you about the chesapeake ripper, and it just wouldn’t let up. 

all you wanted was a night of peace, just you, a book, and some wine. and yet, as the peace was finally being restored and you felt calm… there was a knock at the door. 

“great,” you mumbled, rising from your comfy seat on the couch, crossing the room towards the front hall. who would be here at this hour? you unlocked the door, pulling it open slightly, seeing will graham standing there, fidgeting nervously, a bottle of wine in hand. 

you furrowed your brows, “will?” pulling open the door all the way, “what are you doing here?” 

the man cleared his throat, averting eye contact, “well-you-you seemed on edge. with the ripper, jack and everything, and i thought maybe you could use some wine-and company-“ 

you heart warmed at the gesture. the two of you had been spending a lot of time together, working on this case, and doing so, were also getting to know one another better. and she loved it. 

a small smile tugged at your lips as he let out a nervous chuckle, “but now that i’m here, i’m thinking you’d probably want to be alone-so i’m just gonna leave this here and-“

she shook her head slightly. sure. maybe he was right. but if there was anyone she’d want to spend her evening with, it would be will graham. 

“please, you’ve come all this way, come in,” you gestured for him to enter, and he did, “thanks,” he mumbled as he stepped inside, taking charge and closing the door behind him rather then waiting on you to do it yourself. 

will glanced around, taking in your home. he’d only been here once before, and that was when he had offered to help you home after a particularly rough patch in this chesapeake ripper case. 

it was a long day, the scene was beyond disturbing, leaving you frazzled. will had taken it upon himself to drive you home and help you out. you most definitely appreciated the gesture. and in all honesty, that’s probably where your attraction for the man started. 

he was always so sweet. intelligent too. not to mention handsome. 

“here, i’ll take that,” you said, gently taking the wine from his hands, cradling it carefully before gesturing to the living area. 

the two of you walked towards it, you settled into your comfy spot once again, will took a seat in the loveseat across from you. 

you set the new wine bottle on the coffee table beside the open one, sighing softly as you glanced up at him, “so..” small talk did not come easier for either of you. 

“how’ve you been? with this whole shitshow?” you ask. he simply shrugs. “it’s rough. he’s too smart.” 

“he knows precisely what he’s doing and how to get away with it.” 

will nodded, glancing up at you for a moment before clearing his throat again, “ya think maybe we could leave work be for a second? and just… talk?”

you nodded, shifting slightly in your seat, “of course,” you then fell into silence, trying to find something to discuss.

“hey,” 

his voice was soft. fragile. 

he leaned forward slightly, fidgeting with his fingers, “hi,” you replied jokingly, your voice equally as soft.

“am i imagining things?” he asked suddenly, catching you off guard. “imagining what?” 

he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing slightly, “i-i don’t want to be too upfront, but… what’s this about?” he asks, gesturing between you and him. 

“us?”

he nodded. you tilted your head slightly, “what?”

“you don’t see it?” slowly, you sat up taller, somewhat catching on. “listen… i’m not one to do this.. not really.” he’s reluctant with his replies as he continues. 

“i… have feelings for you. and not-not the platonic kind.” 

your heart flutters, breath quickens. was this actually happening? was this real?

“you have.. romantic feelings for me?” you asked, to which he nodded. 

“and-i don’t know if i’m crazy-and this is just somewhat delusional but-“

“i do too.” 

he glanced up at you. “what?”

slowly, you stood, crossing the room towards the loveseat, will slowly rising as well. you now stood before him, a smile tugging on your lips, “i too have romantic feelings for you, will graham.” 

a small smile broke out across his lips, “you mean it?” 

“why would i lie?” 

slowly, he took a step forward, a very small gap between you now. you took the opportunity to lean in, gently brushing your lips against his, testing the waters.

his hand gently found your neck, gently pulling you closer, his lips melting against yours. this was only something that you’d dreamt about, and now it was happening. 

slowly, he pulled away, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“real?” he asked softly, “this is real?”

“as real as ever.” 

and you leaned in and kissed him once more. 

[ghostfanwriter]

🎀🧰 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟖 🧰🎀

←Previous

🎀 Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Again!Reader

🧰 Setting: Lincoln. It is 2023 but Joel, Frank and Bill are as young as they were when they met in episode 3.

🎀 Synopsis: Your suffering was too much for your father to handle, so he decides to make you happy again.

🧰 Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut (no details for spoilers but... It's mouths everywhere and very graphic descriptions), softdom!Joel, Joel talking her through, a few descriptions of reader's hair being long.

🎀 Word count: Sixteen thousand....? (I wish I was joking, it is actually 16.5k, I can't control myself)

🧰 A/n: Finally it is here and finally you can read it and I'm sorry it took me so long, (also sorry it is so long and wordy) but I hope you cry and smile a lot!!! Thank you all so much for the support with this series all this time. I don't deserve you 🩷 I'm really happy with it and really proud of it. I hope it meets your expectations and I hope you feel it is a good way to give closure to the last chapter.

Comments, reblogs and all that sweet love are as always so, so appreciated. It makes my day to read all the kind and sweet ways in which you all relate to this story and how it resonates with all of you 🩷🧰🎀

"Does she need anything?" Joel asks, almost panting as he ran to the radio. Whatever it is. Your dad just has to say it and he's gonna go after it for you.

He hates every second it takes Bill to respond.

It is another sunny yet slightly chilly afternoon, the leaves in the trees begining to fall as summer comes to an end.

You're on your porch, practicing the part you remember of the song Joel told you he used to play for Sarah, when someone walks close to you. You look behind your shoulder, finding Frank with a wide smile on his face.

"Hi, dad... Is everything ok?" You ask, smiling softly at him, a smile that — as usually now — doesn't quite meet your eyes.

"I got you a gift." He says, and you carefully put the guitar beside your chair, looking curiously at your father. He hands you a medium sized canvas, and your temples tense when you see it.

The view from your bedroom window, except this time the weather isn't the focus of it, nor the reason why he painted it.

It's the house across the street. With fences around the large and grassy front yard, the sheep, the greenhouse in the back, and a simple, black shilhouete of a tall man. Of him.

You feel a pang of pain looking at the scene you know is never gonna happen. It's not like the painting of a sunny day, that you know will happen again after the rain ceases. It's something you'll never have, something — someone — you want, you need, and you just won't get to experience. Your eyes burn with a mixture of sadness and anger — a feeling you've never felt towards Frank before —, but you hide them from him, a single tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek.

"It's nothing compared to the drawing I did over the photo, but..." You joke, forcing a smile, mentioning the polaroid you took and drew on top of as you quickly dry your tear.

He nudges your arm playfully, sitting on the armrest of the chair you're seated on. "Guess I still have a lot to learn from you." He smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

"Thank you, dad." You say, but you can't shake the confusion as to why your would dad gift you this.

So you could see it everyday as a reminder of what you could've had? Of what you're never gonna have?

About a week after you've hung that painting up on your bedroom wall — which is what you fall asleep to every night now, hoping to dream with it, with him—, you notice your dad working again on Sarah's painting.

"Why are you finishing it? It's too big for him to take it back with him." You say almost bitterly as you enter your dad's studio, startling him.

"Oh... I thought you were helping your dad in the garage." He takes a second before answering, seemingly nervous to see you. "You know I don't like unfinished work." He tries to sound nonchalant, a typical Frank smile on his lips. "Also maybe you could take a photo of it and gift it to him. Well... give, uhm, give it to Tess so she can give it to him." He corrects himself, his smile faltering. "I'm sure he'd appreciate that." Frank says, his face lightening up again with a smile packed with... Anticipation?

A glint of hope ignites inside you, combusting inside your chest, suddenly too big to fit inside you, but you kill it as quickly as it's born.

He's not coming back, don't nurture those roots any more.

"Alright." You sigh, your voice restrained. "Do you have anything here to throw away? Dad's gonna burn a few things from the garage, there's too much accumulating." You say.

Since the bonfire never happened — there wasn't really a mood for it —, the unusable wood and inflammable material started to pile up even more then they already were.

"A bonfire?" Frank's face twists with a mischievous smile, and you can't help but giggle.

"Not that dad will ever admit it." You smile softly, and he cheers.

He gives you a few broken or moldy frames, and you take them back to the middle of the street in front of your house, assembling them with the rest of the disposable wood your dad is gonna burn.

You sigh at the thought that this should've happened over two months ago. That Joel was supposed to help, to be there with you. To enjoy the bonfire, to play his guitar, to hold you afterwards...

Stop it. You promised you wouldn't cry over it.

You look at the house across the street and let out another sigh before drying a few tears from your cheeks and going to the garage to help your dad bring the rest of the things outside.

For the next two days your dad refuses to light up the bonfire, for whatever reason he didn't wanna tell you, and you didn't give it much thought.

"I think it's gonna rain." He said exasperatedly as an excuse while he covered the pile with a tarp, and you just went with it, despite the clear sky.

But today he came from a run for supplies with an urge to do it, and while he unpacked his truck, Frank took you inside to prepare a few pretty platters with some snacks for you all to eat at the bonfire.

"Now let's go get you ready." Frank says after you're done.

Your dad can't help but be performatic.

"Get ready?" You ask, confused, looking down at your baggy shirt and shorts, clothes you'd only ever wear on your period or when the weather was gloomy, and that since Joel went away became your everyday choices.

"Yes, sweetheart. Get ready. Take a shower, put on a nice dress, fix your hair and put some makeup on." Frank's face lightens up with his own words.

"You're still not over your doll phase, I see." You joke. Your dad always loved to dress you up.

You'd hop into the shower and come back to see your bed covered in different clothing options, and you were always amazed by how well he learned to do complex hairstyles just from teen and vintage magazines Bill found while outside. He'd dress you up in different outfits and you'd walk down the stairs in every single one of them while Bill judged them all.

Your family's very own little fashion show.

Needless to say, Bill always loved you in every single one of them, and your childhood is full of fond memories like that.

"I have a perfect doll at home, of course I'm gonna wanna dress her up." He kisses your temple.

"I don't... I'm not feeling it, dad. I'm sorry." You say quietly, looking down while you clean the counters, feeling bad for letting your father down on such a sweet tradition of the two of you, that always turns whatever you're doing into a special event.

And you can't help but remember how he helped you get ready the day Joel and Tess first arrived. How he said if they were to see you for some reason, you should be as pretty as you could. It makes you remember how Joel looked at you, how he smiled at you, how he said you were everything he thought he'd never see again.

"Hey, look at me." Frank says almost sternly, calling your attention, and you look up at him, your eyes watering already. "Darling... I want my daughter back!" He says, almost whining, frustration mixed with sadness making his voice shaky and his eyes watery.

"Dad..." You cry quietly, feeling bad. You know he is right. You can barely recognize yourself. But you feel powerless, you've just convinced yourself that there's no point.

He is not here to see your dresses, to smell your perfume, to praise your soft skin and hair. He's not here to see your smile.

"Honey, you gotta take care of yourself for you, even if he's not here anymore." Your dad can definitely read your mind. "Just like you always did. I want my sunny, giggly and happy girl back. I want you smiling, laughing, being silly. I want you in summer dresses and with your hair shinning, lipgloss on and smelling like our garden." He says, caressing your hair. "I know how happy all that makes you."

"I do miss it." You admit, with a pout and a smile, taking his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his and swinging your hands gently.

"Then c'mon, my silly doll. Let's get ready. Try to have fun. Even if it lasts for just a little bit." He smiles. "Then tomorrow we try again, fresh." He says, guiding you upstairs to your bedroom.

