#i sort of want to do this for last lines too now. could be interesting!

[thelordofgifs]

For the prompt thing, number 24 on the Silmarils list; choked with weeds and slime? IDK seems like a line you could do something interesting with.

Another one I’m answering a year late, but have some War of Wrath-era Elros and Elrond growing slowly apart! Thank you for the prompt 💕

“Just a little further,” Elrond says confidently, raising his torch. It does very little to illuminate the dank forest path ahead of them, but he does not seem deterred. “We’ll know it when we feel it.”

“Elrond,” Elros says quietly, trailing after him. He is not used to this position – not used to being the one to doubt. For so much of their lives it has been the other way around, has Elrond followed Elros charging head-first into wherever his will led them.

“You remember,” Elrond insists. “Naneth told us that the air inside Melian’s Girdle was cleaner and purer than any she had ever breathed since.”

Elros inhales, takes in the stench of rot and decay that clogs the forest, and thinks with longing of the clean salt air of the Sea. “The Girdle was fallen almost before Naneth was born,” he says. “It is not here, Elrond.”

“The forest will remember it, even so,” Elrond says. “Doriath was once the most blessed realm in Beleriand – and we its last heirs! It will remember us.”

Too often these days, in Elros’ view, does Elrond’s talk turn towards the power of memory. It makes him uneasy: he does not like to feel the edges of a rift between them, to understand so little the drift of his brother’s thought. Perhaps it is the knowledge of burned Sirion, and all that was lost with it, that haunts Elrond now – or perhaps the long shadow of Amon Ereb, that mausoleum in which they came of age, where the sons of Fëanor mourned the lost days of their glory, and Maglor’s every lullaby was half a dirge.

Beleriand was splendid once, it is true – but the land is breaking now, and the interminable war drawing into its final act, and Elros is more concerned with building something from the ashes than weeping for what was burned. But he does not know how to say this to Elrond, who is still leading him towards the forest’s heart, where Menegroth once flourished.

“Do you even know how to enter the city?” he asks instead. The path, choked with weeds and slime, clings unpleasantly to his feet and makes a squelching sound with every step. “The hidden entrance may now be lost.”

“Not lost,” Elrond murmurs, his voice losing a little of its bravado. “Perhaps it has forgotten itself – but we can call it back.”

“And how long will that take?” Elros argues. “Elrond, my men are waiting for me. I have not the time for a fool’s errand.”

Elrond turns back to look at him for the first time. For a moment Elros is oddly glad of that, that he might still capture his brother’s attention with a sharp word: but the thought is almost immediately followed by a hot flash of shame, for hurt flickers briefly in Elrond’s eyes. It is the sort of thing Maedhros used to do, in his worst moods – goad and goad until at last Maglor gave him some reaction, often too imperceptible for the twins to see. Elros does not want to be like Maedhros. Does not want to think of Maedhros, wants to shake off all the clinging ghosts of his childhood and look now to the world ahead.

But: “It ought not take long,” is all Elrond says, mildly.

They walk in silence, Elros breathing through his nose. He thinks again of the Edain under his command, whom he left waiting at their new outpost a little south of the forest. It has been long enough since he and Elrond last went away on an adventure of their own, for Gil-galad cannot often spare his brother from his duties, and Elros too is a commander in his own right. Besides, he did not think his men would understand their object: most of them have grandparents too young to remember Doriath before its fall. Still he does not like to abandon them, does not want them to think him just another elvish princeling, a stranger to mortal troubles and mortal woes.

But nor could he have let Elrond set out on this quest alone.

In the silence Elrond begins to sing a canto of the Lay of Leithian, of Lúthien dancing in the forest glades to Daeron’s music. Elros joins him, for their voices yet ring stronger together than apart – but he can put little conviction behind the song. The forest that his foremother loved is dead now, and so is she – they cannot resurrect her with their poems and their songs, necromancy dressed up as memorials, she is fled where they cannot reach her. Elros wonders if she was glad to do it.

Elrond’s eyes keep flitting between the dark, foreboding tree-trunks, as though he cannot quite understand why they do not become green and fair again under the influence of his song. At last he stops singing, a little frustrated now. “I cannot find a way,” he says, “it is all dark and rotten.”

“Well, there have been all manner of foul creatures crawling through these forests since Doriath fell,” Elros says sensibly. “I would be surprised were it not polluted.” 

“Why will it not cleanse itself?” Elrond says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why will it not remember how it used to be?”

Every two years or so Elrond will come to Elros with a plan to reach out to Maglor and his brother, and bring them before Gil-galad to face justice and redemption. Each time Elros tries to make him understand how impossible the idea is – and it works, for a year or two. 

He is not accustomed to thinking of his brother as childish – not accustomed to feeling so very old as he does right now, seeing the stunned bewildered hurt on Elrond’s face.

“It is tired, Elrond,” he says. “Let it sleep.”

For a moment Elrond’s face crumples, and Elros thinks he must weep; then he says, quite calmly and cheerfully, “Well then, we had best be getting you back to your men,” and sets his course for the forest’s southern border.

The victory feels hollow, to Elros: but then, they all do. 

[itwoodbeprefect]

Writing patterns tag game!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

i was tagged by @flownwrong - thank you!! for the sake of the experiment, i skipped the two notably older fics that i posted to ao3 recently enough to show up in this top 10. it was a different time, man. (i mean, hardly, but i'm skipping them anyway.)

-

1) “Your hair smells nice,” Pa says.

2) Of course Pat takes notice when Pran gets his guitar out of its bag and takes it to the couch, but there’s an art to these things.

3) After all of the commotion, all of the stress, all of the dread, Steve finds the one face he’s looking for in the crowd of teens in formal wear.

4) Billy keeps saying fucking no no no to Joe about the working girls, until eventually the girls get bored and leave.

5) For three months, there’s a girl.

6) Hutch wakes up alone, but only nominally.

7) They fall into his apartment with Jill’s hand in his back pocket and his mouth attached to her clavicle – but they do fall, and when he adds a habit-driven attempt to kick the door shut, he ends up with a mouth full of her soft brown hair and she has to grab his shoulder to avoid being tripped by the doormat.

8) After they sell the restaurant, Kamekona doesn’t keep the name they gave it.

9) Most stabbings, Starsky has found in his years on the job, happen either out on the street or in the kind of apartment building mothers wouldn’t want their sons to live in.

10) When Hutch hops down the last few steps and exits the building door, there’s a familiar red car already waiting for him.

-

i think the main thing about opening lines for me is that i often try to cram in as much setup as possible, because there's a good chance the fic is mostly one dialogue scene and i've already written that part and now i'm forced to explain to my reader that they're not just voices hovering in indefinable darkness (and the easy way is to do that up top if i can, so it doesn't have to interrupt the flow of the dialogue). and then sometimes (1, 5, 6, maybe 8) i attempt to avoid throwing everyone headfirst into a soup of words (i love a ridiculously long sentence! 7, my beloved) by keeping it intentionally short and snappy. there are lots of signal words, too! two afters, when, of course, for three months. i still like "most stabbings" (9) as opening words. 4 and 5 both have the "girl" in them, which means nothing, but is still a fun coincidence in this sequence.

i'll tag (as always, with no pressure!) @redgoldblue @actingcamplibrarian @luredin @dedkake @stephmcx and anyone else who writes fic and feels like doing this. this is a fun thing to read! i'd like to see them!

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[justporo]

Brewing Storms

A storm is brewing - oh yes, a literal one too. Tav's scared to be alone during a thunderstorm. Astarion is reluctant but stays to provide some comfort - and realises it might have been one of the better things to happen to him.

Author's Note: I started this a while ago and then stuff got in the way - like Gale for example (lol) - and now I'm happy to be back to write something soft for Astarion and Tav!

