#edit: watch me say this and by the end of the series he’ll be my little meow meow

[myownwholewildworld]

THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG ― dbf!mechanic!joel oneshot

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: dbf!mechanic!joel x f!reader. summary: your car breaks down and you make a deal with your dad's best friend, joel, who happens to be the best mechanic in town. you'll work for him over the summer holidays to pay your debt back, but maybe you can find a pleasant shortcut to it? a/n: well, well, well... what can i say? this whole uniformed!joel shit is giving me proper brain rot. i don't know what came over me while writing this but i just rolled with it. i do appreciate any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated hehe. enjoy! x edit: forgot to mention this oneshot was prompted by this ask! warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. juicy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 48). rough, ABSOLUTE filth & i'm not even sorry. some edging. semi-public groping? masturbation (f and m receiving). oral (f and m receiving). pussy pronouns (she/her). unprotected piv. mouth fucking. very mild brat taming kink. transactional sex. alternating pov. reader is female but that's about it. w/c: ~8.9k of pure filth. divider by @cafekitsune

“Ugh, not again, c’mon!”

Your cranky little car did not have it in it anymore. It was almost fifteen years old now, having passed down from your older brother to you when you turned sixteen five years ago. Out of pure frustration, you hit the steering wheel with the palm of your hand and let out a raspy grunt.

The check engine light had lit up on the dash, which was what caused your fit. And then, as if orchestrated by the universe, the engine made a loud, clicking noise. You flattened your forehead against the wheel, your fingers curling around the rubbery texture with a tight grip.

“You stupid car!”, you screamed at it as if it was a sentient being. “I’m broke, you cannot die on me like this!”

You were on the parking lot of a café. Early that afternoon you had met with some friends to celebrate the beginning of summer and the end of the academic year. One more and you would be done with your degree ― it looked so damn far away, but you still had this summer to look forward to.

Rummaging through your purse, you finally located your cellphone and quickly dialled your dad.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, dad. I’m at Betty’s. The fucking light has come on again?!”

“Watch your mouth!”, he reprimanded you from the other side of the line. You could hear him huff and puff with disapproval. “I think your car is on its last legs, gonna have to think about buying one.”

“You know I can’t afford that, all my savings are going into my degree. I’ll just have to get it fixed for now.”

“Take it to Joel’s then. See what he thinks.”

“But it’s a Sunday, you think he’ll be open?”

“That man is a workaholic, you bet his business is open today.”

“Alright, you reckon he’ll do it for free?”

“For free?” He laughed; you could imagine him shaking his head. “I doubt it, but maybe he’ll give you a discount. Gotta go, little bug. I’ll see you at dinner. If you can make it, obviously.” He mocked you.

“Ha, ha… So funny. Talk to you later.” And you hung up.

The drive to Joel’s garage was a fucking torture. Every time the engine made a squealing noise, your heart would jolt to your throat. You tried to encourage it, whispering sweet nothings in the hopes it would get appeased and make it to Joel’s repair shop.

You also got distracted by your filthy mind. Joel had been in your DILF radar since you were nineteen. Three years ago, your dad celebrated his 45th birthday with a barbecue in the middle of summer. Joel had turned up in a white tee shirt, khaki shorts and flipflops, with untamed silvery curls and a crate of beer under his arm.

When the Texan heat became unbearable, he had stripped himself of his clothes, fashioning a pair of short swim trunks that had left you breathless and wet. When you watched him get out of the water later that afternoon, you could have sworn that the tip of his dick had shown briefly before he discreetly tucked it away. That image had been burnt into your retinas and haunted you since then.

Unconsciously you licked your bottom lip, your core molten with slick, as the car came to a halt. You had arrived at your destination.

There was an old Ford at the front of the garage, someone working under the hood. When the driver’s door of your car slammed against the frame, Joel peeked up from the engine he was working on.

His eyes flickered with recognition. He grabbed an old rag to clean his big, veiny hands of grease and oil. You wondered what else would be big and veiny. Stop it, you dirty fucker, you told yourself.

“Hey, Joel!” You waved at him with a smile.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the grin staying on your plump lips.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Joel. Have not been for a long time now, y’know.” You punctuated, unsure of what you were trying to achieve with that comment. Well, you knew, but did not want to admit it to yourself.

“Oh, I know”, he husked, his voice suddenly gruff.

Tilting your head to one side, you looked at him with question marks in your pupils. Why had he accentuated that “know”? And why all the sudden was your cunt gushing? How could he make you wet with three simple words? You were going to need to request a booty call that night from your friend with benefits.

“Uh, uhmm”, you laughed nervously. “The engine light on my car has come on for the third time this week and the motor is making weird noises, could you check it out for me, please?”

“Sure thing, lemme see.” He took the keys from your hand, electricity cracking between you.

You pursed your lips, a gesture he did not pick up on. Joel walked to the driver’s side, activated something and then the hood popped open. He walked around to the front of the car and propped the hood up with the metal rod that was inside.

As Joel was inspecting the motor with his broad hands, you put one foot in front of the other in a vain attempt to rub your knees together and cause some friction in your needy cunt. You squeezed your thighs some more as you watched him work with his hands, and you imagined what it would feel like if he was working you instead.

Oof! Take it down a notch, girl, you thought to yourself when your clit twitched in desperation.

Then Joel turned around to look at you.

“When was the last time you changed the timing belt?”

“The... what now?” Your mind was hazy with lust, but even if you had been at your full mental capacity, you wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.

“The timing belt. In the engine. What ensures that the camshaft and crankshaft rotate in sync?” He looked at you with a cocked brow, cleaning his hands again on that old rag.

Oh, I would pay big bucks to be that rag.

“Are you even speaking English?”, you replied back, partially because you really had no idea what he was talking about, partially because your brain was all mushy with desire.

“I’ll take that as a ‘never’ then. You should really get it replaced, seems like that’s your problem. Have you had trouble starting the car?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, this very morning.”

“Yeah, sounds like it. You need to change it asap, if it breaks while you’re driving it would be bad, very bad. You could have an accident. Also trying to fix it after it’s broken will cost you even more.”

“So… will I need to break the bank?” You asked, already flinching at the idea.

Joel seemed to take a second to consider your options, leaning against the passenger’s door and scratching his scruffy beard.

“It’ll be $800.”

Your heart almost stopped, your mouth agape.

“Eight fucking hundred?” He nodded. “Well, can I― Can you not give me a bit of a discount here? You are best friends with my dad. Pretty please?” You laced your fingers together in a prayer and batted your eyelashes at him.

With a low grunt, he straightened his back and folded arms at his chest.

“I’m already giving you one. I would usually charge $1100. You’re already getting a bargain.”

“Well, what about $300?” You counteroffered.

Joel’s brows knitted together and then loudly scoffed.

“What? You think I’m a fucking charity? No, kiddo. $800 and that’s it. If I go any lower, I’d be losing money. Got a business to run here.”

You really did not have $800 bucks to spare. In fact, you barely had five hundred bucks to your name. Asking your family for money was not an option either ― not because you were proud (you were), but because money was tight. Your parents already had enough struggles as it was, you did not want to add to the pile.

You visibly pouted and stumped one foot against the gravel, vexed. A loud sigh slipped through your lips as you pressed the heel of your hands against your eye sockets. You needed the car.

Dropping your hands to your sides, you looked at Joel with puppy eyes, covering the distance that was between you. Pleading, you palmed his strong forearm, your fingers wrapping around the girth of his muscles.

For a brief second, you wondered if you would be able to fully grip his erection. Would your fingertips be able to touch your thumb? Or would he be so thick you would need both hands to handle him?

“Joel, pl―please?”, you stammered, your arousal playing games with your vocal cords.

Unwillingly, he scanned your body up and down ― slowly, taking his time, pondering his options.

Joel had wanted to fuck you for three years now, since your lustful eyes widened at the sight of only his tip on that dreadful summer day. He could vividly remember the way you had chewed your bottom lip as you watched him slide his cock back in his swim trunks, shamelessly, without blinking. You only stopped devouring him when someone talked to you, snapping out of your trance.

That night, when he got home, he had jerked himself off with you in his mind. He had imagined your plump lips sealed around his glans, the tip of your tongue playfully caressing the slit ― your sparkly eyes looking up at him, dreamy and teary, imploring. He had taken his sweet time, rejoicing in his fantasy, until he had spilled in the palm of his hand, as if he was a hormonal teenager. And every time he would fuck someone to find relief, he would visualize your cunt sheathing him, clamping down on his dick like a beartrap.

Ever since then, every time his eyes landed on you, his blood would boil and his cock would harden. Just like now, dick pounding against his boxers, begging to be paid due attention. With the eyes of his imagination, he saw himself letting go and throwing you into the back of your car, drilling your pussy relentlessly until you came wailing, asking for more.

Joel sucked in his breath ― he needed to calm down, distract himself with something else. You were his best friend’s daughter. He shouldn’t be daydreaming about fucking you stupid. He had seen you grow since you were a babe.

Never thought of you any other way until that fateful barbeque, when he realised you were a full grown ass woman. Suddenly he had seen you for what you were: a fuckable brat who could get his cock rock-hard with the simple lick a of a lip.

An idea formed as you begged him. You looked desperate ― desperate enough to him at least.

Joel cracked his tongue, his expression unwavering. But if you could see, you would know his cock was throbbing already.

“Well. I do have an idea.” His words dragged, his erection making him feel uncomfortable.

“You do? I’m all ears!” You exclaimed with a lopsided grin, your delicate fingers tighter around his forearm.

His head snapped to his right, pointing to a sign that read “Hand Car Wash”.

“If you help out all summer handwashing cars, I’ll consider part of your debt paid”, he explained, looking down at your hand touching him.

“In full?” You eyed him as if he was your goddamn saviour and that unsettled him.

“I said part of it, kiddo. I’ll leave it at $300.”

You batted your eyelashes at him. Did you know that your suggestiveness was wreaking havoc?

“Anything I can do so the $300 reduces to zero?”

“I’ll think about it”, he reluctantly conceded. Joel had a few ideas in mind, but none of them were precisely appropriate. Not for a twenty-one year old to do with a forty-eight year old at least, that was for sure. “Be here tomorrow at 9 AM, sharp. The team works from nine to twelve, Mondays to Fridays.”

You frantically nodded, almost squealing in excitement. The noise you made forced his cock to twitch. He could make you squeal too, only if you would let him.

“I’ll be here! Thanks, Joel.”

Before he could think, you let go of his forearm and hugged him close to your chest. To your round breasts. Those two meaty globes he wanted to palm so badly. He could swear your nipples were stabbing at him. You embraced him so close to your body, his bulge pressed gently against your lower belly, and he wondered if you could feel him.

And then you stepped back. Quickly, too quickly for his liking.

“You’ll need to leave your car here, don’t want you driving back in that junk. I’ll have a look at it tomorrow. I’ll give you a lift back”, he offered. “Lemme close first and I’ll be right back in five minutes.”

“No probs, take your time.” You smiled at him as you went back to your car to grab your things.

Soon you were on the passenger’s seat of Joel’s pickup truck. It was dusking on the horizon, the light scattering through the windshield. Joel put down the visor so he wouldn’t get blinded by the sun.

“So how’s college going?” His attempt at small talk made you smile.

“It’s good, hard but good. The first year was really bad though. I didn’t know anyone there, so had to make friends and everything.” You mentioned, shrugging, while mindlessly playing with your seatbelt.

“I’m sure you had no problems making friends”, Joel said distractedly, checking all the mirrors before turning at the streetlight.

You placed your elbow on the window frame, the back of your head resting on your palm, and you turned to look at him.

“How are you so sure?” You asked, curious to see what his take on you was. The man was like a brick wall.

“You’re so vivacious and talkative. You’re not the shy kind either, always were part of the popular group in high school, weren’t you?” You nodded, but he didn’t see you, all focused on the road ahead. “Bet’cha you have all the boys running after you.”

Well, that was unexpected. For both you and him, because you saw how his jaw clenched. It was almost imperceptible, but you were so aware of his every move, your body so in tune with his, you couldn’t have missed it.

Had he noticed you? Like, actually? Was it possible that Joel fucking Miller, your freaking dad’s best friend, could look at you with other than paternal eyes? Why would he make hat comment otherwise?

Your cunt, still wet from your previous innocent interaction, fluttered. You had no butterflies in your stomach ― they were actually clapping their fragile wings in between your legs. This man was a fucking menace to your senses, and he seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you. Or did he? Time to find out.

You giggled at his question and patted his upper thigh a couple of times, as if he had cracked the best joke you had ever heard. The pad of your fingers almost caressed his groin, that sweet dip where his thigh met his pelvis. The denim under your touch suddenly stretched as Joel flexed his leg, trying to release the tension that had rapidly built up.

You bit your bottom lip as he peered at you askance, your hand still too close to his crotch.

“I actually do, but none of them seem good enough, y’know? I want a man, not a boy”, you ventured, your top teeth sinking further in the soft pillow of your bottom lip.

You saw Joel sucking in his breath ― and the grin in your face grew. He was definitely not immune to you, at least not as much as you had originally thought. He looked so unattainable, always so distant, you had wondered if, in his eyes, you had never grown up.

“Do you now, kiddo?” He asked between gritted teeth, tone throaty.

His brown eyes drifted down for one second, watching the tips of your fingers rubbing the denim of his jeans slightly, and then he locked them back on the road. You heard a low grunt vibrating in his throat, although he tried his best to suppress it.

“Yeah. I’m sick and tired of stupid childish boys. They are just boring now, they lack― well, you know.” You let him brew with your unfinished sentence and removed your hand from his lap.

You could tell Joel finally was able to breathe again as his chest expanded slowly. His reaction to you left a prickling sensation in your pussy ― wet, throbbing, needy. You pressed your knees together, but what you really wanted was for him to reach for you and dunk his thick fingers in your slit.

“Your dad’s there.” He stated, succinct, after clearing his throat.

You looked over your shoulder and through the window to realise that, in fact, you had arrived home. Your father was already waiting for you on the porch, probably because he recognised the noise of Joel’s truck’s exhaust pipe. And then he started walking towards you.

You suppressed a pouting grimace ― you wanted just a few more minutes alone with Joel. A few more moves and, who knew? Maybe you would have him fingering the shit out of you. But thanks to your father, you would never find out.

Your father knocked on the passenger’s window and you rolled it down, smiling. Although what you really wanted to do was smack him for interrupting.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, sweetie. How’s the car?”

“Well…” You looked at Joel ― you had already forgotten what was it that needed replacing.

“The timing belt is going. Bit expensive but your daughter and I have reached an agreement. Will reduce the price for her but she’s gotta come work on the hand-wash business”, he explained, matter-of-factly.

“Sounds ‘bout right. Get your first taste of what the real world is like.” Your dad laughed at his own occurrence, while your mind drifted far, very far.

“I’d love to get a taste.” You answered feigning innocence, turning your face to Joel with a very wide smile painted on your mouth.

His eyes darkened, transfixed on yours. Oh, he knew exactly what you meant. He subtly stirred on his seat and you wanted to giggle so bad, but refrained.

“Hey, Joel. There’s a game on tomorrow night. You wanna come over? Can have something to eat, few beers, will be fun. I need the company, God knows this lady over here just complains while scrolling through her social media”, he pointed towards you with his thumb and you simply rolled your eyes at him.

Watching football with your old man was as boring as it got. However, if Joel Miller was there, he would have your undivided attention. Well, not him, the screen, obviously. Duh.

Your eyes shot to his, expectant. Your cunt was even more anticipative of his answer.

“Yeah, why not?”

Famous last words. That was Joel’s only thought as soon as he entered his best friend’s home. You greeted him at the door, all smiley and welcoming, ignoring the fact that you had been trying to get him hard the. whole. fucking. day.

You had come to work with some very short jeans ― every time you bent down to rub the sponge on the car’s bodywork, the bottom part of your perfectly round ass cheeks would show beneath the denim. Did you even wear any underwear? He thought not.

And then that white crop top was the fucking end of him. You had gotten it all wet when a loaded sponge dripped all over your front while you were talking to him about some trivial thing he could no longer remember. You had tittered and apologised while you scrunched it to get as much water out as possible. And the only thing he had been able to focus on were your pointy nipples, staring right at him, screaming for his caress.

After that, he had been at full mast the whole damn shift.

“Hi, Joel, come in!” You greeted him excitedly, swinging the door open.

He had taken a cold shower before coming over, but maybe what he needed was a fucking ice bath. Because the moment you batted your eyelashes at him, his cock twitched again. Joel had fisted his dick while showering, in the hopes that emptying his nuts before seeing you again would placate his lust for you.

Nope, hadn’t worked. Not one bit. This was probably a bad idea.

“Hey, kiddo.” He greeted you, emphasizing the last word.

He could literally be your fucking father, but that did not seem to deter you. If anything, it spurred you on. Had you no shame? Had he no shame? Because he should have stopped you the moment you started to be suggestive. Instead, he had let you go on, enjoying every single second of it.

Joel walked in and made his way to the kitchen, with you on his heels, where your father was lathering up some ribs with his secret sauce recipe.

“Hey, Joel. Let me get that from you”, he said before cleaning his hands on a kitchen towel and grabbing the beer crate from him.

Feeling they were still cold, his best friend cracked two open and handed him one. Joel lifted the can to his lips and saw you looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“Want one?” he asked, since you were of legal drinking age.

You shook your head no, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

“Eww, nah. I hate beer”, you sniggered and his dick spasmed some more.

“‘Course you do”, said your father before he could reply. “You only drink― What’s that crap again?”

“Gin and tonic, dad. It’s literally gin and tonic mixed. It’s not that fancy.” You huffed and puffed, shaking your head.

“This youth mixing everything because they can’t have proper alcohol. What’s next? Mixing beer with lemonade or something like that?”

“Well, that’s actually a thing. It’s called a shandy. Don’t be so old.”

Joel let you two have a go at each other. Observing the exchange, he sat down on one of the stools in front of the island, knees slightly bent.

“What?! You listening to this, Joel?” You father exclaimed with a joking tone. “Is Sarah like this too?”

“Yeah, exactly like this. Thinks beer is disgusting and everything. Thought I raised her better than that, but apparently not.” He jested, sipping from the tin can.

“How’s she doing?” His friend asked.

“She’s fine. She’s turning twenty-four in a couple of weeks. She moved out two months ago, gone to Houston for her new job.” He couldn’t help but be proud of his Sarah. She had accomplished so much. “She’s supposed to be here for her birthday, but we’ll see. She’s always so busy, don’t really know with what.”

“Aren’t they all? I barely see this one over here and she still lives under my roof.”

You folded arms, rolling your eyes again, while you sat down beside Joel on another stool.

“Sorry for having a social life? Like, what do you want me to do? Stay here with you watching football? Got better things to do, dad.”

“So you ain’t staying tonight then?” Your dad asked.

Joel turned to study you, interested in your answer. Could he have some reprieve tonight?

“Of course I’m stayin’. Would be rude not to when we have guests over, right, Joel?” And as the last words abandoned your mouth, you placed your left hand on his right thigh under the counter.

God have mercy.

Joel’s muscles stiffened, one in particular more than the others. His thighs were tense as he gripped the beer can with more strength than what was necessary. He kept his eyes to the front, taming his breathing.

He should have done something, slapping your hand away from his lap for instance. But he didn’t. And you took that as an invitation, because soon enough you were kneading his bulge under the kitchen island. Your palm rubbed harshly against the denim, and he saw you chewing your bottom lip.

Your father busied himself with seasoning the ribs and the French fries, oblivious to what was happening just a few meters away from him. This feels fucking wrong, but so fucking good, Joel thought to himself, your hand frisking his groin brazenly.

His cock was thudding with desire under his clothing, begging to be freed from its prison. You sensed his desperation, because you quickly tried to clasp your hand around it. Feeling your frustration at the inability of fisting him properly, Joel parted his legs to give you better access. If that was not an open invitation, nothing was.

I’m already going to hell. Joel had to stop himself of sucking his breath in when you started to unzip his jeans. His eyes slightly widened, but that was his only tell.

“So who do you reckon is going to win tonight?” Your father asked as your fingers dipped underneath his boxers.

Your warm skin against his beating cock dulled his senses. Then you took his dick out of his boxers and attempted to circle his girth while working him. Joel had to drink from his beer to shut himself up.

“Not sure, but I’d like for the Longhorns to win”, he spat the words out as best he could given the circumstances.

“Yeah, would be nice seeing our hometown win something this season”, your father continued with the small talk.

Joel’s thighs flexed when you started pumping him decisively. Fuck. He briefly looked down at his erection. It felt too damn good, your tiny fingers gripping him hard as you slowly moved your hand up and down on his lap. The tip of his cock was glistening with precum and you expertly rubbed it on his foreskin with your thumb.

As your father turned around to put everything in the oven, Joel took the chance to look at you. With your gaze averted, you pretended there was something interesting in the wall in front of you, while your right hand was buried underneath your slutty denim shorts. Joel could swear he could hear the squelching sounds your pussy was making while you played with yourself.

“Right, I think this is it. Gotta wait for an hour until everything’s properly cooked. Wanna move to the family room in the meantime?” He happily chattered as he walked around the kitchen island.

You reacted quickly and let go of his shaft. With his lap right under the kitchen counter, Joel hoped to hell his friend would not see anything out of the ordinary.

“Yeah”, he said with a coarse voice. “Need to go to the bathroom first.”

Your father just nodded as he sauntered towards the living room and Joel almost let go a sigh of relief. You simply chortled as you put your left thumb in your mouth, making it obvious that you were tasting his precum.

Joel’s cock jerked on his lap as he whispered a blasphemy. Quickly he tucked away his painful dick back in his boxers and zipped his jeans as he stood up. Then he retreated to the bathroom, needing a fucking moment to find his composure again.

Until he heard you.

“Gonna go get my phone charger, be back in a jiffy!”

Before Joel could close the door behind him, you slipped your hand in the door gap to stop him from shutting it. You caught him off guard, because he stepped back, brows knitting when he saw you under the door frame.

“What’cha doing?”, he questioned you.

You could feel the rigidity radiating from him. You entered the small bathroom and silently closed the door behind you, both of your hands holding onto the doorknob on your back.

“I came to finish what I started.”

You didn’t give him time to think ― if you did, you knew he would put an end to this. You were too turned on, your cunt beating every time your heart did. Your pussy lips were all wet and puffy ― you could feel your slick trapped between your folds, almost seeping into your panties. You had unleashed the beast and wanted it all for yourself.

So you threw yourself into Joel’s chest, your teeth softly scratching his Adam’s apple as one of your hands found its way back to his cock. He tilted his chin up and groaned at your touch. His pounding dick felt warm and velvety against your palm, so hard from working him under the kitchen counter a minute before.

Once he opened his eyes again, he looked down at you as you gripped his erection with both hands. Slowly you jerked him off, feeling powerful with him on the palm of your hands. Every time you pumped him, your clit would twitch in response. He had not touched you yet and your pussy was already palpitating for him. You could not wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

 “We shouldn’t, your father is right there―”

You could not care less. And to make it evident, you sunk to your knees in front of him, still holding his cock, now at eye level.

Your tongue darted out and you leaned his dick forward until the tip rested flat against your tongue, your hands still working his veiny shaft.

“You were saying?” You asked before briefly pecking his glans.

“Fuck”, was the only thing he managed to mumble.

That was your cue to give free rein to your lust. You nudged his column with the tip of your nose as your mouth drifted down to kiss his balls. Then your tongue slid out in its full extension, and you flattened it against the underside of his cock, slowly lapping at it until you reached the top and sealed your lips around his mushroom head.

Glancing up at him, you saw pleasure softening his features as you took him in further and further down, until his cock reached the natural resistance at the end of your throat. When his tip bottomed out in your mouth, Joel’s eyes found yours. His jaw visibly clenched at the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cock burrowed in between your lips, tears gathering on your bottom eyelids because of how his dick was outstretching you.

You moaned as Joel pulled his hips back, his shaft leaving your wet cavity, now full of precum and saliva. You swallowed to make room as you avidly tipped your head towards him, your lips hunting down his dick again. Slurping so you wouldn’t drown in fluids, you ate his cock like if it was the last edible thing on earth.

At that moment, something shifted in the air. As if Joel, finally, let go of his prejudices and accepted what you were giving him: your mouth to use as he pleased. His fingers hovered over your temples and then they clamped down on your skull as he held you in place.

“Stay still”, he commanded, and you nodded, his cock sitting snugly in your mouth.

His hips moved back and then forward, rocking his dick in and out of your lips. First slow, then picking up a pace. You stayed put throughout while he fucked your mouth mercilessly, palms against your knees like the good girl you were. Then his glans breached your uvula and you inevitably gagged at the intrusion.

He forced you to remain still as he tried to go further down, but there was nowhere for him to go. Your eyes welled up while you fought back the need to cough, almost unable to breathe.

Joel snapped his hips back and your mouth became free. You started panting while trying to catch a breath. Joel cupped your chin up so you would look at him. His sly grin told you he was enjoying himself a bit too much.

“Can tell you’ve not eaten many cocks, have you? Despite pretending to be this slutty brat in front of everyone, hm?” He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“Well, I―” He didn’t let you finish the sentence because as soon as you opened your mouth, he slotted his dick back in between your plump lips.

“I actually don’t wanna hear it.”

Inevitably your cunt gushed at his roughness. He was right though ― you had only given head to two guys before and their cocks did not measure up to his. Your jaw had actually started to hurt now due to the effort you were making to house his dick in your mouth.

Joel quickly resumed his pounding, fucking your mouth relentlessly ― his hips swaying back and forth in front of you.

“Sweetie! Can you bring my charger too please?” Your father’s question forced both of you to snap out of the sexual haziness you both were feeling.

You two froze in place, Joel’s cock still in your mouth.