Frank went pale when he saw the pairs of lingerie Joel got you, but you told him what happened the night you put them on — that last night, and how Joel told you to get changed — and he sighed, telling you to put on a more... Simple one. You choose a romantic white and embroidered set.

You take a slow and warm shower, and leave the bathroom smelling like berries and roses, dressed in your lingerie and a robe. You walk out of your bathroom to find the dress Joel picked for you that day, carefully placed on the center of your bed, your dad smiling softly at you, his hand on his right cheek.

The dress is short, made of a light blue fabric with some small white and yellow daisies embroidered on the neckline, that has a lettuce trim. It has thin tie-up spaghetti straps and a defined waistline. It's supposed to hug your back and waist while having a more loose grip around your chest and thighs.

"He did choose the right one." Frank almost whispers, looking at you and then the dress.

"He did." You smile softly, your eyes watering just from thinking about that day as you run your fingers through the delicate embroidered flowers.

"Do you wanna wear it?" Your dad suggests, his eyes glimmering with both excitement and the glowy, warm dance of the flames of the bonfire — that Bill lit up while you showered — bouncing on the walls around your room.

"I don't know, dad..." You whisper, your sight blurry because of all the tears.

"You should wear the one the chose." Frank lifts your face. "It's a sweet memory you have with him." He dries the tears that roll down your cheeks.

You smile weakly, remembering him sitting down on your bathroom floor, his legs spread while he fixed your cabinet, talking about the QZ and thoughtfully helping you pick a dress even though he clearly had more important things to do.

You nod and Frank helps you in it, telling you how pretty you look while he ties the straps up your shoulders, before browsing through a few vintage catalogs after a simple and romantic hairstyle.

You sit in front of the mirror so he can start curling and doing your hair, and for the first time since Joel left, you have a sincere smile on your face. You've missed this, these simple moments with your dad, doing your hair, dressing up, talking about nothing, making up gossip (usually about your poor dad Bill) like you're in a beauty salon — or at least how Frank described women's beauty salons to be in the past.

After an hour of playful; "I heard Bill hasn't cut his hair in like... Three years" and "Oh, but they say he's so lovely under all that beard and grumpiness", your dad finishes up, his eyes watering as he takes a step back to take you in.

The romantic dress, your delicate white shoe and sheer socks, your soft hair cascading down your shoulders, with two delicate and small white ribbons on the back — a new addition he saw in a beauty catalog and begged Bill to find when your poor dad went out to look for supplies—, your rosey cheeks — courtesy of the beetroot blush —and glossy lips.

"You're perfect, my dove. You're the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen." Frank says, his voice tangled with emotion, and you smile.

"Got your good genetics." You joke, and he chuckles.

"I wish, my love." He whispers lovingly, running a hand on your hair. "But even though my blood doesn't run in your veins..." He starts, his voice thick and uncharacteristically serious as he takes your hands in his. "I guess all the time we've spent together passed some of my good looks to you." He jokes, and you laugh, giving him a hug.

"I love you, daddy." You say, and he tightens his embrace, his eyebrows furrowing at the sweet name.

"Long time since you last called me that." He smiles, his tears — that he tried so hard to hold back — now flowing freely down his cheeks.

"And now I love you even more than the last time I said it." You smile even wider, and you two only let go when you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door.

"You're gorgeous, honeybun." Bill says from the doorway, his eyes red and watery, his expression soft and tender as he looks at you.

"I'm starting to think you two are gonna throw me in the fire as an offering." You say playfully, wondering why they're being so affectionate about the bonfire.

Maybe...

No. You're just hurting yourself.

"Well, now that you mentioned it... That's not a bad idea." Bill chuckles softly. "I think the Gods would love you. Probably the best offering they've ever had. We'd have good crops and healthy animals for the rest of our lives." He says, playfully looking at Frank, and you remember how Joel used to call you angel, the memory of his low and husky voice in your ear making your eyes wetter.

Bill nods at Frank, who nods back. "I'll be by the fire." Frank says, kissing your forehead one last time before holding your chin. "My pretty girl." He smiles at you, leaving your bedroom, drying his face with his sleeves before touching Bill's shoulder and giving him a peck on the lips as he passes by him on the doorway, whispering something to him.

Bill steps closer to you, taking your hands in his, caressing the back of them, his eyes lovingly roaming around your face. "You are my daughter." He starts, his voice proud and shaking. He has never let you doubt that you're his child, even if you don't share the same blood. "And you know I'd do anything to see you safe and happy. Anything. Even if it doesn't make me happy." He says, his eyes reddening, and you tilt your head, softly squeezing and caressing his hands, soothing him.

"Daddy..." You say softly, your heart aching.

"But that's not possible because if you're happy I'm also happy." He smiles, his voice barely coming out. "There's no scenario I can imagine in which you are happy and safe — his voice breaks — and I'm not happy for seeing you happy and safe." He says, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I love you more than anything, my love. You're the best and most important thing this life has ever given me, and I only am the man I am today because I've had you with me all those years." He says between tears, and you tenderly dry his face with your thumbs.

"And I couldn't ever ask for a better family. A better father. I know all you do is to protect me. Even if it hurts at times." You say softly, finally coming to peace with what Joel asked you.

How could you ever hate your father for doing that he thinks is best for you? For trying to protect you?

"I want you to forgive me." He whispers, his head tilted down and his eyes looking up at you. "Forgive me for not allowing you to experience love." He cries, and your heart breaks along with his voice.

"Daddy." You cry, squeezing his hands. "You love me so much, you show it to me everyday. I know love. I know your love, dad's love... And for a while I knew Joel's love too." You whisper the last part, but he doesn't react to it.

"I'd be so miserable without you and your father, my love. You two are everything I care about. The only reason I'm still here. The only reason why I've made this place so good and comfortable." He says, his crying intensifying while his trembling hands move to tenderly caress your hair.

"And I know I'd be happy as long as I were with the two of you, no matter where we were. Even if we lived in a QZ, in the middle of the woods or anywhere. It's not this place that makes me greatful. It's the both of you." You smile, kissing his wet and salty cheek, and he smiles back.

"Damn good thing we have the fences though, right?" He chuckles playfully, giving you a side look as you kiss him.

"Absolutely." You smile. "The hot water and fruits may also make me love you a little more." You giggle softly, and he chuckles.

"I'm charming like that." He laughs, taking your arm in his. "I love you, I always will. And I love the woman you've become. You're strong, you're beautiful and you deserve all the happiness you can manage to have in what's left of this world." He says, for the first time — except while teaching you how to survive and defend yourself — talking to you like you're an adult.

"I'm only all that because I'm your daughter. Because you raised me." You whisper, your voice full of pride and love. "I love you too." You touch your head to his shoulder tenderly, your love for each other filling the air around you while he holds you for what feels like forever — but still not long enough.

"C'mon, your dad is waiting for us." He says after a while, and he fixes your hair before walking you downstairs, his arm tangled with yours.

He goes slowly, no rush as he sometimes steals glances at you and smiles. You don't understand why, but this moment feels special. If feels like you're gonna remember this feeling forever.

You find the front door open, and he guides you towards it. From inside you see Frank smiling by the bonfire as he looks at you, and you see his lips moving, whispering 'my princess', making you smile back at him.

You walk outside your house with your arms still tangled with your dad's, and as soon as you look at the bonfire...

It can't be.

"You. She needs you." Bill cried on the radio, inviting Joel to come back, to stay with you. To help him make you happy.

You eyes well up instantly, your mouth hanging open and your nose burning with the sudden rush of tears flooding your eyes, and you try to run, but your dad holds you back, taking your face in his hands.

"Honeybun..." His voice is shaking. "You know I love you more than anything in this life, don't you?" He asks and you nod emphatically, repeating 'yes' over and over as tears roll down your cheeks. "Promise me you'll always love me more than anything too?" He asks, his eyes watering as he smiles adoringly down at you.

"I could never love anything more than I love you, daddy." You cry, hugging your dad tight. He kisses the top of your head and gives you a reassuring look.

"I love you." He whispers, releasing your arm. You look at Frank, and he nods, his cheeks wet.

You turn back to the bonfire. To him. And you run.

You run desperately into his arms, open and ready to hold you. His body stumbles back as you jump into his embrace.

God, how you missed his arms, how you missed his smell, his warmth. You can't even speak, letting the tightness of your embrace speak for itself as you grip his shirt and shoulder blades tight and he almost lifts you off the ground, his heart beating so fast that you can feel it against your chest.

"Joel..." You cry in his ear, squeezing him as much as you can to make sure this is real. He is here. With you.

He cries your name back, holding the back of your head and wrapping his other arm protectively and tightly around your waist, his tears wetting your hair. Your hair that he missed so much, with the softness and the scent he craved so much, the scent of your skin, the feel of it, the glow you emanate, that seems to leave your pores and intoxicate him.

He pulls back slightly, his hands holding your waist and cupping your face — that way he always cups your face —, his thumb caressing the delicate skin underneath your eye, his eyes looking adoringly down at you, like you're the most precious, most special and delicate thing left in this planet. Like if you're the sole reason behind his wide smile, that seems to mimic yours. Wider than you've ever seen before.

Your presence gives him an instant sense of peace, a sense of belonging, of purpose. He wants to preserve this. Your wellbeing, your safety, your peace, your smile. Make sure you're well fed, healthy, taken care of. Make sure you're happy and loved.

It makes him want to forget about the old Joel. The sad and bitter, stoic and practical man that wouldn't want to get involved with you under the cowardice of not being good enough for you. He will be good enough. Vulnerable enough, open enough, romantic enough. He will allow himself to love you. He is gonna make damn sure of it everyday, he promises to himself. There won't be one day he won't do everything in his power to make you the happiest woman alive.

The old violent and deadly Joel will be preserved though. Kept quiet in a corner, always vigilant and attentive, ready to surface if he ever has to protect your town, your parents or especially you. Ready to not measure means to keep you safe.

You look behind him and see three big bags on the floor. "Are you... Are you staying?" You ask with a wide and contagious smile, almost out of breath, and he nods, his eyes somehow becoming even softer.

"Only if you want me to." He smiles, like you could ever say no to him, like if you could ever not want him to stay. Ever not want him.

Your smile somehow widens even more and you hug him tight again, like if any inch between you two could perhaps give him a chance to leave again. A chance he'd of course never take, never leave you again, never not have you again.

You enjoy his warmth for a little longer, remembering how soft and comfortable his embrace feels, how his fluffy flannel makes his chest feel like a pillow. How safe and special you feel in his arms. The arms that had no responsibility to love you, to choose you, but that did anyway.

And he holds you close. His strong arms keeping you shielded and protected, warm and safe. He never wants to forget what it feels like to hold you again. His heart seems to find a calmer pace as it feels your own beating against his chest.

A few moments later you remember that Joel isn't the only person last on earth and turn back to your parents, their arms holding each other's, Frank resting his head on Bil shoulder, with a smile that almost matches yours and Joel's, and Bill with a stiff expression that breaks when he sees the pure bliss and joy on your face. Any remnant of doubt or uncertainty leaving his shoulders as he sees the smile and the glow he missed so much these past few months.

You run to them, hugging both at the same time, your face nesting between their shoulders, and they hug you back, protectively wrapping you in their arms. You all share a silent understanding.

This is what life must be. Full of love and trust. Full of people who wouldn't hesitate before doing what's best for one another. Who wouldn't hesitate to protect and care for each other.