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: Talk of trauma, very light smut Wordcount: 2,4k

~~~

Astarion and you had fallen into a sort of weird routine with your little late night escapades. Since the party after you saved the Grove and the first night you’ve spent together you had come together time and time again.

First only every couple of days. Always meeting somewhere away from camp and then sneaking back sometime before the others woke up. Although you were surely fair they all knew already anyway. But now you were almost spending every night together. Fortunately for the two of you, being elven meant you were still getting enough rest despite the nightly adventures.

Astarion kept feeding you his cheesy lines – you ate them right up. No one had ever given you this kind of attention. And as much as you knew that it was an act: how could you resist? You had never experienced such flattery nor could anyone you’d shared intimacy with ever compare to Astarion. But that wasn’t even the main thing.

You’d had crushes before, you’d fallen in love before but you were pretty sure it had never been quite like this. Your whole chest sometimes ached when you looked at Astarion. Sometimes when you caught him in a rare moment when he let his perfected mask drop for a second you saw the bottomless sadness and worry in his eyes. And all you wished for was to erase whatever it was that caused that sadness – to keep him safe and always give him something to smile about.

You had quite positively fallen for the vampiric elf. What had been a crush at first had very quickly become an unyielding need in your heart: desperate to be near him, to hear his voice, talk to him, to laugh at his sassy comments, to lay in his arms and to hold him in turn. Out of everything you surely hadn’t wanted or planned to fall in love with everything else going on – but there you were.

You were a hopeless case – even though you were sure it would come back to bite you (and maybe even literally): be it that he lost interest in you way quicker than you would like or that he had ulterior motives and that you were merely a means to an end.

In fact, you were entirely sure that there was more to Astarion. You weren’t all fooled and blinded by your brewing emotions for the vampire. Maybe not really the first time, but as you got more used to sharing a bed with Astarion you were well aware that it seemed like he wasn’t fully there with you.

You could take only guesses at why that was exactly – and you didn’t like any of those.

At several occasions you had tried to bring it up. But he had swatted your concerns away every time, just making a sultry joke or drowning you with kisses until you had forgotten what you had wanted to say. In any case he always pushed you to get back into his arms.

Gladly, you would have offered him an open ear – your heart was already wide open.

But you were sure this wouldn’t last. You were in way over your head and you so desperately wanted to avoid breaking the spell.

And as much as you would have wished for him to open up more, to let you in a bit more and as much as you would have liked to confess the way you felt: you didn’t think you could do it without ruining whatever it was between the two of you.

At least, he seemed to be a bit more present when he was with you of late. The changes seemed subtle enough, but you were convinced that it slowly became different. Maybe it was just that the two of you had gotten used to this dance now, but you could swear his hands lingered longer now on your skin, that his kisses became deeper and more tender, that the way he looked at you became softer sometimes. And that those moments, when he seemed miles away, became fewer.

Tonight, when you had set up camp it had seemed like a storm was brewing.

You had already felt tense when you had noticed: growing up on the streets of Baldur’s Gate as a child with nowhere safe to go had traumatised you for life. Especially when it came to storms: too many nights you’d had to spend outside somewhere while the rain kept pouring down.

But worst had always been the thunder. Every single one like an explosion while a little child sat somewhere cowered trying to stay safe and crying from fear and loneliness. Even when you had gotten older and had always managed to secure a safe spot for sleeping and shelter the fear of thunderstorms had remained.

And thus far you’d gotten lucky that there had been no storms since this whole chaos had started. But the stroke of luck was over now it seemed.

When Astarion had thrown you certain looks after the party had gone to unwind each on their own after eating, you had very rambly and awkwardly suggested to maybe spend the night in your tent this night, because the others surely knew anyway and what if it started pouring and wasn’t it more comfortable anyway?

You just were desperate to not be somewhere outside when the thunderstorm was going to hit – and maybe even not alone.

And Astarion had looked at you suspiciously with a raised eyebrow, surely noticing that something was up. But in the end, he had simply shrugged and followed you to your tent.

So now you lay pressed against each other. Astarion on top of you, his body delightfully weighing you down, both of your shirts already off and his hands kept roaming your body as you gratefully gave in to his open-mouthed kisses. His hand had just dipped below the waistline of your trousers when you could hear the first far away rumbling.

Immediately you tensed a little but forced yourself to try and not be bothered by it. Astarion’s kisses wandered down your throat now.

A second already much louder rumble. You gasped.

And apparently Astarion had noticed that it wasn’t because of his touch – you could almost feel how he had furrowed his brows. But he kept silent and continued to kiss and caress you, leaning on one of his forearms.

When a third roar of thunder made you actually wince and recoil, he pushed up on his arm and looked at you. The other hand though stayed right where it was inside your pants.

“Afraid of a little thunder, love?”, he said and cocked an eyebrow. His tone wasn’t even overly sassy but you still couldn’t help but to feel hurt.

More thunder. This time so loud it felt like it was exactly above you. You recoiled again and felt how panic rose in you. You pushed the vampire - who actually looked hurt by that - off of you. His hand slipping from where it had caressed you.

“Maybe I am afraid of thunder. So?”, you spat back while you sat up and hugged your knees to your naked chest. As much as you wanted the comfort of his arms: panic and whatever feeling it had been that had overcome you when Astarion had looked hurt when you’d pushed him back got the better of you.

Shame mixed with the fear and you could feel your throat close up.

Astarion had knelt back on the balls of his feet watching you with a look in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. He definitely didn’t seem as cocky as a few moments ago though.

You looked away as another thing spiced up the mix of emotions running high: worry, that you had just broke something that couldn’t be repaired.

“I-“, Astarion started and then stopped helplessly.

The vampire was actually worried about you in this moment. Astarion was surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion and he was certainly hurt that you pushed him away. But more than anything: he didn’t know what to do now. Quite obviously you were not in the mood anymore for getting down and dirty.

It occurred to him that he did not want you to be afraid and upset. But then again, he had no idea how to make it so. And on top of that: he was pretty sure you weren’t interested in anything of the sort. Sure, you were absolutely the one person he talked the most to in the party. And yes, you were always making sure he’d gotten enough blood – but that was probably because you had need of him being his fittest for fighting. Also, you did actually seem to care about what had happened to him, wanting to learn more about him – but…

The vampire was confused and helpless. So he opted for the one option he deemed reasonable: leave.

He grabbed his shirt and started pulling it over his head while saying: “Alright, since it seems there won’t be any naughty indulgence tonight, I guess I better get back to my tent and you can try and-“

He was interrupted by you grabbing his wrist firmly.

“Please”, you pleaded, “don’t leave me alone.”

You were desperate: you didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want to have ruined the delicate thing that had been forming between you.

Astarion let his shirt drop again and looked at you. Your eyes were filled with tears and full of fear. His confusion became even more: “Darling, I’m not… Maybe you should ask the druid to… help you. Maybe he has something herbal to-“ You basically yanked on the vampire’s arm.

“No please, Astarion, I just… want you to stay here with me. Just… hold me? Please?”, you pleaded with him as tears started to stream down your face.

You really didn’t want to be alone for one but also you were desperate to feel his arms around you again – to be sure he would still want to hold you, as much as wanting his comfort.

Astarion’s brows furrowed again but he dropped his shirt again and crawled over to you as you shyly opened up your arms to him to be cradled by the vampire. He slid his arms around you and softly moved you until you were laying there: him on his back with you carefully snuggled up against his chest – skin on skin.

The relief you felt was almost instant. Not only because he had agreed to stay but also feeling his body against yours immediately made some of the tension inside you ease.