“Or I can come get it.” Then you heard his booted steps coming up the corridor.

In a panic, Joel stumbled back and you sprang to your feet, eyes widened with fear.

“No! Don’t worry! I’m coming!” You shouted back, hoping that your voice sounded far away enough to him.

The steps stopped and you both listened to him walking back to the living room. “Thank you, sweetie!”

You turned to look at Joel, who had grabbed a bunch of toilet roll to clean off the mess on his still throbbing cock.

“Joel, I’m sorry, b―”

“Just go before he changes his mind and comes looking for you”, his voice was strained with effort. His erection had to be painful by now without any relief.

But he was right. You couldn’t risk it. Neither of you could. So with apologetic eyes, you slithered out the bathroom door and ran to your room to snatch a couple of phone chargers.

Fucking torture that was.

Joel had never been in a worse position than that. Sat on the couch with you, your father on the recliner just a couple of meters away ― and his dick still pulsating, his balls full of unspent cum. His cock would writhe in his boxers, asking for a relief that never came. He was in excruciating pain and was not able to concentrate at all. All the small talk your father did went over his head, didn’t pay attention to the TV’s commentary either.

From time to time, you would graze his thigh lightly ― and on one occasion you slid your naughty hand towards his groin. Luckily the living room was dark, the TV being the only source of light, so your father didn’t pay much attention to your provocations. You quietly kneaded his bulge, curling your fingers around his erection underneath, and it got to a point where Joel had to force your hand away, because he was too close to coming.

So, when he waved you both goodbye and got into his truck, he could literally not wait to get home. Under the dim light of the lampposts that filtered through the windows into the truck’s cabin, Joel freed his aching dick and fisted it from the base. With his head tilted back against the headrest, he furiously jerked off ― fast and with no measure, to the point it was almost hurting. Tension built up from his nuts upwards and when Joel finally got relief, he groaned audibly as his cum spurted out in white, thick streaks.

With a heavy sigh and some laboured breathing, he opened his eyes, looking for some tissues to clean the mess on his lap. As he was putting his cock back in his boxers, something caught his attention.

The darkness camouflaged you well, but he spotted you on the window of your room, watching him eagerly with half-lidded eyes and chewing your bottom lip. Then your head leaned forward, your chin almost touching your chest, and Joel suddenly understood what was happening. You had been touching yourself while observing him do the same thing, until you orgasmed too.

Your eyes locked on each other’s through the blackness, something dark and perverted floating in the atmosphere. The whole thing felt wrong. The right kind of wrong.

The next week had been a continuous dance between the two of you. You too suggestive, him too evasive. After you had seen him wanking in his car, you had thought you had him under your spell. He had looked like a damn teenager chasing his release, unable to contain it much longer.

But you couldn’t blame him ― you had had him on edge for almost five hours. First touching him under the counter, then sucking his dick in the bathroom, and finally kneading him on the couch with your dad only two meters away.

It all had affected you too, because as soon as you had scurried away to your room and had looked out the window, you fingered yourself with your eyes locked on him. You came so hard, that you had to steady yourself on the windowsill, trembling knees and all. And once the orgasm softened its grip on you, you had realised he had been watching you as you rode the last wave of your climax.

So yes, for a week you tried to seduce him again, because you needed to know how it all ended. Having him burrowed down to your guts was a necessity now. However, it got to a point where you almost gave up ― it was draining having to follow him around like a bitch in heat. You still had one ace up your sleeve though. One that you hoped to play this afternoon. Because if you didn’t fuck him today, you were going to lose your shit.

You focused on your task, which was rubbing the soaked sponge on the bodywork of the car. Two other people were doing the same thing on the back, while you were slightly bent over the hood trying to reach the middle. Your breasts brushed against the metalwork, your white tank top completely wet with soapy water, almost transparent now. The coldness was refreshing in the asphyxiating Texan heat and your nipples especially welcomed it, wrinkling tightly and showing through the fabric.

When you straightened, you caught a glimpse of Joel eyeing you intently. But you pretended you didn’t ― maybe you needed to play difficult, show him no interest. Reverse psychology. So for the rest of your shift you just ignored him, fully conscious of how his sight followed you at all times. Let him brew.

Joel didn’t say a word though, didn’t come close to you either. But you heard him wicker while you were openly teasing one of your teammates. Were you trying to make him jealous? Absolutely. So, you giggled and played with your hair at the tasteless joke your colleague told you. It wasn’t funny, but you wanted Joel to listen to your flirting.

Midday came around and the other two people working on the hand wash business said their goodbyes. Joel employed a father and son in the shop too, who left the garage to go home for lunch. And then it was only you and Joel left. Just as you had planned.

“Joel? Can you help me with this, please?” You politely asked him after lifting a bucket full of water up to your chest.

You took a couple of steps forward and the water spilt all over, soaking your shirt completely.

“Shit”, you heard him say under his breath, jogging towards you.

He slipped his arms underneath the bucket to release you from its weight and then placed it back down between both of you.

“What are you doing? You’re gonna hurt your back with such terrible manual handling.” He reprimanded you, tutting.

“Something hurts and it’s not my back, Joel.” You muttered, your fingers wrapping around his wrist to haul him closer to you.

You were done with subtlety. You guided his hand to your pussy and pressed it gently.

“Hurts right here.” The low, needy mumble poured from your lips like honey.

Joel’s eyes squinted just a tad, and his nostrils flared. You saw the inner battle in his chocolate eyes, and you fucking hoped he lost.

Soon you had the answer you had been looking for. The palm of his hand flattened against your crotch, holding you possessively, and pulled you against his broad chest. You couldn’t help but moan when your breasts pressed against him, your taut nipples aching with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking nasty, kiddo. Been watching you all week, trying to get me hard all over again, haven’t you?” You shyly nodded, biting down your bottom lip as you glanced up at him, his palm rubbing your cunt with determination. “Of course you have, you’re so cock drunk. You loved sucking me, didn’t you?”

You shook your head yes, holding onto the waistband of his jeans. You whimpered when his thumb burrowed in your pants, trying to find your slit over all that clothing unsuccessfully.

“Joel, please.” You begged for mercy, for relief, for something ― anything he could give you, you would take.

“You want me to fuck you, kiddo?” His free hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up, while his thumb kept nudging your damp slit. His mouth hovered over yours as you simply nodded again. “Hm? You want me to destroy your pussy?”

“Yes, yes, YES.” You were already gushing at his dirty talk.

With no more prodding, Joel bowed down and sunk his tongue in your mouth, darting in with the ferocity only a man on the edge could feel. He swept your entire cavity in an open-mouth kiss that left your knees shaking and your pussy throbbing. You moaned into his breath and your tongue lapped at his, the span on his fingers gently covering your neck and squeezing lightly.

Joel’s hand between your legs moved to your ass, pressing you into him. His swollen lump poked at your lower belly intimately and you couldn’t resist the urge to dip your hand in his boxers. He audibly groaned as you attempted to circle his whole girth and failed. Just like a week before, you would need both of your hands around his shaft to properly grip him. You pumped him once, very slow, your hand gliding down till it found his balls.

Joel grunted in the middle of the sloppy kiss and pushed you to go backwards until your body met the back of his pickup truck, which was parked at the end of the driveway. Out of prying eyes, you hoped. Not that you cared that much at this precise moment, anyway.

His beard scratched the skin on your cheek as his lips drifted down to your neck. You looked up to the clear sky before you closed your eyes, giving his pulsing cock a light squeeze that snatched a moan out of him.

Without warning, Joel broke the messy kiss and knelt before you, his hands tugging at the waistband of your shorts with no difficulty. Soon your pants were around your ankles, your panties quickly following, leaving you naked from the waist down. Joel helped you take them off but left your tennis on.

Still on his knees, he peeked up with a devilish smile, then leaned forward and lapped at your mound. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as your fingers raked his salt and pepper curls. The tip of his tongue brushed the point where your slit started and then licked upwards, his tongue skidding through your skin until it reached your belly button.

You pursed your lips, wanting him to go down, not up. In fact, you pushed him down ever so slightly and the cold of his breath against your wet skin when he laughed made you look down, frustrated.

He kissed the beginning of your slit again and when you thought he was going in, he stopped. You whimpered, thwarted, as he got back up to his feet and towered above you.

“You want me to touch you where it hurts, hm?” He questioned with his lips ghosting yours. “Your pussy? That’s where?”

Not waiting for your reply, his index dunked in your pearly furrow and traced it in its entirety, from your quivering hole to your thumping clit. And then he did it again, for good measure.

“You’re soaking, kiddo. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” To emphasize his words, Joel suddenly dived his finger in your opening, a squelching sound making it obvious that you were, in fact, dripping. “You hear that?” He forced his finger out and then back in, the wet, sucking noise even louder this time.

You frantically nodded as he fingered you, his thumb caressing your begging clit as he did. You mewled into his chest, eyes shut, trying to calm the fluttering of your inner walls around his lonely finger. Lonely not for long, because Joel then introduced a second. You held onto his sides, his tee shirt scrunching in your fists, the orgasm building up.

“C’mon, squeeze your cunt for me. Show me how tight you are”, he whispered in your ear as his relentless fingering picked up a faster pace between your legs.

You happily obliged and squashed your walls together around his fingers as he dextrously stroked your g-spot. All of a sudden, a firing sensation built in your clit without warning and the haziness of pleasure took over your senses abruptly. You came hard, very hard, wailing his name as he kept on fingering you until the last wave of your climax washed over you.

What the actual fuck? You thought to yourself, amazed. You rested your forehead against his chest, catching a breath and feeling your arousal wetting your inner thighs.

Still recovering from your unexpected orgasm, Joel picked you up and settled you down on the edge of his truck’s cargo bed. Your feet dangled in front of you, and you parted your legs to make room for him while you wrapped his neck with your arms and licked into his mouth.

“Now I’m gonna eat you raw, kiddo. Give you some of your own medicine.” His hoarse tone gave you goosebumps. Palming both of your breasts over your wet tank top, he pushed you down until your back met the floor of the cargo bed, your legs hanging freely from your knees down. “Is that what you want? This old man feasting on your pussy, on her? ‘S she gonna like it?”

“Joel, please, just― Yes, eat my pussy. Eat her, eat me, please.” You begged with a small voice while you pinched your nipples over your shirt, eyes closed.

And finally, he did. With his hands on your knees to keep them apart, Joel lapped at your cunt in one sweet sweep. Your body trembled with elation, shivers firing down your spine. His tongue caressed all the crevices in your shiny slit, lips puffy and reddened. His thumb found your clit as the tip of his tongue played with your leaking hole, going in and out a few times ― fucking you with his tongue.

You were not able to take it for much longer ― with Joel’s tongue lodged in your creamy fold and your fingers playing with your nipples, you were done for. Soon you came undone, tension growing in your lower belly and molten lava finding its way out. You howled his name, your knees pressing against his head, holding him in place as you came in his mouth. Joel sipped from your fountain, leaving not even one drop behind, your pussy licked clean of your own discharge.

His turn to find relief.

Even though Joel had been fisting himself while eating you raw, the roughness of his palm could not compare to your warmth. He just knew your pussy would hug his cock just right. And he was dying to find out.

Pushing his work jeans and boxers down to his ankles, he kicked his feet until they came off. Soon his security shoes and socks were kicked to the side too. With renewed energy, Joel jumped on to the cargo bed. You propped your torso up with the help of your elbows to study his erection, wetting your lips unknowingly.

Your eyes lingered on his cock for too damn long and it twitched on his hand.

“Spread your legs, kiddo.”

And so you did without complaints. You stretched your legs, Joel having a perfect view of your glistening pussy. You were so horny, he could literally see your cunt palpitating from this angle. Knelt between your legs, he leaned forward until the tip of his dick brushed against your slit, so damp again it just slid off. Jerking himself off, he nudged your soaked entrance with his mushroom head and your mouth opened, shaping a perfect O.

“So needy, isn’t she? Aren’t you? Playing difficult to catch today, trying to make me jealous with that stupid boy, but in reality, you’re just a desperate brat wanting to get her pussy drilled by her dad’s best friend.” His dirty talk did not stop while he pushed in, your flesh parting to house him until he bottomed out.

Joel moaned, sweat gathering on his brow, his hands on either side of your head. He stood still for a long minute while your cunt fluttered around him, sheathing his whole length. He could feel your inner muscles adjusting to him.

You were so cockstruck you didn’t even reply.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, so take it well, kiddo.” He warned before tilting his hips back and abruptly back in.

You wailed loudly at the first thrust, and Joel had to muffle your screams by covering your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm, but he didn’t let go. He did not want you to alert the neighbours around the garage. His hips bucked against yours and then, after a few teasing shoves, Joel started jackhammering you fast and viciously hard.

You draped your legs around his waist, the heels of your white tennis pushing on his ass cheeks, encouraging to go deeper and quicker. And so he did, uncovering your mouth to replace it with his.

Joel fucked you mercilessly, filthily. He drove his dick in and out of you in quick succession, drilling your tacky pussy. And he knew you were loving every single second of it. Your soft sobs only spurred him on and when your moist pussy clutched around his drumming cock announcing your orgasm, he couldn’t restraint himself for much longer.

He stoically let you come while riding your own climax. His balls tightened and his belly muscles strained, signalling his own relief.

“Where?”, was the only word that he managed to whisper.

Your eyes were still closed, a languid smile lingering on your lips, all blissful and satisfied while he was still fucking suffering.

“In my mouth.” Your reply was almost his undoing.

Joel snapped his hips back, his hard, throbbing cock slipping out. He dragged his body across yours until his thick, hairy thighs were on each side of your head and his nuts were resting on your chin, his ass hanging over your breasts.

“Open”, he husked, raspy and throaty.

Still with your eyes closed, you parted your lips, and Joel shoved his beating cock down your throat unceremoniously. He leaned forward over you ― his hands holding his weight off you, flat against the cargo bed’s floor. And then Joel started fucking your mouth mindlessly, as if it was your cunt ― his testicles slapping against your chin and your eyes welling up.

He could feel your head almost rocking up and down below him with the strength of his thrusts. You only stopped swaying underneath him when your hands grabbed his buttocks, your fingers sinking in his flesh.

With a guttural growl, Joel came undone and his thick cum filled your mouth. You stayed still while the last white ropes spurted out the slit on his tip, finally reaching the bliss he had been chasing for a week.

Joel lifted his hips off your face and his dick came out of your mouth with a pop.

“Eat it, kiddo.” He requested of you, towering above you.

From this angle, flat on your back and with Joel almost sat on your face, you saw first his balls and then his soft cock hovering over your eyes. What had just happened was filthy, and you loved it, even though you were sure that your throat would hurt tomorrow.

“It’s $300 if I swallow”, you kidded out of nowhere, almost gargling with his cum as your mouth was full of it.

Joel chuckled as he came off you, sitting down on your left.

“Deal”, he agreed.

And so you gulped his cum down, letting it slip down your throat until it landed in your belly. You smiled at him before opening your mouth to show him it was empty.

Joel’s chest rumbled with satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

[selchielesbian]

I hate Christopher from the Sopranos so much. Adriana ditch this loser and get with a real man (me)

[strang3lov3]

Jet Stream

Joel has his fun with you after learning his shower head has a jet stream setting.

Part two of my miniseries for @noxturnalpascal Can be read as standalone but check out the first part Lather ! Thank you @merz-8 @noxturnalpascal and @tightjeansjavi for all their brainstorming on this fic!

tags-soft dom!joel, maybe not so soft dom! joel, overstimulation station, pet name (good girl, sweetheart, honey, darling) crying, fingering, multiple orgasms both clitoral and vaginal, smoochin’, praise, blowjobs, snuggles

notes- thank you for your patience with me! Hope you’re all having a lovely start to your February, please harass me and spank me to get part 3 and my Valentine’s Day one shot out by next week ❤️💖

Kindly edited by @papipascalispunk ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

Joel wakes up early, even on Saturdays. Taking advantage of the little pleasures in life, he watches squirrels and chipmunks run up and down the trees in his backyard, listening to the birds chirp while the sun rises. When the sun rises, he’ll take his morning shower and sigh in relaxation under the hot water. Let it wash over him for a little too long before he scrubs his body. 

But not this Saturday. Today, that steady pelting of water on his back and chest feels like a trickle compared to what it’s usually like. Joel’s been noticing this for a while, maybe you have too. He stands in the shower, annoyed at the glacial pace of the suds sliding off his body. After what feels like an eternity passes, he shuts off the water and examines the shower head closely. Yeah, that’ll do it, he thinks. Limescale. It’s built up around the shower head, into all the grooves. This commonly happens when hard water runs through a house. It’s an easy fix. 

Joel unscrews the shower head from its fixture then dries off. He goes downstairs and grabs a bucket and a jug of vinegar from his cleaning supply closet. He soaks the shower head in the vinegar-filled bucket for about an hour before taking the shower head out, using an old toothbrush to scrub the grooves and holes in the shower head. Joel hears a creak upstairs and quickens his scrubbing, he doesn’t need you coming downstairs and scolding him for over-exerting himself. Yeah, yeah – he should be asking you for your help and all that, but you’re too pretty for a chore like this, he thinks. Besides, his shoulder is getting better. Not quite as tender as it was a week ago. As Joel wraps up the finishing touches of cleaning the shower head, he notices some etched words that were previously covered by the limescale – Rain, Shower, Jet Stream.

Well, would ya look at that. A mischievous grin forms on Joel’s lips. His brain has been fucking addled thinking about you. You, and the way you came on your own fingers, whimpering his name. How after, you pushed your fingers past his lips, how sweet your arousal tasted on his tongue. How he’s been yearning to touch you, fuck you, but his stupid goddamn shoulder is still hurting. Hurting, but healing nonetheless. God, is he addled. But now, with this nifty little jet stream setting, he can have you melting in his hands in no time. It can do all the work for him, leaving his shoulder unharmed and without disruption to its healing process. He wonders, how many times will he make you come?

–

The day goes by as normal. It’s evening, Ellie’s not home. You’re on the couch with Joel after eating pasta for dinner. You’re knitting a blanket using mismatched yarn, just trying to find some use for the odds and ends. Joel’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch and bouncing his leg, twiddling his fingers. He looks bored, anxious. Seinfeld is on TV, Joel loves this show. He rented the series DVDs from the library in Jackson and claimed to have scratched them when they were past due. “Joel, quit,” you scold him. He’s bouncing the couch. 

“My bad,” Joel says. You can feel him staring at you. He’s touching his hair. You turn your face to look at him, raising your eyebrows expectantly. Joel wears an anticipatory look, but stays quiet. You turn your attention back to the TV and he’s now combing his fingers through his hair, sighing loudly. “Hmmm…” he hums, “What’s a guy to do…”

You drop your knitting needles in your lap. “What, Joel?”

“Oh, nothin’,” he says. Joel kind of just gestures to his hair and shrugs, like you’re supposed to know what he’s asking for. You do, of course, but he can use his words. “Ahem,” Joel clears his throat, now twirling a finger around one of his curls cheekily, making a real big show out of it. He’s smiling now.  

“Do you need me to wash your hair again, Joel?”

“If you’d be so kind, darlin’,” he grins. 

You finish the row you’re currently knitting before wrapping up your work and putting it into a basket and under the end table next to the couch. After pausing the TV, you stand up and Joel outstretches his left hand to you, which you take in your own. He groans loudly as you pull him to his feet where he stands in front of you. There’s something about him today. When you washed his hair last week, he was bashful and awkward. Today, he’s confident with his sly grin, that teasing look in his eye like he’s working an angle. Maybe he’s just excited for another shower blow job, which you’ll happily provide again. You smile too, he’ll be 0 for 2. 

When you and Joel arrive at the bathroom, he locks the door just like last time. He’s unbuttoning his jeans, not bothering to hide the bulge in his boxers. You don’t bother with the formalities of your partnered shower as you and Joel undress yourselves. It’s unnecessary at this point, after the fortuitous, amatory events of your last one. Joel notices your smirk before he turns on the hot water. He can tell you think you’re gonna pull one over on him again. That’s fine, you can believe whatever you’d like.

Joel opens the shower curtain. “After you,” he purrs, offering his hand to you as you step into the tub. You stand underneath the stream of water, wetting your hair and letting the hot water warm your skin. It feels stronger today for some reason. “Pressure’s different,” you tell Joel. 

“Is it now?” Joel asks, feigning ignorance as he joins you in the tub, cock already half mast. You step closer to him, reaching for it, feeling him grow harder in your hand. Massaging his cock, tracing your fingertips around his thick head and along the veins of his shaft, you bite down on your smile. “Yeah, that’s nice, trouble,” he sighs in pleasure, “Aren’t you something?” 

“Feel good, Joel?” you murmur. 

“Mhm,” Joel hums, “Feels just wonderful, sweetheart. You’re too good t’me.” 

Shampoo and conditioner can wait. You take the time to massage his cock a while longer as you wrap your free hand around Joel’s neck, toying with the curls at the back of his head. They’re not quite wet yet as you’ve been hogging all the hot water, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He lets you stroke his member as he holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaning in to kiss you softly. As you deepen the kiss, gently biting his plump bottom lip, Joel pulls away, removing your hand from his member.

“You done yet?” he asks you. 

You’re almost offended. Asshole. You were enjoying that kiss. “Not quite,” you reply, leaning forward to kiss him, touch him some more. 

Joel pulls away from you as he blocks your hand. He grips your wrist  and holds it behind your back as he spins you around, your back now facing him. “Well you’re gonna have to be,” he says. “The lady’s ’sposed to come first. That’s how we’re doing things from now on.”

“Yeah, right Joel. You can’t touch me, your shoulder is still fucked up.” you squirm away from him, but he keeps his hold on you. Gentle, firm. 

“Worry about yourself,” he warns in a tone much less teasing than before. He winces as he uses his bad arm to reach for the shower head, “Y’think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“I…” you trail off as he hovers the shower head above your torso, peering over your shoulder as he watches the water fall down your curves. He hums softly as he focuses the stream over your breasts, feeling you begin to twitch as the water teases your nipples. 

“My shoulder is healing, actually. But yeah, it is still a little fucked up,” Joel continues, “Don’t need to touch ya anyhow.”

Ohh, you’re getting it now. Joel thinks he cracked the code. “I appreciate the thought, Joel,” you chuckle. “But if you’re planning on using the shower head to make me come, just go ahead and put it back where it belongs. I’ve tried that already.”

“Figures,” he teases. “You wanna know somethin’?”

“What’s that, Joel?”

“Water pressure on this thing sucked lately, so I was cleanin’ this thing out this morning,” he begins. He keeps your arm behind your back as he sits both you and himself down on the shower bench, keeping your back pressed firmly against his torso. “Does this hurt?” he whispers before continuing. You shake your head no. “Good,” Joel says. “Anyway, wouldn’t ya know it, there’s a jet stream setting on this thing.” Joel nudges a foot between your legs and taps you. “Open ‘em. You stay like this for me.”

He’s speaking with such authority, such a commanding tone. You’re almost nervous. You could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice last week just how severely you pissed him off with the way you touched yourself in front of him, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. How you further taunted him when you pushed your fingers past his lips, dangling the premise of tasting your sweet cunt over his head. You should have known he’d retaliate.

“Was not a fan of how you got yourself off without me, pretty rudely, might I add. Told you I wanted to help, you fuckin’ deviant.”

Yup, you’re correct. He’s still fucking pissed. He did a good job keeping a lid on it until now. “Joel,” you breathe. 

“So yes, you’re right. I can’t touch ya yet,” he continues in a low voice, “S’why we’re gonna see what this does to ya, sweetheart.”

Joel keeps the shower head on the rain setting for this part. With his free hand, he cups the back of your knee and has you set your foot on the bench where you and Joel sit. This way, you’re nice and open for him to do as he pleases. He brings the shower head lower, hovering it over your torso, down your tummy, then your pussy. It’s a nice sensation, warm and gentle. When you lean your head back on his shoulder and sigh softly, he ups the ante. Momentarily, he futzes with the showerhead and switches it to the jet stream setting before bringing it back to your center. He starts the stream at your inner thighs first, working his way inward until the stream is massaging your lips, first one side and then the other. Slowly, he twists his wrist, getting your pussy used to the new sensation. He can’t see much from this angle, can’t feel anything either. He’s waiting for you to jolt and moan to know when he’s struck gold. “Shhh…” Joel quiets you when you do just that. “Oh yeah, this’ll do just fine, hm?”

Fuck, it’s intense. It’s very intense, almost too much. “Joel, fuck,” you cry. You should not have fucked with him. 

“Just relax,” he instructs, “You’ll get used to it.” But you’re not getting used to it, not even close. It’s a powerful, nearly electric sort of feeling that takes you wholly as you jerk and stutter in his hold. “Mm-mm, you stay here. Quit your squirmin’.”

“S’too much Joel,” you whine. 

“S’kinda the point,” he mumbles, “But you’re doin’ good, sweetheart. Jus’ let it happen.”

Joel rotates his wrist, directing the stream of water in tight, steady circles on your clit. The striking, uncomfortable and intense feeling is beginning to dissipate as your pleasure begins to build. Joel’s hot breath is on your neck, his torso rising and falling steadily. You can feel his warm, stiff package pressing against your lower back. “Joel, it feels so good,” you breathe. “Please don’t stop.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t dream of that,” he replies.  The movement of Joel’s wrists never falters, though he knows it’ll be sore in the morning. You move your hips in tune with his movement, eyes squeezed shut and moaning quietly, your open mouth pressed against his neck. He wonders if maybe you haven’t quite realized the circumstance you’re in, what he plans to do to you. “Your wish is my command, sweetheart,” he mumbles, wearing a smug grin.