"He moves one finger you didn't want him to and you tell me, you hear?" Bill says as you pull back a little, still in their arms.

"Bill..." Frank laughs.

"You raised me, dad. You know I'd kill him myself." You joke, and Bill's eyes glimmer with amusement.

"That's my girl." He laughs proudly. "She's my daughter." He playfully nudges Frank, like it'd be news to him.

"Yeah, it shows." Frank laughs back, and you hug them tight again. "Go stay with him, love. Your dad and I are gonna bring out the food." Frank says, and you nod, walking back to Joel, who once again takes you in his arms, holding you tightly, as if trying to make up for lost time before letting go and sitting down at one of the benches your dad put by the bonfire.

You sit beside him, your body facing him, and he fixes your hair tenderly.

"The ribbons look nice." He compliments, and you smile. He notices the smallest new details about you, and it makes you feel special and pretty.

"Thank you." You purr, feeling your cheeks warmer than before.

"I got you something." He smiles at you, reaching behind himself to pick a bouquet he made with some wild flowers he found on his way back to Lincoln and some craft paper Tess helped him sort out in the QZ. It makes you smile, your eyes welling up.

"Joel... They're beautiful." You manage to say, your voice barely there.

"Some are already dying, but they are the ones closer to the QZ. The closer to you, the brighter they are." He says softly as he fixes the tie-up straps of your dress, and your heart melts. "Just like me." He whispers, his eyes red, and you smile lovingly at him.

You notice there's a paper amidst the flowers, and you take it in your hands, finding it to be a photo of Joel, that's all wrinkled, like he was planning to throw it away.

"When is this from?" You ask curiously, smiling up at him, his cheeks covered by a small blush.

"That's..." He clears his throat. "The photo I took when I got you the polaroid camera, to test it. I took it before eating the food you made me." He chuckles. "I thought it looked terrible, but then I thought you'd kill me if I ever told you it existed and I never gave it to you." He smiles, gently taking your free hand in his.

"I would." You smile, tenderly caressing his cheeks in the photo, feeling his thumb caress the back of your hand.

"Sometimes I'd doubt myself." He whispers, like he's just thinking out loud, his eyes traveling around your face, a small and silly smile on his lips. You frown, tilting your head slightly as you turn to face him. "I'd wonder if you were really like this." He smiles, and you feel your cheeks heating up even more, in a way only he can make them. "Not even the photo you gave me would convince me that you were this sweet." He says with an adoring smile.

"Do you remember this dress?" You ask quietly, and he gently plays with the fabric covering your thighs.

"I knew you'd look perfect on it." He smiles. "It's like it was made for you." He says.

"Just like I was made for you." You whisper back, a shameless smile on your lips.

His eyes are wet as he looks at you. "I missed you." He whispers, his lower lip trembling.

"I missed you too." You whisper back, resting the bouquet on your lap and cupping his face, bringing his forehead to touch yours.

He nuzzles your nose, fighting back the instinct to lean forward for a kiss.

"Guess we're doing it... The little ranch." He says instead, sniffing softly and beckoning to the house across the street, a single tear falling from his cheek onto yours.

"Am I still invited to move in with you?" You laugh softly, caressing his stubble, and he responds the laughter.

"Meh... We'll see how it goes." He playfully shrugs with a smile. "I wouldn't wanna do it without you. You're the most important part of any of my plans." He whispers, his tone soft and serious as he squeezes your hand and turns it to kiss the delicate skin of your palm. "We're gonna stay with your parents while I renovate our house — our house... — and then when it is perfect, we're gonna move in. We're gonna be patient until then." He says, and you frown. You know exactly what he means.

"Joel..." You half whine. Why does he has to be such a good man?

"I know, baby. But that's not what I want from you. And I promised your father I'd have everything settled before I touched you. So both of you know I want this." He sounds sincere, so sincere, so honest, it breaks your heart. "All of this. And mostly you." He smiles.

You've been through it, but your stomach freezes at the thought of your dad and Joel talking about whether the two of you did... That.

"Did he ask you if we had s-...?" You ask, your voice small and mortified, your always sweet eyes wide open.

"We didn't use the words themselves." He quickly says when he sees the panic in your eyes, caressing your hand soothingly. "But I assured him we haven't... Actually done it yet." He says. "And he made me vow to keep it that way until I'm settled here."

Your dads return before you can respond, with trays of kebabs, some savory oat muffins you made earlier that day, fruits and a few drinks.

You all start eating, and you notice how hungry Joel seems, how he eats like he's hiding his real hunger, and it breaks your heart. But as you cook him another kebab over the bonfire flame, you get a glimpse of what life's gonna look like from now on. Taking care of him, making sure he never has to go for a day without being well fed and loved.

"Only thing missing here is some s'mores." He chuckles, looking down at you with a full mouth and a silly smile.

"Oh, I've never had those...!" You gasp, almost whine, your eyes shining with the idea of it.

"They're amazing, you would've loved them." He smiles, cleaning a few crumbs on your cheeks.

You and Frank talk and have fun while Joel and Bill mostly just watch, both still testing the waters with each other. Bill tries to read Joel, noticing how his eyes shine when he looks at you and how happy you seem with him, how close together the two of you are sitting, with your thighs glued to each other's; and Joel tries to not be too invasive or physical for Bill's liking, even though he wants nothing more than to keep you close and his arms around you for good measure.

Bill eventually joins in the conversation, asking Joel about the path from the QZ to Lincoln. About what he saw, if he noticed anything different or concerning. Joel explains how he covered his trail and describes his encounters with the dead and the infected, and you worriedly try to check his arms under his flannel, making him laugh softly at your worry, reassuring you he's fine.

···

After you're all full, Frank asks your help to bring the dishes back inside, and you follow him. After you set everything in the sink he tells you to leave it to clean the next morning and takes you to his studio, where he hands you the finished painting of Sarah.

"He gave you flowers, right? Go give him your gift." He smiles at you, and you smile back.

You walk outside the house with the canvas behind your back, and you spot Joel and your dad talking to each other. There aren't any big smiles yet, but it's happened before, so you hope it's gonna happen again.

You go to them, turning the canvas towards him, and his eyes swell as soon as he sees it, his eyebrows moving and his lips quivering.

Frank captured Sarah perfectly. Her soft eyes, her hair, her freckles and dimples. Her silly smile is almost as bright as the real thing used to be. He can't help but caress the canvas, like he could feel the soft skin of her cheeks.

Joel cries like he's seeing his girl again, like she's there with them, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel a breeze pass by him when he saw the painting. Like she's by his side, present, approving of his much longed and deserved happiness. Like she's smiling from wherever she is, finally resting now that he has all this. Now that he has a safe and loving environment for himself. Now that he has you, like she knows you're gonna take care and love her father.

He hugs you, no words needed to express his gratefulness, how much he loved it.

"It's perfect. It's her. My babygirl." He manages to say between tears anyway, and when you pull back, Bill walks closer to Joel, looking at the painting, his own eyes watering.

"I know you're gonna be everything my daughter needs, Joel." He says. "Because you are a father too." His voice breaks. "You know exactly how much she means to me. I... I Promise I'll do my best to rebuild my trust in you. For her. We're gonna make this work." He whispers, and Joel nods, a determined look in his eyes. He knows it's not easy for Bill, and he wants to earn his respect once again. "And besides... She's my daughter. I know she'd deal with you before I had to step in." He chuckles, and Joel laughs.

"I know she would." Joel agrees, his eyes watering as he looks at you.

"You take good care of my little girl. You make her happy. You keep her safe. You keep that gorgeous smile on her face." He says, turning back to point at you and your wide smile, tears pouring from his eyes. "And we ain't ever gonna have a problem again." He tells Joel, who once again nods, offering his hand for your dad to shake.

He's not good at being vulnerable around others, but he hopes that's another feeling you might restore in him.

"That's everything I'll ever do." Joel says, and they shake hands, a mutual feeling of respect and trust being established between the two men. When Frank joins them, Joel offers his hand for him to shake.

"Oh, c'mon, I'm not Bill!" Frank laughs, pulling Joel into a hug that he happily responds to, feeling grateful for Frank's trust in him this whole time, and for the portrait he's still holding.

"Thank you, Frank." He whispers as they hug. "For trusting me even when I didn't deserve your trust. And for giving my girl back to me." He says, his eyes once again down to Sarah's painting.

"It was an honor to paint her." Frank smiles. "And she's not the only girl I manage to get back to you." He smiles back at you. "You take good care of my baby. Her father is a psycho, you know that." He jokes, and Joel chuckles.

"We all are to protect who we love." He nods, the old Joel speaking. Lethal when it comes to protecting you.

"You're part of our family now. Thank you for making our daughter so happy." Frank says, nudging Bill for him to say something.

"Yeah, yeah. Family." He says, his voice dry and choked in his throat. "We'll do our best to make her happy." He says, and Joel nods.

They all turn to look at you, and you feel like you could burst with love and happiness. Your parents and the man you love. All going out of their way to make you safe and happy.

"Love! Photos!" Frank tells you excitedly, and you run inside to get your camera.

"Frank..." Bill mumbles, but Frank shushes him.

"Bill today is a special day for our daughter." He says, his voice firm. "We are taking photos." He fixes Bill's hair tenderly, Joel smiling as he watches the two of them.

No wonder you're so special. Being raised by these two.

You come back with the camera Joel got you, and you first take a photo of the three of them together. Frank standing in between as they all give you their best smiles.

Then Joel takes a picture of you and your dads, smiling to himself at your bright smile.

"It looks perfect." He smiles, and Frank takes the camera from him.

"Go on, love. You two. Get the flowers, where are the flowers?" He says, and you and Joel pose together, his arm around your waist while you're wrapped around him, holding your bouquet, a happy and loving smile on your lips, and a wide one on his. "Beautiful. Now a kiss!" Frank says, and Bill shifts on his feet.

Joel is a little hesitant, but you gently cradle his face and touch your lips to his for the very first time since he went away, wanting to save the real kiss for when it's just the two of you. His arms tighten around you, and your dad cheers.

"Beautiful!" He says, showing you the photo.

"Our second first kiss." You smile, looking at the photo, then at Joel.

"You haven't kissed yet?" Frank gasps, and you shake your head. "Oh, and I got it on camera! That's so precious, my love." Frank says lovingly, and Bill smiles as he looks at the photo as well, your smile even as your lips are pressing against Joel's leave no room for him to doubt just how happy you're gonna be with him.

After a few more conversations and photos you all decide to get some rest. Your parents kiss the top of your head and go to their bedroom, Bill glancing at Joel one last before going inside, nodding at him.

All of the dishes are forgotten in the sink. "A tomorrow morning problem!", like Frank said earlier. And the bonfire, still burning its last flames, to be dismantled and cleaned the next morning as well.

You help Joel put his bags and the painting in the living room, only his backpack on him as the two of you go upstairs, holding hands, a peaceful sense of belonging consuming him as he thinks about how this is his life now. About how you don't have to hide, to lie, to suppress your feelings or worry about not having each other the next day.

And he doesn't have to worry about trust or boundaries. They're all set, and he wants more than anything to prove to your dads that he's not just after good food and a safe and comfortable bed with a pretty girl laying on it. He wants you. Happy and safe, his.

···

You reach your bedroom and open the door for him to walk in. He closes his eyes and smiles when the sweet, floral and citric scent he missed so much enters his nose.

He sets his backpack down and looks at you while you carefully place the bouquet on your dresser and fix your hair in your mirror.