Astarion reluctantly started to stroke your back as you buried your face against his chest. It all felt more than just a little awkward and you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks, but you just wrapped your arms around the vampire and tried to calm yourself.

Still tears kept coming and thunder was rolling in quicker now. Then the rain started as well and became a constant drumroll on your tent. The loud rumbles kept going and made you wince from time to time, but it was now considerably better than before.

Astarion grew more confident with just stroking your back. He even carefully placed a kiss on the top of your head at one point, in your all messed up hair. You both eased into this rather unfamiliar form of closeness.

After being stressed about the coming storm all evening, you felt that your body couldn’t retain the tension anymore. You weren’t entirely sure what all this meant for Astarion and you, but you forced yourself to just stay in this moment. Because this already was something you wouldn’t have thought to ever be possible. It was tender and sweet. Something you would have never imagined when this vampire had, upon first meeting him, thrown you on the ground and threatened you with a knife.

You were so desperate to hold onto this. So, you wrapped your arms around him a little tighter and cautiously tangled your legs with his. He let it happen.

And Astarion – Astarion’s mind was racing, utterly confused by the turn the night had taken. It definitely wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy this outcome – to his own surprise. Quite the opposite actually.

When the thunder subsided and the rain tap-tap-tapping on the tent ceiling was what remained of the storm and he felt you quite noticeably relax into his arms even more – his chest started to ache.

He was overthrown by his own sentiment and the trust you put into him; surprised, scared even.

In his thoughts Astarion kept turning around the fact how you had specifically asked him to stay with you although you had so visibly been upset. More upset even than he had ever seen you in any battle. And that you had wanted nothing but to be held in his arms. And he – to his own surprise – had been happy to be there for you, proud even, realising that he really wanted you to be alright.

You hadn’t even talked since he had taken you in his arms. Just felt the connection, your skin warm on his. His hands hesitatingly caressing and trying to comfort you while your tears subsided and your breathing became more even.

And even though it had been you who had pleaded for comfort – Astarion could feel it too. Felt, how the warmth of your body soaked into his undead body and your breath brushed over his naked upper body – now in a steady and calm rhythm again. You were so close, he could even feel the beat of your steadying heartbeat through your conjoined chests.

And when Astarion was sure that you must’ve drifted off into your dreams – because he had held you – he kept staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

The rain had become almost non-existent after what must’ve been hours now.

The vampire’s chest still ached with something he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. But he could feel that it had become something way too big to ignore. Something that would soon be unleashed – for better or for worse. And he was frightened about that.

But not in this moment. This moment he would hold onto. So he wrapped his arms around you a little tighter still, closed his eyes and full on buried his face in your hair while he was so fully aware of the feeling of your body against his.

Then he whispered so silently, even the last of the raindrops would have drowned out the words. So silently, because he was still so unsure, so scared and the words were only meant for him – and maybe sometime for you: “My love, what ever have you done to me?”

[velocesainz]

Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

A/n: this was a very interesting request and it took me quite a while to really get the plot line. Hope you enjoy!

One heart broke six hands bloody

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist | Taglist

Summary: Charles and Lando are in a relationship with reader and they slowly stop paying attention to her and missing important events. The last straw is when they miss your birthday.

Warnings: sad, angstyy, hurt

Pairing: Charles x Lando x reader

Reader pov:

It had been nearly five months since they started acting distant to me.

I don’t know why.

We were so good all together

It was like we completed each other

But recently they’ve really started to distance themselves and ignore me.

Constantly say they have meetings and leave home when I know they don’t drive I’m in contact with their teammates

Were they both cheating on me?

I woke up in our shared bed with nobody by my side.

I went on about my day realising they both had left for some sort of meeting with their respective teams

They returned home late at night completely wasted

“Where were you two? I’ve been worried sick! I called you both so many times, why didn’t you guys pick up?” I questioned

“Oh shut up mom.” Was all Lando said before they both left to go to bed

The next day was one I would usually be excited for but maybe not this year

My birthday

I would usually celebrate it with my two boyfriends but they seem to not want to spend time with me at all

I walked into the kitchen to see them scrolling on Charles’s giggling and whispering to Lando about something. They would do that with me too but I guess not anymore.

“Hey guys, what’s for breakfast?” I asked them seeing they had made their breakfast already

“Oh..we didn’t make you any. We thought you would do it yourself” Charles said

I sighed and went upstairs to get ready, my appetite knocked out by his words

I got dressed and left the house watching them not care

I hung out around Monaco since I had no friends here, just Charles and Lando

It started raining and I was freezing on my way back to our apartment. As I walked in I found them on their game not bothering to focus on anything but that and each other

“Hey I’m back” I announced as best as I could in my feverish voice due to the intense shivering

“Yea yea whatever just make us dinner” Lando said

What is up with them?

“You can do that yourself. In fact you guys should have done it for me at least today of all days”

They looked at me and asked “What are you talking about?”

I give up on these two

“It was my birthday today and you guys didn’t even bother to wish me or spend time with me. You both have been so secretive and distant from and it feels like you have fallen out of love. I’m leaving. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer”

I walked up to my bedroom and started packing the essentials

Charles pov

How did we not realise we were hurting our dearest so much?

We were ignoring her as we were going to propose to her and knew Lando wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he started talking

We were so stressed about getting the perfect rings that we completely neglected y/n

Me and Lando looked at each other and chased after her to the bedroom to see her packing her things

“Cheri please don’t leave us we apologise for our horrible behaviour” I begged

“We were working on something very important and in that stress we completely neglected we’re extremely sorry” Lando said

“I don’t care for your explanations. My state of mind has not been good thanks to you two and I refuse to worsen it. I’m leaving and that’s final” she said

All our hearts were breaking as she said this. We ruined a beautiful relationship because we cared about materialistic things over our actual love for each other.

Now there was nothing we could do anymore.

She packed her bags and left the apartment telling us not to follow her and we’d broken her heart enough I’m sure she wouldn’t want to listen to us anymore.

One heart broke and left six hands bloody.

A/n: I’m sorry I took super long to finish this request. Hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave feedback! Kissies ✨

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@grantaires-waistcoat

[blackmosscupcakes]

One of the aspects of the fallout from this last episode I'm most interested in seeing is Imogen's reaction, and that's for a very out of character reason.

One of Laura's self-admitted player quirks is avoidance of inter-party conflict. She's good at smoothing things over and tends to play characters on a spectrum from forgiving to avoidant. You can see this going back to campaign one, most notably after Scanlan returned and, while most characters were furious and slow to forgive him, Vex was instantly on his side, delighted to see him, and ready to forget everything. Jester, of course, was very committed to the power of friendship in general. Imogen tends more towards burying or distracting from feelings and events that might lead to conflict.

In 4 Sided Dive episode 20, they have the following conversation from about 1 hour 3 minutes in:

Marisha: Of course diving into the relationship is always fun, but then relationship tension is also fun.

Laura: Yeah I feel like you guys really like relationship conflict too like you guys talk about that a lot. I'm terrified of conflict--that translates to the game as well. I don't like conflict.

Sam: You don't like conflict? Even in the game?

Laura: No! I don't like fighting. Like if we're having a fight I will be like "it's okay FCG, I'm not mad at you." If you do something wrong I'll be like "that's okay."