Joel lets go of his hold on your leg to touch your breasts with his free hand, kneading your flesh. When he teases your nipples, the sensation of it all is heightened. Within moments, you’ve reached your peak. It’s intense and the feeling lasts long as Joel, with the help of the shower head, helps you ride out your high. Joel gives you a moment to catch your breath as he points the shower head at the floor, letting you relax against him. After a minute passes, you try to lean forward to get up, but Joel stops you by wrapping his strong arm around your torso and keeping you pressed tightly against him. “Ohh, you’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not done yet,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, your temple. 

“I know, but it’s your turn.”

“Oh, not quite. We’re way past turns and bein’ square and even and all that,” he says. “Yeah, that went out the door with that little stunt you pulled on me last week. So let me spell it out for you, darlin’, I am not finished with you.”

“Joel, what are you–” Joel cuts you off by bringing the shower head back to your pussy. Reaching out for something, anything, your hand finds purchase in his hair, tangling your fingers in his curls as you tug gently. “Joel, fuck,” you pant. 

“Not goin’ easy on ya,” he warns. “S’that alright?” Your heart swells. Always the gentleman, Joel is. You nod against his cheek. “Then you stay just like this for me,” he instructs, whispering quietly against the shell of your ear, “Just like this. That’s all ya gotta do, s’real easy.” He tells you this like he’s giving you a choice, but subtly, he places his hand his back on your knee, keeping your cunt exposed to him for his use. Then Joel, realizing he has a better idea, gently pushes your leg off the bench. Potentially against his better judgment, he takes your own free hand and places it on your knee. “Be a good girl,” he murmurs, trusting you with this privilege perhaps too early in tonight’s endeavor. But he knows you, you’ve always been all bark and no bite – he’s not worried about you. Not a bit. 

“I’ll be good, Joel,” you whimper, eager to make this easier on yourself. You’ve never felt a sensation this intense before, and you know to tread carefully with Joel. Especially given what led you to this mess you’re in with him. 

Joel smirks, he’s right as always. Already you’re so docile, so well-behaved, so pliant. 

He finds your clit with the fingers of his left hand to help him with the shower head in his right hand. After finding that sweet little bundle of nerves with the jet stream, Joel traces along your lips momentarily before pushing a finger inside your warm, wet pussy. “Joel, oh my god,” your right hand leaves its place in his hair and you reach for his bicep instead, not exactly sure what your goal is here. You just need Joel’s comfort, to touch him, feel him, hold onto him for dear life as he delivers you deep and powerful pleasure just moments previously unknown to you. 

“I know sweetheart. Can’t do anything about it, huh?” he taunts, pushing in another finger. He curls them slowly, savoring the feeling of your wet heat pulsing around his knuckles. “Y’look very beautiful like this, ya know.” Joel quickens the pace of his fingers. You moan as you beg him for mercy of some sort as he fucks you on his fingers, while torturing your poor, overworked clit with that shower head. It’s sensual, satisfying, and nearly painful all at once. “Doin’ so good. I know you’ve got another one in ya.”

“I don’t know, Joel, I’m– I’m–”

“Take it easy. Focus right here,” he says, curling his fingers faster now. You’re a mess of panting and whimpering as Joel works his magic, stroking that sweet spot inside of you he made short work of finding. You’re soaking his fingers with your arousal as he touches you, a second orgasm washing over you quickly.

You’re panting, heart pounding as you try to come down from your high. “Please,” you breathe heavily, “Please Joel, I– oh–”

“Not quite sure what all that beggin’s for, sweetheart. Told ya what you were in for tonight,” Joel whispers in a honeyed voice. “You got one more, though.”

No way. It’s not possible. This is too much, you’re certain you’ll be satisfied for an eternity after this. “Joel, I don’t think I can,” you cry, hot and salty tears of overstimulation rolling down your cheeks. “I don’t–”

Joel interrupts you. “Yes, you can,” he says. Joel pulls his fingers and the shower head away from your pussy, giving you another moment to breathe. You’re still breathing heavily, shaking and trembling slightly. Poor thing, not used to all of this. It’s a lot on you and Joel knows this. “I’m right here, I got you,” he coos. He adjusts the way he’s holding you for a moment to look at your face, wipe away your tears. His brow furrows as he searches your face, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your jaw. “Breathe, baby. S’okay. Ain’t gonna break.” 

You nod, stutter out some incoherent response. Joel’s eyes are warm and soft as he calms you, kissing your lips and your nose. 

“What do you think?” he asks, “Reckon you got another one in ya. Just one more, hmm?”

“Okay,” you agree with a small smile. “Okay.” 

“Attagirl,” Joel praises. He brings the showerhead back to the space between your thighs but you catch his wrist, pulling it away from your body before he has the chance to use it on you again. 

“Want your fingers,” you request in a soft voice. “Can you just use your fingers on me?”

Joel nods. “We can try it,” he offers. “Was startin’ to get cold anyway. Why don’t you switch it back to the regular setting and put it back where it belongs?”

You nod and follow suit, playing with the settings before settling on the regular shower feature. You stand up to put the shower head back, letting the water wash over both you and Joel. On your way back to sit with him he holds your hips, steadying your shaky legs. You sit back between his legs, spreading your own. You gasp softly when Joel cautiously brings his right hand to your pussy, starting out with slow, careful circles on your clit. He groans in pain and shakes his head. “Does it hurt?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he answers. “Why don’t you help me out, hm? Use your own hand? Kind of your specialty, ain’t it?” Joel reaches for your hand and then stops suddenly. “Or,” he says, “What if we try something new?”

Oh, man. You’ve experienced a lot of firsts tonight, you’re not sure you can handle another. 

“That poor clit of yours is all worn out huh?” Joel asks. “C’mere. Turn around and face me,” Joel helps you up and then has you straddle his lap, his rock hard cock is between your bodies, the tip all blushed. “I’ve gotten pretty good at doin’ things with my left hand.”

You’re quick to retort. “Except for getting yourself off,” you tease.

“Oh, yeah. Rub it in,” he replies. He snakes his left hand back between your bodies, his middle two fingers pushing inside you. “Was thinkin’ could see how it works out. How’s this feel?” Joel curls his fingers inside of you in a repetitive come hither movement, stroking your g-spot.

“Good,” you tell him. It does feel good, if not a little unfamiliar. 

“Just focus on my fingers,” he instructs. As Joel works his fingers inside of you, you rest your forehead on his own. Breathing steadily, focusing on the feeling it stirs inside of you. It’s a new, different sort of pleasure. “Good girl,” he praises in whispers, “So good for me. You’re almost there.”

You begin to rock your hips into his hand, ignoring the way the hard material of the bench feels on your knees. Your clit is still untouched yet, here you are, that familiar feeling beginning to bloom in your tummy. Nothing’s ever made you feel the way you do right now, here in Joel’s arms. You’re liquid in his hands as your last orgasm begins to build, It’s deeper inside you, a slower build to ecstasy as Joel fucks you on his fingers.Your climax washes over you in waves, white-hot pleasure coursing through your through your body. “Oh my god, Joel,” You come with gasping breaths and moans for the last time, your fluttering walls choking Joel’s fingers and your arousal pooling in his hand. 

Joel holds you tightly in his arms as you come down from your high for the last time tonight. You’re not sure how much time passes, but when you feel ready, you lift yourself up on your knees and reach for Joel’s cock, guiding him to your entrance. 

“Woah, woah–” Joel stops you. 

“You don’t have to do a thing,” you try. “Just let me–fuck. I need you, need to fuck you.”

“After all that? You still want more?”

“Wanna take care of you,” you plead. You want him so bad, need to feel him, need to be closer to him, you need to watch his face. 

Joel smiles sadly as he shakes his head. “You know I can’t give that to ya,” he strokes your cheek, continuing, “God knows I wanna feel you too, sweetheart. We can’t get ahead of ourselves with my damn shoulder and all that. Just give me a few more days, hon.”

You nod in agreement. He’s right, unfortunately. 

“And then I’m all yours,” Joel reaches for your ass and lifts you up, then sits you back down on the bench after he stands up. He stands in front of you, holding his heavy cock between his thumb and first two fingers, bouncing it slightly. “Stay right there,” he says. “You just sit all pretty-like for me, just like ya always do.” 

Joel reaches for the back of your head and guides you to be closer to him, parting your lips with the tip of his cock. He tastes salty, heady and masculine. You cup his balls and squeeze gently, playing with them for a moment before gripping the base of his dick. Joel pushes into your mouth slowly. You swirl your tongue around his tip and his shaft, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks. You love the way he tastes, how he feels, how he jerks his hips slightly when you trail your tongue along an extra sensitive spot of his member. 

“So good,” he praises, “Always so good.” 

Joel maintains eye contact with you as he draws in and out of your mouth, watching you with warm, adoring expression. He loves your eyes, how you watch him as he fucks your mouth. 

Moments go by and Joel’s squeezing his eyes shut, his movements starting to become frenzied. “M’close, hon,” he warns. You reach for his hand with your own and squeeze it a couple of times as if to tell him it’s okay, that he can let go. Joel does just that. He comes with a deep groan, his soft tummy and his chest heaving as he breathes heavily, loudly through his nose. His thick, heavy cock twitches in your mouth as ribbon after ribbon of his hot spend coats your tongue and your throat, which you swallow with pleasure. Joel lets out a strangled sort of noise when you begin to pull your mouth off of him, but first licking his head a couple of times. “Too much, too much,” he warns urgently. Interesting. He can dish it but he can’t take it. But you keep your thoughts about Joel’s overstimulation threshold to yourself. “M’not done with you sweetheart, I promise,” Joel says as he comes down from his high, his breathing now beginning to steady. “Few more days and you’re in trouble.”

Your insides flutter at the prospect, what a welcome threat. You smile as Joel takes your hand and lifts you to your feet, shuts off the shower and reaches for your towel. He helps you to dry off, then dries his own self off before helping you to your feet. Still holding your hand, he takes you to his bedroom and lifts up the covers. You get underneath and Joel tucks you in, walks around to his own side of the bed and joins you. Knowing what you need after all of this, he doesn’t bother asking before pulling you into his side, kissing your cheek and the top of your head. Holding you close and telling you what a good job you did. Making sure you’re okay, asking if you need anything, water, a snack. Whatever. “No,” you tell him before closing your eyes. 

Just as you’re drifting off to sleep, Joel whispers in your ear, “Hon.” 

“What, Joel?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. 

“We forgot to wash my hair.”

[withwritersblock]

More Hearts Than Mine-Meeting her Family

~More Hearts Than Mine by Ingrid Andress~

Author's Note: this is the first of my one shot collection series where Luke and Y/N do varies fluffy (or angsty) activities with each other's families ! Per usual not edited Summary: Luke meets Y/N's family for the first time Warnings: I don't think so? Word Count: 3,155 Luke Hughes x fm!reader

Luke stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection, running his fingers through his curls. He held the gel product in his fingers as he tried to style his hair perfectly. He got a haircut. The sides of his hair were shaved as the top of his hair was longer on the top. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It’s been almost a year since he had his hair this short. 

Y/N walked into the bathroom, wearing a maroon sweater with black jeans covering her frame. “Lukey, you look handsome. Please leave it alone,” she mumbled as she took a hold of his forearm. He glanced towards her direction in the mirror before he dropped his hands from his hair.

“It’s so short,” he said as he leaned towards the mirror. She rolled her eyes as she looped her arm through his. “I didn’t think she was going to shave it like this when I said shorter on the sides,” he explained, looking at his reflection again.

“Hey,” she mumbled as she reached her hand over, taking a hold of his chin to force his gaze to her. “You look very cute,” she muttered as she leaned towards him and kissed him briefly.

“Cute’s good right? I mean for meeting your family? Cute is supposed to be-”

“Luke,” she mumbled, raising her eyebrows. He nodded, taking a deep breath as he turned on the sink to wash the remainder of the gel in his hands. “It’s just three days,” she mumbled as she rested her hand onto the bathroom counter. 

“Three days is a lot of time to mess up and make your parents hate me,” he let out as he shifted his body to fully face her. She smiled towards him while shaking her head. 

“You want the cliffnotes?” she asked him and nodded as he delicately placed his hands onto her waist. He toyed with the ends of the sweater as he looked deeply into her eyes. 

“My mom will love you. She’ll say you’re too skinny and will feed you all the cinnamon rolls you can eat. She’ll probably end up loving you more than me,” she said with a wide smile. 

“My dad likes to think he’s this big tough guy. He’ll try to intimidate you but he’ll be a big softy once he sees how much I love you,” she explained. His hands slowly looped around her waist, pulling her closer. His cheeks flushed slightly as the word love leaves her mouth.

“My sister is nosey, she’ll try to get you to blush and she’s really good at it. She may even ask about our sex life,” she explained, raising her eyebrows as she watched his eyes widened. “Don’t tell her anything,” she teased. He nodded dramatically as she rested her hands on his chest. 

“My brother will probably ask you a thousand questions about hockey.” She leaned towards him wrapping her arms around the center of his back. He squeezed her tighter. “You’ll be okay, everyone is going to love you,”

“Am I allowed to touch you, or do I avoid all contact?” he asked, she chuckled as if he was joking but he was serious. She pulled away, keeping her arms wrapped around the center of his back.

“They know you’re my boyfriend, Lovely,” she teased. 

He licked his lips nervously, “I know but are they weirded out if we cuddle on the couch or something,” he asked as he brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. 

“Please cuddle me,” she muttered as she leaned towards him and delicately pecked his lips, “But maybe wait to kiss me until tomorrow,” she let out.

“Noted,” he muttered before he kissed her for a few more moments.

~~~

Luke drove the hour and half it took to get to her parents house. With the ran and the traffic it took thirty minutes longer than normal. Luke was quiet, taking deep breaths as he tried to calm his nerves. Every so often she would reach her hand over and squeeze his hand that was in his lap. He would smile softly towards her briefly before he would shift his gaze back to the road. 

He slowly pulled into the long driveway into her childhood home. She lived in the middle of nowhere. “You can park there, Honey,” she said as she pointed to the small gravel side of the driveway. He nodded as he slowly pulled the car into park. He let out a long drawn out huff of air as he looked towards her. “Just be yourself, my love,” she hummed as she reached her hand across to rest her hand onto his cheek. She ran her thumb across the skin of his cheek. 

“I don’t know how to do that. What if they think you’re too good for-” she silenced him by kissing him. He melted into the kiss as his body relaxed. She pulled away, keeping her lips a mere inch away from him. His eyes fluttered open as he took another deep breath, “Thank you,” he let out before he pecked her lips once more.

“Come on, Lukey,” she mumbled as she opened her passenger side door and stepped outside. The rain had stopped during the last ten minutes of their ride. He stepped out of the car as well, slamming the door shut as he squinted his eyes.

“Please don’t call me Lukey in front of them,” he whined. She fought off the smile on her lips as she shook her head.

She walked towards him as she linked her arm with his as she whispered, “I’ll think about it,” she paused, “Lukey.”

He rolled his eyes playfully as they continued up the small path towards the front door. His heart began to quicken as they stepped up onto the deck, the board creaking as they stepped towards the dark blue door. She met his gaze and he gave her a reassuring nod before she knocked a few times before she pushed the door open. She stepped inside, dragging Luke into the house. 

Her house was a small farm-like house. It was cluttered but homey. Her living room had the fireplace lit and it was already quite warm in the house.

“Mom! Y/N and her boyfriend are here!” her little brother shouted as he jumped from the couch to greet the pair at the door. Luke’s cheeks flushed red instantly as his eyes widened. Y/N glanced towards Luke admiring his pink cheeks before she looked towards her little brother. Who’s not so little anymore, he’s fifteen and already taller than their dad.

“EJ, look at you!” she let out as he jogged towards them. He hugged her instantly, chuckling. After a few seconds she pulled away and looped her arm around Luke’s again. “EJ, this is Luke,” she said, pointing towards him. Elijah lit up as he reached his hand across to Luke to shake his hand. Luke quickly returns the gesture.

“You say that like I don’t know the guy.” Elijah muttered excitedly. Luke smiled, “Great game the other night, I’m a huge fan,” he continued.

“Thanks man. Y/N tells me you’re a goalie?” Luke offered. Elijah nodded dramatically. Before their conversation could continue her parents emerged from the kitchen together. Her mother was practically tearing up at the sight of them.

“Elijah James, will you let them enter the damn house!” her mom asked teasingly. Elijah moved out of the back towards the couch to his video game he was playing. “Come in, come in!” she said excitedly. Her mom guided them towards the living room to allow the couple to breath. 

“Oh Luke, we’ve been so excited to meet you.” her mom let out as she gave him a hug, his eyes widened as he returned the hug. He looked towards Y/N awkwardly. Y/N chuckled as she hugged her dad as he was ignoring Luke and her mom was ignoring Y/N. “How was the drive?” she asked him.

“It was raining but otherwise it wasn’t too bad,” he replied, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh good, come on, dinner is ready,” she said as she began walking back towards the kitchen to walk towards the dining room.

“Two point night the other night, huh?” her dad offered, keeping his hands in his pocket as he looked Luke up and down.

“Yes Sir,” he mumbled, Y/N tried to fight off the smirk toying to her lips. Y/N gave her dad a warning look.

“That was a really impressive goal in OT,” her dad let out as he cautiously clapped his hand against Luke’s shoulder. He walked towards Elijah who was still in the living room. Luke and Y/N walked through the house, ending the conversation there.

“You’re right, he’s scary,” he whispered into her ear. She rolled her eyes playfully as they wandered into the dining room where her sister, Jasmine was sitting waiting. She lifted her gaze from her phone to see the pair walking into the room. Jasmine was her younger sister. Jasmine and Elijah are twins.

Jasmine and Elijah were vastly different. It was hard to even believe that they were twins. Jasmine had dyed red hair and was a part of the school’s theater program. Elijah was the starting goalie for the varsity hockey team. He had been since he was a freshman. Despite their many differences they were very close and they shared the same friend group.

“Hey!” she said excitedly as she lifted her gaze from her phone. “Oh he’s cuter in person, nice job sis,” she said as she scanned Luke up and down. Y/N clenched her jaw as she guided Luke to sit at the dining table. They manuvered towards the empty side of the table, where she was closer to her dad and he was closer to her mom. 

“Luke, this is Jasmine. She tends to lack a filter when talking to people,” she explained as Luke pulled out Y/N’s chair for her to sit. She smiled towards him before she sat down. Luke sat down beside her, reaching for her hand desperately. She delicately interlocked their fingers as she moved her chair closer to him.

“Get a man who pulls out my chair for me,” she said as she mocks typing in her Notes App. Luke pulls his lips between his teeth as he feels his skin get hot.

“Are you doing okay?” Y/N whispered as she leaned towards him, he met her gaze and nodded.

It took a few more minutes before the rest of her family to join them all at the dinner table. Y/N reassuringly ran her thumb across the top of his hand beneath the table. It helped him calm down, feeling her touch on his skin. 

“Luke, how many days do you get off?” her mom asked as they all started to serve themselves food. 

“I get a week off and then I have practice the day before our next game,” he explained as he added salad to his plate. 

“Will you watch the All-Star games?” Elijah asked excitedly. Luke nodded.

“My brothers are there, I have to support them,” he said, meeting Elijah’s gaze. 

“I can’t believe my sister is dating an NHL player,” he said before he took a dramatic bite of his salad. Luke chuckled nervously as he met Y/N’s gaze. 

“Luke, Y/N told us you’ve only been in Jersey for about a year. Where were you before?” her mom asked as she put all of her attention on him.

“I was in Michigan, but I’ve been a bit everywhere,” he replied before taking another bite of his food. Y/N delicately rested her finger on his knee, delicately tracing reassuring circles. 

“That’s exciting,” her mom muttered. “How are you liking Jersey?” she asked. 

“I like it a lot. It's hard to enjoy the city when I’m traveling as much as I am but I plan to stay longer in the off season to experience it,” he explained. Y/N smiled towards him with so much admiration as he spoke. Her father watched the soft smile on his daughter’s lips.

Y/N’s brought home two other boys before Luke and her father couldn’t stand them. Mainly because she never looked happy around them, but she hasn’t stopped smiling since she was home with him.

“Can we come to one of your games?” Jasmine asked. Luke lifted his gaze, looking towards Y/N for assistance. 

“Let the kid chew his food before you ask him any more questions,” her dad interrupted. Luke met his dad’s gaze and chuckled as the rest of the table laughed along.

~~~

It was a few hours after they arrived and it was past ten o’clock and her parents were already in bed. Her siblings were in the living room with Luke and Y/N. They were all watching an episode of Friends. Y/N curled up to Luke’s side, his arm was draped along her shoulder as she was nuzzled into his chest. His hand would slowly trail from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder. 

It was simple and easier than what Luke thought was going to happen. Her sister was funny and her brother was super nice. Her mom was overwhelmingly kind and her dad was slowly getting accustomed to his presence. 

“How long have you guys been together?” Jasmine asked out of nowhere. Y/N blinked slowly as she lifted her head from Luke’s chest. 

“Seven months,” she looked towards Luke and his lips turned upward slightly.

“Wow,” she muttered as she tilted her head back against the couch.

“Who asked who out?” Jasmine questioned again, Luke pursed his lips forward as his cheeks pinked up.

“I did,” he mumbled.

“How’d you do it?” Jasmine pressed with a smirk. 

He looked towards Y/N, raising his eyebrows as he asked for permission to tell her the story. 

They met through a mutual friend. Y/N’s friend, Zara, had a fling with Luke’s brother Jack for a few weeks around the playoffs run last year. After a Devils win, Y/N and Zara went out with the team to celebrate. 

While Y/N was completely uninterested in partying as well as Luke. The pair sat together and talked for several hours before they left. After they lost their playoff series, Jack and Zara fling ended horribly. Except Luke really wanted to see Y/N again. It took days to convince Jack to break no contact with Zara to get Y/N number. It worked.

They later found out that Y/N wanted her to do the same thing but Zara refused.

They spent the first month FaceTiming and texting all of the time. There was a hint of romantic tension but they never acted on it until Luke moved back to Jersey. It took thirty minutes into hanging out in person for him to ask her on a date. There was not an ounce of hesitation to say yes.

“So you guys didn’t see each other for another month?!” Jasmine asked. 

“He was back in Michigan, Jaz. It was a little hard,” Y/N said with a chuckle. 

“A bit of a long game then, Lukey Boy,” Elijah teased as he slapped his hand on the shoulder of Luke. Elijah took a long breath as he continued towards the set of stairs near the front door. “I’ll see you guys in the morning, don’t do anything weird in our house,” he said with a yawn as he walked up the stairs towards his room.

Luke chuckled nervously as he met Y/N’s eye.

“He’s a real gentleman, sis. It’s a shame there aren't more guys like him out there,” she mumbled as she dropped her gaze to the floor as she walked towards the stairs to her own room. 

Luke kept his gaze on Y/N as she watched her younger siblings leave them alone in the living room. He took a hold of her chin, delicately turning her gaze to look towards him. Their eyes met and he felt his body relax. Her eyes looked down towards his lips as she inched towards him, “Kiss me,” she let out barely above a whisper. He smiled as he glanced around the living room. “Please,” she mumbled. 

He slowly leaned towards her kissing her so delicately, not to make a scene. It had only been a few hours without feeling her lips against his and he missed it desperately. Her father had stepped down the stairs, stopping short. He looked towards the pair, desperately wanting to interrupt them. Luke’s hand slowly rested on her cheek as he pulled away, keeping his face close to hers. “You look beautiful,” he muttered.

Her lips curled upward slowly as she tilted her head to the side. “Thank you, Lukey,” she replied before she leaned towards him and rested her head onto his shoulder. 

Her father fought the smile forming to his lips as he watched the small interaction between them. The entire night, he watched Luke and Y/N put on a show of their relationship and happiness. It was comforting to watch them be fully themselves. He awkwardly shuffled down the stairs pretending that he didn’t see anything. Luke fully scooted away from Y/N as her father walked towards the kitchen.

“Are you ready for bed?” she whispered wide eyed and he nodded as a reply. 

They both stood up from the couch, out of habit Luke rested his hand onto her lower back as they walked towards the stairs. Her father smiled softly as he watched the pair climb the stairs towards her childhood bedroom. She walked towards the last room at the end of the hallway and pushed the door open. 

Luke’s eyes lingered on each childhood photo of hers on the walls of the hallway. He stared the longest at a photo of her sitting in the center of a bean bag with Elijah and Jasmin in her arms. She was smiling shyly as her eyes were staring at her little sister. “That’s a nice picture,” he muttered as he pointed towards it. 

“I was terrified of holding them,” she muttered as they continued down the hall towards her bedroom.

Her room was extremely cleaned as her mother constantly kept it from being dusty. They stepped inside and she shut the door behind them instantly as she met his eyes. Her back was against the door as he rested his hands on her hips. 

“They like you,” she muttered as she ran her hands up and down his chest slowly. He shyly smiled while his cheeks flushed red. “I mean it, my dad would’ve said something if he didn’t,” she teased. 

“I like them too,” he mumbled before he leaned towards her and kissed her delicately.

[nolita-fairytale]

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words. 

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case. 

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look. 

“Carmen,” you warn him. 

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair. 

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that). 

You’re right. And he knows you’re right. 

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways. 

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist. 

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours. 

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.” 

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?” 

You shake your head with a laugh. 

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.” 

A beat. 

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze. 

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap. 

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend. 

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced. 

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes. 

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution. 

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement. 

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear. 

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you. 

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together. 

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say. 

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.  

You know him too well. 

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house. 

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest. 

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin. 

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time. 

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways. 

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize. 

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.” 

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh. 

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

-----------------------------------------

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself. 

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man. 

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake. 

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change. 

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag. 

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug. 

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze. 

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him. 

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about. 

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head. 