"I forgot how good your bedroom smells." He smiles, walking behind you and looking lovingly at your reflection on the mirror, placing his hands on your waist. You turn around, wrapping your arms around his waist, inhaling his own scent.

"You smell good, too." You whisper, snuggling your cheek to his chest, indulging in his comforting warmth, in his presence, in his smell, the gentle rhythm of his heart, the rumble of his breathing.

"Your dad told me to shower when I got here." He chuckles, pulling you out of your trance as his hands trace gentle circles on your back.

"He made me get all dressed up." You giggle softly, certain that it was Frank that told him to shower, and he gently releases his grip on you, lifting your chin with his thumb so you look up at him.

"You're beautiful, my angel." He whispers.

The warm and now softer glow from the bonfire below your window casts a beautiful and intimate light on both of you, outlining Joel's face perfectly. All of his features; his big and sculpted nose, his big and soft brown eyes, his pouty lips, his cheekbones and jawline. His hair, that's still a bit wet near the roots, yet already fluffy and messy on its — now slightly longer — curls, his stubble — the tiny little white hairs starting to flourish —. Everything perfectly layed out for your eyes, making you remember exactly why the thoughts of him made you so breathless.

And when your eyes land back on his, you notice their softness towards you. A softness they only acquire when looking at you. A softness that seems to draw your eyes lower, to his lips, that makes you lick your own, anticipating feeling his touch again, his warmth... his taste.

Like you've rehearsed it, at the same time that you get on your tiptoes, he slowly leans down, gently cradling your face and touching his lips to yours. Intoxicating you with his hot breath against your nose, breathing the same breaths as the warm air that leaves his lungs fills your own, his gentle yet firm hands on your lower back and cheek, the roughness of his fingers on your skin, the softness of his wet lips caressing yours.

Feeling his beard tingle your face again makes you melt into his arms, it makes you melt and it makes you moan softly into his mouth, making him hold you tighter and gently tug on your hair, deepening the kiss even more and grunting as he tastes what he's missed for so long. The sweetness he thought he'd never have in his hands again.

Your tongues dance together in a passionate and intense display of intimacy. Intimacy that you've learned not long ago, that he taught you all about. An intimacy that makes him feel like you've known each other your whole lives, like your love follows you way before this life and these bodies. Like your souls have been longing to be reunited for much longer than just a few months.

You tug at his jacket, wanting to squeeze him, to make sure he's real and all yours, to try and make him feel just how much you've missed him, to have him as close as possible to you.

"Baby... We talked about this." He pulls back to whisper breathlessly over you lips when you start pressing your body against his, the kiss going from slow and romantic to hungry and needy, the sensations traveling from your tongue directly to form a pool between your legs.

"Please, Joel. I need you." You moan, burying your face on his neck, kissing the warm skin there.

"Baby..." He tries to protest, feeling that same vulnerability you always erupt inside him.

"We don't have to do anything we haven't done yet." You purr, looking up at him. "Please, Joel. I thought about you every single night." You say, and you see his nostrils widening, his chest expanding and his jaw clenching as you confess to have done what he also did.

Every single night after the first few weeks, when pain and guilt started to give space to the longing and need to be together again. Nights where he laid on his side and held himself tight, imagining what you'd feel like, remembering how warm your skin felt against his, how good you smelled, how much he missed your nails on his back, your fingers curling on his hair, your lips burning his skin, your warm and wet flesh around his fingers. Nights where he held your photo to smell the - fainter by the day - perfume you sprayed on it and to look at your sweet smile, remembering how your face contorted and how you cried his name, the sound still echoing in his mind.

"You're gonna kill me." He whispers, pulling away, leaving you whimpering softly as he walks towards your window, resting his hands on the bottom of the frame, looking at the house across the street. The one he chose to live in with you. To make yours.

You walk towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head against his back. "It's ok." You whisper, feeling his back expand with his heavy breathing. "I can wait. I like that you want to wait." You say against his back, your hands caressing his stomach and chest, and after a few moments, he turns around, facing you, his eyes scanning your face.

"Did you tell the truth?" He asks, his voice low and quiet. "Did you think about me like that?"

"I did." You confess again, feeling your cheeks warm up as your gaze drops to his old and dirty boots and your delicate shoes and white sheer socks.

"Then why do you need my help, angel?" He asks with a soft smile, almost a smirk, gently cupping your face and pulling it up so you look at him, his thumb caressing your cheeks.

"Because I couldn't... do it without you." You purr, leaning into his touch until he removes his hand, making you whimper as he once again walks away from you. "Joel..." You whisper, watching him.

He hears it and chuckles softly before sitting on the edge of your bed and looking at you. His gaze just like you remembered it. Hungry and lustful but somehow still soft and lovingly, his dark eyes glistening with the flames of the bonfire that are weakly dancing around your room. The intensity of his gaze makes you shift on your feet while you wait for him to say something, your fingers nervously curling around one another.

He pats his lap, calling your attention. "Come here, angel." He calls, his voice as soft and demanding as always, and before you even process it, your legs are obediently walking towards him, earning an approving smile. "Good. Come here." He instructs again, this time pulling gently on your waist for you to sit across his lap.

"I missed the way you talk to me." You confess in a whisper.

"You did?" He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear while his eyes roam around your face, a silly smile on his lips.

You nod, your eyes catching his gaze as you just stare at each other in silence for a bit.

"I like the way you tell me what to do." You purr, your shaky voice betraying how nervous you are to be so close to him again.

"And I love how you trust me..." He responds quietly, like he's just thinking out loud. "... How responsive you are to me." He whispers.

You look up at him, your eyes glistening behind a thin layer of blissful tears. "Responsive?" You ask softly, and he smiles.

"You'll see what I mean." He reassures you, carefully grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling it above your other shoulder so he can kiss the soft and sensitive skin of your perfumed neck, earning a breathy gasp and a pleased frown from you. In response, he nibs and sucks on it, squeezing your thigh gently, his hands caressing your skin, going underneath your dress to caress the soft spot where your thighs and your hips connect.

"Joel..." You whisper, trying to give him better access and simultaneously wrap your arms around him so you can touch him back.

He places both hands on your waist and gently pushes you off his lap, and you're quick to turn and straddle him, just like you did that first night on your armchair, your hands going under his arms to tug at his shoulder blades while his go to your waist and hips, holding you firmly - squeezing you so good - and tugging at the soft fabric of your dress while his lips trail wet kisses from your neck to you shoulders as his rough fingers gently undo the straps of your dress, kissing his way back from your shoulders to your jaw, and from your jaw to your already open and inviting lips.

You moan into the kiss, his hot breath caressing your skin and his beard burning you and making you lean even closer to him.

He grunts as you tug on his hair, your hips instinctively rolling against his, and he starts pulling your dress up your thighs with the back of his fingers, caressing and kneading the tender skin of your thighs as he reveals them, his worn out and barely-there nails greedily digging in the soft skin of your hips and bottom in an eager attempt to make up for the time apart, to remember and to feel everything he thought about every single night, to never again forget how you feel like under his touch.

He continues pulling your dress up, and you help him by lifting your arms, allowing him to fully reveal your soft and perfect - somehow even better than he remembered - curves, your delicate white set of lace bra and panties... And he goes numb, his eyes locked on your body and his lips apart, his hands moving up your waist, his thumbs caressing your breasts and rolling around your clothed nipples, his chest moving deeply as he tries to catch his breath, lost in the sight of you.

"I missed you so much, my angel." He whispers, his gaze making its way back to your own, his eyes soft and watery, filled with unspoken words of love and passion, with the longing of all those weeks apart, all those nights where he'd have done anything to be by your side.

All the times he caught himself looking into nothingness, lost in thoughts about you, about how you must've been and how much he wished to be doing the same nothing, staring into the same nothingness, but with you. How much he missed all of you. Every single smile, breath and noise you make. Every wrinkle in the corners of your eyes when you smile, every mark, spot and stretch, everything you'd be insecure about if you've grown in a regular setting. Things he'd never change about you.

He couldn't think of a single thing to change about you to make you more special, more perfect for him.

"I thought about you all day long. And you came back to me." You whisper back, your eyes not as shy as his, your tears flowing freely down your cheeks and onto your neck, inspiring some of his own to make the same path, rolling down his cheeks and soaking his beard. "When my dad was dressing me up... I kept thinking that maybe..." You begin crying softly. "That maybe it was because you'd come back. But... Thinking about it, after so long... It hurt... And I kept burying these feelings down but..." You smile brightly up at him, your eyes leaking blissful tears. "But you came back for me."

"I'd always come back for you." He says with a smile, his voice thick as he once again wraps his arms protectively around you, cradling your face against his chest. "I'd never not come back for you. Even if not now... I'd come back for you one day. I'd never let you be alone, my baby." He promises as he holds you behind your right knee and the nape of your neck, standing up with you in his strong arms and effortlessly fliping you over so you're lying on your back, on the edge of your bed.

"I wanna be yours. For the rest of my life." You say, caressing his hair with both hands as he kisses the now salty skin of your neck and collarbones.

"One day." He promises against your skin before looking into your eyes, his face hovering torturingly close to yours. "The day our - our - house is ready for us. That day; or whatever day after that, when you're ready for me..." He says, his voice softer than the dandelions your father planted near your garden, the dandelions that for so many sunsets heard the name 'Joel' as you exhaustively called and cried for him, with the hope that that day he'd finally come back through those gates. "That day I'll make you mine." He whispers before kissing your lips again, a short kiss before his lips move to your cheeks, where he continues. "That day I'll show you what it feels like to be mine. What it feels like to be a woman." He whispers before kissing, biting and sucking on your neck, right where he knows your vein is.

"Joel..." You moan again, squeezing his bicep through his flannel.

"I'll show you what it's like to be my woman." He whispers, his voice now lower and raspier, huskier. "I'll show you what it's like to belong to a man. To belong to me." He promises, his eyes soft and filled with a possessive passion for you.

He kisses your lips again, a short and wet peck that makes you moan for more, tugging at his hair and looking down when he draws a wet path of kisses down your throat... your collarbones... your chest... his wet and warm lips kissing the outline of your bra before engulfing your clothed left nipple in his warm lips, a sensation that makes you ache between your legs and your back arch up into his touch.

You whimper when he lets go, but as soon as you open your eyes, he's leaning in for another kiss, his hands leaving your waist and reaching behind you to unclasp your bra and reveal more of you to his sore — hungrier by the second — eyes.

"Ahnn..." You moan, your back arching higher against his body when he takes your bare nipple in his mouth, the wetness and warmth of his mouth making your legs move in response to the growing warmth and wetness between them, your toes tugging at the sheets.

"You're so fucking soft, baby." He mumbles against your skin, his eyes closed as he rolls your nipple around his tongue, suckling on it.

"Joel... It... So... Good..." You moan nothings into the air, recalling the first and last time he did this to you, how good it feels to have him so close, how special you feel with how he takes his time with you, how he doesn't make you feel like this is about pleasing him, but showing you how much he can pleasure you too.

"I'll make you feel so good, my baby." He says before kissing the lower side of your breast, then your waist, stomach, your bellybutton... Then the skin above the hem of your panties, his hands reaching underneath you and holding and kneading your bottom as he kisses along the whole waistband of your panties, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers tangle on the delicate and thin fabric.

"I know you will." You whisper, making his eyes harden with lust before softening at the sight of your sweet smile. He stands up by the bed and gently pulls your panties down your legs, upwards his chest, and he smells it, closing his eyes and growling at your scent. He places both of your feet on his chest, caressing your legs as he admires the woman — the angel — underneath him.