However, her character is now in a relationship with Marisha's character, and as seen in the quote above, Marisha LOVES conflict. She eats it up! From Keyleth and Percy in C1 to Beau and Caleb in C2, she's been great at diving into tensions that further character development and make for great storytelling.

So we've reached a point now where Marisha keeps making choices with Laudna that are basically dropping an invitation to a WHOLE bunch of tension and conflict on Laura's doorstep, and up until this point, aside from a little dust up over the gnarlrock incident (a big one for Laura, but small compared to, say, Beau and Caleb's arguments!), Laura as Imogen has been broadly side-stepping these in order to do exactly what she said in the 4sd quote--tell Laudna that it's all okay.

But we've reached a point now where that's not going to cut it in avoiding tension any more! If Laudna continues down this path, lines are going to be drawn within the party, and Imogen is likely to have to pick between conflict with Laudna OR conflict with other members of the party. It's very likely there will come a point where anger and arguments can't be entirely avoided for Imogen no matter what choice she makes. And that's going to be REALLY fascinating to watch.

Sometimes these players nudge one another out of their comfort zones. Laura did it to Travis with romance. Several of them did it to Ashley with the titan shard. I think we can trust them not to push their friends to a point where they REALLY don't want to go (and I'm sure that sort of thing is negotiated between them off camera), so bearing that in mind a little tiptoe out of the comfort zone can be really interesting--for example, Travis did really well with romance in the end. It might well be a bit uncomfortable for Laura at first! But as long as she's okay trying it, I think it could lead to REALLY excellent storytelling and fantastic performance. I'm excited to see where it goes .

[tunastime]

do androids dream of electric sheep?

I am nothing if not a vessel for self-indulgent docsuma, especially @shepscapades's dbhc self-indulgent docsuma. sometimes you fall asleep in the lab, and sometimes your friend feels compelled to make sure you're okay <3

(3964 words)

Doc sometimes slips into daydream.

It’s not unlike him. He’d been doing it for some time now, some fix halfway between awake and Sleep Mode. Not quite his mind palace, but still wedged into predictive processes, still trying to work to replay memories. In quiet moments, more often than not, he finds that it’s easier to slip away, to tuck himself into his work, drafting, or building, or walking thoughtful circles and let the mechanical parts of his mind slip away into calculation.

In those same dreams, he tries to calculate the probability of events with what he has, blocking out the movements of who he knows best, who he may be able to pinpoint. He works in quiet as his mind runs in the background, wondering how conversations may go, how actions could be perceived. He maps what might happen if someone got hurt, or if someone needed help, or if someone fell asleep in the lab. Someone. Just anyone. He tells himself it could be anyone, but he would be lying if he didn’t know who.

It was hard, right—it felt wrong if he didn’t. Something he was designed to do, put to waste because it felt silly to imagine waking his lab partner, his friend, making sure he was alright, helping him. Was it wrong to want to be helpful? Was it wrong to want anything? It feels—it’s silly. Want was such a human word. He’s not sure he can really want at all. The paper in front of him is getting fuzzy around the edges, though, as he forces himself back into his true waking mode, and focuses on the task in front of him, now a line of text in his eyesight.

Doc leans hard on his hand, cupped around the side of his jaw as he studies the plans in front of him. He’s long since set them to memory, easily recalled with the summon of command, but he works out the fine details of the draft in front of him, still unsatisfied with his new creation. He works quietly, mentally mapping the lists of supplies he might need, the time it may take. If he were to concentrate the slightest bit more on the display in the corner of his vision, he might note how late it had gotten. Without any windows down here, the night sky can’t leak in, which means Doc doesn’t know it’s gotten dark until Xisuma starts to yawn or he manages to peek outside. 

He sets his pad down, eyes skimming the surface. Right, and where was X, anyway? The space, ever growing, up, down, sideways, that he used as his lab had gone still and quiet some time ago. Enough for Doc to take note of. Enough to be a little odd, he would assume, even for him, and the behaviors he knows well from Xisuma. Xisuma didn’t just wander off without a word—he was much too narrative for that. Doc sits up, hand falling to the table. 

“X?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. The room stays quiet, aside from the hum of recirculating air and electronics. Doc taps his hand against the table—it was some sort of tic he’d picked up from Ren, a sign of his impatience. He couldn’t shake the habit of mimicking it while he was thinking.

Okay, right. Last time he saw X. He gathers up the recall of the path Xisuma would’ve taken from his side, checking over his work at Doc’s request, and around the lab itself, looping back to a series of benches to work on. Leaning from his spot, he tries to pinpoint the peek of green helmet or shoulder piece. He finds neither in the direct line of sight, though, and slowly, bracing his prosthetic arm on the table, Doc stands. 

It’s a gentle quiet that fills the room, nice and easy and soft to step through as Doc makes his way around the space. Despite having another work bench quite close, Xisuma had a habit of leaving his stuff about, flitting between projects as he saw fit. It was interesting, sometimes, to watch him move around the room—not that Doc had done any of that. He seemed to bounce from point to point, sometimes staying still for hours, unmoving, lost in work. It was in those hours that Doc found himself watching, just for a moment, studying the shallow curve of his nose and the way his hair fell into his face from behind his helmet. 

His office is here, too. Though it’s no different than any other working space in terms of equipment, the space itself is fully outfitted, lined with tools and a large work table, his computer, a desk with a chair. Through the glass, he can see the shape of Xisuma at his desk, likely too caught up in whatever he had been working on to notice Doc’s concern. Doc pauses as he slides open the door, standing in the doorway, announcing himself to the cluttered room.

“Xisuma,” Doc starts. “I know it’s late, if you want to head home, I’m sure I can finish…”

Xisuma is slumped over on  his desk as Doc enters. There’s a brief moment, no more than a second, where Doc’s mind spins a scenario hard and fast, the crumpled shape of Xisuma over his desk. But he can see the slow rise and fall of his shoulders. He registers the slow, steady heartbeat in Xisuma’s chest, and his shoulders sag with relief. He stands in the doorway for a moment. Xisuma looks small, head pillowed on his arms. He’s still running a series of code on the console next to him, which illuminates the back of his head in pale lines of data. His hair falls half loose across his shoulder, like he’d forgotten to finish tying it away from his face, and the slow, deep breaths make it seem like he’d been sleeping here a lot longer than Doc realized. He’s without his helmet, too, which sits beside him on the desk, discarded.

Long enough to get a sore neck and complain about his upper back hurting. Long enough to worry that he might not be getting enough oxygen. Doc sets his shoulders. There’s something in his chest that feels like it skips—regulator, pump, or otherwise. They work in tandem to produce whatever fluttery feeling invades the space where his ribs should be. He presses the heel of his synthetic hand against the depression of his chest, rolling his wrist. The feeling fades for a moment, shuddering through his wrists like it might rest there. He was never going to get used to it, was he?

He steps into the lab proper, sticking his hands into his pockets. He picks his way around the room, trying to walk quietly around it. Xisuma stays asleep, shoulders rising and falling in that even tempo. Doc crouches beside him—Xisuma is properly slumped, back curved forward as he rests. What little Doc can see of his face is soft with sleep, eyelids fluttering just so. When X doesn’t move, he rests his palm over the curve of his shoulder, gentle and slow. He tries not to focus on the fact that so much of his face is exposed to him, aside from just his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He’s seen him before, briefly, every so often, but it was so different watching him now, calm and comfortable. Doc forces himself to focus.

“Xisuma,” he says, voice dipping low and quiet. He runs his hand over the part of his shoulderblade he can reach. He pats the high of his back. “Xisuma, hey…”

X takes a long breath in, making a squeaky sort of sound high in his chest. Doc feels him hum out from under his hand.

“Doc,” he says, voice rumbling in his chest. It was a tired sort of rumble, just on the edge of being rough with sleep, just enough to bring that feeling back to Doc’s internal components, like thirium was sludging too quick too warm through him. He huffs a little breath, a sound caught in his throat.