“I don’t,” he answers plainly. 

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.” 

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos. 

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day. 

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love. 

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug. 

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look. 

“Okay, fine.  I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily. 

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence. 

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself. 

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table. 

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law. 

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing. 

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room. 

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips. 

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service. 

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about. 

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part. 

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo. 

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with. 

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one. 

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision. 

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts. 

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right. 

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time. 

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?” 

He laughs, glancing sideways at you. 

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it. 

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up. 

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again. 

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug. 

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull. 

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long. 

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you. 

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever. 

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it. 

“Yeah,” you reassure him. 

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time: 

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing. 

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was. 

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus. 

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time. 

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice. 

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

[anika-ann]

GG Steve and A, I, and/or R??

Well hello, Ro, sorry that this took so embarrassingly long 🥲

Here are some dirty thoughts from this game concerning my beloved Gentle Giant Stevie from Love on the Brain in scrambled order... you'll find the dirtiest and longest at the bottom (is this a pun? it's a bad pun). Technically, the you is his partner in every sense of the word aka Sparkles, but it can be read independently of the series.

Thots under cut. Warnings: they are 18+, okay- also there's very little editing, it's a headcanon, not an essay.

R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)

One-night stands are no-no. Very much no no and they were even before he met you… but where scheduled sex is concerned the answer is also no. With your crazy schedules, it might make sense to try to plan so you can squeeze in some intimate together time, but with emergency missions… not so much. Things keep getting in the way (cough cough, there might be a ‘drabble’ about them getting actually frustrated at the lack of closeness and sexual encounters of theirs in general due to schedule conflicts). So spontaneity usually wins – certainly in a way of appreciating every moment you catch together. It doesn’t always have to be sexual per se, but it often ends up that way 😏 You had two years of pent-up sexual tension, can anyone blame you??? Not to mention that adrenalin and emotions can sometimes fly high, so if there is something routine-like, it’s winding down together after a mission, be it sweet and tender, all desperate hungry kisses with clashes of teeth, grasping and grabbing and fuck me we are alive, or celebratory god damn you were hot and capable and badass today. Does that count as a routine? One routine thing though; Steve is a man with a plan. Just because he doesn’t necessarily schedule sex, he is using his strategic mind to find windows in your calendar so you find time to be together. To take you out for a date for dinner, for a bike ride, or just lie under the stars and cuddle. Sure, these things often do result in intimacy of all kinds, but that man has a heart larger than his already impressive body and you fill a huge portion of it; it’s only fair you take up his time too.

P.S. The man is not only a planner but an overthinker often. Remember when it took you forever to sleep together for the first time? He ran his mind over thousands of scenarios, planned everything he’d say, everything he’d do, guessed how you’d react (and had some alone time over that a lot),how many times he’d get you off before he starts counting the times he will. Because he wants to treat you right and the one moment when you admitted a guy had been after getting you to bed and then instantly fled the so-called relationship since he got what he wanted is ingrained in his brain and he’ll do everything in his power to show you that he’s not him. Even if it means blue balls or might result in a supersoldier carpal tunnel issues.

Which gets us to:

A - Alone time (how do they get off when they’re all by themselves? do they watch porn, is it all in their imagination, do they jerk off, do they use toys?)

I’ll start with the last one: nah. There is no way he got his hands on toys in his original time and he was doing just fine and he doesn’t need them now. How would he even get them without half the globe learning about it? No thank you. He’s got hands. Two big hands. If you ever express interest in him using toys on you, he is all game and will get off on watching you squirm and nearly lose your mind to pleasure – which he will try to replicate on his own because dammit he will not have some toy satisfy you better, at least make it a cooperation dammit – but not on himself. Not when alone.  

Steve’s a sensual, visual guy. He imagines a lot, but feels rather bad jerking off to a specific person, because it feels rather… invasive and unfair. So his mind conjures images, perhaps a combination of actual memories of voices and visuals (and yes, some inspiration might have come from porn, but he doesn’t downright puts on an adult movie and gets on it, nope), perfumes and scents, images of hands smaller than his on him he can mimic by his own touch and that is what gets him going… and off. If he has the time. He doesn’t have a problem with a quick work in a shower (which often is a solution and I know I share this headcanon with someone, cough cough).

The problem starts when you join. Because A, his need of alone time increases exponentially and B, his mind just. Wouldn’t let go. He’s damn ashamed of it, because you are friends and your friendship is sweet and teasing and maybe there’s a little bit of flirting, and the act itself feels like defiling you, but well, there’s the fact that he would like to defile you. He has so many memories of you filling his senses that get him off, even if they come from workout or from movie night or from perfectly innocent hugs. He feels like a creep and it’s utterly disrespectful to you, but he can’t help it. He tries to relief his conscience by not actively starting with imagining you.

In that sense, it is a real liberation to him when you get together, because he might need a lot of alone time then too before you take your relationship to that level, but at least his conscience is clean even as his mind is filthy.

Speaking of filthy mind… drabble-ish thots ahead.

I - Impact play (here’s where talking about things like spanking, paddles, canes, floggers and the like.) - not me having to google stuff on this

My instant reply was no. NOT STEVE. No violence in any form in the bedroom, not in intimacy. Violence is for battlefield, for missions. For training to a point, and even there he’s careful not to hurt you. When in bed, he might hold you a little too tight, grab a little too harsh, knead and squeeze and maybe suck enough to bruise when you feel just so good and he’s losing himself in you, losing control, but no hitting or slapping or-- nope. He earned the nickname of a Gentle Giant for a reason he might be sensual to a point of filthy, but if he hurt you (even if you asked), he couldn’t look himself in the eye in the mirror.

BUT ALSO.

He’s a handsy man. He does adore drowning all his senses in you, he loves exploring his lover’s body with all he has and he simply loves to touch at all times, feel the softness and warmth and slick, every curve, the thundering of your heartbeat under your skin with his fingertips or lips. To taste you where you let him. Inhale the scent your perfume, your arousal, the heady smell of sex in the air. To listen to the little or not so little noises, swallow them and let them melt on his tongue. To watch.

And that’s when it happens.

He didn’t mean to do it. He did not, and he’s horrified for a split second, because fuck he did not just- You were riding him. A glorious sight, pretty flushed face with slightly love-bitten lips and pupils blown with pleasure, breasts bouncing, muscles straining and little overworked from having mostly earned that previous orgasm on your own besides his lazy strokes over your clit and feeling where you were joined; you stilled for just a moment to get precious air into your lungs, breathy sounds of his name falling from your parted lips, so gorgeously fucked out and still needy for him and he could feel you so close again, his hand spread over your breast, over your hip, gripping and kneading your ass, your thigh and you were almost there, fluttering around him and he wanted one more, sweetheart, gimme one more, wanna feel you and he---

He meant to tap your thigh in encouragement when you started moving again, chasing your peak and it turned out to be more of a full-palm slap over the tempting curve of your ass and it was an accident, Steve would swear it.He froze, his thoughts faster than the reaction of your body, mind already flaring with horror and anxiety by the time your body caught up with what he had done nd had not meant to do and you-

You squeezed his cock so hard he felt it in his throat and he nearly choked, but mainly felt his groin spasm as you lost yourself to pleasure and all it took was a few rapid thrusts into your spasming burning heat and he was done for. Your juices coating his balls. His mouth slanting over yours on instinct even as the keen you released was the single lewdest soundhe had ever coaxed from you and his balls might be empty, but his chest is full of pride and his brain empty of thought but full of question marks, new fantasies and an image of you etched into his memory forever.

Your hips are still jerking minutely on instinct, your face now hidden in his shoulder, chest heaving beautifully against his, his lips kissing anywhere they can reach and holy damn. His hands grow softer, more comforting than exploring, mouth whispering sweet nothings even as they want to ask questions. You’ll tell him; he hopes you will. If there was one thing you were learning fast, it was communication; the last time you failed to communicate on a massive scale about how you felt, you ended up longing and lusting after one another for about two years. He’d rather not wait that long.

But he doesn’t press; in return, you press to him, peek at him shyly and kiss his lips sweetly, climbing off him only to settle in his lap anyway and hug him close, finger drawing non-sensical pattern on his shoulder and back until you both rise and rinse the sweat and other juices off your bodies in a shower together.

Only when in fresh sheets – the previous ones were beyond saving, at least for the night – when held close in his arms, gentle hands mapping out the familiar, and with sleep evading you despite the sleepiness and comfort of each other’s embrace, you confessed.

“I… I think I really liked it because I—I know you’d never hurt me,” you admit softly, earning a thoughtful hum at the half explanation.

“I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t expect that reaction either, but I’d never do it without asking first. You know that, right?”

“I know. That’s what I mean, GG. I trust you…” you remind him softly, even as you teeth worry over your still kiss-swollen lower lip. “But if you… liked it too, you can do it again. Sometime. I… you didn’t mean to do it, I get that, but you let yourself get lost in the moment. With me. You lost- you let go of control a bit… for me. You let go because you feel comfortable enough with me to do that. That means a lot to me. And… you feeling so good with me that you… lose it and take what you need – without hurting me besides a little fading red mark or a tiny bruise – makes me feel pretty damn powerful and proud too. Really wanted and desired… pretty golden.”

The admissions hang heavy in the air, your whole body buzzing with nerves, a little voice in your head sleazily whispering of judgement. Your Gentle Giant, looking at you with disdain, even as what you confessed weren’t all that scandalous. The things you had encountered in your BAU days made this look about as freaky as wearing a little lace. And yet… your body buzzes with nerves and a little thrill and the chances of falling asleep now are precisely zero.

The voice falls silent the second Steve turns you in his arms so you face him and you find him watching you with his smile warm, eyes blown wide and curious – and everything but tired just like you.

“I do trust you too,” he whispers, fingertips brushing your cheekbone, strand of hair from your face, eyes roaming your face until they fall a little lower, as if in shame. Even in the limited light, you can tell his face is burning too. “Where-- I’d always ask, but--- and never with force, I don’t want to hurt you, and never your face, I--- but if I ever… where?”

Your heart thunders in your ribcage. You gulp as with his every word, it leaps into your throat too, your body brimming with nervous energy. But he watches with such genuine curiosity and excitement, the plans no doubt already whirling in his head, the strategist, the planner, the lover, the pleaser… the little shit. Your GG.

Your face is aflame, your hand shakes a little as you take his and it’s both anxiety and arousal, something scalding hot pulsing in your core again, when you lead that hand to set on your bare hip.

His gaze is dead set on yours, watching your reaction; you know he picked up on your quickened breathing, as you guide his hand over the globe of your ass, over your outer thigh, skim over the front to slip on the inside, heading higher, under his hand is cupping your sex.

His gaze is smouldering. You nervously lick your lips, escaping the cage of his gaze because you cannot bear it anymore, a little whisper of shame returning to back of your head, but the moment you look away, his free hand – the other is still touching you – slides under your chin, thumb brushing over your lips. The thumb of his other hand does the same as he slips under your panties and moves to your slick sex and slightly swollen and oversensitive bundle of nerves. Erection poking your thigh. Mouth against yours, whispering.

“Good to know, sweetheart…” Rough. His voice is so rough and husky and his lips are slick and warm and filthy. “Anything for ya’. Love ya so much… got me so hard for you again… the things you do to me, I swear-”

He clearly picked up more than on you just liking just the touch alone; the filthy praise spills from his lips, empowering, and the late night finds you tangled in the sheets once more, languid deep kisses that consume you, the connection forged by a secret revealed, secret shared, whispering between you about next time, even as now is all that matters, all you feel.

Steve is an observant man; he still needs confirmation ahead, but he learns the signs. It’s not something you engage in often, but he recognizes that soft mewly quality to your sighs now, the special glint in your eyes barely even hinting you need it; and he gives. And since he has consent, he lets himself lose control with you a little bit more too.

-.-.-.

Ro, I think I read too many of your wonderful replies to this game that I adopted the manner in which you write them. Ehm. I hope that's okay with you.

Thank you for the ask 💕 It took forever, but it was fun ✨

[dawnagustd]

the naughty sheriff || kth

The queen has made her list and checked it twice. She’s visiting those who have been naughty, and punishing them in ways that are oh so nice.

- Part of the Unholy Night Series.

➻ title: the naughty sheriff ➻ pairing: sheriff deputy!taehyung x f!reader  ➻ genre: fantasy | holiday | magic | smut  ➻ word count: 1.7k  ��� rating: 18+    ➻ warnings: unprotected sex | creampie | breath play | taehyung has a massive cock | degradation | dom!taehyung | sub!reader | consensual gun play (graphic) | restraints(hand cuffs) | hair pulling | doggystyle | car sex | rough sex | intense orgasm | Sir kink | cervix touching | spanking | power play dynamics | oral sex with an object | abuse of power | spit play | manhandling | mentions infidelity | mentions theft and crime | more cameo from the boys | the ending is a cliff ➻ author’s note: Please read the warnings carefully for this one guys !! And y’all please don’t judge me. I haven’t opened this doc since 2021 lol. It’s unedited but I will edit it later. If you’re following the little bit of story hidden in this filth, you will need to read the epilogue to understand the ending and the point of all this.

“Get moving.”

“Yes, Sir,” you sing.

The two of you march to his car, and that’s when the sheriff turns your body towards him.

“I want you gone, understand?”

“I will leave,” you giggle. “Once I’m done.”

“Well,” Taehyung tsks. “You can’t leave without saying goodbye, can you?”

You shake your head in denial.

You assumed that you two had a nonverbal agreement. You’ll look the other way if he did the same. He’s been in every window you’ve bypassed, kissing some rich housewife under the mistletoe while their husband slept peacefully.

What they don’t know is that they're just a part of his twisted game. While his lovers are busy cutting him a slice of something sweet, he’s robbing them of anything that sparkles. The expensive jewelry their husbands have bought goes into his pocket and is never seen again.

On Christmas morning, he’ll smirk knowing they won’t be able to say a word about who may have taken it to their husbands. Those same men will pay him big money to arrest the thief, and he will arrest a thief. Just not the one responsible for the actual crime.

“I guess I can’t, but um… Weren’t you busy just now?” 

You recall his security patrol of the hospital earlier and wonder if he’s still on duty.

“I already snatched what I came here for,” he says with a wink. Taehyung guides you closer to his vehicle. He stops walking once your back hits the ice-covered glass. “Now, what should I do with you?”

Your smile grows. 

“Anything you’d like, Sir.”

“Damn. Any requests?” he asks.

You look over your shoulder at his car and nod your head.

“Throw me on your backseat and fuck me like you’ve had a bad day.”

And the sheriff does not decline. He opens his door and shoves you inside, still bound in his cuffs. Your back hits the cold interior with a thud. You try to spread your legs, but Taehyung has other plans. He flips you over on your stomach and raises your hips in the air.

“I’ve been watching this ass sway through my town all night, and you didn’t think I’d want a piece?” he growls, tearing your flimsy clothing off.

You hear him fidgeting with his belt until he’s able to pull his pants down to his thighs. Your wiggle to give him an eyeful while he aligns his dick with your opening, but he slaps your ass and tells you to stay still.

“I’m in charge,” he informs. As if that’ll do him any good.

Your wetness allows Taehyung to enter smoothly, and his deep voice moans once he’s buried inside. He grabs your waist and starts pulling you back on his dick. Each time he thrusts into your guts, the breath leaves your body. You don’t have to see him to know his cock is monstrous. 

Your hands want to reach above you to stop your head from banging into the door, but they’re secured behind your back. The pressure building inside of you distracts you from the discomfort, so the banging is forgotten about rather quickly.

“Sir, this feels so good.”

Your words are muffled as a result of being face down, but Taehyung understands clearly. His palm slaps your ass again and your pussy squeezes around him in response.

“Say thank you, whore,” he commands. “Tell me how much you appreciate my services.”

His laughter fills the vehicle and gives you a sea of goosebumps. Its volume penetrates the seating and sends vibrations through your body.

“Fuck! Thank you, Sir!”

But your response isn’t good enough for the sheriff. He grabs you by the hair and snatches you up before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he grunts. “You’re sounding like an ungrateful ass whore, right now.”

“Sheriff! Thank you for giving me your cock,” you sob. “I’m not worthy.”

“Goddamn right, you aren’t.” He pulls out his pistol, and the sound of it clicking only adds to your adrenaline. “Tell me where you think I should put this.”

He twists your head to look you in the eyes, but the only thing you can focus on is what’s in his right hand.

“In my mouth, Sir.” Taehyung hesitates, and you grow impatient. “Please.”

“Say less,” he answers. You open your mouth, and Taehyung doesn’t wait any longer. You don’t realize how heavy it is until it’s resting on your tongue. “It’s not loaded, okay.”

Not that it would matter in your case. You can swallow bullets and shit them out, but you appreciate the courtesy. You thank him the best you can with a mouth full of steel but it only results in you getting your saliva all over the muzzle.

“Fuck.”

Taehyung doesn’t miss it either. His cock twitches inside of you when he observes the way your lips wrap around his gun, just like…

“I bet you can suck the hell out of a cock,” he comments.

“Mhm.”

So you prove it. While Taehyung thrusts into your pussy, you treat his gun like it’s just another dick and proceed to give it some head as his owner watches in awe.

You’re careful with your teeth, and you make every noise you’re capable of making to mimic the sound of some sloppy cock sucking. You take in more and more until your chin touches the trigger guard. You then pull off of it, leaving a slick sheen behind from where your mouth coated the metal.

“Shit!” Taehyung’s mind could not handle an image so lewd while he’s balls deep in pussy. He sets his weapon on the floor and brings his hand around your throat instead. “...Gonna make us come so hard.”

And he doesn’t break his promise. He squeezes your neck until no air can slip through. He wraps his other arm around your body and uses his hand to give your throbbing clit some attention. 

The feeling hits you all at once. The pressure finally comes to a head and sends you soaring. You feel as high as the clouds, floating unsure of when you’re coming down. You want to scream, but it’s impossible to do so with the lack of air.

At some point, Taehyung spills his cum deep into your womb, but your body isn’t aware of it in its state. A minute goes by before Taehyung relaxes his grip and slowly grants you air. 

Your body falls forward, and then you feel the sheriff uncuffing your wrists one by one. You sigh once you’re able to move your limbs.

“Take a minute if you need to,” Taehyung says after you’ve both steadied your breathing. 

But you don’t have a minute, and neither does he.

“You should drive.” Your face is buried in your forearm, trying to hold your giggles.

“What?”

You reposition yourself to a sitting position so the sheriff can hear you clearly.

“I said you should start driving,” you repeat. “You said you’d take me home.”

“Not exactly,” he reiterates. 

You look at him with a brow raised. “I see.”

“I said I’d take you out of town. How you get home is none of my concern.”

You nod your head. You expected this, and you were anticipating it. 

“Well, I'll see you soon I guess.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Better not.”

“We’ll see,” you mutter.

You step out of the car dressed in attire a little bit more presentable for the occasion. It’s morning and the Heauxville residents gather around, waiting patiently for answers. And you shall provide.

“I know everyone is hurting right now. I could not imagine waking up on Christmas morning with nothing under the tree. But I’ve captured the culprit and interrogated him thoroughly. Unfortunately, the criminal is one you’ve all trusted.”

Just as you’re concluding your speech, Taehyung appears. He’s confused, but not for long.

“Wait a minute! Don’t listen to her,” he demands.

Unfortunately for him, no one wants to obey the orders of a crooked deputy.

“As I was saying… I know nothing will replace the joyous feeling of waking up to a home filled with goodies from the big guy, but I have sent a member of my staff to the residence of each and every one of you to replace everything you’ve lost. They’ll be waiting for you when you arrive,” you inform.

The crowd cheers, and two other deputies come to detain the ego-bruised sheriff. Once your job is done, they part ways and allow you to depart. The queen has saved the day yet again.

You never stay for the glory or the praise. The satisfaction comes from knowing that karma did its job. There’s no need to thank you.

“Hey!”

You hear a familiar voice call out to you once you’re nearly out of the thick crowd. Everyone grows silent, and your frantic baker appears, and he brought some friends.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

“So you’re just leaving?... We need to talk.”

You cackle. “No, love. We don’t.”

“But that’s bullshit. You can’t just fuck with people’s emotions like that,” Jungkook argues, stepping in front of him. 

The men surround you, but there’s nothing you can do. They made their own beds, now it’s time to lie in it.

“Jungkook, you’re absolutely right, and all of you should start taking that into consideration. Now, if you all will excuse me—”

“So it’s just fuck us, right?” the sheriff chimes in. “Regardless of how good we made you feel.”

“Or how we welcomed you,” Hoseok adds.

The next person to speak is the toymaker and he seems more disappointed than pissed.

“You shouldn’t have made promises you weren’t going to keep,” he tells you.

“Are you serious?” You can’t help but laugh at that. “Listen, I came here to give you a dose of your own medicine. Get over it.”

With that, you sashay away, but this group is persistent.

“What if we can’t?” Jimin shouts.

You turn around, clearly confused. As if on cue, the doctor breaks through the crowd.

“What if we can’t get over it?... Over you,” he explains. “What happens then?”

“What if I can’t get you out of my mind?” the sheriff speaks up.

You look at each of them and sigh. There is no room in your heart for anyone. Their emotions mean nothing to you. The sooner they realize that they’re the problem, the sooner they’ll realize you’re only here to cause pain. 

Until then…

[nothums-from-tj]

Returning to my series of “barely anyone else cares abt this ship that I’m crying over so I’m gonna make a post abt them myself”: Mordeson edition

If you don’t like the ship please just fuckin scroll I don’t need anyone clowning today thnx

I have so many things I want to write and draw however I am so overwhelmed so I’m spewing my nonsense onto Tumblr to feed the like 3 people paying attention to these dorks <3 for the most part here are just like tiny little hcs/moments/ideas of them that have infected my brain. Cut provided to make it not unbelievably long for the rest of my followers

Categories: headcanons, ideas, “cutaways” (basically my iterations of what happens post-episode endings or in the midst of flashbacks/stories, between scenes, etc.)

I’d also like to thank @mushtoons for letting me yap abt them in DMs/on Discord, some of these in which I’m copy/pasting from my side of conversations with them <3

Headcanons:

-Mordecai sometimes patches up Benson’s hand(s) after usually breaking it by punching something out of anger on varying occasions

-the way they likely comforted one another during the Margaret, CJ, and Audrey heartbreaks with Benson probably gave Mordecai harder/grosser jobs to keep his mind off things and Mordecai gave Benson excuses to head home late to lessen the chances of bumping into Audrey

-the car radio along with show/movie nights consist of more bickering than watching/listening to anything

-Benson is the Worst backseat driver and Mordecai has to try to politely tell him he’s going to lose his mind if he tells him where to make the correct turn to both of their place of work; that said, for both of their sanity, Benson usually drives when they’re together

-there are days where Mordo has to literally force Benson to stay home bc he's either so sick he can hardly stand, so overwhelmed he can't think, or is in so much pain his body is practically crumbling beneath him

-sometimes when Benson gets reeeally into a beat, drumming on the steering wheel or a pen against his clipboard or something of the sort, Mordecai will try to start singing along to it so he’ll remember it for practice or whatever

-he has thrown hands over people trashing Benson behind his back

-and he has to semi-frequently talk/hold Benson out of a self-deprecating spiral

-Mordecai's parents absolutely adore Benson and were some of the first people to say "so when's the wedding!!!!" when first introducing him as his bf

-the opposite happened when Benson introduced Mordecai to his parents; I’d say his parents got divorced when he was young and his mom was kinda chill though his dad was kinda passive aggressive and just didn’t really put in a lot of heart, though Mordecai learned a lot more abt him from his dad than his mom

-Mordecai is the first to say “I love you” and Benson bawls on the spot

-Mordecai draws/doodles Benson during meetings/assignments when he starts to develop feelings for him

-Mordecai gets crazy flustered at pet names bc he doesn’t expect them whatsoever; he’s always been the one giving them rather than receiving, though he always appreciates them

-Benson is also crazy touch starved while Mordecai can be pretty jealous so usually in public they’re always seen touching in some way; one leg over the other when sitting, handholding when walking, an arm around the other’s waist/shoulders, etc.

-they prob hooked up at least 1 (one) time pre-relationship and swore they’d never tell anyone abt it

-Margaret and Mordecai are platonic soulmates as much as it is a dismay to most their romantic relationships; Benson is the first/only one of Mordecai's partners to fully accept this

Ideas (if anyone writes these before I get around to them pleeeeease please send it to me I’d cry /pos):

-swap AU of sorts where they have a secret relationship while Rigby and Eileen are more “center of attention”

-in addition, switching up Benson and CJ in a lot of scenarios make a lot of sense (specifically thinking of “New Year’s Kiss” and “Thomas’ Play Date”)

-Benson is such a little cuddle bug, Mordecai gets totally thrown off guard by how affectionate he is when they start dating

-Benson gets stuck having to watch his sister’s kid for the day while on the clock and as much as he loves seeing and hanging out w them he can’t do much while at work, asks Mordecai and Rigby to hang out w them for a bit until he’s done what he needs to and he later gets confused why his heart does weird flip-floppy things to see Mordecai being an amazing babysitter later

-Benson having a rough day mentally and asks to reschedule a date, which Mordecai asks if he’s ok and wants company which he doesn’t wanna “be a burden” or thinks Mordo won’t want to be around his sad self all day and he has to be kinda regularly reminded, “You’re my boyfriend, Ben. I always want you around.”