Seeing you fully exposed to him for the second time, this time knowing he's not betraying your dad's trust, that he's doing it the right way... It makes him forget how to breathe, his hands caressing your thighs, his eyes travelling around your body, pure love and desire burning in their softness. It makes him allow himself to fully drink you in and shamelessly indulge in just how perfect you are, in how every curve of your body seems to have been sculpted in his dreams. Like you were really made just for him, exactly how he wants and needs you.

"You're perfect." He whispers in awe, more like just an observation for himself as he kisses your ankles — with those cute fucking socks — and then his way up your legs, simultaneously lowering himself back between them, kneeling on the floor at the edge of your bed, pulling you closer to the edge. "Mine." He says when his lips reach the inner sides of your knees, his hands squeezing the front of your thighs, his arms under your thighs. "Perfect for me. All for me." He possessively squeezes your thighs as he kisses their inner skin, making you moan when he parts your legs, the air once again leaving his lungs to be filled only with the awe of you.

With the scent of you, the wetness and the color, the softness and the taste... Dammit, he can't wait to finally actually taste you, to finally feel your tender and warm flesh against his lips, your wetness coating his lips and tongue, your muscles contracting underneath and around his tongue.

"I shaved for you again." You purr, removing him from his daydreams, invitingly spreading your legs wider for him, shamelessly offering all of you for him. In a way you'd only ever do for him, even if he never came back and someone else did. "I did all this time... Hoping you'd come back." And you did it, longing to see the same darkness in his eyes you saw the first time you said those words. The same darkness you're seeing right now.

"I'd have loved you either way, angel." He whispers, kissing your mount. "A real man doesn't care about that, baby. Certainly not in a sweet girl like you. But I do appreciate the view." He growls before kissing the skin where your thighs connect to your core, earning a surprised and sweet gasp from you. "I can't think of a thing that'd make me not want you." He whispers, kissing your folds before tasting you.

"Ahhnn..." You moan softly, almost laughing with bliss at the feeling of his tongue licking along your slit, diving onto your clit, swirling around the small nub. "Joel... Hmmm..." You moan, your eyes already closed and your breathing already heavy.

"I haven't even started yet, baby. And that's what I mean with responsive..." He smirks before exploring every corner and fold of you with his tongue, his beard deliciously scratching and bruising your skin. "You're so fucking responsive to me, to the smallest little touches."

You try to spread your legs even further for him, eager to give him as much as possible, and he notices your struggle with the need to give him more and to soothe yourself somehow, your hands desperately gripping the sheets, your whole body already overwhelmed by him and the foreign and delicious sensation of his mouth on you. He lifts your legs, touching your knees to your chest.

"Hold your legs for me, angel, please." He asks softly, and you hug your knees, one in each arm, your legs fully spread and your core in full display for his hungry eyes, leaking with need for more, the sheets connected to you by a thin streak of your leaking juices. He presses both his thumbs on each one of your lips, watching as the arousal seems to leak out of your core as he presses against your flesh, his eyes darkening and becoming hazed as he anticipates watching you come apart for him again.

Vulnerable, responsive and shameless, just like he remembers your outbursts to be like. Your eyes closed shut or looking desperately into his own, your lips curled downwards in whimpers and cries, your hands squeezing him.

"I'mma need you to be real quiet for me, alright, baby? Only for my ears." He whispers, looking up at you, and you nod. "Can you do that for me, angel?" He asks softly.

You nod, words are way past your brain's capacity now.

"Words, my sweet girl." He squeezes your thighs. "Use your pretty words for me."

"Yes." You say in a breathless whisper, your whole body is shaking in anticipation.

"That's my good girl." He praises before parting your folds with his thumbs. He grunts at the view and buries his lips underneath yours, his beard scratching you, only adding to the feeling as he sucks on every bit of flesh, slurping in your juices and pressing his tongue against your aching and pulsing entrance, circling it and teasing pushing in.

"Joel!" You urgently beg for more, your voice quiet and small. You need more. You feel like you're so close already, his teasing and the way he's almost worshipping you making your body run to the edge. Already so close from falling that you want to hold back just to feel this for longer. "Joel, I... I can't hold it!" You purr in delicious agony, begging for both his mercy and more of his touch.

"Let go for me, princess. We've got all night to recover and do it again." He says huskily before once again parting your inner folds with his thumbs, admiring your tightness. "You're gonna feel so good around me, baby." He licks the exposed entrance, indulging in the wetness and warmth of your aching body. His tongue lapping on the pool that's formed inside you.

"More, Joel. More, please." You plead, hugging your knees closer to you in a desperate attempt to soothe your even more desperate body.

He responds by taking your clit in his mouth, licking the bud and pushing the hood back with his tongue, the feeling of his soft and warm tongue on your most sensitive spot making your body jolt with a literal spark of electricity that runs through your flesh, the feeling making you desperate with need, like if you're coming already under his tongue, your eyes snap open.

You gasp as he does it again, your eyes now closing shut. He smirks and lets the hood cover your clit again before he begins sucking on it, the feeling burning, itching and aching, all at the same time as your legs tremble desperately against your chest, your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your mouth open in a silent scream as you lose complete control, your body tensing up, your juices flowing freely from you to your sheets, and your mind going blank, not a single thought or feeling that isn't the overwhelming pleasure he's giving you crossing your mind.

Only him, his tongue, his hands holding you, his fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place, his scent, his warm breath against your tenderness, his eyes watching you crumble. You feel an agonizing pleasure washing over you, your body melting underneath his touch.

You come back from your high with tears falling down your cheeks, your legs sore and shaking, your breathing heavy and your throat dry, a sticky pool on the sheets underneath you and Joel gently kissing your folds, trying to help you come down and gather some of the leaking juices that you've just released.

"Joel..." You try to whisper, but the sound half dies on your tongue, the sweetness and need still making their way to his ears, and he smiles up at you, once again kissing his way up from your folds to you mount, through your stomach till your breasts, stopping by your nipple before reaching your collarbones, then your neck... Your throat and jaw, then kissing a tight trail until he reaches the corner of your lips.

"You did so good, my baby." He praises, his voice filled with pride. "So intense but so quiet and sweet for me." He whispers, touching his forehead to yours, and you smile, your cheeks warming up even more.

"Can you do this to me again?" You whisper sweetly, an undeniable amount of innocence and love in your request, making him chuckle.

"Everyday if you want me to, my angel." He smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'd never deny tasting you, making you crumble like that." He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his lips, your taste mingled with his own making you moan and tug at his curls, needing more, all of him.

"I wanna make you crumble too." You say breathlessly when he pulls back, and he smiles softly.

"Baby..." He starts, and you know that tone.

"Please, Joel!" You furrow your eyebrows. "Please, it's not fair you do it to me and I don't do it for you too." You purr. "I want to do it for you." You reassure him with a smile.

Your eagerness to please him... Something most women did everything in their power to not do... Fuck. He's one lucky son of a bitch.

"Baby... Me doing it to you is one thing... But... You don't have to do the same. We can try something we've already done before." He says, and the honesty, patience and respect in his voice makes you want to ravish him. To make him feel so good for making you feel so comfortable and safe, that he's gonna forget his own name.

"The more you tell me I don't have to... The more I'll wanna do it." You smile, a hint of mischief and innocent curiosity to know what it feels like to finally taste him, to really have him in your mouth, his breathing heavy, his face contorting, his fingers on your hair... "Please." You purr, using the face that gets you everything you want.

And he knows it damn well. He knows you always get what you want. And tonight is not gonna be the first time he says no to you.

"Still trying to kill me, I see." He smiles, kissing you again, his hand once again traveling down your body, gently pinching your nipple and rolling it in between his thumb and index fingers until you whimper in response, then making a ticklish trail down your waist and hips, finding your core again, spreading your folds and pushing the tip of his middle finger inside your - even tighter after your orgasm - entrance. "So fucking tight, baby... Gonna squeeze me so fucking good." He growls against your lips before pushing the finger fully in, curling his finger to masterfully hit your sweetest spot with a precision that not even you have yet.

"Oh... Joel!" You moan, your eyes closed and your eyebrows furrowed as he continuously presses the right button inside you. "Joel?!" You say, your eyes snapping open and confused by the intense and sudden sensation, the feeling increased, as intense as it always is after an orgasm. "Joel I..." You struggle, your face contorted in a perfect display of the blissfulness he's washing your body and soul with.

"Keep saying my name, my sweet girl." He kisses your lips gently before going down and burying his face back between your legs, sucking your clit into his mouth, creating a mind numbing sensation as his finger still pumps your favorite spot.

"Joooel!" You cry out, forgetting to be silent, your upper body jolting up.

"Shhhh... No, baby... Be good for me, c'mon. Not so loud." He frowns before diving back in, his lips glistening with you. Your eyes roll back as your hips eagerly move against his face, making him grunt and squeeze your thigh with his free hand. "That's it..." He encourages, and you move even more intensely, your hands tugging at his curls, the sheets and anything at your reach as you feel another soul crushing orgasm building deep, deeper than ever before, inside your core.

"Jooooel!" You cry out again, more quietly this time, only for his ears, your voice strangled.

"Good girl." He praises. "Give it to me, angel. I know how much you love my attention, baby... And you're doing a really good job for me, so quiet and good for me..." He says before sucking your clit back into his mouth and inserting another thick finger in your tight insides, thrusting them in and out gently and pressing your sweetest spot between thrusts.

"Aaaah!" You whimper before it hits you suddenly and you're gone. Mind blank, legs shaking, body convulsing and hands almost painfully tugging at his hair as you have the orgasm of your life.

He groans when he feels your fingers pulling on his curls and your clit throbbing underneath his tongue, his eyes fixated on your pretty face all twisted and scrunched in almost painful pleasure as he breaks you apart. His fingers getting soaked inside you, your walls gripping him so tightly he can't even pump his fingers, just continuously pressing against your sweetest spot until you finally begin to come down.

"Joel! Joel! God! Joel!" You desperately pull him up onto you, holding tightly onto him, kissing his lips with more need and passion than ever before, tears flowing out of your eyes not only because of the overwhelming feelings he just made you feel, but mostly because you still can't process this is real.

You're not dreaming. This is not one of those dreams. He's here. With you. In your bed. His fingers inside you. He's finally yours again.

"Shhh... It's ok. I got you." He whispers when he breathlessly pulls back, kissing your neck, giving you time to recover and catch your breath.

"Joel..." You whimper against his neck.

"I'm right here, darling. You did so good for me again, my baby." He soothingly caresses your hair. "You always do..." He kisses your shoulder.

"That..." You say breathlessly. "I want you to do that again." You say, giggling a silly giggle as your brain starts to regain its shape.

He chuckles, pepering tender kisses all over your shoulder, collarbones, neck and jaw.

"I'm still gonna make you feel even better than that, baby." He whispers in your ears, his breath tickling your neck, making you laugh and get covered in goosebumps. "Over and over again. Until you get tired of me." He promises.

"Then you won't ever stop." You purr back, caressing his beard and his cheek tenderly, enjoying the feeling of having him in your arms again.

"We've got the rest of our lives for that." He smiles, leaning in for a sweet and slow kiss, his weight pushing you deeper onto the mattress, making you moan and pull him even lower onto you, your hands on his back, tugging at his shirt and squeezing his muscles.

"Can I do it now?" You break the kiss when you feel his bulge pressing against your thigh.

"Angel..." He says softly, kissing your jaw.