“You fell asleep at your desk, X,” Doc says, not able to weasel the amusement out of his voice. He runs his hand over his back again, just to see Xisuma’s eyes open tiredly, and shut again. It was so unlike the version of him that he knew in his mind, seeing him savor the brief contact, even from Doc. Especially from Doc. Xisuma was always the one reaching out for him, repairing or correcting or studying. All with purpose. There was no lingering touch between them. And though this had its purpose too, Doc lingered, feeling Xisuma breathe under his hand. 

“Sorry,” X mumbles, finally moving to lift his head, to open his eyes. Doc’s hand slides away as X sits up, over his back and back to Doc’s side. Xisuma blinks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands. A frown comes between his eyes as he tries to focus the world around him a little clearer. Like it were mimicking the score across his cheek and nose, there’s a fine indent pressed into his cheek. Doc smiles at him, scrunching his nose in a way he’s seen X do a hundred times. 

Xisuma jolts, half reaching for the helmet beside him. If Doc were to really look, he might see the pink-red flush over his cheeks and ears.

“Sorry—I didn’t…”

There he lingers, halfway to reaching. Doc looks away from him, purposefully averting his eyes.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You have to be comfortable too.”

Xisuma hums, smiling a little, hanging his head as he leaves his hand on the table.

“Hah,” he says, ears still pink. “Right. Sorry, sorry, Doc. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “I didn’t know where you had gone off to, so I figured I would come make sure you were okay.”

X nods. Doc watches him twist around, hearing the faint give and pop as his spine adjusts to sitting upright. 

“‘M alright,” he says. Then he laughs a bit—the sound is airy and half in his chest, enough to shake his shoulders but more of a wheeze than anything else. Everything fit so well to the timbre of Xisuma’s voice, it seemed, be it the way he moved about, or the way he laughed, or the way his shoulder sloped or face was shaped. Not that Doc had been looking. Regardless, Xisuma sighs, and smiles back at him.

“Just embarrassed is all,” he manages. “Thanks, Doc. I appreciate you.”

X leans back in his chair. Doc watches him resettle and hum to himself as he gets comfortable against the plush backing. Doc makes a clipped sound, reaches out and moves away again, halfway between shaking him awake and letting him sleep.

“X,” he says. “Would it not be more comfortable if you were sleeping in your spare room?”

Xisuma frowns. 

“Would be,” he says, eyes still closed, mumbling. “It just gets awfully cold in there. ‘N if I’m perfectly comfortable in here, why not stay tha’way?”

It’s almost amusing, the trickle of stubbornness that leaks into the tired slur of Xisuma’s voice. It’s almost endearing. He watches X fold his arms over his chest, armor only partly discarded, watches his face wrinkle as he notices and tries to rearrange himself. Doc smiles, something that he simply can’t help—it feels so right, considering how ridiculous this is. He considers his options and weighs the success rates, the action taking a fraction of a second in time, though the scene plays out in his head in full.

“Because you’ll hurt your back,” Doc says plainly. X frowns, clearly mulling it over. There—that’s one that Doc knows, that face, where X slips into thought and worries the inside of his cheek and works his jaw. Doc raises his eyebrows, as if to question him without saying anything, without Xisuma even looking at him.

“Mhh,” Xisuma huffs. He pulls his knees up. Somehow, he manages to fit himself into his desk chair, curling his tall body over his knees and leaning sideways into the back. Doc hums, makes the approximation of the sound he knows.

“Xisuma,” he says. “I’m not going to let you sleep in that chair, you know. You are being stubborn.”

“M‘kay, okay…” Xisuma wheezes, finally uncurling himself.

It takes him a second. Watching Xisuma stretch and blink awake is like watching him come to life. He stretches up and around, face pulling as he likely unsuccessfully shakes the tension from the line of his spine. As he twists, he freezes, face scrunching all at once as he winces, hand shooting up to cup his neck.

“Ow. Jeez.”

He can see it tight in his shoulders and neck, even as X deflates, looking up at him blearily, still slightly slumped in his chair. His eyes shut again. 

“Xisuma…” Doc says, mouth twisting.

X sighs.

“‘M fine, Doc,” he manages to murmur out. “Just’a sore neck. Mm’exhausted.”

“Sounds like you need a real bed, mm?” Doc replies, setting his hands on his hips. Xisuma peeks at him, one eye opening, and shutting again.

He sees the fraction of a smile lift the corners of X’s mouth.

“Sure, sure…”

Doc looks over Xisuma’s face. With his eyes shut, face softening, hair tumbling over one shoulder, he looks comfortable. It’s as if someone took a brush to his features and smoothed out any hard edge—either that, or the static has leaked back into Doc’s vision. He feels a chug in his chest and his joints as he locks up.

X hasn’t moved. Doc reaches out, tapping his knee. Xisuma huffs, clearly startled from the half-sleep he’d drifted back into.

“Too tired t’stand,” he manages. Doc makes a questioning noise.

“I think you can make it,”

There’s a beat of silence. Xisuma cracks an eye open again, shuts it, furrowing his eyebrows. Doc watches him curiously, mind running through the list of possible scenarios. He’s made it part way when Xisuma says:

“‘M using you t’stand, then.”

And he makes a little, amused heh, before he says:

“That’s fine.”

There’s something he means to say alongside that, but as soon as X’s very warm, very human hand makes contact with the fabric of his lab coat and the cool synthetic of his arm, he loses focus. He should be used to this—the amount of times X has performed his routine maintenance, sweeping his hands over the replaced shoulder joint to check for seams, or made sure the regulator functioned, or backed up personal data, fingers skimming the shallow port at the back of his neck. He should be, but that contact alone sends a prickling-warm jolt up his arm. It feels foreign to let the touch linger. But Xisuma lingers regardless, hand flat against the space where Doc’s left ribs should be. He’s gone from holding, to simply sitting there, arm bent at the elbow, held weakly up. 

“Mrghh…” he complains. Doc taps his elbow, trying to jolt him back awake.

“C’mon, X, you can get up.”

X shakes his head slowly, his hand finding the inner curve of his prosthetic arm, squeezing just once, like he’s remembering it’s there. Then, X leans into him, all at once, slumping into his chest. Doc lets out a wouf in surprise. He holds still, aside from the simulated breath in his chest. After a moment, Xisuma makes a small, tired sound, almost like a laugh.

“Houfh,” he mumbles. “I, mm, don’t…don’t think ‘m gonna make it, Doc.”

“Mhm…” Doc chides. 

Xisuma laughs again, lying still for a moment, voice still heavy with sleep. There’s a moment where he shifts, and there’s a small, painful noise that he makes.

“Ow, mrrgh—ow, okay—” he gripes. Doc’s synthetic hand finds the curve of his shoulder, patting gently.

“Oh, X—just…stay still, mhm?”

“Mm,” Xisuma says tiredly, “Alright.”

As much as he wants to move him, X is still wearing that damn armor.

Doc lets him lean into his chest as he tries to weasel off the bits of armor left over. It’s a struggle, keeping X comfortable and trying not to pull him around awkwardly, while trying to remove his chestplate with one hand. Once the armor pulls away, he resettles him, slowly scoops one hand under his legs. Something about this, about the way Xisuma leaned heavy into him, felt so painfully human he feels it curl up between the wires connecting his regulator to his side fans.

“Ready?” he says, mostly to the top of Xisuma’s head.

“Mmh…” X murmurs.

He hefts him into his arms, settling him against his chest. When Xisuma sighs, it’s profound and heavy and he tucks his face into Doc’s coat. Doc can feel the remnant of heartbeat from where his arm rests behind his back, thudding away behind his ribs. His breathing stays even, though shallow. One of Xisuma’s hands clasps over the back of his neck, keeping him still.

It’s a careful walk to Xisuma’s spare room. Doc is careful not to bump anything, measuring the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he walks. He drifts back to sleep, though, through the lab, through Doc shutting the lights off. He’ll have to come back through to power down their various computers, but for now, the dull white-blue glow illuminates the room. He carries him into the halls and through and to his room. It’s smaller than the room in his base by a sizable margin—just enough for the essentials. X stirs as Doc pauses to flip on the lamp, the light warm and yellow briefly illuminating the room. This can’t be a daydream, now, with the way X sighs and wriggles himself free as Doc pulls back the quilts and lets him down. He sits down with him, and the warm shape that Xisuma makes curls toward him, just a fraction, as he pulls the blankets over him. 

Part of Doc knows that Xisuma won’t remember him carrying him to bed, or making sure he was warm, or keeping the light on so he wasn’t disoriented when he woke. Xisuma sighs, sinking into the pillows, expression relaxed and content. Doc hums.