-Benson getting nightmares and/or flashbacks of the dome experiments and Mordo does his best to help through the severe paranoia and skittishness in the morning, unless he wakes up to it happening and he’s able to help him through it/get back to sleep

Cutaways:

-“In The House” Benson was nowhere to be seen until after Rigby finished his house/wizard story which Benson was like right next to Mordecai so I like to think Benson walked in early-ish into Rigby’s story and it’s Mordecai that beckoned him over to include him in the storytelling

-“Weekend At Benson’s” post-ending in which Benson maybe just felt too horrible to bring himself home so he hangs out at the house where Mordecai figures if he and Rigby feel awful already, Benson’s gotta be going through the same thing 10 fold so he sits with him all day doing his best to provide comfort and consolation while Benson spends half the day vomiting and sobbing from the searing pain in his throat

-“Eggscellent” after Benson getting punched, in which Skips probably had to be the one to tell Benson in private that while it’s ok for him to be scared and concerned and to feel betrayed and disrespected, what he said to Mordecai also wasn’t cool before explaining Jonathan Kimble and the journal he found; after apologizing to Mordecai he tries so hard to prove himself by being his biggest cheerleader, trying not to question the eagerness to be by his side and sudden overprotective urges

-“Return of Mordecai and the Rigbys” I think maybe a little bit too much abt the times they’re sent to the hospital and being the first two awake to have a few minutes to chat privately, and some of the dialogue I had in mind to not make this post even longer

-“Dumptown, USA” particularly when Benson went after Audrey broke up w him; maybe he left his phone behind, maybe he didn’t, and I doubt he was gone nearly as long as Mordecai, though he might’ve still been gone a few days to a week and incredibly hard to reach, leaving everyone else panicking over Benson not showing up to work to the point of sending a wellness check and getting ready to file a missing persons report by the time he comes back; Mordo’s the first to see him and instinctively runs to give him a hug, surprising them both

-“White Elephant Gift Exchange” with Benson being pretty OCD coded, similar to the first hc above following the “glove incident” where Benson likely washed his hands like 6 times to the point of cracking bc he didn’t feel “clean” enough (speaking as somebody with OCD and similar experiences)

This isn’t even remotely all of what I have this is just long enough already and I’m trying to figure out how I wanna execute the rest LOL. Anyway if anything here strikes inspiration feel free to write/draw/whatever and tag me bc I’m itching for more content of them I’m losing my mind <3 feel free to talk to me abt these dorks in DMs or my ask box too!!!!

[too-lit-for-fanfic]

They’re Running Out of Time

So I’ve just watched Impulse’s Limited Life episode and things are really devolving into chaos and I’ve been waiting for the panic to set in since the realisation of this seasons’ premise. Those of the audience and the content creators themselves who hadn’t fully realised how limited these players are for time are finally beginning to realise! It’s tragic! It’s anxiety-inducing! It’s a perfect concept for a series built around alliances and betrayal, built around being the last one standing! Yellow is the new red, red is the new dead. 

Grian died several times last episode and his panic and desire to win back at least some of that time is exactly what makes this concept so great. Impulse (one of the last green’s on the server) re-enters the TIES base to receive warnings that Grian is out in the Nether HUNTING for him, and then he flees to shouts of ‘You get back here! Impulse don’t you run from me!’ when Grian returns. His voice is shrill: it’s not lighthearted anymore, a kill holds a great weight to it now that everyone’s timers are ticking, and he needs that kill. He’s frantic, he’s angry, he’s threatening, he’s as bloodthirsty as any red on any previous game iteration. It’s perfect. 

We saw this with Scar last episode with his fixation on “I want my 30 minutes!” after he successfully got a green kill, but Grian isn’t even trying to hide his desperation under lighthearted jabs and a jovial voice, and it makes it so good. He’s a man running out of time, and he’ll do anything to get even a fraction of it back - one minute could mean the difference between winning or loosing. 

“I need that 30 minutes.” He says, again and again. “I need those 30 minutes. I lost them.” And he’s right - with every kill time is lost, not gained. Someone loses an hour and someone gains 30 minutes, 30 minutes of time are lost from the server and there’s no way of winning them back - the game mechanic feeds into the ticking clock, you need two kills to just get back to where you started after a death, that’s two other players with an hour less time to spare. I don’t have the words or capacity to truly express how tragic this whole concept is, how ultimately doomed they all are. 

You can just imagine it if it were a real scenario from a tv series - Grian, panicked and desperate, chasing down anyone before him who has any time to ‘spare’, footsteps thundering behind Impulse, desperate shouts and calls and threats full of promise following him. There’s nothing Impulse can do to make Grian stop, nothing that will satiate him but his own life - the only way to freedom is to kill Grian, but then he’s down another hour and Impulse has an ‘extra’ 30 minutes spare, Grian would just return for more. There’s no escaping the vicious cycle.

It is worth mentioning that the fast-paced music Impulse pairs with the brief chase sequence, combined with the viewers not exactly knowing his proximity to Grian really makes the scene. Brilliant editing on his behalf.

There is nothing these greens can do to barter with the yellows, and there will be nothing for the yellows to barter with the reds. In previous games, a simple promise of ‘I won’t kill you’ sufficed, it gave the players meaningful alliances, it gave them more of a chance - in relation to time, it does nothing. The counter is ticking and there is nothing that can be bartered that is more valuable than those precious minutes and seconds to stave off perma-death. A diamond chestplate is useless, a promise not to kill is worthless, offerings of food are relatively pointless, because in the end, no matter what alliances are formed or how geared up someone is, when your time runs out, you die, and that’s it.

People are panicking - time is running out and time is only going to become more scarce from here on out.

[haileymorelikestupid]

Curiosity Killed the Bat

Pairing: Max Phillips x reader

Summary: Max thought he was prepared to finally tell you the truth about what he is. He was dreading it, but he knew it had to be done. He expected the worst. He didn’t expect this.

Warnings/Tags: language, no use of Y/N, soft and not-at-all-cocky Max Phillips

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: Nothing says October to me like writing about a vampire while watching college football to procrastinate doing my actual homework. Enjoy the product of my musings about how tf vampires even work. P.S. This should be gender-neutral and non-descriptive but let me know if there’s anything non-inclusive in here and I’ll make the necessary edits :)

“You’re a what?”

This is precisely why Max didn’t want to tell you. He is a selfish son of a bitch and you are too good for him and he was just trying to hang onto you for as long as he could.

He knew it would come to an end; he couldn’t hide it from you forever, and you’re too good to stay once you know what he is. But he was enjoying the delusion. He was enjoying the illusion that you would actually want anything to do with him. You were the best thing that had ever happened in his miserable life slash not-life. Was it so bad to want to hang onto that?

“Baby, please, I know you might be shocked—”

“Oh shocked is not a big enough word for what I’m feeling, Max Phillips.” And you sound so angry, a tinge of hurt coloring your tone, and Max doesn’t think he can handle this. He’d rather you stake him right now.

“Okay, yes, you’re angry, and you have every right to be—”

“Well I am so glad I have your permission.”

Now he’s panicking. He’s been stressed out since he decided to start this conversation but now he’s really panicking because now he’s being condescending and he wasn’t trying to, seriously, and this is all going even worse than he thought.

Slick, suave Max Phillips is at a total loss.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. Please believe me. I know I should have told you sooner, but I knew this would happen and I’m a shitty, selfish, monster of a being and I wanted to have you for as long as I could.”

Here it comes, he thinks. Here’s the breakup you expected but never wanted and it’s going to hurt more than you could have possibly imagined. Have fun living with this for a literal eternity.

“Yeah, Max, you should have told me sooner, and I’m not happy that you didn’t.” And now your tone is more disappointed than before and fuck, he’s changed his mind, he’ll take the anger back. Anything but the disappointment.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, okay?!” It’s a desperate exclamation and the Max Phillips of a few months ago would be embarrassed at the lack of control in his words. “I knew this would happen when I told you, I knew you would leave me, and I wanted to put it off for as long as possible!”

There. It’s out. Vulnerability that Max has always struggled with showing itself when it’s too late. Maybe he should have told you how much you mean to him sooner. Maybe it would help him now. He’ll never know, though. Within the next five minutes, you’ll probably be out the door and he’ll be left thinking about what he should have, could have, would have done.

“Leave you? Who the hell said anything about leaving you?”

If snapping necks worked on vampires, he would have just unintentionally ended his own existence with how quickly he turned to look at you. He is utterly baffled, and after multiple attempts the only thing he can get out is a meek, “Isn’t that what’s about to happen?”

“Um, no? Why would I leave you when I have so many questions?” you ask, brow furrowed with genuine confusion etched across your face.

Okay… so you’re not leaving yet? Is that what’s happening? You’ll ask him a series of cliché questions, decide you don’t like his answers or his existence in general, and then you’ll leave?

It gets him a few more minutes with you, right? Better than nothing, he supposes.

“Questions?”

“Yes, Max, questions.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“Oh, I’m livid.”

His answering wince must be more obvious than he meant for it to be. Your brows lift just a tad, your shoulders drop, and your voice has lost part of its edge when you speak again. “I’m not mad at you for being a vampire, babe.”

Okay, he seriously has no idea what the hell is going on. Your words are equally as confusing as the use of the pet name.

“Then why are you mad?” He knows it’s a stupid question, yes, but he can’t help but ask it.

You sigh, a small sound, and it’s not even that frustrated. Maybe just… exasperated? Almost fondly so? Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “I’m mad that you didn’t tell me sooner. There’s so much we could have already talked about!”

And he doesn’t even want to ask, honestly. He knows that you’ll want to know all the gruesome details: how he was turned, does he kill people, all the things that he’ll answer even though he knows it only heightens the chances of you leaving, even if you said you weren’t. “Like what?” he asks, and it’s already so defeated.

“Um, where do I even start?”

And he sighs as you think a little bit, but before he can open his mouth to start telling his story or whatever, you speak again.

“I mean, first of all, just off the top of my head, do you digest blood?”

What.

The.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry?” is the only thing that he can get out.

“Well, it obviously has some nutritional value to you, but how does that work with organ function and all? You’re like, technically dead, right? Except you still have some organ functioning, so… which ones?”

“Which… ones?”

“Yeah, which organs work? I mean the consensus of vampire lore is that your heart doesn’t beat but your brain obviously works. If you need blood as sustenance, is your digestive system functioning, too? Do you have to breathe? What determines which organs you need to stay – well, maybe not alive, but existing? I guess?”

“I am so confused right now.”

“Uh, yeah, me too, Max! Why do you think I’m asking you?!”

His brain is so stuck that he can’t figure out any other response except, “So, you’re not leaving me?”

You do some sort of half-sigh, half-scoff and throw your hands up before letting out an emphatic, “No, Max, I already told you I’m not leaving you.”

“But you’re mad at me?”

“Yes, I’m mad! I could have already been picking your brain about all this stuff and you’ve prevented me from experiencing that joy until now!”

The two of you have just been a few feet apart in his living room this whole time, but now he needs to sit down. He crosses to his couch and collapses on it before burying his face in his palms. He doesn’t need the deep breath that he takes, but the motion makes him feel better. More stable.

The warmth of your body close to his just precedes your careful hand on his shoulder. Your voice is soft and concerned when you say his name.

He knows he should pick his head up and look at you, but he doesn’t feel ready to just yet. He needs just another moment to reorient himself in this conversation before he can face it.

You speak again before he can muster up the courage to say something. “I’m not really mad. I wish you had told me sooner, but I’m not mad at you. I’m just nosy and want to know everything all the time. And I have a lot of questions that the internet isn’t really able to answer.”

He chuckles softly, just a couple of quick exhales through his nose, and he finally feels able to look up and meet your eyes. When he does, he notices the soft smile gracing the corners of your lips and the way your brows aren’t furrowed anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I know.”

“You’re just so good. Too good for me. And I figured that once you knew what I really was, you’d never want to be with me. I didn’t want to let you go yet.”

“Oh, my love. I’m sorry if I did something to make you think that. You’re everything to me. It might take a minute for me to fully comprehend that you’re a vampire, but I know you, and I have no intention of leaving you.”

God, you’re perfect. It’s the only explanation. You are the most perfect person ever created and he is wretched, but somehow the universe has decided to give him the best thing it has to offer.

He lets his hand float up to your face, lets the backs of his fingers brush over your chin and up until he’s smoothing his fingers over your cheek. His thumb rubs gently over the space just below your eye, and he revels in the warmth he feels below the skin.

What’s two bombshells in one day, he decides.

“I love you.”

Your smile loosens in favor of your lips opening on an exhale, and your eyebrows raise. Your eyes are round and open and gleaming, and if he weren’t already immortal, the way his reflection in them is outlined in fondness would be enough to make him so.

He doesn’t have time to think about whether he should add some sort of qualifier, some sort of statement that you don’t have to feel the same, because he feels the breath of your response against his wrist when you say, “I love you, too.”

A few gentle kisses later, you pull away and your face changes, a slight smirk and a hint of mirth in your eyes as you say, “Okay, so can you answer my questions now? Digesting blood, yes or no?”

His answering laugh echoes through the room, and his non-beating heart swears to always answer whatever you ask.

[anarchyrpbook]

FALLOUT (TV SERIES, 2024): Episode Seven Feel free to edit the sentences, places, pronouns, etc, as you need. NSFW TW: Mentions of violence

“Thank you, darling.”

“Well, hell, I probably still got some of your lead in me somewhere.”

“But today, I’m just looking for information.”

“I’ll tell you anything, as long as you leave us in peace.”

“We haven’t heard from him since.”

“There’s always some new little faction, ain’t there?”

“Brand-new team of believers with their own dumbass ideas about how they gonna save the world.”

“What did you do? What is that envelope?”

“But my problem is, by the time I got this letter off your [relation], it was a little bit hard to read.” *holds up bloodied letter with a hole in it.* 

“For some reason, I just can’t make out their location. Now, you give me that location, and I’ll be on my way.”

“I didn’t want to spend my life digging through dirt, I want to build something, and we have the chance -”

“Tell him what he wants to know! Or else he’ll kill us all!”

“Now, please, leave us.”

“What is it about [location], that we all came to this place?”

“But it is just a dream, it’s not real.”

“This is about all the horseshit I can take.”

“I have my principles, [name], that’s all.”

“How do you know them?”

“My research company was acquired by her division.”

“Hypocrisy is like violence in your movies; if you only let bad guys use it, the bad guys win.”

“A good bad guy doesn’t see themselves as the bad guy.”

“It’s a listening device.”

“You want me to spy on them?”

“Good luck with that revolution.”

“I’m not a [foul description/title]. That’s just a dirty word they use to describe people who aren’t insane.”

“We let you into our home. Tended to your wounds, gave you food and water.”

“You’re experimenting on them… It’s sick.”

“What is this?”

“At this point, it would be irrational of me not to acknowledge that these may be my last words.”

“Sorry, I uh, haven’t seen that footage in a long time.”

“I had no idea the original [vault dwellers] here were so… so weird.”

“Your ignorance cannot excuse your cruelty.”

“You have infected our home with violence and now you must pay the price.”

“Are you done?”

“I’m gunna fucking die.”

“If you were a person, you wouldn’t have any friends, you realize that?”

“Okay, I got to reevaluate here.”

“Oh, you want this too, huh? Everybody wants this. Guess what? It’s mine.”

“You think everything’s for you. It’s pretty selfish, actually, you know that?”

“You’re a loose cannon, all right? This is a very important mission, and I can’t have you jeopardizing it.” 

“You can breathe in there, right?”

“It doesn’t matter where you come from or what you believe, you deserve safety… Unless you threaten that peace.”

“It’s almost there.”

“Need to get that sharpened, please.”

“You’re just… Letting me go?”

“That’s, uh, very nice of you guys.”

“I know that I’m not really in the position to be asking favors…”

“I can help people with this. You, for example, I want to help you.”

“I was supposed to marry a stranger, from another [vault]. It didn’t turn out so good.”

“I don’t have the best luck when it comes to strangers.”

“But, [name], I can honestly say, you’re the best stranger I’ve ever met.”

“There’s something I should tell you.”

“He was threatening me, so instead of helping him, I watched him die.”

“So all that stuff you were saying, you know, uhm, about me being a good person…”

“I just threw acid in an innocent man’s face.”

“Do you want to come live with me in my [vault]?”

“Don’t kill me, I’m a doctor, I can help you!”

“Before we start, there’s the small matter of my fee.”

“Remember, wherever you end up, that’s where you belong.”

“Ugh, more death, I wish it would end.”

“What did I tell you, [name], words have meaning.”

“So, you’re just gonna forget about everything we’ve seen?”

“I feel like this is a good moment for a fresh start.”

“You’re a coward, you know that, [name]?”

“We all are, that’s why we live in a [vault].”

“I’ve got three hot cocoas on deck, two marshmallow, one plain.”

“I’m sorry, [name], but you ain’t them.”

“Yeah, uh, my ride should be getting here any minute.”

“People just, uh, can’t be nice.”

“God, I suck without a scope.”

“Why am I not dead?”

“Well, I’m not just gonna leave it there.”

“[Name], I think you might be a ghoul.”

“They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“They’re never going to stop looking for it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“And now we say goodbye to all those that are leaving us for [Vault 32].”

“Uh, excuse me, I don’t live there. I, uh, live here.”

“Sorry, sorry, that was weird. Sorry.”

“Are you compromised?”

“Mission not going as planned.”

[deandoesthingstome]

Night Moves

Chapter 6

Pairing: Walter Marshall x OFC (Alexandra Pierce)

Series Summary: When Walter Marshall is called to investigate a homicide by the railroad tracks, he quickly uncovers an unsettling pattern. Alexandra Pierce just wants someone to find out what happened to her friend. She has some secrets, too. And Walter’s going to uncover them.

Word Count: 3286

Series Warnings: In general, this series will depict assault, murder, stripping, hooking, rough sex, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex in various positions, self-loathing, failed relationships, smoking, alcohol, general violence, makeup sex, and maybe some comfort. +18, Minors DNI. Edit: If you were here before, know that I removed drug use and drug addiction. I had a plan and things changed, as they so often do.

Chapter Warnings: Morning pillow talk, minor self-loathing, mention of failed relationships, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), general police procedures, special guest!, more misogyny.

Disclaimers: I do not own Walter Marshall, Night Hunter (Nomis), or any other characters from that movie, but I do own this OFC (Alexandra Pierce) and these words. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header made by me, with pics found from Pexel.com and the internet. Dividers are not mine, but check out the masterlist for credit.

Playlist:  Night Moves Songs 20-22 Direct Spotify Link

Masterlist

Alex leans back against the kitchen counter and sips her coffee, watching Walter search the floor for the rest of his belongings. She knows exactly where the wallet landed because everything lost in her apartment always ends up in the same place, but she’s silently giggling as this grumpy bear of man crawls around her floor, huffing and grunting.

“Are you really just going to stand there and have a laugh while I slowly lose my mind?” he asks, head shifting back and forth over the same spots again. “I thought I tossed it over this way…Fuck.”

Alex wonders if he’ll need another shower after he gets all worked up again with frustration. 

It was nice this morning, waking in his arms, even if the hour was ungodly. His straying fingertips told her he was already awake, even though his eyes were closed when she lifted her head to peer over at him. 

“Morning,” he had grunted gently.

“Good morning,” she smiled back at him as he slowly opened his eyes. “At least I think we can call this hour ‘morning’.”

“Did I wake you?”

“I think having someone in my bed for the first time in several long months might have something to do with it,” she grinned and stretched a bit before settling back into his side. “Pattern changes. You too?”

“I tried to say last night, I don’t really sleep well. This was probably the longest in a while, and especially with the case.”

Alex felt a lead balloon drop and waited a few moments to gather her thoughts.

“Is this a problem?”

“This?”

“Us. Here. In my bed. Is it a problem for you? For the case?”

Walter closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, then reopened them to look at her.

“It could be,” he answered, with no additional elaboration. But when Alex tried to move away, he held her close in place. “It doesn’t have to be. We have your id of Trixie. If you can just leave the investigation to us…”

“I get it. Last night was stupid.” She felt him tense ever so slightly. “Well, not all of last night. Should we talk about that?”

“Did you enjoy it?” Walter asked, wondering if it was worth hoping for the answer he wants.

“I did, and you know I did, but that’s not what I meant by ‘talk about it.’ You said you needed someone to ‘conform to your will’ now and then. Is that something you don’t get often?”

Walter took a moment to look down at Alex, then shifted and urged her to sit up against the headboard next to him, so he could look at her on the same level.

“In the bedroom? Not usually.”

“Do you need it often?”

“More often than my ex-wife and other partners were usually willing to accept.”

“You were married,” Alex states matter-of-factly, with no judgment.

“Yeah. And I’m a father.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Daughter.”

“So, perfect for you, huh?”

Walter saw the hint of a tease twinkled in Alex’s eyes and made a decision right then and there. This woman was special and he didn’t want to let her go. Not anytime soon, that was for sure.

“Okay, yeah. It’s a challenge. Compartmentalizing what I do and who I am.”

“Maybe you need to stop.”

“Being a cop?”

“Compartmentalizing.”

Walter sat with it for a moment. Let her words sink in. There was no way she knew the kind of deplorable shit he’d seen during his time on the force. No way she would think it would be okay to talk about those things with a teenage daughter. Or son or wife or girlfriend, for that matter. 

“What is it you do again?” he asked, not really trying to change the subject.

“I teach a survey course on sociology at the university while I’m working on my PhD. Yes, you’re right. I’m not a psychologist or a psychiatrist. But I’ve taken plenty of courses and been through enough therapy myself to know you cannot hide who you are from the people you…, the people in your life and expect positive outcomes. That’s all I’m saying.”

Walter hummed in thought.

“Is that what did your marriage in?” When he looked at her with what seemed like shock, Alex tried to take it back. “I’m sorry, that was rude and completely none of my business.”

“No. I mean yes. Yes, rude and none of your business, but also…yeah, it probably was.” Probably what went wrong with every other relationship as well. Not that he hadn’t tried. Tried to be the dutiful husband, devoted boyfriend, normal guy with normal desires. And he could last long enough to make it seem like this one might work this time. And then he would come apart at the seams along with the relationships.

“Okay, well…” Alex wanted to mention that at least this relationship was getting off to a more honest start, but was this even going to be a relationship? Was this too soon to say something like that? She’d wanted to tell him he couldn’t hide from the people he loved, but that felt too close, too personal, too soon. And yet, it’s all she could think about. This man who had let himself into her life so easily.

“Alright look, bad timing because I should really probably get going…” Walter started.

“Oh, yeah, yes. Of course. Shower?” Alex offered.

She waited for his nod and peeled herself out of bed with the mention of a spare toothbrush and abundant hot water.

When he stepped in behind her, she was already wet and soapy so his hands slid easily around her waist as he pulled on her and turned her to him. 

“I don’t care about the toothbrush,” he admitted before stooping to catch her mouth with his and easing his tongue in beside hers. They kissed under the water for what felt like ages, or at least as long as it took for Walter to slide his hand between her legs and slip a few fingers inside her ever-warm pussy, reaching for her spot and finding it without trouble.

When she came, he swallowed her cry of pleasure but she caught him off guard when she sank to her knees and put her mouth on him again. He let a few “fucks” slip while he braced one hand against the shower wall and the other at the back of her head, waiting for the right moment to press a little harder, send her a little further down his length. The quick gag did the trick and he was coming down her throat with a growl.

Finally rinsed clean and towel dried, Alex wrapped herself in a short, lightweight robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee while Walter fished his shirt off the bedroom floor and headed into the living room grasping the towel around his waist. He found his underwear, socks, boots, and jeans easily enough. And there was the spent condom, right on the rug where she’d told him to drop it. He grabbed a tissue from the box he now saw on the coffee table, picked up the rubber and brought it into the kitchen.

Alex was just pouring a cup and opened the cabinet below the sink, nodding for him to toss it in the can inside. He waved her off when she offered him a cup, grumbling about still missing his wallet. And here he was a few minutes later still searching for it.

Alex finally relents, sets her cup down and wanders into the living room. She stands at the far end of the sofa and toes her foot under the edge, dragging the wallet out and sliding it towards where he’s just turning back to her on his hands and knees.

“That’s not…I looked there like five times and that’s not even the direction I threw it. What the hell?” He stands and pockets the wallet, wondering if it would be too much to take advantage of the proximity to lean in for another morning kiss, knowing it could go nowhere. Too familiar?

“It’s the only black hole in my place. Everything winds up there one way or another,” she answers, noticing his pause. “Don’t ask me. I think the floor is warped.”

“You should warn your guests.”

“To be fair, most guests aren’t tossing their wallets to the floor with quite the level of abandon you were last night.”

Walter hums with appreciation at the memory. “Some other level of abandon, then?” He is just about to reach for her, pull her close and kiss her like he wants to when his phone rings in his pocket. He answers to hear Rachel on the other end asking him to make his way to the station as soon as possible. They had a lead.

“Fuck, I gotta get going. Can I call you later?”

“I’d really like that,” Alex admits.

“Good. And listen, no kidding. Stay away from this case from now on. No more trips to the tracks. I don’t suppose I can get you to stop working at the club, though, can I?” he questions. When she shakes her head slowly, he huffs. “At least take a cab home? Or call me when you’re off?”

“I cannot have a cop picking me up after shift. It’ll ruin any inroads I’ve made with these women. But I can step away for a few days. After I let them know what happened to Trixie.”

“How are you getting around? Have you gotten your car fixed?”

“In the last 24 hours? No,” she laughs, not unkindly. “Look, I understand and appreciate your concern. And I know what I did was dumb. I’ll see if I can borrow a neighbor’s car for the day, and I’ll cab it to campus until the repairs are done, okay?”

“Do you have a shop you normally go to?”

“I just take it wherever the tow truck is from.”

“Alright, look.” Walter texts her a name and number. “That’s my guy. Does excellent work and absolutely will not overcharge you, especially if you tell him I sent you.”

“Thanks,” she smiles and opens the front door, moving aside for Walter to step into the hall.

“Be safe, okay? Call me if you need anything,” Walter orders, just as Mrs. Travers is opening her door.