"Please, Joel... Just a little bit... I wanna see you again... I thought so much about holding you again..." You whisper, your hand moving down his stomach, testing his resistance.

He presses his thumb against your lower lip as is trying to shush you, pressing against it, caressing it. You don't hesitate in kissing it and licking it gently, swirling your tongue around his digit, and he presses his thumb against your tongue, pushing it inside your mouth. You invitingly part your lips and suckle around his thumb, swirling your tongue around it, watching his face; his eyelids heavy, his lips parted and his breathing heavy. He pulls his thumb back, a thin thread of saliva connecting his thumb to your pink and wet lips.

"Fuck..." He growls breathlessly. He just really can't say no to you. He sits down beside you, patting the mattress between his legs. "Come here, baby." His raspy voice calls, and you don't hesitate, quickly dropping to the floor between his legs. "Listen!" He warns softly before you reach for his belt, and you retract your hands, his hand gripping your chin firmly. "No mouth unless I say so." He sternly says, his mind reeling on the sight of your pink and wet lips around his thumb.

"Joel...!" You whine, frowning in frustration, sitting back on your heels, your hands resting on your thighs. He only looks down at you, his eyes serious and stern.

"No mouth or nothing at all." He says, and you frown.

"Alright." You mumble, making him smile.

"There's my good girl." He says, running his thumb on your cheek before placing his hands beside him to support himself. "Take my pants off, baby." He instructs softly.

You decide to first untie his boots, carefully removing them from his tired and calloused feet, hearing him groan in relief. You remove his socks too before undoing his zíper, your fingers curling underneath the waistband of his jeans and boxers down his legs before looking back up at his cock.

His throbbing, hard and aching cock. Aching for you. For more of you than he'd admit right now. For all of you.

You smile up at him, waiting for his permission to touch him, and he smiles down at you.

"Go on, baby. It's yours." He says, his voice affected by lust and affection as he gives himself to you.

"It's mine?" You whisper, shooting him a tender and playful smile as you loosely wrap your fingers around him, frowning when you feel how hard and warm he is, how tender his skin is despite how really hard he is in his center. Just like you remembered.

God, you missed him.

His pink and glistening tip, his thick and towering length, his vein that travels from his base all the way to his tip, his foreskin involving his tip, his balls heavy with everything you can't wait to begin craving.

"All yours, baby. It likes you. Missed you." He smiles down at you, and you can feel your cheeks a little warmer.

"I like it too. Missed it too." You whisper before stroking him slowly and gently, getting used again to how he feels in your hands.

"I can tell, baby..." He whispers, looking down at you. "Remember how you did it that time in the bathroom?" He asks softly, gently fixing your hair behind your shoulders.

"Uhum". You nod.

"Good. Do it just like that. Slow at first, then faster." He instructs softly, and you smile up at him.

You grip him a bit tighter and move your hand slowly, making him grunt. You watch how his foreskin moves along with your hands, covering and uncovering his tip, his precum pooling in his tip as he allows himself to be consumed by your touch. Your soft hands, your curious gaze and touch, how happy he is to have you again, to know you're his. To do this... And to see you everyday, to take care of you everyday, to kiss and hug you everyday. He moans and cups your cheek, tilting your face up as he leans in, his stomach pressing against your hand as he kisses you again. His lips desperate to never again forget what you taste like.

"You're so beautiful, my angel... You're so, so perfect for me." He says, his eyes travelling around your sweet and flustered face. "It's like you were made for me. Just for me, just so I could find you one day." He whispers.

The thought of being his, of your whole body belonging to him, your whole purpose to please and make him happy is more overwhelming than it should be, and it makes you purr in response. "Maybe I was." You say, making him smile and kiss your forehead before leaning back to give your hands more room to work.

"Maybe you were." He whispers tenderly.

You continue your steady movements, your eyes curiously watching him, and you feel your hands wet. You see his precum leaking out of him and you smear it all over his length, making him grunt as your hands slide easily along him, a wet sound filing your ears, making you lick your lips.

"Joel... Since it is mine...?" You ask sweetly, ready to beg for it if he says no.

"Guess I did say it." He sighs while he sits back. He's not strong enough for this. "It's yous, darling... You can do whatever you want with it." He gently pushes your hair behind your shoulders again, his cock throbbing with the ideas he knows you might have.

"I promise you wont regret it." You smile and lean in, smelling him curiously before gently kissing his very tip, your lips just ghostingly grazing his sensitive skin. He lets out a shaky breath when your warm breath hits his sensitive flesh, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"I know I won't, baby... I know I won't." He grunts quietly.

"Hmmm... Tastes like you." You purr, smiling up at him, your hand never stopping its slow and steady, tight pace on him.

"And is that good?" He chuckles softly.

"Uhum..." You lick it, earning a grunt from him. "Delicious." You purr before a long and firm swirl of your tongue around his head. "Hmmmm... Very, very delicious." You moan, twirling your tongue around him again, feeling how soft and wet the flesh of his tip is. Doing it just like that night, when he breathlessly called your name and let you taste him for the first time. "Better than I remembered."

"God... That's... Jesus, angel... Don't tease me like that..." He groans, and you frown.

"I'm not teasing you." You say, licking him again.

"But you are." He pants.

"I just like kissing it." You whisper with a sly smile, and he frowns.

"Yeah, baby. I... God, I like it too. But I need more, I've waited long enough." He growls, trying to keep himself together, his body desperate for more.

"Teach me how to give you more." You whisper.

Jesus Christ.

"Suck on it, baby. Go slow, not too deep. Do it like you were doing with your tongue, but sucking on it at the same time." He instructs breathlessly.

"Ok." You say before wrapping your soft lips around his throbbing tip again, this time sucking and licking simultaneously, earring a grunt.

"Good, just like that." He praises. "Don't forget your hand." He says, gently wrapping his large ones around yours, and you begin moving it up and down his length, moving your wrists at slightly different paces to increase his sensations. "Good job... Fuck... Just like that." He moans, his hands moving along with yours, their warmth reassuring and comforting.

You continue giving him more, gently suckling on his tip, enjoying the feeling of it against your lips and tongue, the curves of the underside of it, the warmth and taste, how wet and how soft it feels. You lock your lips around it and swirl your tongue around the head, and he moans when the underside of your tongue slides over his aching tip.

"Holy shit... Baby..." He pants, trying not to stop your exploration, even though he wants nothing more than to hold your head and relieve himself. Instead, he looks down at you, reminding himself that it is you, your mouth, your first time doing it, and his hand tenderly tangle on your hair as you continue getting to know him once again.

The feeling of his hand in your hair is soothing and reassuring. It makes you go deeper, taking him halfway through and sucking with your whole mouth, closing your eyes at the feeling of him inside your mouth, your tongue sliding along his underside, exploring a vein that's pulsing against your touch.

"Oh, baby... Fuck, that's it." He moans breathlessly in response, his hand unconciously tugging gently at your hair. "Try hollowing your cheeks now." He commands with a smooth voice.

You do it and as he occupies your whole mouth, for a sweet moment it's almost like the rest of him is gone. All but his cock in your mouth and his hand in your hair. The feeling of his warm, tender and hard flesh in your mouth is foreign yet familiar, like you've imagined it for so long that it's like you've always had it. Like you were always meant to have him.

"You're doing so good, baby... So fucking good for me." He praises, looking adoringly down at you, his face slightly flushed and covered in a thin layer of sweat. He looks Godly, he looks happy and satisfied, and it makes you want to take him in even deeper, to please him even more, so you do, your eyes locked on his.

The sounds he makes in response and the way his face contorted when he hit the back of your throat made you wanna take even more of him, let him fill your mouth. And the way he pulled on your hair and growled when you did it made you wanna do it again, and again, and again...

"Baby...! Fuck...!" He grunts, his voice strangled, unable to tell you to slow down, his chest and stomach rising and falling heavily with every movement of your mouth on him. The sight of how you were affecting him made you hungry for more, it made you want to take him even deeper and even harder, so you go, and you accidentally gag around him, your vision going pitch black for a second.

His hands tighten around yours, pulling himself out of your mouth as you gasp for air. He looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pierced together in concern.

"Angel, hey, baby." He says softly, calling you by your name as well, holding your shoulders to keep you back, and you sit on your heels, looking up at him with red and watery eyes. "Hey, look at me, don't do that, darling." He says, shaking his head while cupping your face and using his thumb to gently clean the precum and saliva dripping down your chin.

"But I wanted to..." You purr, looking up at him, your cheeks burning at your own eagerness. "Did I hurt you?" You ask, your eyes wide with the innocent worry.

He chuckles in response, his gorgeous face lightening up. "You didn't hurt me, baby, no." He fixes your hair. "But you're not ready for that yet. You're learning and you gotta go slow." He explains softly, kissing your forehead.

"Slowly. Alright." You agree before reaching back for him, stroking him slowly and tight.

"See? That feels good already, baby... As long as it's you doing it... It'll always feel good enough." He kisses your swollen lips tenderly. "No going too deep for now, alright? Or I won't let you do it anymore." He smiles softly despite his warning.

"Uhum." You nod before leaning back in, stroking him and cupping his balls.

"Oh... Careful with those, baby..." He says softly, an you gently soften your grip, just rolling them around in your hand.

"Does it feel good when I touch them?" You whisper, and he frowns at the question.

"Yes... Yes, baby. It feels really good when you touch them." He breathes, his voice restrained. "It'd feel really good if you sucked on them too." He pants, giving in to his desires. "Nice and gentle." He instructs.

You smile and take one of them in your mouth, making him hiss, his hand returning to your hair. You suck gently on it, rolling it around your tongue and feeling how it feels underneath the skin, how squishy it feels, how you can feel their outline underneath the stretchy and cool skin. He grunts and moans in response, unable to hide how your curious exploration affects him anymore.

You kiss your way up from his balls to his cock, licking and sucking gently on his base, your hand working near his tip as you place open mouthed kisses along his length.

"Baby... God..." He pants, the way you're so curious to tasting and exploring him makes him feel like he's about to lose his mind and his self-control. "Lick it for me, baby. Suck on it." He groans.

You listen and slide your parted lips up his side, your tongue drawing a wet line across him, making him buckle his hips involuntarily. You begin moving the same way up and down, parted lips and tongue tasting him while your lips suck along his length, paying special attention near his tip.

You suck his tip into your mouth before sliding your lips down, his tip pressing onto the side of your cheek and popping off with a wet "bop" that makes him moan.

"Fuck, that feels so good, baby." He chuckles, caught off guard, and you notice how much he enjoyed it, so you do it again, taking his tip in your mouth an sliding your lips sidesways towards his base, his tip once again pressing against your cheek before popping off, making him pull at your hair.

You moan and suck his head back inside your mouth, whimpering around him, your mouth eager to make him feel good and get the same reactions and sounds out of him as you grow more confident with your touch.

You look up at him, watching how you're affecting him, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips parted, his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed.

The sight is too Godly to resist, so while you suck and Bob your head hungrily around him, you let your hands wander up his stomach and chest, your fingers clawing on his shirt and trying to tug at his skin. Instinctively, he leans back, giving you more room to explore his body as his eyes open to look down at you and his fingers draw soothing and tender circles in your scalp, just above the nape of your neck.

Your hands reach underneath his shirt, touching his sturdy and large torso, gripping his skin and moaning at how good he feels under your fingers. How good his belly feels to hold onto.

He takes one of your hands and squeezes it, his eyes closed in bliss, his eyebrows furrowing every time you swallow what's building up in your mouth and squeeze him a bit in against your lips.