“That’s better, yeah?” Doc says. He reaches out, instinct, want, desire, something, hammering away in his chest, as he brushes hair from X’s face, tucking it behind his ear. He brushes through the hair close to the base of his neck, across his cheek with his synthetic thumb. His dark hair is fine and soft and it must be a daydream—or it isn’t and he was right, because there have been moments like this in his head. Wondering if Xisuma would let himself succumb to soft comforts. He’s spent his own share of time lying next to him, ignoring the way Xisuma curls up next to him, pretending he himself didn’t move closer when Xisuma lies still. It was this dance that Doc didn’t understand, that he wasn’t sure if he was overthinking. Or overstepping. But Xisuma shifts, pressing his cheek to Doc’s synthetic palm, and Doc suppresses a shudder. It sparks something that could’ve been painful right up his arm and through his chest, bright and warm and staticky. 

Doc hums, smiling to himself. Something like a dull thrum knocks in that space of his pump, pushing itself a little further, a little harder. It was sweet. X trusts him, not only to see him without his armor, but to help him to bed, to help him sleep. But Doc lifts his hand away, feeling that ache, the nervous shudder through his system.

X makes a sound, then, something small, eyes fluttering as Doc pulls away. Doc pauses.

“Mhh,” X manages. Doc swallows—he shouldn’t have to. That’s not something he should have to do, or be able to do, but the action just feels appropriate. It goes right along with sighing and laughing, and as he does it, Xisuma says:

“Thanks,” in a small, soft voice, and, muffled, and slightly slurred with sleep: “Didn’t have’ta stop.”

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, Xisuma,” Doc says. He can feel his temperature tick up several notches, no doubt a blue flush coming to the high of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. He laughs, just a bit. “Did I wake you up?”

X sighs, stretching as he does.

“No,” he manages. “No, y’didn’t…”

“Oh,” Doc says. “Were you awake this whole time?”

Xisuma nods slowly. Ah. Ah. Doc dismisses a temperature notification.

“A little.”

“Mm,” Doc hums. “Silly Xisuma.”

Xisuma laughs. The sound is high and a little fuzzy and a bit caught in his throat. His bright eyes blink up at him and shut again as a smile settles on his face. 

“Doc?” he asks. 

“Mhm?”

Xisuma yawns, smothering it with the back of his hand, just barely. He tucks that hand close to his chest, curling up further still under his thick comforter. 

“Could you…could’you do tha’again? The…” Xisuma lifts his hand, miming a brushing motion as he does. Another temperature warning, higher than the last, blips into Doc’s field of vision. It’s immediately dismissed, but he pulls in a breath, quiet, trying to turn it into a soft laugh.

“I can do that,” Doc says gently. Gingerly, he brushes his fingers through X’s hair, sliding back against his head. He combs through, lifting his hand to go back to his forehead, back to cradle his skull. X’s eyes fall closed again.

Doc can tell the moment that Xisuma truly slips into sleep. He lingers in his space, tracing out the base of his skull with his thumb, taking in the sensation of warmth and contact and stimulation, fingers flickering white up to his wrist. He wishes biting down on his tongue would do anything. He wishes that the hollow of his chest didn’t hold a weight that no diagnostic could fix. He felt too awkward and stilted and not nearly gentle enough. But as Xisuma stays asleep, he draws his hand away. He mumbles his good nights as he stands slowly, shutting out the light and wandering from the room. 

He makes his way back into the lab. He replays the memory of Xisuma’s small smile, the fine line of his scar as he’d pressed his face into the pillow, the way he’d relaxed against Doc’s touch. He replays the memory, again, and again. It has to be a daydream. Has to be. There’s no other logical explanation to all of that.

Maybe that would explain the ache in his chest, far too human to be his own.

Doc goes back to work. He sits down at the lab table, spreading his arms as he braces against the white tabletop. He furrows his eyebrows. Something doesn’t feel right, too warm or out of place. He feels gross. Not gross bad, maybe, gross different? Broken? Not broken, maybe. Weird. Wrong. Out of place. It doesn’t make any sense. Or it has, and he’s refusing the obvious answer. Xisuma didn’t ask for any reason. Xisuma asked because he was tired, and tired people do silly things, and silly people are a handful, and Xisuma is a handful—a lovely one. Doc shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It’s an awful hurt, actually, less painful than it is just weird. He thinks for a moment he might be better off if he left, maybe the weight of whatever lingered in his memory would be better off if he were to take a break from standing in the same spaces. 

He sends Xisuma a message. From his office, he hears his com ping.

Docm77 whispered to you… Xisuma I’m stepping out, sleep well :-)

[measuredingold]

caught between black and white

authors note: hello hello hello ! long awaited part two of you right and i know this probably isn’t what you guys were wanting but i wanted noah’s pov to kind of explain why things happened the way they did so… stay with me 👀 part three everything will come together. title from alkaline by sleep token. as always enjoy and feedback is always appreciated :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics 🖤

cross posted on ao3 / part one

word count: 3.5k

cw/tw: swearing, arguing, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings lol, 18+ minors do not interact

Noah's not sure how he got here. Well, okay. Backtrack - he knows how he got here with you, and knows why you're looking at him like you want to fucking smack the shit out of him. What he means is here, right now, in this kitchen. He wasn't expecting to see you, especially after not hearing from you in the last three months. He expected you to keep far from him.

You had to have known he was going to be here tonight? This party - get together, whatever - was literally for him and the guys for completing yet another tour. He had a feeling you hated him, and he doesn't blame you. So, why were you here?

He had just turned away from the fridge to get himself another water when he found you standing across from him, face pulled into a scowl and eyes narrowed in a glare. He jumps a little at the sudden sight of you, eyes widening.

He says your name gently, "Hey."

"Shut up, Noah."

Right. Got it. You're pissed at him. He presses his lips together and nods his head, fingers tightening around the bottle of water in his hands. You shift on your feet, pulling your drink close to your chest. From the flush in your cheeks and you fucking speaking to him in the first time in three months, he's going to assume you've already had a few of those.

"I didn't want to come tonight." You pause, as if you're wanting him to respond, but continue before he could even think of speaking, "I didn't want to see you."

“…Okay."

"Do you know why I didn't want to see you?"

He does know. He knows exactly why you don't want to see him, knows why you haven't texted him in almost three months. He expected a long message of you cussing him out at the very least because he knew you'd never call him. Part of him wanted it, pathetically so, because it was a direct line to you. He still had some sort of connection, even if it was you pissed at him.

After a month of no contact Noah found himself in a hotel room late one night, thumb hovering over the send button of his message asking if you could talk. About what, he wasn’t sure. He just wanted to hear from you, maybe even say he was sorry. His stomach drops the second he hits send, the usual blue text bubble turning green.

You had blocked him. Rightfully so - he deserved that.

"I do."

Your gaze is becoming almost too much and he looks anywhere but you, opting to look at the cabinets above your head. They've become very interesting in the last five seconds. A moment of silence passes, thirty seconds, a minute, and then his eyes drop back down to you.

You're still looking at him.

"What?" He doesn't mean for it to come out so harsh but it does, and his arms tighten around his chest when your eyes narrow at him.

"What?" You laugh, but nothing's funny. "That's all you have to say?"

"What do you think I should say?"

He's digging himself a hole and he's doing it on fucking purpose. He wants you to hate him. Needs you to hate him because if you do, walking away tonight won't be as painful. Your gaze hardens, eyes turning cold as you scoff at his words.

"You can't be fucking serious right now."

"I don't know what you want from me."

"You know what I fucking want," You stop to let out a frustrated sigh, eyes shutting to take a deep breath before continuing, "I want an I'm sorry. I want an I didn't mean to hurt you. I want a genuine fucking apology for your shitty ass behavior."

Noah wishes he could say them, wishes he could give you what you want because he so desperately does want to say that and more. But he can't. His mouth won't move. Instead he swallows those words down, blinking at you.

"But you won't. I know you won't." You laugh again, hands flying at your sides. "Because you never do. You never once fucking apologized for using me for your own gain-"

"You used me, too." Oh, so his mouth can move.

Your eyes narrow again. "I was fucking in love with you, Noah. You knew I’d never tell you no.”

Noah blinks. He wasn't expecting that.

Your easy confession has his stomach twisting, heart dropping, and he feels his body heating up. His neck is probably red at this point. You were in love with him? Sure, he expected there were some type of feelings there for him, but love? There's no way he heard that right.