“Now what are you doing here? Is Alex in trouble again?”

Walter stares dumbfounded at Alex while she tries to stifle a giggle before letting her neighbor know everything is fine and no, she’s not in trouble. Not anymore.

“Alright, who’s that sitting at my desk?” Walter asks Rachel, who has met him at the precinct door.

“It’s Lila Buchannan,” Rachels announces, with a tone like he’s supposed to know who she is.

“Who?” Walter doesn’t recognize the name.

“Detective Jonas’ girlfriend?”

Walter takes a moment to process, but it’s still not clicking for him. “You said we had a lead?”

“She’s got some information.”

“Oh, from the ER, right. Another assault victim?” Walter asks, his head turned sideways toward Rachel.

“No. Look, you’re gonna wanna talk to her yourself. I’m not sure you’ll believe it coming from anyone else.” 

Rachel follows Walter to his desk, then suggests they all move to her office where they can talk behind closed doors. Lila picks up a brown paper shopping bag and holds it close to her chest as she follows Rachel, casting a worried glance back at Walter as she goes.

“Lila, is it?” Walter holds out his hand, but drops it just as quickly when she jerks herself and the bag back from him. “I’m Detective Walter Marshall, I understand you’re dating my partner, Mick. How’s his family holding up?”

“What?” Lila asks, confused and Walter has to hold in the exasperation, because if this timid mouse has a lead for him, he wants to hear it before he scares her off. Jonas must be out of town without her if she’s here alone to speak with someone other than him.

“Did he leave without you to care for the emergency?”

“I don’t have any idea what emergency you’re talking about, Detective Marshall. And I don’t have any idea where Mick is. He’s been gone for a few days now.”

Walter is now as confused as Lila appears to be, so he tries to start over.

“Okay. Well. Rachel here says you have some information about our case. Mick mentioned you work in the ER. Did another assault victim come in?”

From his peripheral, Walter sees Rachel shake her head, and he remembers now she already said that wasn’t what this was about, but Lila isn’t offering up any information on her own and he has no idea where to start.

“Lila? Will you tell Detective Marshall what you told me?” Rachel intervenes.

“Okay, yeah. So, I was cleaning the kitchen. It’s gotten a little messy lately, because I’ve been picking up some extra shifts to help with bills and I haven’t had time to really get it spotless like Mick likes. The laundry is kinda of piling up, too.”

“Okay,” Walter isn’t sure where this is going but he tries to encourage her to keep talking.

“And I accidentally knocked over the jar where Mick keeps his change. I’ve asked him to keep that in the living room, or the bedroom, but he insists on it being in the kitchen for some reason. And like, a bunch of coins rolled into the floor vent. So I popped the cover off and reached in to grab them, but my hand brushed against this box.” 

Lila pulls a small cardboard box from the paper bag and holds it out. Walter looks at the box for a moment before taking the gloves Rachel has held out to him. He tugs them over his hands, certain she’s handed him smalls when she has to know he needs a large pair, but whatever. 

He opens it carefully to find several pieces of jewelry inside. He pokes a finger in and shifts them around, making note of rings, pendants, bracelets.

“I take it these aren’t yours?” Walter asks gently. He notices initials that aren’t L.B. on the back of a locket and decides to ask anyway. “Would he be planning to gift these to you?”

“He never gives me presents.” Lila shakes her head. “Look, he’s been so strange lately. And I know I’ve been messing up royally, so I guess I deserved the smacks. He was just trying to get me to quiet down so he could relax after a long day, I know…”

“I’m sorry, did you say he hit you?” Walter asks, his hackles raising now.

“Just … like … a couple times. And it was only really hard once. I was able to cover it with some concealer. It was nothing like those girls I’ve seen at the ER.”

“But he hit you? Did you tell anyone?”

“No! God, no. You know what, forget I said that. That’s not why I’m here. I didn’t know what to do with those. I was just going to get the rest of the change and put the box back. But then I found…” Lila makes a face like she wants to retch and Walter isn’t sure what to do next.

He watches as Lila opens the paper bag again and reaches in with her eyes closed. “Here.”

Lila’s eyes are still closed and she doesn’t open them until Walter has removed the jar from her grip.

He tries to process what he’s looking at. Little bits of shriveled…skin? He rolls the jar and tries to count.

“Rachel, let’s get these to forensics. And get the commander to put a rush on fingerprints and DNA.” Walter hands the items to Rachel, who has just donned her own pair of gloves. “Lila, do you have any idea where Mick might be?”

Lila shakes her head and Walter heaves his shoulders with a heavy sigh. 

“Alright, well let’s get your statement down.” He takes a seat behind Rachel’s desk and switches logins on her computer, pulling up a witness statement on his account and beginning to type. He asks Lila for her basic information, a few more questions about how she came to find the jar and box, listens as she swears she’s never seen these before, and gets angrier and angrier as he types the words “strike” and “hit”, though pleased he’s been able to convince her they are important details for the statement.

He’s just returning from the print room with copies for Lila to sign when his cell rings again. He sees Sy's number and is about to ignore the call, but remembers he sent Alex there this morning.

“Marshall here,” he answers, like his mechanic doesn’t know who he was just calling.

“Hey man, I just picked up your lady friend’s beater, but is there sumthin’ I need to know about her?”

“What could you possibly need to know about her to fix a car?”

“Well, is she in some kinda trouble or sumthin’? I don’t need to get mixed up in anythin’, ya know?”

“Syverson, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Alright, listen. I was just hookin’ her up and havin’ her sign the release. Was about to ask if she needed a ride anywhere, when some guy pulls up. Steps out, flashes a badge. I wasn’t trynna get in anyone’s business, so I hopped in the truck. I can hear him tell her he has some questions for her about a case, ask if she’d come with him. She says she already gave her statement to you, and he says you need her to come back to the station anyway. Then he says ‘now’ real tough and mean-like and she looks like she is about to turn back into the building, but he grabs her and puts her in the car.”

“When did this happen?” Walter is not quite in a panic, but he can feel it creeping up.

“Just now. I’m on my way back to the garage now.”

“Can you describe the vehicle? The man?”

Walter listens while Syverson gives him an accurate description of Mick and what he assumes must be Mick’s personal vehicle.

“Alright, man, thanks. No, there’s nothing you need to worry about. Just get her car up and running for me, would you?”

“You got it, boss.”

Walter ends the call, muttering “what the fuck?” and heads over to dispatch.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! 

That is not how this was supposed to go. I shoulda waited until that guy was gone, but she probably woulda high-tailed it inside and then I’d have to wait who knows how long to get her.

At least she waited until the tow truck was out of sight to start really asking me questions. But I shut her up with a quick backhand. When she turned to me with that stupid look of shock on her face, I followed up with a nice hard jab straight to the jaw. Knocked her dumb ass out, so at least I can have some peace and quiet on the drive out.

We’re almost there now and I can’t wait to introduce her to the rest of the girls. I can tell this one is going to be just as feisty as the last one. She really whet my appetite. I know I’m supposed to space ‘em out so I don’t draw suspicion. I remember learning that from Dad. But it felt so good, teaching her a lesson. Feels like I need to keep it up. A few cuts and bruises ain’t gonna cut it anymore.

Chapter 7

Taglist: (If you asked for a tag and it’s not here, Tumblr likely isn’t letting me tag you. Ask if you want me to try again.)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage​ @fvckinghenrycavill​ @mayloma​ @sillyrabbit81​ @kebabgirl67​ @beck07990​  (Also throwing in a few from the old days for old times sake ;) @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @anotherwinchesterfangirl​ @sebbytrash​ @feelmyroarrrr​)

NM: @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @kingliam2019​​ @henryownsme​ @littlefreya​ @identity2212​ @marantha​ @angelcavill66​ @sweetdreamsofgelato​ @jeremyrennermakesmesmile​ @liveoncoffeeandflowersss​ @greensleeves888​ @dinoswierdmom​ @geralts-yenn​

[jasntodds]

Caving In [5]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 10,370

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, mention of torture, mentions of previous homelessness, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of bruises, a mention of a previous broken bone (Jason), mentions of abuse (nothing is in detail)

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: I know this a week late but I couldn’t edit this last week so here we are!! I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The rest of the night passed in a blur. You hung out with Gar until eleven. You just watched two of his favorite movies and he gushed about them the whole time. You were pretty excited to start training with Jason but watching movies Gar helped the time pass by a lot quicker. It didn’t even really feel like you watched two movies. And you even felt bad about bailing on a third movie when it got later but you knew you’d be late if the two of you started another one. You promised you’d continue the marathon tomorrow though and that seemed to please him. So, you went to your room and waited out the extra hour.

Apparently, everyone is normally in bed around midnight if there isn’t something going on. Rachel went to bed two hours ago and you haven’t seen Dick since he checked on you and Gar around 10:30. Gar’s door is shut and there isn’t a light coming from under the door when you exit your room. You’ve always been more of a night owl, it’s always been the one time when you could be completely alone. Even in Gotham, the streets were quieter at night. It almost felt peaceful even but as you walk down the hallways and into the living room, you spot Gar sitting on his laptop on the couch.

“H-hey?” You ask as you get closer. “What’re you doing up?”

Gar looks at you with raised brows. “Couldn’t sleep, you?” He vividly remembers you saying you were going to bed and you don’t look panicked as if you had a nightmare again.

“Same.” You lie with a nod. “Walking sometimes helps.” You don’t like lying, but sometimes it has to be done. You want to trust him to not say anything, but you’re not really sure if you can. For all you know, he’ll run right to Dick and tell on you and Jason before training even starts.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” Gar’s hand goes to the top of the laptop as if to be ready to shut it.

You almost say yes because you like his company but this is a secret between you and Jason. Gar doesn’t seem like the type to disobey authority. You don’t want to drag him into a mess you and Jason are potentially causing for the next week or so. What he doesn’t know, can’t hurt him.

“I’m okay.” You say. “Thank you though, I’m just gonna….walk a bit but I’ll come get you if I change my mind.” Gar nods, understandingly, looking a little sad but confused by it. You didn’t decline after last night’s nightmare but you are now. He isn’t sure why, he feels like there’s something going on but it’s also none of his business so he doesn’t say anything.

You finish your walk to the training room, putting your guilt about lying to Gar in the back of your head. When you enter the room, Jason is right there, waiting. A part of you thought maybe he’d still be mad and stand you up. It’s a pleasant surprise that he’s actually here.

“Midnight.” You wiggle your phone, the screen lights up at Jason.

“Cutting it close.” Jason taunts with a mocking grin.

“Shut up.” You shake your head, walking up to him. “Where do we start?”

A chuckle leaves Jason’s throat, amused by your eagerness. Finally, someone else who gets it. “Have you ever punched someone?”

“A few times.” You shrug. “It wasn’t really my thing.” You scrunch your nose.

“How wasn’t it your thing?” Jason questions, his brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” Your eyes go left and then right, trying to figure out what he’s so confused about. Some people don’t like to punch other people in the face.

“Seems like you'd be into hitting people.” Jason chortles.

Your survival instincts is actually why he thinks that. The whole dealing with torture for a year thing, living on the streets of Gotham, your overall detached sarcastic attitude, it all makes him think you wouldn't be afraid to throw the first punch.

“Rude. No,” You shake your head with a laugh. “Like I said, people didn’t hate me and I wasn’t one to throw a punch. I talk a lot of shit for someone who’s only been in a handful of fistfights.” You shift your weight. “And….close hand-to-hand combat is a bit sketchy. Shit starts going south, you’re fucked. I threw knives.” You state nonchalantly, watching Jason's face contort in surprise. "People fear knives, everyone thinks they stand a chance in a fistfight."

Jason's brows knit together, trying to piece all of this together. “Knives???? And how did you manage that?” He didn't see that coming.

You shrug. “Guy at one of the shelters, he taught street kids how to defend themselves. Self defense and he had a thing for knives.”

Jason lets out this booming laugh, his head tilting back. “Yeah, uh, Knife Guy? Like, that’s what he was called, right? Shelter by the library?”

“Yeah,” You let out a shy laugh. “Yeah, white hair, scar across his left eye?”

There’s this feeling in the pit of your stomach you can’t identify knowing that Jason knows who you’re talking about. The guy had been around for years according to his stories and rumors. So, of course Jason would know who he is. But, it’s still weird because had any of yours and Jason’s circumstances changed within a year of each other, you likely would have run into each other. You wonder if you would have hated him or been too infatuated with him to focus on anything else if that had been the case. You settle on the feeling being bitterness.

“Yeah, that’s the guy.” Jason gives you this understanding smile. “Okay, so he taught you knives and how to punch?”

Jason didn't care much for the guy. He didn't really know what he was doing, even before Jason's training he knew that. But, it was better than nothing. Time and time again, Jason witnessed other kids who got picked up by dealers, by other kids, by scarier adults. A lot of kids knew to just start screaming bloody murder and it'd scare off the person because it draws too much attention, usually. But, other times, some sort of defense was needed and no one else was helping. Something is better than nothing, that's what Jason thinks anyway. But, the knives, the guy had a thing for that and he rarely ever missed.

“Kind of.” You shrug. "It was mostly knife work I learned from him. Let's be honest, him and the library are the only reason anyone actually goes to that shelter willingly." You grimaces. The staff kind of sucks there. They aren't very nice and the food is somehow worse at that shelter. But, beggars can't be choosers.

Jason walks over to the table containing throwing knives. He picks one up and flips the blade towards him, offering you the handle. “Let’s see what you got then.”

You smirk at him and it’s been a while. You’re not very confident in your ability to hit a target but you won’t let Jason know that.

“I am rusty, so remember that.” You chuckle, taking the knife from him and walking in front of the target. You aim as you were taught, realizing your vision is still a bit compromised but you take the throw anyway. It sticks at the very bottom of the target. “Well, fuck.” You groan.

“Not a sharpshooter that’s for sure.” Jason chuckles.

“Give me another!” You spin, glaring at him. Jason does as told and you spin around, arming again and this time, it’s closer but still far off from the bullseye.

“Least you get it on the target, I guess.” Jason teases you. “Maybe you should get some hand-to-hand in, might do you better.”

“Fuck off!” You grow annoyed and you were never a sharpshooter but this is ridiculous. You should be closer, at least. It’s why you chose the knives. You’re better at it but this is not it. You won’t let Jerry take this away from you either. “Give me another one.” Jason hands another one over, crossing his arms. He is a little impressed with you making it on the target. He can tell by how you move your arm, it hurts. It’s shaky when you pull back and you step into it with a shaky leg. That’s why you’re missing but Jason lets you throw again before saying anything. This one is worse than the first one. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” You groan, throwing your head back.

“Did you want some advice now? I mean, we can do this all night. It’s pretty funny but I could help.”

You stare straight ahead, rolling your eyes before turning to face him. "Enlighten me."

"You're in pain and you gotta fight through it." Jason picks up a knife, spinning it in his hands as if to show off. "Go faster. Stop thinking so hard about it. You always think that much? Cause, if you're in a fight, you don't get that."

"No!" You yells to defend yourself. "Of course, not but I haven't done it in a while and yeah, it’s kind of painful." Usually, when you were to throw a knife, there wasn’t a lot of thought, not after a while. Your eyes and arms just worked together. Again, it’s not that you were a sharpshooter or anything, but your movements were fluid and you usually hit whatever you were trying to, even if it wasn’t a perfect target. But, this is different. It feels like you’re starting over in a way because hitting this stationary target that isn’t even that far away should have been easier.

"So?" Jason challenges you. "It should be like getting on a bike." His eyes widen as he stands toe to toe with you, dangling the knife. "Just throw it." His grin is taunting and you keep your eyes narrowed at him.

You take the knife from him and does what he says. You don't think about it and just spin around, throwing the knife just as it comes into view. The knife sticks just a few inches from the bullseye and you get this smile on your face that’s drenched in pride and relief while Jason's is proud.

He can’t help the way his heart skips a beat with the smile on your face or with the way you spin back around, confidence oozing from you. Your eyes are bright and this is the first time you look genuinely happy. Jason’s stomach flips as you eye him with pride and in the moment, a subconscious part of him swears he never wants to see you anything but happy and proud.

"See? Stop thinking so fucking much." Jason chortles, brushing off the bubbles in his stomach.

"That how you function?" You quip, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason shrugs. "Working pretty well." He spreads his arms out. "Robin."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." You let out a sigh.

He has a point. But, you hope that maybe he'll be really good at this training. But, you both can stick it to Dick and maybe it'll be a way, in a roundabout kind of way, for Jason to show Dick what he can do. Maybe that'll be enough for Bruce. You can train carefully but successfully. You think it should be enough because while you have so far been enjoying his company, the way he just beams like the morning sun when he mentions Robin, you want him to be able to get back to that. You don’t have to know him in depth or for very long to know he deserves it.

"No bad though." Jason nods his head at you.

"Was that a compliment?" You wiggle your brows at him.

"Yeah, fuck off." Jason chuckles softly as he looks to the floor and back to you. "Alright, you wanna do that or you wanna fight?"

"Fight." You answer, the smile falling from your face as you nod at him once. You'll get back into knife throwing when you can train with everyone else. You were always better at it.

Jason walks to the center of the floor, you following him but keeping your distance. "Do you do know how to punch someone?"

"Assume so." You shrug. "Knife Guy did teach me that."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Show me."

You hesitate but walk towards him anyway and make a fist and punch him lightly in the arm. Jason bursts out laughing and you can't be serious.

"That's a joke, right?"

"I don't want to actually p--"

"I can't train you if I don't know if you can even punch someone. Aren't you still mad at me from earlier?" Jason questions. He was sure you’d be okay with a friendly sparring session. He didn’t think you were actually someone who didn’t like to punch people.

You shrug a shoulder. "I don't have many grudges."

"Start, it'll help." Jason quips, there’s a roughness to his voice and you wonder what grudges he’s hiding. "Just fucking hit me, it's not like it's gonna be worse than anything I've had before."

You roll your eyes but do as he says, actually putting some force into it and Jason just blinks at you. He can't tell if you just don't know what you’re doing or if you’re weak as a person or if being malnourished has made you weak and that's why you suck at this. You’re going to be a part of the team and he's gotta get you to be stronger than this if your powers aren't going to be fool proof like Dick likes to think.

"That's pathetic." Jason nods.

"Thank you. I used to pride myself in not being very violent." You scoff.

"You're a Titan." Jason almost pleads.

"That's why I'm here so you can teach me to be more violent and actually kick ass. I'm not who I was before. I said used to." You only acted in self defense, life or death, scared situations. But, you want to be ready for anything. Act first, think later kind of mentality from now on.

For a second, Jason wonders if this is a good idea. He wasn't a super violent person before Robin either. He's had his share of fistfights, of course, nothing on this planet will get Jason to shut the fuck up and people don't normally find it charming. He had no choice. It's always kill or be killed. But being Robin gave him a free pass to kick ass. Sure, the criminals all deserved it and it was mostly under the watchful eye of Bruce, but it was a free pass and maybe some of that went to his head like when he beat up a bunch of cops when he was helping Dick. Does he want to put someone else through that? Is that what Dick meant with all that talk about not being Robin? Jason can't imagine another life, sure he fights more but it's also the most himself he's ever felt and there's a sense of feeling complete being Robin. Maybe that's just one of the consequences of finding yourself, losing a part of yourself.

"I'm also injured." You continue. "I could punch harder if it didn't hurt."

"Okay. I'm gonna teach you how to throw a punch and a proper kick then we're gonna spar." Jason explains, earning raised brows from you. "So, I can see what you can do and what you can't right now. It'll be easier for me to figure shit out, not gonna push you too far."

"Alright." You agree. "Show me, then."

Jason walks you over to the punching bag and takes your hand in his and you can't help but notice the difference between how his hand feels compared to Gar's. It's cold, more calloused. It's rough like all he does is beat his fists into things which by the looks of the fading bruises on his knuckles, that is all he does.

He makes a fist with your hand and then stands behind you, using his feet to move yours in a proper position. His hands are on your hips and there's a second where his heart stutters. He convinces himself it’s because he just doesn’t want to get caught and you’re just starting. It’s not because his hands are on your hips and you look over your shoulder at him with nothing but endearment.

Your stomach flips under his touch and you don't know what the flipping in your stomach is. You can't even tell if you like it. It's different than the flipping with Gar because this feels....like adrenaline. It's a rush like running through the streets at night, the sky cloudy and the air muggy but something feels so good about it. Refreshing even. But Gar is a calming and comforting flip, butterflies even. He's the safety of a house after being out late at night, where the bed is the most welcoming place on earth. Jason makes you want to go skydiving, something you'd never do in a million years and Gar makes you want to curl up by a fire with hot chocolate and a pet dog.

"You're gonna wanna move your hips when you punch, gives you more momentum, stronger punch." Jason explains as he walks in front of you.

"Like this?" You throw a punch and the bag moves.

"Yeah, like that." Jason gives you a soft and proud smile, something you never thought you'd see coming from him. "Keep going but try putting more force into, as much as you can."

You do as you’re told and Jason gives a few pointers here and there on your form. But overall, you aren't doing too bad given your lack of experience and it makes Jason feel important. It's the first time since leaving Bruce that he feels important. Someone needs him. It's for fighting, but needs him nonetheless and he's doing a good job helping you. It feels really good. And after a few minutes of you hitting the bag, he feels it's time to show you how to kick properly without breaking a toe.

Jason does a few examples and you always thought the kicks of any type of fighting look so ridiculous when there isn't a person at the receiving end. Jason makes them look a little less ridiculous though and you follow his lead. You try to do what he does and he tells you what you’re doing wrong and what you’re doing right. He's surprisingly good at constructive criticism. Dick might not like what Bruce turned him and Jason into but as far as you’re concerned, they were taught well otherwise Jason wouldn't have any idea what constructive criticism even is and would just be badgering you about what you’re doing wrong.

"So," Jason starts as you grab a drink of water after a few rounds of kicks and punching bag hits. "How's this gonna work with your whole...combat thing you do?" Jason asks. "Because part of this is teaching you how to block but if you can dodge everything already?"

You shrug. "I can try to ignore it?" You offer.

"Is that something you can actually fucking do?" Jason quips with a chuckle.

"I don't fucking know." You laugh. "Probably, I did for a while with Jerry."

It’s not something easy to ignore. It’s kind of like trying to ignore a raging migraine. It doesn’t hurt but it’s throbbing and it’s annoying. But, you’ve done it before in a far worse situation. Jason, you know he’s not gonna hurt you. This is just training, some (Jason) might even say this is just fun. So, you think ignoring it might be helpful for right now but you swear you can’t make a habit of it.

The acid is one thing, it’s not something you like very much but the combat clairvoyance is nice. It’s useful and no one would ever know that’s what it is. But a part of you worries that if you ignore it enough, it won’t be as effective. The last thing you want is to be stuck with powers and then the one you like to not even work properly because you spent too much time ignoring it.

Jason nods. "Right. Alright, well, I won't actually try to hit you hard." Jason huffs but there's still a smile pulling at his lips. "Not a fair fight."

"Ha-ha." You mock. "No, that's fair." You laughs softly.

"You just have to block me, that's it." Jason shrugs as if it’s the easiest sentence he’s ever said. Something tells you blocking Jason isn’t going to be that easy even with him not trying very hard.

"Okay." You rest your water bottle down and follow Jason to the center of the room.

Jason takes position and you mimic what he's doing, not really understanding the purpose but roll with it anyway. It gains you a smirk and a head shake from Jason before he asks if you’re ready. You nod and Jason moves towards you, the sparring starting.

You feel the throbbing of the back of your head with Jason coming at you. It's throbbing and aching, a constant state of feeling like someone waking you up banging pots and pans right against your ears but you push through it. Ignoring the signals from the back of your head, you use your arms to block him to the best of your ability. It's not much actually but you saw him spar with Gar and Rachel earlier, he's holding back a lot. He's slower and there's almost no strength in his punches or his kicks. He's being careful not to hurt you and there's something really nice and reassuring about it. He just wants to help. But then you miss one of the blocks as Jason's leg comes up, connecting with your right flank.

You let out a scream and drop to the floor, holding your side. Jason stands in shock, questioning how it hurt that bad because he swears he didn't kick you hard, it was more of just a tap.

"Fuck, are you okay?" Jason moves to his knees in front of you, you hunching over, fighting back tears as the stinging intensifies.

Your eyes are slammed shut with your forehead pressed against the floor but you give him a thumbs up. "Fine, I...I'm...I'm fine."

"I-I'm sorry." Jason mumbles. "I didn't--" His hand is hovering over your shoulder, not sure what to do or how he can help.

"Not your fault." You cut him off, your words sharp and short, not mad. "Fuck." You look up to him, your eyes a little red.

"Let me see--"

"No." You shake your head. "It's fine...I just...need....a minute." Your words are breathy as the pain makes your heart race.

"Y/n, I'm really sorry." Jason apologizes with sad eyes wreaking of guilt.

"It's a bruise, not your fault, didn't tell you how bad." You mumble, as you try regain your breath, the pain fading just a bit.

"How fucking bad is that bruise? It should be getting better by now." Jason's voice raises with touches of anger and worry.

He's pissed you didn't tell him how bad the bruise still was. He still would have helped you but he would have minded his kicks and punches a lot more. He would have avoided that side. You were going easy enough that it would have been simple for him. He'd never hurt you on purpose. And he can only assume it's the boot print. It's the one bruise you specifically mentioned and bruises in the shape of boot are usually pretty bad and linger but he thought you'd tell him if it were that bad.

You suck in a breath as the stinging fades a bit more. "Pretty bad, I guess." You mutter. "Didn't think it'd be a big deal."

"That worked out real fucking well." Jason groans. You dodge his eyes and Jason feels guilty. It's not really his fault but you just wanted to train. If anyone would understand that, it's him.