"You're perfect, baby... You're doing it so good for me... Making me feel so good..." He praises, and the confirmation that you're making him feel good ignites the same need that you had before, making you want to go deeper, harder, faster and make his eyes roll back the same way he makes yours. "Let some leak down and use it to move your hands." He instructs, and you let some of his precum and your drool wet his cock.

"So messy..." You mumble around him, looking up at him, and he chuckles.

"Messy is good when you're doing this, baby. Messy feels very good." He explains.

"Hmmmmm..." You moan around him, taking your hands back to his cock and twisting your wrists, his foreskin moving under your wet palms and fingertips as the friction of your hands along with your mouth tightly enclosing around his tip make his hips buckle up, a hiss leaving his lips.

"Fuck... You... You figured all that rest yourself, baby?" He grunts, trying to hold his sensations back and let you enjoy yourself as he shifts his hips, trying to regain some control.

"Uhum." You nod around him, your tongue twirling on his sensitive and leaking tip as you caress him with the underside of your tongue, seeking the same reactions.

"Holy shit. Baby... I'm... Trying but... You're... Fuck... You're gonna have to stop." He pants, the desperation in his voice as he tries to hold back and last more almost making you laugh.

The sight of this big and strong man crumbling under your touch is new and exciting, making you feel powerful and...

Like a woman...?

The realization that his pleasure, his release is under your mercy makes you slow down and harden your movements, exactly like you do to yourself to prolong the feeling of being on the edge.

"Baby... God..." He looks for divine mercy, his eyes locked on the roof as you test his boundaries and limits, as you see how far you can take him before he loses control. "Please, my baby... Just... I need it. I need you." He pants, his eyes now glued to yours, the vulnerability and the honesty with which he gives himself to you makes you fasten your tongue around his tip and stroke him tighter, slowly increasing your hands speed. "Arrnh!" He groans. "Yes, baby, just like that, feels so fucking good."

His response makes you grow more confident, closing your eyes and doing what instinctively feels right to you. Hands tighter and faster with each stroke, lips wrapped underneath his head and tongue twirling and moving up and down, pushing against his urethra.

"Aaaargh! Baby... Pull back... Pull back, fuck..." You hear him grunting almost like he's in pain, and as you open your eyes, the sight makes you moan.

His hair disheveled, his gorgeous face scrunched and pained, his teeth clenched together, his eyes heavy and dark, his neck red, that one vein one second away from exploding. You continue, doing what you think is gonna make him feel even better, hollowing your mouth and suckling on his tip, just like he taught you, and his mouth falls open with a silent gasp, his eyes scrunched together.

"Baby... Pull... Back..." His stern voice sounds more like a pleading as he tries to get you to back off so he can finally let go, but instead, you begin sucking even harder around his tip, almost like you're trying to drink from him.

And he can't hold back anymore. He snaps, his hand tugging hard on your hair, so hard you whimper and furrow your brows, making him tug at your sheets instead, his grip so tight that his knuckles turn white and he pulls the sheets from underneath the mattress, his hips buckling up against his will, pushing more of himself into your mouth as you greedily lock your lips around him and drink every last drop that he gives you, sucking and stroking him progressively more gently and slowly as he comes down from his high.

"Aaaaah!" He pants and gasps for air when you let go of his still semi hard but utterly worn out cock, his arms threatening to give up underneath him as he looks down at you, his eyes hazed and filled with satisfaction and awe. "Baby that was... Amazing... You did so good, my baby, such a good fucking girl for me." He praises, too weak to do much more, and you smile up at him, proud of yourself for making him feel like this.

You climb up his body, and he lays back down, his hands on your waist and hips as you lay your naked body on top of his clothed torso, looking up at his blissful face. All of his wrinkles and the usual stressed frown between his eyebrows gone with the attention you just gave him, his eyes closed and his lips parted as he catches his breath.

"I told you you wouldn't regret it." You whisper, kissing his jaw.

"Regret it? Fuck... Baby... I... Why do you think I've never let you do this before?" He chuckles.

"Why?" You ask playfully, playing with the buttons of his flannel.

"Because I knew you'd make me feel so good, baby." He smiles. "I don't know what I did to deserve you. But I'm also not about to start questioning it and make God realize he sent you to the wrong motherfucker and take you away from me again." He chuckles.

You giggle and snuggle closer to him, letting go of your weight and feeling his body moving with his heavy breathing, the movement soothing you, like you're swimming in a sea of Joel Miller.

"Joel...?" You say quietly as you two just breathe and enjoy the warmth of one another.

"Yes, baby?" He whispers back, his hands caressing your back and holding you close.

"We need to take a shower... And put some clothes on." You say softly, lifting yourself and looking down at him, his face relaxed and almost silly, his eyes as soft and happy as always when they're looking at you.

"Guess we do." He smiles, pulling you down for a kiss, tongue tracing your lips before you grant him entrance and he deepens the kiss with renewed passion and tenderness. "I love you." He whispers against your lips, the words rolling easily from his lips, as if he's said them multiple times when you weren't there to hear it.

You pull back, looking into his eyes as he smiles at you. "I love you too." You whisper, your eyes welling up. "I love you, Joel." You repeat, smiling widely, and he flips you both around, his body hovering above yours.

"I love you, my precious angel... And finally you're with me to hear me say it." His eyes water. "I said it so many times... Looking at the picture you gave me... With that pretty smile... I couldn't stop thinking about you." He says, his voice loving and vulnerable.

"I waited for you to come back. Every single day, until yesterday..." Your voice breaks. "... I spent the sunsets looking at the gates, hoping I'd see you walk in again." You cry softly. "And I'd keep doing it. Eery single day... I'd always wait for you." You purr, and he cups your cheek that way, his thumb caressing the soft skin underneath your eyes as his other fingers wrap around your ear, his gaze loving and tender.

"And I always asked Frank about you. When he was the one on the radio I'd always sneak in and ask about you. I always made Tess ask about you. She said you were always on your porch," He smiles. "looking beyond the gates, trying to see me... I felt so bad, baby." He cries, looking down at you, his lips trembling.

There's the vulnerability that only shows up when you're around.

"Joel..." You whisper, cradling his face, trying to soothe him.

"You didn't deserve to go through any of that... Any of that." He says, his eyes closed in shame.

"Joel... Baby... Look at me, please." You purr sweetly, gently squeezing his face so he looks at you. "I'll tell you what I told my dad." You sigh to calm yourself down before speaking. "I only hurt the way I did for you because I love you. Because you mean so much to me. And I don't regret a thing. Not even the pain I felt. Because now that I have you... The pain is gone, and I know what I feel for you is real, because the pain I felt was real. And I'll never feel that pain again as long as I have you." You say tenderly, and he kisses you again, his mouth silently pouring all the pretty words he can't formulate to express just how much he loves you, just how much he feels for you as he finally allows the roots and branches inside his chest to grow and flourish, to set themselves now that he knows you're his forever, and he can almost feel his chest expanding just to fit all these new feelings you're sowing on his heart.

"You're my everything." He whispers lovingly. "You make me happy in a way I thought I'd never be again. In a way I know I don't deserve to be." He says weakly. "But you make me feel like I'm worthy of it." He cries. "Because if such a sweet and special angel like you can see through me, can love me... Then I'll try everyday to be the man you deserve." He says, and you smile.

"You already are the man I deserve, Joel. You're the man I want. The man I love. And I'm so glad you were the one to visit us. I'm so glad you found me." You say lovingly, and he kisses you again, his hands squeezing and caressing your soft skin as he tries to convince himself that he's not dreaming with you again.

"I wanna hold you all night long." He whispers against you lips.

"You can hold me under a warm shower first." You whisper, smiling, and he smiles back, getting off the bed and pulling you up to your feet as well.

You gently undo the buttons of his shirt and pull if off him, seeing his strong and sturdy torso again, remembering how good he looked that day, the water droplets glistening in his chest and stomach. You slowly run your hands up his arms, kissing the little "v" shape between his collarbones, and he groans softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

"Angel..." He whispers, gently tangling his hand on the hair on the back of your head and making you look up at him. "We've got the rest of our lives for that..." He kisses you gently, just a peck before he guides you to your bathroom, turning the shower on to let it warm up and watching you stand in front of the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror as you remove the ribbons from your hair.

He comes behind you, wrapping his big arms around your naked body and pressing his own skin against your back, just kissing your shoulder and caressing your stomach and your sides, his touch gentle but still possessive.

"It's gonna be good, I think." You smile, looking at his reflection in the mirror, caressing his arms.

"What's gonna be good?" He smiles, looking at your reflection, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Spending the rest of our lives together." You say lovingly, and he chuckles.

"I couldn't make better plans myself." He kisses your neck before pulling back to check the water. "Come on. It's nice." He smiles at you, offering his hand, so you tie your hair up and join him.

He envelops you in his embrace, the warm and soothing water calming your muscles and soothing your mind as he gently washes your body, holding you with your back close to his chest, his touch feather light, careful around your most sensitive areas, and still your body jolts slightly when you feel his rough fingers.

Then you wash him too. His back, his neck, his chest, his stomach, his legs. He only doesn't let you wash his cock "To avoid not going straight to bed." According to him.

He wraps you in your towel and grabs one for himself. You both walk back into your room, and you put on a pair of pink pajamas with red hearts. He dresses something out of his backpack, just a plain t-shirt and some boxers.

You lay down and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest and caressing your hair.

"Promise I won't just wake up tomorrow and this is gonna have been a dream?" You whisper, and he smiles.

"Only if you promise me I won't wake up in the QZ without you again." He says.

"I promise." You whisper. "You're not going anywhere, and even if you went, I'd go with you... You're mine." You smile against his lips.

"I'd never take you out of here, my angel..." He says lovingly. "But I promise I'd always find my way back to you."

You kiss him again, a more simple and intimate kiss, the type of kiss that says a lot without doing much, and he holds you close with his large and warm hand on the nape of your neck, not wanting to lose your warmth just yet.

"I love you, Joel." You whisper again. You're never gonna get tired of repeating it.

"I love you, my angel... my baby... my..." He finishes with your name, his voice as soft as ever, and you nestle even closer to him, feeling safe, loved and happy in the arms of the man you longed for so many nights. Indulging in the warmth you missed so much, a warmth that no blanket could replicate as you shivered, falling asleep with his name on your lips and your eyes wet.

"Goodnight, Joel." You whisper against his chest.

"Goodnight, my angel." He whispers back, kissing your forehead and sighing in happiness. His chest full again for the first time in... Twenty years.

Finally!!!

Finally I was happy and proud of this, and finally it is yours! I'm once again so, so happy and so grateful for each and every single one of you who supported me through this year and a bit that I'm around here. This story is over a year old, which just comes to show how patient you all are and how much we love Joel Miller 🤧

I'm really honoured and happy to have received every message, every comment, every like and every reblog in this series. I hold it really kind to my heart (I wish I could show it to my friends) and having you to share it with means the world to me.