It's always been so hard for him to even admit to anyone how he felt, no matter the circumstances. He never understood how it came so easy for others. Feelings were so complicated, they made things confusing and it always comes with a price. The price being that someone will eventually get hurt, and that someone is usually him. The thought of letting someone in, letting them through the cracks between the walls he built around himself, makes him sick to his fucking stomach.

What good is it to let you in when you'll eventually leave?

No matter what he felt for you, no matter how much he just wanted to fucking say it back, Noah couldn't. He'd never allow himself to say it so freely, so openly, because he knew what would happen. You would leave. You'd realize he was too... difficult. Too much baggage to handle and realize it wasn't worth it, and he'd have to fix those walls you brought down.

He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable.

This was easier, for both you and him. Keeping you close enough so he can have you like this, in the way he so desperately wanted, but far enough that you didn't have to see the real him.

"You don't love me." The words fall from him easily, head shaking.

"Don't play dumb, Noah." You laugh again, a pitiful fucking sound and he frowns. "You know it’s true. I wouldn't have stayed this fucking long if I hadn't."

"You don't-"

"No." He shuts up immediately at your tone, lips pressing together. You're pointing at him, eyes back in their narrowed glare. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. You actually don't get to fucking speak, okay? You've done enough."

With widen eyes, all Noah can do is nod. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he watches you let out a long, dejected sigh. You pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes fluttering shut briefly.

"I'm done," You start, and Noah does everything in his power to ignore the wobble in your voice, "doing this with you. I can't do it anymore. I'm done letting... letting someone who doesn't give two shits walk all over me. Use me when it's convenient." His gaze drops to the floor when he notices you lift a hand to wipe at your eyes. "You never fucking cared about me."

He so desperately wants to tell you that that wasn't true, that he did. He damn near felt the same about you, but instead of voicing that he kept his mouth shut and didn't speak like you had asked.

"I just feel so fucking stupid because I never really thought there would ever be a chance. I wasn't naïve. But last time, when you said," Another shaky breath comes from you and Noah's chest tightens at the sound, "when you said you fucking missed me. That all I needed was you. It felt... different. I thought that you..."

He winces at the laugh you let out this time, each one sounding more and more heartbreaking than the last. He used to love your laugh, how full of life it had sounded, but right now he fucking hates it.

"Obviously I thought wrong. You left me. Without a fucking goodbye."

Noah doesn't know why he looks up, because the ground beneath his feet is pretty interesting at the moment, but he does. He wishes he hadn't because you're rubbing at your eyes again but failing miserably, a few stray tears falling down your cheeks. He clears his throat before swallowing thickly, blinking away the sudden burning behind his eyes.

"I wanted to stay." He finally says, your eyes landing on him. They narrow again. "I almost did."

"Bullshit. You never stay."

"I know." A pause. "Doesn't mean I don't want to."

Your eyes soften for just a moment and you watch him in silence. Your gaze still burns before his eyes never waver from yours, trying to get across that he meant it. He could say so much more, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he remains silent instead. He still can't say it, so he hopes that's good enough.

"It's really hard to believe that."

Noah doesn't say anything, just nods because he knows it's hard. He fucking does and he wishes he could just say what he so desperately wants to. He mentally smacks himself because why is it so fucking hard? It shouldn't be. It should be easy, telling the person you want that you have feelings for them.

So, why does it feel like the hardest thing he's ever done?

"I know. You have no reason to believe me. I just..." He finally says, words trailing off and throat closing up again.

He can't finish his sentence, stomach twisting so violently he swears he's going to be sick at any given moment. Your eyes never move from him, watching him so intently he's certain you can see through him at this point. You eventually look away, scoffing to yourself.

"Why?"

His brows furrow. "Why what?"

"Why should I believe you?"

He stills. Why should you believe him? He's given you plenty of reasons not to, and given exactly zero on why you should.

"Um." His chest tightens, breathing picking up because he doesn't know what to say. I love you, too. But is that even enough now? "Because..."

His words trail off again and it's now growing harder and harder to even look at you. He looks down again, body heating up because the room is getting hotter - it's literally just him - and suddenly he wishes he could be anywhere else in the world but here.

You laugh again, much weaker. "If you can't even say it, how am I supposed to believe you?"

Noah presses his lips together and gives you a shrug in response, too afraid to even use his voice. The silence that follows has his skin crawling and every time he hears you sniffle across from him, he wishes the floor would just swallow him whole. He's screaming at himself in his head, chanting Tell her! Tell her! but he can't. He won't.

He's already made his decision.

"I meant what I said," your voice startles him, brown eyes looking up at you finally, "when I said I was done. I am. We can't keep doing this. I can't keep letting you hurt me. I deserve better."

His heart breaks at that because he knows you're right. You do deserve better. You've always deserved better than him. He couldn't give you what you wanted, no matter how hard he tried.

"You do."

"I do."

There's a finality in your voice, almost like the final nail in the coffin, and Noah knows this is it. You were actually done. You were walking away just like he expected, just like he wanted. This was for the best. He knew it. You finally knew it, too.

But why does it still hurt all the same?

"Everything good in here?"

Nicholas' voice has both you and Noah looking up in surprise, flushes on both of your cheeks. The older males clear eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you before his eyes remain solely on Noah. He swallows thickly, head nodding.

"Yeah."

"I was just leaving, actually." You manage to get out, clearing your throat to hide the way your voice wavered. Noah didn't miss it, and neither did Nicholas with the way his eyes narrow even further. You turn your focus to his best-friend and bandmate, mustering up the best smile that you could. "It was nice to see you again, Nick."

"You, too."

Noah's gaze meets yours and there's something in them, something he can't quite place. Longing? Regret? He doesn't know because it's gone as soon as it comes.

"Goodbye, Noah."

And then you're gone, not sparing him one more glance as you make your way out of the kitchen. Noah doesn't move, eyes trained to where you once stood. He doesn't even notice when Nicholas slides up next to him, leaning back against the counter just like him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Nothing."

"Don't piss me off, dude."

"We were just talking." Noah sighs now, casting a glance at his friend. "That's it."

Nicholas pauses for a moment. "She ended it, didn't she?"

Of course he knew. Noah had told his friend the very second he and you started... whatever the fuck this was. He needed someone to know, someone he could trust. He's sure everyone else suspected it, especially when you two would sneak off together and come back maybe an hour later, clothes and hair disheveled from god knows what.

"Yeah." He nods. "She did."

"Sometimes I wish you'd just let yourself have nice things." Nicholas sighs out, tilting his head back.

"It's not that simple-"

"Do you or do you not have feelings for her?" Nicholas cuts him off and holds his gaze for a moment before Noah looks away, clearing his throat. "Yes or no answer, dude.”

"Why does that matter?"

"It always fucking matters."

"Who cares if I do?" He's growing frustrated now, wanting to talk about anything else but this. "It won't change the fact that she'll eventually fucking leave. She already did, man. I just saved her and I from wasting our time."

Nicholas doesn't respond right away and Noah looks back at him. He fucking hates the look his friend is giving him, soft eyes full of fucking pity because he knows. He knows why Noah acts the way that he does, which pisses him off even more.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Noah, I just want what's best for you-"

"What's best for me, Nick?" His anger only rises at this, face set in a scowl as he finally turns his body to face his bandmate. "Since you fucking know everything."

"Don't talk to me like that." Nicholas points an accusing finger towards Noah, face hardening and brows furrowing.

"And don't act like you know what's best for me." Noah snaps, lips dipping into a frown. "You and I both know this is what's best. She's better off, she doesn't need to deal with..." He motions towards himself, shoulders slumping. "...all of this."

Nicholas' face softens and his frown only deepens. "Noah..."

"And do I wish I could just fucking tell her? Sure, but that doesn't stop the voice in my head telling me she'll get up and leave like everyone else because it's too much." He leans back against the counter, arms crossing. The weight on his chest lightens only a bit at his confession, but the heaviness in his stomach remains. "Watching her leave now is easier."