You go quiet for a second and you feel bad but you’re just desperate. Being hurt makes your feel weaker and you hate feeling weak. You know that it's okay not feel completely okay and take time to heal an injury but you just don't think you have that kind of time. It's terrifying knowing Jerry is still out there, even if he stands no chance against the Titans. It doesn't matter because he's out there probably living his best life and you just want to live yours.

"I-I'm sorry." You mutter out, still dodging Jason's eyes. "I-I...I, uh, I don't like feeling weak and, ya know?" Your brows furrow. "Um..." Your jaw clenches. "Telling you how bad it is, it's just admitting it to myself and I don't...I don't want to do that." Your eyes finally lock on Jason's and his heart sinks.

He lets out a sigh and rests his forearm on his knee. "You're not weak, alright? Some dickwad did that to you, alright?" He shakes his head and something about you make it really easy to open up. It's easy for him to open to Gar because Gar doesn't judge. He just lets him talk and that's kind of what you do but you offer this sense of genuine understanding, even with stealing the hubcaps off the Batmobile. You're plenty different but on the surface you're so similar Jason finds it easy to talk to you. "I got hurt once, as Robin." Jason states.

"What happened?" You ask.

Jason's jaw clenches. "I didn't listen to Bruce, it got me a little hung out." Jason explains. "I broke my collarbone. It sucked because had I listened to Bruce it wouldn't have happened and then he benched me until it was healed, obviously." Jason scoffs as if to still be mad about it and you have a hunch he's madder about not being able to be Robin than he is about the broken bone. "I tried to train with it broken though." Jason lets out a laugh. "Bruce caught me and it got fucking ugly, he was pissed." There's a simple smile on Jason's face. "So, I get it, alright? But, if you don't tell me, I can't help you. I know how fucking keen you are to tell people shit, but this would help."

"Thanks, Jay." You say and Jason's heart flutters, no one's ever called him that before. He likes it when you say it. You let out a sigh and decide to show him the bruise. "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"Do promises mean something to you?" Jason asks, his voice slightly snarky.

"Yeah, of course. All we have is our word. They don't mean anything to you?"

Too many people have promised Jason things over the years and none of those promises ever worked. His dad promised he'd be there for him, always, because his mom was down and out. Then he was an idiot working with Two-Face and got himself killed. His uncle promised to take care of him and then drank himself to death. Cops promised he'd be okay but he hasn't felt okay a day in his life, not until he put on the Robin suit but that was because of Bruce and because Jason took his life into his own hands. And now it's been tugged away from him. Social workers promised they'd find a really good home for him. They didn't. Teachers promised they would help but they gave up on him. No one's ever been up to the task of really and truly helping him but they all promised they would. They all promised he wouldn't be alone. So, no, Jason Todd doesn't believe in promises.

"No." He scoffs, keeping it short. "People say they promise just to get shit from you."

Your eyes are sad and your heart breaks for him. You don't really know him all that well but you know everyone else is wrong about him. You can tell. No one gives him a chance to be good but you will. You don't trust anyone either, not after everything. It's so easy to break trust and nearly impossible to get it back but you want to trust people again and you want Jason to trust people, trust you. You trust him.

"I won't make a promise to you I can't keep or make a promise just to get something from you." Your voice is small, filled with candor but you keep your eyes locked on Jason's and suddenly it all feels a little too real for him. He feels like you’ve put him under a microscope and is looking for signs of a deadly disease.

"That a promise?" Jason quips back, a bite in his voice but you don't take the bait.

"Promise." You nod your head just once. "I keep my promises. I've never broken a single one."

You’re this puzzle he can't figure out, something of a Rubix cube. He doesn't understand why you even care. You don't even know him but you treat him better than people who've known him his entire life. A part of him even thinks it's some sort of prank, he's waiting for the cameras to come out and say he's being Punk'd. But, your eyes are sincere and warm and welcoming. He drown into you if you'd let him.

"Alright," Jason sucks in a breath. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

You shift carefully so your flank is facing Jason. You lift up your shirt just enough to show him the bruise. Jason's jaw nearly drops as his brows furrow and pain shoots through his entire body. The bruise is, in fact, a boot. He can see the tread and he thinks about old episodes of CSI and how they'd use shoe prints to pin the killer. He swears they could do that with this shoot print because it's so vivid and he wants to know how you didn't have any internal bleeding over it. The whole bruise is dark. It looks agonizing and maybe Dick was right about you not training.

"Shit." Jason lets out a breath as you pull your shirt down and face him.

"Yeah...it kind of hurts."

"No, shit." Jason huffs. "That's..." Jason pauses he swears that he would hunt down Jerry himself right now if it weren't for you sitting in front of him. "I hope you get to hunt him the fuck down one day." His jaw is clenched and it makes you smile.

"Yeah, you and me both." You let out a half-laugh half-scoff.

Jason lets out this dry laugh, his blood boiling. It's just not fair and Jason knows life isn't fair but it should be for you. "I'm serious, I'll hunt him down if you don't want to."

You give him a large smile. "I appreciate it but he's my battle. It's why I don't why you tell Dick. I'll find him one day."

"You'll have the best training in the world." Jason holds his head up high giving you a cocky grin. "I'll make sure the fuck doesn't stand a chance against you."

You almost forgot what it's like to have someone so protective of you. The only person who was ever like that was your mom but it never resorted to something like this. It was just that one time with your dad showing up and the usual things like defending you against nosy soccer moms or putting her arm across you when she had to slam on the brakes in the car too quickly. This is different because Jason doesn't know you but he'd protect you anyway.

"As I said, you're not so bad, Jason Todd." You grin at him.

"Told ya, I'm the best." Jason boasts.

"Yeah, I'll give it to you...this one time." You laugh softly.

"It won't be the last, babe." Jason quips and you roll your eyes. If it were anyone else, the arrogance that radiates off him like bad cologne would be annoying. But, it’s cute on him.

"Mhm, whatever you say, BaBe." You mock him, widening your eyes.

Jason lets out a laugh and you think he's cute when he laughs. You wish he did it more. "Alright, come on." Jason moves to your left side and pulls your arm, putting it around his neck. "We're gonna some ice on it before it gets worse."

You look up at him. "You're not mad, are you?" He doesn't seem mad anymore but you just want to make sure.

"No." Jason shakes his head. "But can you fucking tell me next time?"

"You got it, boss." You give him a thumbs up, standing up with him and wincing with the movement of getting to your feet.

the two of you start your walk, opting to remain quiet this time. You feel safe with him. His grip is tight around you, but not too tight. He’s holding you close to him and you swear he’s probably the safest person in the world. Jason, though, he just feels understood. He thinks if he offered to help Rachel, he wouldn’t but if did, she’d cringe or make some nasty comment about it. But, you, it’s like you just get it and of course, Gar gets it, too. The two of you understand him better than anyone ever has. In this moment, Jason swears to himself that if it comes down to it, the people he’d save over anything and everyone, including himself, are you and Gar.

With every step, you wince and you’re starting to understand why Dick wanted you to wait. You'll never admit that he was right because you’re too prideful for that but you get it now because this pain is horrendous. You knew it would hurt if you got hit but you highly underestimated just how much. And because that wasn't bad enough, Gar is still planted on the couch when the two of you enter the living room. Jason and you freeze for a second as Gar makes eye contact with you.

Busted.

"What are you...what...what happened?" Gar gets up from his seat as concern coats his words, you and Jason just standing there, at a loss for words. "Are you okay?" Gar asks you before looking to Jason and then back to you.

"I'm fine, Gar." You pull your arm away from Jason's neck and make your way to the couch, favoring your right side. Gar follows you while Jason goes to the freezer for an icepack.

Gar sits on the coffee table in front of you. "He didn't....?" Gar asks, knowing full well that Jason would never but needed some type of reassurance.

You sigh knowing you can't hide everything from him, he already knows too much and if he goes to Dick about it, this whole thing will blow up more. You do not want to get anyone in trouble.

"You can't tell Dick, okay?" You ask and Gar nods while Jason comes back, handing the ice pack to you as he takes a seat on the coffee table in front of you. "Jason is helping me train since Dick won't let me yet."

"That's stupid." Gar states, mostly referring to the both of you teaming up to do this. Dick just has your best interests at heart and Jason should know that better than anyone.

"That's what I said." Jason adds in.

You narrow your eyes at him. "You agreed to it." You mutter. "I neglected to tell him about a bruise and he tapped it."

"Tapped?" Gar questions.

"Swear, I barely touched her."

"Yeah," You shrug. "It's just, uh, it's pretty bad, I guess." You look down before looking at Jason as if begging him not to tell Gar further details about it. You want to spare him the sight of it. "It's a shoe print so." You clear your throat.

"Holy shit." Gar mumbles, shaking his head.

"Yeah," You suck in a breath. "I thought it'd be fine but it is not. The others are healing fine, a little faster than I expected actually but this one is just taking a little longer, I guess." You shrug your shoulders. "So, it was just an accident."

Gar sits for a second, obviously, he knew it was bad. He looks at your face every day. But a vivid shoe print on your side seems to have crossed a line he didn't know he even had. He's pissed and Gar isn't someone that gets pissed often. How can someone do this to you? You’ve got a smartass mouth but that's not a reason to do that to someone. It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do, no one deserves that and there's a part of him that almost wants to hunt the guy down.

Jason, on the hand, kind of wants you to show Gar. As he said, whatever Gar imagines is going to be worse than what it actually is. And Jason knows from first had experience that Gar isn't going to make it weird or anything. He'll just be understanding and maybe even he'll want to find the guy. But, Gar would actually understand more why you want to train. However, Jason isn't going to say anything. He promised.

"Okay," You nod your head finding the silence and wide eyes from Gar a bit uncomforting. "You're making it a little weird."

"Sorry." Gar apologizes, shaking his head. "It's just pretty messed up."

"It's fucked." Jason locks a knowing stare with you, matching the conversation you had the night before. "Piece of shit doesn't deserve to walk around free."

"We're not going after him, Dick will kill us." Gar protests though, if Jason or you went after him, he can't blame either of you. Even before knowing about this bruise, he wouldn't have blamed you.

"No one is going after him." You state. "If anyone were going to, it would be me. I said I don't hold many grudges. This isn't a grudge, it's vengeance, karma. Eye for an eye. My eye for an eye, no one else's. But the plan is not to seek him out, just be prepared if he seeks me out."

"Is that why you're training?" Gar asks.

"Gotta be prepared." You dodge his stare and Gar gets you wanting to search the tower a little more now. You’re fully convinced he'll come looking for you if he finds out you’re alive. If you’re alive and you start telling people what happened and who did it, he'll be fucked.

"The guy still deserves the same shit he did to you and then some." Jason remarks.

"Yeah, well, he's also not my fucking problem." It’s harsh but it’s also true. It’s very fresh and maybe in a few months, you’ll feel differently about it. But, for right now, he is not your problem. He isn’t your problem unless he comes looking for you.

Gar's attention snaps back to you with the comment. "What if he does it to someone else?" Gar asks, almost feeling like siding with Jason.

You shake your head. "I'm not seeking him out. I spent a year trying to escape and I won't risk it again." You’re being candid with the two of them and you don't feel too bad about it, actually. The both of them together make it easier. Gar has the calmness and level-headedness you need whereas Jason is the hot-headed one that you prefer in conversations like this, probably because you like the idea of killing Jerry. "I'm not...trying to be a bitch but.....did you do anything about that doctor?"

Gar shakes his head. "But he didn't do that," He gestures toward you. "To any of us. This is different."

"I guess." You shrug, readjusting the ice pack. "Look, I don't want anyone to know how bad it was, okay? I tell you two because I happen to really like the both of you and talking to you. I don't want anyone else to know how bad shit got, alright? Any of it, okay?" You plead with them and Jason nods along, he doesn't like people knowing the deep and dirty secrets his heart carries either.

"Why not?" Gar asks. "If Dick knows, he can help catch him."

Of course, to some extent, he can understand it. It's something that's hard to talk about. Talking about trauma is never easy. He remembers Jason finally breaking down and telling him stuff, he did in a very matter-of-fact way which just made Gar worry about him. But, after a little bit, Jason had a real conversation about it and why he doesn't like to talk about. It makes it real, people look at him differently. You and Jason are so much alike it seems that Gar wonders if that's how you feel about it, too. If so, he wishes you didn't because talking and letting people in, does help. Gar would know.

You admire Gar's endless optimism but you’re a glass-half-empty kind of person. "You know how people say trauma makes you strong?" Gar nods. "It doesn't, it just desensitizes you. Not feeling anything is not a strength, it's a weakness. Being terrified of sleeping and letting your guard down for more than a minute, that's not strength. I will not look weak to anyone, ever again so fucking help me." Your stare is harsh and your mouth is pressed into a straight line.

Listening to someone say they don't feel anything besides a sense of fear and paranoia, it's not something Gar has heard before even if that is how someone has felt. He can't imagine the kind of pain must put someone through. He didn't really get it until now and maybe now he understands why it was easy for you to talk to Jason. Jason seems like he doesn't feel much, Gar seems like he feels too much. He gets why you don't want anyone to know, as much as it pains him, he'll swear he won't tell anyone.

"Okay." Gar nods.

"Thanks, guys." You suck in a breath. "I'll be fine, like, really. It'll fade and one day I'll be okay but I'm not close to that yet." You show some slight optimism.

You aren't sure you believe the words you said or not but looking at the concerned faces of both boys, you felt like you needed to say something. You don't want them thinking you’re about to jump off a building or something because that's not it either. You do feel safe here and while you aren't sure if you'll recover from everything, you do know there's a chance if you’re here with these two because they make life after the trauma look appealing and fun again. They make it look like you can move past it, either in a heroic, aggressive way or in a happy-go-lucky way. They make it seem possible and that's all you really need.

"If I ever see him though," Jason starts, not thrilled with the idea of letting this piece of shit just be free. Maybe that's the issue with being a Titan for him, he wants the fight and Dick won't let him. At least Bruce let him fight. "I'll kill him."

"How do you even know what he looks like?" You ask, narrowing your eyes and you catch Gar stiffen in front to you as Jason’s eyes glance to Gar. "Oh my gosh, did you like, Google me or whatever?"

"No, we didn't fucking Google you." Jason quips, his eyes slightly narrowed. They did not Google you.

"Research me? Using some type of Wayne tech?" You retort. "You know what I mean."

"Well..." Jason gains this sly smirk and he's not all that apologetic about it. There's not a doubt in his mind if the roles were reversed, you would have done it, too.

"We just wanted to make sure you weren't here to kill us." Gar says apologetically.

"Wait, so, you guys knew this whole time and didn't say anything?"

"We're sorry." Gar apologizes for the both of them while Jason just shrugs. Gar gives him a dirty look.

"Sorry we ran your blood through the computer." Jason's tone is almost mocking, he isn't all that sorry about it. He feels a little bad about the invasion of privacy, especially since you did actually tell him what happened. But, it was for the safety of the Titans, or so he tells himself.

Your face contorts and you can't really tell if you want to be mad about it or not. On the one hand, that's an invasion of privacy. Did Dick also do that? Is that why he's so trusting? But, on the other hand, you would have done the same thing and getting mad would just make you a hypocrite. Though you have questions about why they were so confident to use your blood. But, that’s an entirely different thing to unpack that, in all honesty, you didn't even wanna know.

"I...okay." You shake your head, choosing to move on from it. "So...why didn't you guys just say you knew?"

It's Gar who shrugs and speaks up before Jason can have some sarcastic quip. "We didn't want you to know and make you uncomfortable and we weren't really sure what happened. That's not actually in the file."

"We figured." Jason says, looking away from you.

"Ahh." You say. "Anyone else with you two?"

Gar shakes his head. "Just us." Gar clears his throat. "Rachel, knew though. We didn't tell her anything though."

"Hmm." Your eyes narrow for just a quick second. Rachel knew the boys were going to look up who you are and didn't tell you? Alright then. But, you don't say anything about it. Gar is at least her friend so maybe she didn't want to throw him under the bus for someone she doesn't even know.  "Well, since you already took it upon yourselves to look into me," You suck in a breath. "Anything you actually want to know that I haven't said already?"

Gar looks at Jason and they're both almost certain this is some sort of trap. They're not entirely sure how but it has to be. You can't possibly be open to just discussing whatever questions they have about anything prior to coming here. You haven't been that open about anything. But Jason takes it as a challenge, if it's a trap, he'll walk right into it.

"How'd you end up in the system?" Jason asks, jerking his head up slightly. He kind of assumes it's the whole breaking into cars thing but he's curious.

"Busted breaking into a car because no one told me that hubcaps were the smarter option." You give Jason a joking glare, your voice holding tints of sarcasm. "I fucking tripped, can you believe that? Pavement was slick and I slipped." You let out a laugh.

When it happened, it was definitely not funny. It was disappointing and you felt like a failure. But, tonight, there's a part of it that you find funny. You ran those streets a million times in the pouring rain and never had any issues but that one night, you slipped. It's so dumb.

"Fell from a fence." Jason laughs.

"You guys tried to escape from the system?" Gar looks between the two of you. Of course, seeing what you’ve been through so far, he gets it but the entire system can't possibly be like that.

"You guys tried to escape from the system?" Gar looks between the two of you. Of course, seeing what you’ve been through so far, he gets it but the entire system can't possibly be like that.

"Fuck yes." You and Jason say simultaneously.

"Clearly," You continue. "I had the right idea."

"Yeah, foster care is a fucking joke even if it's not as bad as what's his face." Jason shakes his head. He's had his fair share of time spent in foster homes and most of them weren't that bad. But, it wasn't the best time of his life either.

"Assuming you never got the lovely experience?" You ask Gar.

Gar shakes his head. "I went with Dr. Cauldon when I got better after he fixed me."

You offer him a sweet smile. "You're lucky." You clear your throat. "Uh, I mean, there are a lot of foster homes and stuff that aren't bad, of course, right? I mean, I met someone who ended up in a really good home. It's just..." You scrunch your face, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

"Do you want to take the risk in ending up in a bad one?" Jason asks the rhetorical question, finishing your thought.

"Yeah, exactly."

"Yeah, I knew a few people who ended up fine in their foster homes. So, it's not horrible but when it treats you like shit..." Jason turns his head at Gar.

"You turn a little bitter towards the system as a whole because the system should be in place to protect us. But, I was better off on the streets." You set the ice pack on the couch beside you. "So, I mean, you're lucky you didn't have to navigate it."

"I'm seeing that." Gar lets out a breath.

Lucky was never a word Gar would have used to describe himself. His parents die of a mysterious disease, he also gets the mysterious disease and the only way to survive was through a weird doctor. Then, he gets better and he's not even allowed to leave the manor. Of course, he did anyway but he wasn't supposed to. It's not like it was horrible at Doom Manor or anything because it wasn't but it also wasn't freedom or very fun. It was just existing to Gar and he never considered that to be lucky, not until meeting the Titans anyway. They've all had pretty horrible lives, actually, the more Gar thinks about it.

“So, any other questions?" You ask, mostly looking at Gar.

He has one but he's not sure if it's really appropriate. He mostly just wants to know what happened before Dick found you. Did Jerry really just leave you there alive and if so, why? Did he actually think you were dead? He's just curious how it all happened, he's glad it did but he wonders. On the other hand though, he doesn't want this to get uncomfortable or weird, although you seem to be comfortable with Jason asking questions.

"Did, uh, he really just leave you in that alley?" Gar asks.

"Uh..." You stutter, brows furrowed. You don't have much memory of it, actually.  "It's kind of hard to remember." You suck in a breath and suddenly you’re nervous. Something about Gar asking makes you nervous, maybe it's because even when Jason is serious, you have a hard time taking him seriously where Gar, despite the quirkiness and softness and smiles, when he asks, he always seems serious. "I tried to come up with a plan for awhile to escape but I was always chained up and I didn't get to develop super strength or anything. Um....so...." You shake your head, wishing you had a hoodie on suddenly, feeling too exposed. "I figured it was do or die at some point." Your head hangs and you remember the day you made your decision.

It was a regular day for you, chained in the basement and injected with something new. Jerry got mad and that led to the same old situation. This time though, it broke you. There wasn’t anything different about it but it broke you. The exhaustion had finally set in and you were tired. You knew you’d give up soon, you could feel it in your blood so you hatched a half-assed plan.

"Let me preface this by saying that I didn't want to die, not really. I was just exhausted from it all and I needed to get out of there because he was gonna kill me at some point." You state looking between the boys and you feel the mental fatigue deep in your brain like a permanent virus just waiting to be activated again. "I-I decided I'd piss him off real bad one day." You say through gritted teeth, Gar and Jason hung onto every word.

The energy has shifted. It always felt light-hearted despite the seriousness of the discussion. You were joking and so was Jason, Gar giving you looks of disbelief but this is not that. Sometimes what the mind can do to someone is worse than anything someone else can physically cause.

"I knew he'd get really mad and one of two things would happen. One: either he would kill me and I'd be out of my fucking misery."

Gar winces at the thought, that's what you thought about? Having him kill you? And Jason can't fathom it. No amount shit he's been through has pushed him that far. He knew, of course, because you told him but it was very casual. This story while the same as the singular sentence you said about it, feels drastically different and far more upsetting than it did before.

"Or two: he'd beat me so bad he'd think I was dead and dump me somewhere." You tilt your head to the right. "It was risky and not calculated but to be honest, I did not give a flying fuck what would happen. Guess, he thought I was dead and now I'm here." You shrug. "I got good at staying calm so I didn't fight back. In a way, I supposed I faked my death." You scoff as you roll your eyes.

The room falls silent as you finish and you feel like you said way too much. You didn't mean to go that in-depth about it but you kept looking at Gar and his sad eyes and you just couldn't help it. He wanted honesty and you couldn't not give it to him, not with the look on his face. But, now you regret it because the look of sorrow on his face feels like it's going to be permanent when he looks at you and that's the last thing you wanted. And even Jason is just silent. The kid is literally never silent. He just said what you did was badass last night but apparently giving context, changes the attitude about it.

"As I said, I didn't want to die. It just...ya know?" You furrow your brows, dodging your eyes from the boys as you think of how to form your words. "You hit this breaking point at some point where you just can't take it anymore and that's the do or die moment and sometimes that's literal. It was for me. Do or die because I just could not do it anymore. I wanted to escape if that.... clarifies anything. I...I just wasn't....given more options."

"Why didn't you use your powers? You said it's because you were afraid he was going to kill you but if that was the plan anyway..." Gar's voice is raised a little like he's upset by what you did which, is fair. But, he's known you for three days and he doesn't have a right to be upset by it.

"I wanted to escape." You state, sympathizing with him being upset by it. "If I used my powers and he happened to have some, too, he'd definitely have killed me. That was the only way I could see to have a shot to live outside of that fucking basement."

"That's so fucked." Jason shakes his head and it's the same reaction he's had all night but is there anything else to say about it? It's all fucked.

"You've said that." You nod.

"It is. Still think it's badass you just took it though." Jason shrugs, not quite sure how to process any of it and Gar is taking it very seriously. Based on what you've told Jason, he thinks maybe you’ll shut down if something quick-witted or sarcastic or snarky isn’t said.

Gar gives Jason a disapproving look. It's not badass, not to Gar. It's sad. No one should be out there just shrugging off their possible death to escape a bad situation. Jason was at least right about it being fucked. But it's more than that. There is a deep, almost unbearable ache in Gar's chest looking at you and realizing that most of the bruises he can see, including the ones you normally have covered up, are all new. Most of them seem to be turning into shades indictive of healing though, which is good. It's hitting him how fresh of all that still is to you and maybe you’re right that trauma doesn't make people strong but to Gar, you are. To deal with that and come out the other end, willing to trust him and Jason now, after three days is incredible.

You don't seem desensitized talking to them. It's trust and while he wants to do everything in his power to protect you, he also admires you because he knows he could never have made that life-or-death decision. He would have fought to get out or just taken whatever was given to him.

"Please, don't apologize." You say, looking at Gar. You know he's going to, he has the whole time and you don't want or need it. It doesn't make any of it better. "It's not something--" You’re cut off as Gar just pulls you into a hug and your eyes widen.

The hug is gentle like he's afraid if he gives you a proper hug maybe you'll shatter into a million pieces like fragile porcelain. But it's how he knows to communicate best and it's better than apologizing again or just echoing Jason. This is something distantly Gar. And you have a sad smile as you hug him back and you do like his hugs. They're comforting and he's so warm. You wonder if that's just a Gar thing or if it's the mutant part of him that makes him so warm. But you like how it quiets the roaring in your head like a tunnel muffling the sounds of rain. You like that you can feel the warmth through your bones, the constant ache of just existing eases and you don't really want him to let go. But then he does because hugs don't last forever.

"Thanks." Your smile is shy as you look at him while he pulls away and Gar's cheeks burn.

Jason has one furrowed brow, Gar glancing over to him. "Don't fucking hug me." You burst out laughing as Jason looks a little too serious. Sometimes Gar gets into a mushy mood and Jason will never admit it, but he does kind of like when Gar gets like that. But, he’s trying very hard to break the tension in the room.

"Why would I hug you?" Gar scoffs through a laugh. Jason looks like he would murder anyone that showed any type of physical affection toward him right now. Gar isn't stupid.

"Way to ruin a moment, Jason." Your laugh starts to subside.

"You're welcome." Jason huffs, a smirk on his lips.

He didn't really ruin a moment exactly, he did however, break the tension. Shattered, actually. The sadness in the air disappeared with his single comment. Though, you wish you could have known where it would have went with Gar after the hug, just what he would have had to say if anything. But you won't complain for a good laugh.

"So, back at it tomorrow night?" Jason asks, cornered smirk at you.

"Fuck yeah." You agree and Gar lets out a defeated sigh. He can tell you two are going to cause trouble together.