I love you all and I hope this met your expectations 🩷

See ya 🩷🎀

Tags:

[tabithatwo]

just a few of my jackie taylor is a lesbian and she knows it (or she at LEAST knows she likes women) thoughts

the opening. “jackie panting” on the infamous lesbian aunt photo. we are introduced to her for the first time without the other girls as firmly NOT enjoying whatever jeff is attempting while we are zoomed in on a picture of Her And Shauna.

she fakes it to get him to stop. that isn’t necessarily lesbian on its own, but the way she does it?? the completely unconcerned manner/low effort? this man is so low stakes for her. you know straight women are out there putting on actual Performances. this is not that. she knows she has to keep him in an intellectual/societal way and that’s her only goal

i don’t feel like i really need to explain this one? if you are a lesbian that ever tried to be with men i think this expression in response to those words speaks for itself lmao. our girl is Tired

this scene is jackie almost Emotionless. we don't see that a ton, especially not in her day to day. she is apathetic and trying not to Think about what she's doing. i left the subtitles on for a reason bc "today is the greatest" is very in line with "jackie panting" from earlier

they did NOT want us to miss the "aggressive tooth brushing" (as its written in the script). we have her image FOUR TIMES in this. this scene doesn't read as someone who is only annoyed bc her bf is bad in bed. this screams disassociation and knowing what is expected of you.

the necklace touch!! the way jackie associates this pendant w shauna comes up so much. shauna has been embedded in this scene throughout. jackie clearly hated hooking up w jeff and she looks in the mirror and touches her necklace after with This face

think about how jackie reacted to jeff. how she looks at him, the faces she makes when he leaves, her general energy. now in contrast we’re gonna see how she reacts to shauna (both shauna and jackie jump from disdain when seeing jeff to giddy little idiots when seeing each other) see also: YOUR KISSES ARE WICKED

this is FLIRTING the little faces she makes and her reachy little arm and her giggling? this is jackie flirting. we see her do this w jeff *in public* when its performative, but she's actively choosing to flirt with shauna right now like if you don't see that idk what to tell you

do not get me started about the music but this caption is killing me (see also: FLIRTY EXPRESSION)

the language she uses discussing deciding to sleep with jeff. "i've decided its time" and my ultimate favorite "its more poetic that way." thinking of sex w men as a task and fictionalizing it?? removing herself from the act itself?? lesbianism!! AND directly after the sleeping with jeff convo, jackie jumps into their dorm colors (PINK AND GREEN i could do a whole side tangent about hyperfemininity as a signal of lesbianism but i digress) and her tone is way more excited and invested than the one she used for sleeping with her bf

in conclusion, that’s my little lesbian

[gleefullypolin]

Initial thoughts on first watch through of Part 2

I will need to watch the season again a few more times as I was overwhelmed to be sure as a lot was going on. But my quick thoughts on storylines...

I'll start with my least favorite part. Sorry but it's the elephant in the room.

Ben.

I cannot. Every time they wasted screentime to go back to him fucking, I was like. God no, please make it stop. I mean I got it the first three times we showed it. Was it really necessary to keep harping on it. Honestly, shit or get off the pot with Ben's story. I'm bored and I don't know where they are going with this. I'm disinterested now.

Fran/John

This got better for me in the back half than the first half. I took no interest in them in the first 4 episodes. it was a snooze fest and while I would not watch a full season of them, they were cute in the back half and while the "dying breath" line was a bit harsh (seriously writers was that necessary) I'm even less interested in exploring a full season of Fran's actual story, not because it's been gender bended to Michaela, I just don't care for Fran's character. Personal opinion, sorry.

Kate/Anthony

Loved competitive Anthony at game night, we are the same Anthony, truly first borns. Kate has relaxed him for sure tho. Loved how he seemed to truly support his siblings, first with Colin and again with Fran in their choices to marry. Wished we could have seen his face when Pen announced she was LW after he was so clear that there was no way anyone could be her under his nose as RULER over the Bridgerton lands or some shit. Would have been a delight to see, yet...he did once again run off and leave his duty as leader of the Bridgerton family once again. For all this fandom screams that Anthony is the only man of the house with the actual job and responsibility he has yet once again disappeared from it yet again. No matter, there was little of this duo for me to take true aim at this season and thus not much for me to say other than what I have.

So moving on....

Cressida

What is there to say...Who's afraid of the big bad BITCH. Well not Pen. And no one else, for off to the country she goes and good on ya! Sorry, don't let the door hit ya on the way out. I'm not sad to see you and your big ass sleeves go.

Violet/Marcus

Tend that garden girl. TEND THAT GARDEN! That's all I gotta say, S4 is gonna bring Mama Bridgerton her just desserts! It was lovely seeing her navigating the dating mart and being nervous herself. I can't wait to see her needing to lean on Lady D and her children as she tries to figure this out herself next season.

Eloise

I was up, I was down. I was on the floor in anger and tears and then crying with joy. I understood you, I swore at you, I still love you dearly. There is much for you to learn about love and the world and I will welcome you home to do that. I did feel like she grew a lot this season. She was confused by love. Love of Pen, Love of Colin, love of being a woman in society and finding her way in what all of that means again. It was nice to see that. I loved her scenes with Colin and Pen and even with Benedict. I do look forward to her season as I feel like she had the most growth this season and while I feel like Ben's is next (boo) she can't be far behind, though I would welcome them doing her and Ben together in 4 at this point since it takes so fucking long to film these.

The Featheringtons

The most growth came from the family. Portia, Pru, and Phillipa had a lot of growth. Between mama being put in her place, then having to face how she has treated her daughter, how she sees her daughter, and then realizing how her daughter is stronger than she realized was quite the journey. And then beyond that seeing the jealousy the sisters had for Pen all along, the way it burned in them because some part of them always felt that their mama loved her most, favored her most even with her treatment. That all the girls really wanted was love of their mama. Seeing that family all together at the end, not jealous of who had the heir, just happy, with their families was beautiful.

Colin

Oh dear sensitive Colin Bridgerton. You really are a soft angel boy. He was so in love, so smitten and we needed that for him to understand how he felt up front but the moment he found out about Pen, you could feel the heart break, the confusion, the anger, the loss. And it didn't just magically heal. He loved Pen, he knew that but the burn inside to reconcile that he couldnt tear LW from her, couldn't rip it from her soul was literally a dark cloud over him for the back half. I took no issue with his words in anger, the were to be expected. He no more meant them or believed them than the stupid ass words people say in anger or stating he would never court her. They were simply words.

His mother was right. He is sensitive. Sleeping on the couch, pouting everywhere. He could not reconcile his thoughts. Could not get her to give up LW for anything and his brain could not comprehend. It was only when he went back to her letters that he realized Pen was not LW, LW was Pen. He loved ONE woman and they were the same woman. He also needed to stop taking control and stop trying to save the day. Pen was a capable woman and he needed to stop trying to control her.

I think the greatest thing about Colin as a character is that he is a sensitive person who loves wholly. He is able to put away the notion of the MAN needing to be the one who runs things. He lets her be a partner with him, in sex, in life, in their roles. This is shown not just in the fact he lets her take on how to fix the LW situation in the end, but also having her on top in the bedroom in their final sex scene. She's a participant in their marriage, not a submissive wife. This is refreshing in this world and I'm happy to see it in Colin.

Penelope

What a ride for Pen she had. She was faced with giving up her dreams to let Colin thrive in his. And she was willing to do so, lets just preface they gave us that scene where she put away LW for us to transition to Colin finally losing his writers block and happily writing away. She gave it up only to be faced with a challenge and needing to take up the quill again. Pen needed to save the Bridgertons and did so later on but she was willing to give everything up for Colin.

I loved her convos with Gen and how it was another woman who allowed her to see that women did not need to give up their worth for men. AMEN! No one said, Colin needed to give up his dreams but Pen absolutely was able to have hers too. I loved this and then to see her stand up to Colin in their second fight, to let her voice be heard to him and not let him talk over her was also important.

The fact that Pen stood up for herself, diverging from the books where Colin does this for her in the books, having Pen stand up for herself thus saving herself and outing herself to the ton, I liked this. Pen was able to put LW away and use her OWN voice to the ton and explain to everywhere why she created this entire empire. I thought this was beautifully done and then having her let Colin out of the marriage afterwards so that she basically put them now on a level playing field was perfect. His speech at that point should be put in a museum because it leveled me. I think this put them finally into the right place for their marriage and lets them begin as equals. They both have a career, they both have a purpose, they have each other and they do things together. She's not out there alone anymore.

What a fucking journey. God I love this show.

So yeah, I know I'm seeing people upset, they didn't get the spoilers they wanted, didn't get some pieces they built up and you are allowed to feel that way. I think my only gripe I have is that our sex montage was cut from the show and instead we got too much Ben and his tiresome threesome that went no where. So that is my only gripe. Give me that deleted scene and I'll be happy forever. Otherwise....

Polin is life! I loved everything they gave us and I have no complaints.

A+++ They have a happy fan from me.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request headcanons for whb kings (+sitri) with a fem mc (or gn if you prefer) who has a similar life to athanasia from who made me a princess and them witnessing a memory in her dream that is basically that scene in the first chap where lp athy was on her knees crying to claude

WHB kings (+ Sitri) with reincarnated princess having a nightmare about her past

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: HI! I had to look this manhwa up, so sorry if I got some plot stuff wrong ^^

Characters: Satan, Sitri, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Belphegor, Lucifer

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

His first reaction is anger

Who does that scum think he is to reject you?

Expect him to be really nice and considering to you from then on

He'll always make sure you know how much he cares about you and how he'll never abandon you

You'd never really find out why he changed so much all of a sudden unless you ask him about it

Apparently he didn't want to reawaken that wound by bringing it up

       ༺☆༻

Sitri didn't want to pry into your personal dreams, but your heart was beating so fast and if he correctly saw, there were even some tears streaming down your face

After seeing that traumatic memory, he'll hug you close to his body and kiss all over your face to gently wake you up

When your eyes finally open, he'll let you hide your face in his chest and hold you as you sob

He's curious, but doesn't want to push you, so he's just hoping you'll bring it up when you're done

Will make sure he's there for you the following day, cancelling all plans he has for the day

       ༺☆༻

Your dream reminds him of his own sad memory about his father

If you wake up on your own, he'll be there so you can confide in him

If not, he'll let you sleep unless your dream turns even worse

Just like Sitri, the next day he's all yours and reminding you that he's never leaving

Showers you with gifts and love to make up for the life you've been deprived of

He'll even get you a live pet if you ask so

       ༺☆༻

At first heard you cry out someone's name

His first thought it that you're draming of some other man

Which you are, but once Levi sees/hears what the man is saying, he's speechless

Someone dares to treat his lover like that?

On the next day he will ask you about it and when you break down telling him about your past, his expression softens

The two of you trauma bond by sharing stories of your past

       ༺☆༻

Beel doesn't like this at all

Now, he's not a father, but even he knows that's not a thing to tell your kid

But seeing your traumatic past kinda makes him feel bad for just disappearing from you at times

So now before he leaves, he makes sure to let you know and that he still loves and cares about you

Similarly to Mammon, wants to help you experience the life you've missed out on and heal your inner child

       ༺☆༻

You're thrashing in the bed and making noise, which is waking Belphie up and he's annoyed

So he enters your mind to see what's up

Oh, this bitch didn't

As much as he's tired even in his mind, Belphie will manifest into your dream and irritatedly tell your father off

"She can do better off without you anyway, ya windbag."

"Gonna show 'er how livin' in real riches looks like."

The next morning you're confused

Like literally, what tf happened?

You can't even ask Belphie because he's still sleeping and probably will for a long time

       ༺☆༻

Ah, that is tragic

He knows the pain of loosing a father

Though, your story is worse

Even if you're crying, he'll hold off his dacryphilia, because this is serious matter

In the morning he asks Buer to do some evaluation and maybe help you with some shadow work as a therapy method of preventing any further nightmares

This is kinda random, but I feel like he'll buy you a plushie to cuddle with when you need it and he's too busy at the moment