"Can I come? Since I know about it now." Gar asks. Maybe he wants to be the look out or help. Or maybe he wants to be there in case Jason gets carried away, not that he thinks he will, but just in case, of course. Or maybe it's just as simple as Gar wanting to hang around you some more.

"I'm cool, you?" You ask Jason.

"Yeah, of course, man." Jason nods at Gar and they do say they're best friends but this is the first you’re actually getting see it. You think it's cute.

"Awesome, I'm gonna go to bed then, you guys?" You ask.

"Yeah," Gar nods with wide eyes as he stands up.

You give Jason a cornered look and Jason would normally stay up, just a little longer. There's no such thing as too much training. But, you did have an eventful night and maybe he could go for a little more rest tonight.

"Yeah, alright." Jason gets up from his spot and the three of you walk to your rooms.

Jason gives you both a quick "night" before heading into his room and shutting the door, leaving Gar and you. Jason can take a hint. Now, it's just Gar and you, standing outside your room and neither of you are sure why. You're going to bed but you opening up makes Gar feel closer to you. He'll never understand what you went through but he can try. He can be there if you need him to even if it's just to scream or sit in silence. It doesn't bother him either way. And you like how calm he makes you. No one's ever been very good at that. You’ve always had a fire about you and he calms it, not dampens it, just calms it. You like the way your stomach flips when he smiles at you and how much he listens. The only thing, you wish he would stop with the sad eyes but maybe he will now that he knows everything. Maybe, hopefully.

"Okay, I'm gonna go to bed. Goodnight, Gar." Your smile splits your face as you open your door, waving at him softly.

"Goodnight, Y/n." Gar says as he starts to walk off but before you close your door, he turns around. "If you, uh, can't sleep or have a nightmare...." Gar pauses not really knowing how to phrase it without it sounding presumptuous.

"Gotcha." You finish, holding a honey-like smile. "Thank you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Gar sucks in a breath and this time, you both go to your rooms, doors closing behind you.

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[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 23 - Charles

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 22 -- Part 24

Pairing: Charles x ofc (Sloane)

Summary: The guys throw a New Years Eve party at 179th Crescent Street...

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, oral (m and f receiving), p-in-v shenaningans. And some minor violence, and drinking.

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: Alright, Charles' turn! Do we expect him to shag someone? Yes we do! Does he? That's a stupid question! (It almost didn't happen!)

A liiiiiittle more insight for you guys in the Marshall situation, but not too much (I actually had to go back and edit some stuff out because I felt I was giving too much away, whoops.) Anyway: Enjoy! And let me know what you think! 🥰

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos

It’s rather busy in the kitchen, but I think they’re almost done, which means it’s probably safe for me to go take a look without being put to work. Besides, it looks like Leon is taking most of the heat for now. I’m almost slammed into a wall when Mike squeezes past me in the narrow hall, announcing the internet has been fixed.

“I knew there was a reason we kept him around.” I say as I join Leon in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, it would be so awful if you couldn’t watch porn for one night.” The only reason it doesn’t sour my mood is because Dani is the one saying it. Anyone else could get bent for all I care, but her, I like. It doesn’t stop me from elbowing Leon wherever I can hit him, though, because he should know better than to laugh.

“I don’t think I’ll be needing any tonight,” I say indifferently. From the corner of my eye, I notice that Mike’s paying attention for a change, and I can’t help but throw in a mildly inappropriate wink at Dani - just to see what he’ll do. And how she will react to it.  

“Think you can still get laid with a broken nose and a black eye, Brandon?” I was never planning on taking the flirting further, but if I had been… Mike is fast, and I really don’t need a dent in my face tonight. I’ve definitely become more careful since Sol kicked me in the nuts and Geralt came really close to permanently disfiguring my face.

One look at Dani, however, tells me enough. She’s biting her lip as she looks at Mike. Mikey, on the other hand, doesn’t take his eyes off me while he pulls Dani into his side. God, I’m glad they seem to work out. I can’t take another week of him smiling at his phone like an idiot but too nervous to actually ask her out. I’m fairly sure Anjelica ended up hitting send on that text for him. It was the weirdest thing to witness, because Mike actually has game - which is also why I don’t exactly mourn the fact that he’s off the market, although I’m fairly sure Sy is even happier about that. Everyone in this house has broken up more than one spat between those two about who stole whose chick. 

Word travels fast around campus, because there’s a staggering amount of people in the house that I know I didn’t invite. I don’t mind, of course; plenty of the ladies present I’d happily invite back - and from the looks of it, a fair amount of them would be more than happy to come along. Tonight, however, I'm mostly interested in the girls who are with Danielle. From the corner of my eye, I notice that Leon has similar ideas, and he’s a lot closer than I am. Luckily, he seems to be more interested in the other roommate, Ariel. The one I’m after is Sloane Price. She plays hockey on the university team, and I occasionally run into her after practice. She’s been sizing me up for weeks, and it’s driving me insane. The one spanner in the works; Sy. Sloane seemed to have set her sights on him, although I don’t know why. Luckily - again, though I like to pretend I don’t depend on luck - he’s occupied by Alicia Thomson. I decide to try the luck I say I don’t need, and talk to her.

My hand hurts like hell. It’s the price you pay for kicking out some douche who can’t keep his hands off your roommate’s girlfriend. 

“Thanks for doing that.” The voice is familiar to me now, and when I look up, Sloane is standing in front of me, holding an ice pack. She hands it to me, and I accept it gratefully. 

“Thank you.” The cold is amazing on my sore knuckles. 

“Can I take a look at that for you?” Sloane asks kindly. I nod, gritting my teeth as I move my hand slightly. She’s a med student - and this might just be a way to get both of us out of here a little quicker than I thought. “I don’t think anything is broken, but I’m fairly sure you sprained your middle finger. Is there any tape in the house?” Bingo! As a matter of fact, there is. 

“I think there’s some in my hockey bag,” I say, “do you want me to check?”

“Might as well come with you.” Sloane shrugs. 

We make our way upstairs and I lead the way to my room. My bag is at the bottom of the wardrobe, and I was right about the tape; there’s still some in there. 

“This is a pretty nice house,” Sloane says as she starts working on taping my finger to the next. “Better than the apartment I share with Dani and Ari… Definitely bigger.”

“I’d hope so,” I say, “there’s eight of us! It’s crowded enough as is.”

“It’s neat, for a house with eight guys,” she notes. I can’t say she’s wrong; we do keep things clean around here. It’s either that or get murdered by August, Geralt and Sherlock. Trust me when I say no one would ever find the body. 

I hiss when Sloane pulls the tape a little too tight. “Easy.” 

“Sorry.” She has a fantastic smile. “You’re all set.” She lets go of my hand a tad quicker than I’d hoped. It's strange. Normally I'd be wishing for them to get the niceties over with as soon as humanly possible, so we can get to the fun stuff. Not with her. It's not that I'm going to try to pretend I don't know what's going on. I've been in love before. The guys would try to say that I fall in love three times before breakfast every godforsaken day, but they're wrong. I like to fuck. That's all there is to it, really. More importantly: I don't do relationships. Those just end with everyone involved disappointed and hurt. I can't do that to her. To anyone. Not anymore.

Now, the smart thing to do would obviously be turning away, going back to the party, finding someone else and screwing her brains out. The only problem with that idea is that I wouldn't be with Sloane - who is agonisingly slowly leaning in for a kiss, while I'm moving away even more slowly. 

"I'd feel incredibly insulted if I couldn't see with my own two eyes you're rock hard for me," she purrs out of nowhere. "To resist you is an almost olympic level achievement, but to be resisted by you? I'm not sure my reputation could take a hit like that…" Her hands are on my thighs, sliding up. I know exactly where they're going. Do I stop her? Who am I kidding? I don't have the strength of character to do that. Involuntarily, I let out a groan. 

Her lips meet mine, and I’m done for: there’s absolutely nothing I can do to stop myself now. She pries my mouth open with hers and slips her tongue into my mouth. The vague taste of liquor - not beer or wine, it’s something else - lingers on her lips. It’s good. As far as kisses go, this one is pretty fucking amazing. Miss Price is handsy, and my shirt is on the floor before I know it. Part of me wishes they were all this fast. Yes, from a time-saving perspective. Don’t judge me, at least I’m aware I’m a bit of a jerk. I consider a world where all girls are as eager to sleep with me as Sloane for a moment, until she rakes her fingernails over my chest. When one of them grazes my nipple, I hiss. Hate the feeling. She has way too much control over me at this point, anyway. 

I toss her on my bed, fully expecting her to shriek - and she does. They all do. Sometimes, I find myself wondering when things became so predictable. Is there really nothing new to this anymore? She pulls me in for another kiss. God, even if it’s the same old thing over and over again, it never stops feeling good. The decision to wear jeans was a poor one, I have to admit. They’re not going to be a problem for long, however, judging from the enthusiasm with which Sloane attacks my face and neck. Those wet kisses along my jaw and down towards my collarbone make me shiver. 

“You like that,” Sloane moans into my ear. I love how it isn’t a question, but rather an observation. And she’s not wrong. 

“I do,” I reply, “but it makes me wonder what else that mouth can do.” Not even a minute ago I was impressed with her tempo, and now I’m acting as if she’s not even fast enough for me. What is wrong with me? 

“Are we in a hurry?” she asks. We really aren’t, but I’m acting like we are. Sloane raises an eyebrow at me. “I’m happy to admit I’m throwing myself at you, Charles, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get away with a five minute pump and dump.” 

“Don’t insult me,” I scoff, “or do I have a bad reputation I don’t know about?” 

“You mean a reputation for being a manwhore? I’m surprised you didn’t know…” I laugh at her retort - albeit sarcastically. 

“I mean a reputation for being bad in bed,” I fire back at her. The corner of her mouth twitches, but she doesn’t say anything. I don’t consider it a win just yet. Until she finally shakes her head, that is. I smile at her. “I can give as well as take.” 

If that’s not a statement of the type ‘put your money where your mouth is’, then I don’t know what is. Sloane sighs as I slowly kiss my way down her neck. It doesn’t seem to do much for her… Oh, well. I’ll figure it out after I get a good look at these tits. She helps me take her sweater off. The fabric is thin, so even though it’s a relatively modest thing, it did reveal that she has much heftier equipment than I had expected. Curse sports bras and their figure-hiding properties - it's practically the only thing I've seen her in up until now. She stops me when I move to undo her bra, leaving me… confused, in a way. Is she distracting me from the fact she won't show me her tits by taking my cock out? Well… it's working. 

My jeans are off in no time, and she makes her way down quickly. Those massive bedroom eyes make up for what she lacks in technique. Not that she's bad. Not at all! It's just… 

"That - oh, fuck! Keep doing that!" I'm a simple man. There's two or three things I really like, and I don't need much more than that. It makes it really easy to give pointers. Unfortunately, any kind of hint makes it really easy for girls to want to punch me in the nose. Listen, I know us guys can be dicks about getting directions during sex, but ladies… Pot, kettle, black. In my experience, at least. Sloane doesn't seem to mind, though, which is lovely. She just settled for what I told her works best, making this one of the nicest blowjobs I've ever had. It's a matter of finding out how quickly she'll give up, now. 

About five minutes into giving a blowjob, about fifty percent of girls are going to call it quits. The ones who see oral as nothing other than pregame. Next forty to forty-five percent are gone after ten minutes. They're the ones who consider sucking dick fun enough to have at it until jaws start cramping or whatever. If she sticks with it after that time, that’s when I start to consider actually saving her number for future reference. Is that something a total jackass would say? Absolutely. Like I said: I don't have any strange ideas about what I am. I know many people consider me a jerk, and Sloane's assessment of 'manwhore' was far from incorrect. Still, I don't think I deserve the amount of shit I get for screwing around. I've never pretended to want more from a girl than a bit of good fun. It's not my fault some still expect me to call them, right? And I quit getting caught up in serious relationships after I ruined the third one by cheating. Now, some of the guys think my stance on sleeping with girls who are in relationships is questionable, and I won't pretend my opinion on the matter is undisputed… 

Sloane breaks into my thoughts in a rather unorthodox way: sinking her teeth into my cock. 

"I don't feel I deserved that," I groan. It didn't hurt, she was gentle enough, but it was an unwelcome enough surprise, nonetheless. What's worse is that she comes crawling up and kisses me. It's not the kiss that bothers me, it's the fact that she's no longer sucking my cock. Oh well, she's made it well past the ten minute mark. 

"Tell me," she moans into my ear before softly sucking on my earlobe. Fuck, she's good. "Would you ever have cum from that?" 

"No," I answer honestly, "but it felt absolutely divine." There's a big difference between a good blowjob and one that's going to finish you off. 

"I'd ask you to return the favour but… I would actually like to cum," she whispers. I chuckle softly. I'm reasonably confident I can make that happen for her. And I'd love to. 

She’s a willing participant for sure. She’s loud, which I’m definitely not going to complain about. Tastes good, too, and the way her pussy clenches around my fingers makes me very curious and very eager to fuck her. I keep eating her out until she screams my name - it’s almost suspiciously easy to get her there, but I’m the last person to question it. I can’t hold back a chuckle when I feel her fingers beneath my chin, pulling me up. Sloane’s hands are gentle, but impatient - so is her mouth. She kisses me fiercely. Feverishly. Almost desperately. I allow my eyes to wander, feel my expression turn into a frown when they meet her bra. It’s pretty, but in my way. Sloane, however, also stops my next attempt to take it off. 

“Why?” I ask. I’m curious by nature, which is not always beneficial - not even in these moments. Sloane looks at me and rolls her eyes. 

“What? I’m not good enough for you like this?” she counters. 

“I never said that,” I warn her. Women and their godforsaken talent to twist your words. I swear it’s at least half the reason I get in trouble all the time. “I was just wondering.”

“I like the support. They’re pretty heavy,” she says plainly.

“I can imagine.” Apparently, there’s a tone in my voice she doesn’t like, because she smacks me in the arm. “Hey!” 

She’s testing my patience now, and it’s working. It’s gone. I reach for my nightstand. Can’t screw around the way I do without protection - as disappointed as I am about that. I’m surprised when she puts a hand on my cheek and turns me back to her. 

“Skip it,” she says, “I’m on birth control.” Maybe if I hadn’t looked into her eyes, I would have been able to resist her. This is not a good idea. 

When she kisses me, I’m lost again. Next thing I know, I’m pushing into her, listening to her moans as she takes me all the way, hissing when she digs her nails into my shoulder. The sprained finger adds another degree of difficulty: it’s incredibly difficult to keep myself up, because - pardon my French - that finger hurts like a bitch. 

“Your hand?” she asks kindly as she strokes the side of my face. Her hands are warm and soft against my skin, which makes me sigh. I nod, my face screwed up from the pain. I’m nowhere near drunk enough to ignore the feeling. 

“Allow me,” she whispers before gently nudging me onto my back. I’m the last person to complain about a woman on top, especially when the view is so exquisite. As she rides me - with vigour, I must say. It’s greatly appreciated - I almost forget my displeasure regarding her bra. And my own name. 

“Do you have this kind of stamina when you’re on top?” she asks after a while. I grin widely - I can’t help myself. It disappears, however, when she climbs off and sits on my bed, my open arms clearly not enough of an invitation for her to join me in a more comfortable position. 

“Give my hand some time to heal, I’ll show you,” I say. She doesn’t seem particularly put off by the idea, which is lovely. “Come here for a minute.” Normally I wouldn’t ask. I’m not above a quickie in a bathroom stall, and I have been known to occasionally take off immediately after sex. What I don’t do, is ask the girls I shag in my own bed to leave - and not just because their staying the night exponentially increases my chances of having lazy morning sex, which I might just describe as my favourite pastime. In those cases, after sex cuddling is an inevitability. A nuisance, even. For me to ask for it… It reminds me immediately of just how terrible an idea this was. 

“Do you want a drink?” I ask quickly, hoping for an excuse to leave my room and get my head on straight again. 

“With alcohol? Yes, please,” Sloane answers. 

“I’m sure they won’t miss a bottle of wine.” I put my clothes on as quickly as I can, and make my way downstairs. 

At least… I try to, because a spat between Marshall and his best friend Peter prevent me from going into the kitchen. I’m not getting mixed up in this - or rather: I am going to try my very best, but if this guy keeps going the way he’s going, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice. My hand may not be broken now, but it surely will be if I have to assault one more person today. And I wasn’t planning on spending the rest of my night in hospital… Luckily, Ange gets in the middle of it before things really get out of hand. When the dust settles, I make my way into the kitchen to get a bottle of wine. Marshall doesn’t look too good… I might have to ask Sloane to take a look at him in a bit. If he’ll let her. He looks as if he just wants to disappear - and I don’t necessarily blame him. He hasn’t been himself, lately. The bad mood wasn’t unusual, per se, but there was something melancholic to it that didn’t suit him. I doubt this has fixed the issue. 

As expected, he won’t let Slo into his room. I’d be sad if it didn’t mean I got to have her back with me quicker. When I got back to my room, I promised myself tonight. Just this one night with her, and then I forget about her. She just wants to know if the stories are true, she won’t mind. If she’s smart, she won’t expect a thing from me - and she’s in medical school. She’s smart. We just finish the bottle, talk about nothing, and laugh. 

“Are you up for another round of debauchery?” she asks after she has put the empty bottle on my nightstand. She’s on her knees, straddling my thighs, clothed - unfortunately - because I haven’t had a chance to take her clothes off after she came back to the room. Neither of us are remotely sober now. Chances are that whatever happens next, will be forgotten before morning. 

One night. And then I forget about her. 

[sugalaritae]

summary: hoseok wants to tell you something exciting but gets sidetracked by your beauty and passion.

word count: 656

rating: series rating 18+

genre: FLUFF!!! SO SO SO MUCH FLUFF

warnings: none. hoseok is just falling hard.

a/n: it's hobi's birthday!!!!! i have to do something and this wonderful man has been BEGGING me to write something for him and this wonderful fic. it's also been a year since i first started writing this series and i needed to do something. i just love him so very much. i know it's just a little teaser, and for that i'm sorry, but it's something!! this is very lightly edited and went un-beta'd!

this is part of the 'heat waves' series and that masterlist can be found here

Hoseok is in a recording studio that is very different from Yoongi’s. It feels odd being in a place that feels familiar but isn’t. He craves the comfort of Yoongi’s studio. The way that it feels like Yoongi with its black and dark oak aesthetic. How every time he goes there it smells like his friend and is filled to the brim with creativity and memories. 

He misses the comfort of home. 

He’s had enough of this place with the language difference and the people who ooze ego and oddly nothing else. 

He spins around in the chair and looks at the shelves and off-white walls. The shelves are filled with trophies and books that he knows are only dusted by the cleaning crew and rarely touched otherwise. 

He lets himself stare at one book in particular, an architecture coffee table book. His mind goes blank as he just stares at the white lettering against the green cover. He doesn’t know how long he’s lost in that little space of nothing, but your text tone brings him out of it and he spins back around to face the desk. He sent you a text asking if he could see your face, he wants to tell you that he’s coming home earlier than he had planned. Everything has gone faster than the company thought and he’s being sent home with full pay. 

He smiles as he reads that you’re available for a facetime and he quickly sets it up, fixing his hat on his head before he presses dial and then slips himself and the chair out of view. 

“HEYYYY!???” your voice is excited and he laughs just a little at the sudden inflection of a question at the end. 

Slowly, he pushes himself and the chair into your view, looking directly at the camera as he does so. He was smiling already but seeing your face makes it widen and he feels his chest fill with a feeling he isn’t quite sure he’s ready to explore completely. Perhaps he’ll dip his toes in but he wants to do this slow and properly. 

“Hello gorgeous,” he greets you. 

His gaze slips over your face. You look so peaceful and yet there are new bags under your eyes. You had mentioned that there had been a project at work that was keeping you and Jin at the office late but he hadn’t expected it to be taking this kind of toll on you. 

You laugh and shake your head, “I don’t think I’m gorgeous right now, I just took off my makeup.” 

He shakes his head. 

“Seriously! I’m so tired from this project and I just got home and wanted to wash the day away but I don’t think I have really looked at myself in a week and I look rough!” you laugh.

He shakes his head again. 

You stick out your tongue and wrinkle your nose. He wants to melt. You must know that you’re fucking adorable when you do that. 

“You’ve only mentioned it in passing, are you enjoying it at least?” he asks. 

There’s a twinkle in your eye in response and you nod. 

“Tell me about it?” 

He watches as you smile and then launch into words that he doesn’t entirely understand but he’s heard Jin speak the same language and so it’s familiar, like visiting a country again but not being fluent enough to know exactly what people are saying. 

He decides, as you tell him about a design you’re working on for the presentation to the board, that he won’t tell you about coming home. No, he wants to surprise you. Most of all, though, he wants to hear all about this board meeting when it happens. In person. He wants to see your face light up in person because he knows that it’s going to look even more radiant and beautiful without the dullness of technology. 

He can’t wait to come home. 

💖 💖 💖 

please reblog, comment, or send an ask if you enjoyed what you read!! i hope you have a good day!

© sugalaritae, 2022/23. you do not have any permission to repost or translate my work even if you give credit. all of this is mine.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

So I rewatched TMNT 2012 cause my brain is fully committed to being obsessed with TMNT and here are my thoughts:

Thankfully it has knocked me out of my month-long writer's block but before I start writing headcanons again (for either series) I want to put my hot takes out there 

I don’t hate April 

Do I love her? Absolutely not

She’s annoying and impulsive and arrogant and selfish and she can be incredibly one-dimensional at times 

But so is the rest of the group

She’s not my favorite character but she’s not my least favorite either 

She’s just a teenage girl written by old men so it’s not surprising that a lot of people find her unrealistic 

I fucking hate Casey Jones/j 

I want to strangle him but I also want to hug him 

I want to punch him and sew little pockets into my clothes so I can take him with me everywhere 

He’s so stupid and my favorite character 

I like Donnie but I skip most scenes with him and April 

I chose to ignore the stalker plot-line 

In my mind, it’s nonexistent and adds nothing to the story 

I treat the whole Karai/Leo thing with the same energy 

Because why the fuck did the writers think that was a good idea 

Every single relationship was poorly written 

April is an aro/ace queen and I will accept no arguments 

They should have kept Karai and Leo’s relationship purely platonic 

I would have loved to see her become sort of a mentor to Leo but all we got was a disgusting love story that went nowhere and added nothing to the plot 

I think we should swap out every “my love interest is actually my sibling?!” plotline with a “my rival/enemy/mentor is actually my sibling?! Fuck yeah!” plotline 

Shini and Karai had the most chemistry and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were secretly dating 

I lowkey ship Casey with everyone except the girls 

But I mainly ship him with Donnie… Don't judge me I love enemies to lovers 

Leo is a trans woman, Donnie is nonbinary and uses he/they pronouns, and Mikey and Raph are gender-fluid (no I will not elaborate)

I’m fully convinced that every single person who claimed Raph Donnie and Leo were terrible brothers are only a children 

If I see one more person edit depicting Mikey as this helpless victim while the others are these evil abusers I will rip my hair out 

Are there moments when Leo/Donnie/Raph hit Mikey when it is unnecessary? Yes

Are there moments when they ignore him when he brings up a good point? Totally

Could I make a 30-minute compilation of the boys insulting Mikey’s intelligence? Absolutely 

But I can’t bring up all of that without mentioning the hundreds of times when Mikey is being an asshole

He’ll make fun of Donnie or tease Leo or mess with Raph 

Because that’s what siblings do!! (especially younger siblings)

They shove and they tussle and they poke fun

Some of my siblings show affection in a very similar way to Raph (they’re not great with words but they show their love with their actions) so when I see people write shit like “Raph is a terrible brother” it frustrates me to tears 

I have this memory that I will always cherish of my older step brothers and sister dragging me into a wresting match that ended with me at the bottom of a dog pile 

And I almost cried not because I was in pain but because it was something I had watched them do when I was younger and never participated in because it felt like a “sibling thing”

And they knew this and I knew they were telling me in their own way that no matter what anyone says I’m their little sibling 

Splinter is a fantastic master but a terrible father (no I will not take criticism on this take) 

I wanted to turn off my laptop every time Shredder came back 

Like don’t get me wrong I love a recurring villain as much as the next enby 

But he’s so one-dimensional that I tuned him out after season 3 

Now I will be rating all the seasons 

Season 1: 8/10 

In my personal opinion, it’s good 

Not outstanding but it’s a good foundation 

Season 2: 9/10 

I loved this season 

I honestly loved the whole conflict between April and the boys 

And it introduced my baby/rat bastard 

Season 3: ♾️/10 

My favorite season out of all of them 

I wish they stayed at the farmhouse 

Everyone seemed happier there 

‘Race with the Demon’ is my favorite episode 

‘In dreams’ is my second favorite 

Season 4: 7/10 

I fell in love with fugitoid 

Also, this might seems stupid but half of my enjoyment of this season could be credited to the voice actors 

And I also recognized a lot of them so it turned into a fun little game of where’s waldo 

I would be listening to an episode and go “doctor who?” “Godbrand??” “Andrias?!” “CASSANDRA JONES!!” 

I loved the fact that Karai and Shini were trying to build their own foot clan and make it honorable and I wish they talked about it more

I like Apri’s corruption arc but I feel like they completely swept Donnie’s death under the rug

Like they immediately forgave April even though they watched as she pulled Donnie apart molecule by molecule 

Season 5: 0/10 

Throw this dumpster fire away 

God I hated this season 

It felt so random

There was no rhyme or reason 

It just feels like they shoved half bakes ideas into a season and expected us to like it 

It made my viewing experience incredibly bittersweet

Cause I just watched season after season of amazing episodes to end it with this charcuterie board of half-baked ideas