"Is it?"

"Yeah."

Noah's eyes drop to his feet when he hears Nicholas shuffle around, standing in front of him. He feels his friends hand on his shoulder but doesn't bother looking up, his shoes becoming the most interesting thing to him.

"I wish you'd let yourself have nice things." Nicholas says again, fingers squeezing Noah's shoulder before his hand drops. "And I wish you'd stop thinking the absolute worst when it comes to people. How do you know she'll leave?"

"Everyone does."

"I haven't." Nicholas' response is quick. "Jolly hasn't. Neither has Folio."

"Yeah, but that's different-"

"No, it's not." Another sigh and Noah finally looks up at Nicholas, watching as the male pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can't keep living like this. In the what ifs, consumed by what could happen when you have no fucking clue if it actually will."

"But it will-"

Nicholas stops him again, holding a hand up. Noah's mouth shuts. "You don't know that. Just..." He sighs, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I know it's happened before and it's fucking terrifying, I know, but dude... there's no way that you know she'll leave."

"She just did."

"Because you made her."

Nicholas is staring at him again and Noah feels small under his gaze, which is crazy because he's a few inches taller than him. He knows he's not wrong, he did make her leave, but it was only to protect her and himself from the inevitable.

Right?

"I just want you to be happy. That's all I want." Noah watches Nicholas' gaze soften, a sad smile settling on his lips. "I think she could be the one to do that.

Noha's chest aches at his friend's words, sadness settling in his bones and suddenly he feels... He feels that Nicholas might be right. The feeling is brief though before he's shaking his head, arms crossing back over his chest as he finally pivots his gaze away from Nicholas.

"Well, it's too late for that."

There's a brief moment of silence before Nicholas says, "It doesn't have to be."

"Nick," He sighs, eyes fluttering shut. "It is too late. She's gone. Even if I wanted to fucking, I don't know, chase after her and tell her I'm sorry it won't change anything. She told me she was done."

"Well-"

"Can we just not talk about this anymore? It's done. It's over with. There's nothing else for me to do." Noah's eyes find his best friend again, pushing himself off the counter. "And I'm honestly ready to go. I'm fucking tired. I miss my bed."

He tries his best to ignore the lingering sadness swirling around his chest, shoving it so far back as he reaches for his forgotten water bottle. Nicholas continues to stay where he is, watching Noah with a sort of look he's never seen before. His own eyes narrow at his friend and there's maybe a thirty second stare-off before Nicholas' shoulders sag, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Whatever, man."

A small weight feels like it's been lifted from Noah's shoulder and he gives Nicholas a nod, thankful that he's finally dropped it. Nothing else could be done, Noah knows this. There's no point in dwelling on the what ifs, what's done is done. You're gone and you're far better off, he thinks, even if the thought does make his stomach twist painfully.

That pain will go away soon enough. It always does. He'll go back to his normal self, no more thoughts of you lingering in the back of his mind. He'll be fine. He always is.

Nicholas bids Noah a goodnight, watching as his friend trudges his way up the stairs. He waits until he hears his bedroom door shut before he's fishing out his phone, scrolling through his contact list before he finally comes across your name.

Is he meddling in someone else's business? Sure, but he feels like he needs to do this because he knows you and Noah won't, both way too stubborn for your own good. He has no idea if you'll reply anyways, but it's worth a shot.

Hey! It was really nice seeing you tonight.

He lets out the breath he had been holding when he presses send, watching as the message goes through. Below the blue text box shows that the message had been delivered, and he's glad to know that the only number you seemed to block was Noah's. He sits for a minute, then two, and after five he starts to think you won't answer until he hears a ding come from his phone.

Hi! You too. Sorry I dipped so quick. I had to get home.

He knows why you did, but doesn't bother mentioning it.

It's all good!

I was wondering if you'd like to meet up tomorrow, grab lunch? That little place on 5th that you like. My treat. Been a second since we've seen each other and we need to catch up. Got some crazy stories to tell you.

I think I'm free after 2 tomorrow if that's alright?

Perfectly fine with me, I don't have any plans lol I'll pick you up?

Do you mind if I just meet you there? I won't be home but I'll be nearby there.

Sounds good to me :)

Great! See you tomorrow.

Nicholas reacts to your message with a thumbs up and leaves it at that and he feels the tension in his shoulders finally relax.

He really fucking hopes this works.

[bekaroth-reads]

Baldur’s Gate’s 3 Characters x Reader/Tav Misunderstanding

[This is basically the situation of, “As my partner-“ “Wait, we’re partners?!” Might add more characters later. Proof read but quickly. Sorry if there are mistakes]

Astarion- The two of you were planning out a way to get into a tomb that had some sort of artifact that Astarion insisted was important. “Important,” was, in fact, the only thing that he was using to describe it. This was something that was causing the most problems as you didn’t want to go through the danger of it all for something that might have been nothing more than entertainment for him. When you tried to ask him to give you more details, he snidely scolded, “Listen, as your partner-“

“I’m your partner?!” You interrupt before he could say more.

Immediately, he covered his mouth and his cheeks with his hand, embarrassment flooding in after what he had just said as he turned away. While he could usually recover from almost anything, this struck the line of being too intimate for him to handle. In fact, you were both so flustered and embarrassed from the whole thing that you had to push the planning of everything for the excursion at least a week out. It’s hard to plan adventures when you can’t even look the other person in the eye.

Gale- He thought that you were overworking yourself; and, if Gale Dekarios of all people thought someone was overworking, then it was pretty bad. Then again, you were important to him, so he was also inclined to mother-hen over everything you did. When he thought the time was right, he pulled you aside to gently scold, “I know this is very important. But, as your partner, I must insist-“

“We’re partners?!” You exclaim.

He felt awful as he sees this as him trying to force you into a relationship that you might not have wanted. And, given his history with Mystra, it makes him feel like he has taken on her role, and it makes him nauseous. You will need to take some time to get him to understand it was simply a misunderstanding and that you do want to have a relationship with him.

Raphael- He insisted on taking you to find, “better,” clothing. When you got over the initial insult of the indication that your current choice in clothes was bad, you questioned why he was so adamant on doing so.

“Because, I am a public figure. I cannot have my partner-“ He started to explain before you interrupted,

“I’m your partner?!”

This seemed to entertained him to no end. “Why of course, Little Mouse. Hurry along now.” He hummed as he gave you a tap on the nose before ushering your stunned self out the door.

Haarlep- The two of you finally had an evening to yourselves. They were sitting on the end of your bed in a soft nightshirt, reading a book. It wasn’t even that they were expressly interested in the book, but between all of the scheming with Raphael and succubus work, they couldn’t remember the last time that they had the chance to do something so simple as reading. They gave a contented sigh as they lied back, their horns bumping against your legs where you were sitting farther up on the bed. Without much thought, they sighed, “I am so glad that you are mine.”

“Wait! Are we… partners? Actual partners?” You question in surprise.

They put down their book and turned themselves to lie on their stomach so that they could look at you with gleaming eyes, your reaction seemingly tickling them.

“Well, of course! I’m never this relaxed with anyone but you.” They sat up a bit and motioned to what they had on. “I mean- just look at me! I even put clothes on for you! That’s not something that happens everyday, my sweet.”

Gortash- To say things were tense would be an understatement. Enver Gortash and you had tried to kill each other about a month ago, and you were both nearly successful. It had taken you these past three weeks to heal, and the whole time the both of you were sure the other was going to try to sweep in at any moment and finish the job. Or, you were, and it didn’t take too much imagination to see his situation as the same. You were both in a similar state when your respective parties had broken up your fight.

Now you found out that you would have to work with him publicly for a time. It wasn’t something that you were looking forward to, but it was necessary to get answers for certain things and create opportunities for your team. You were in the hall that this party was being held at; it was nothing fancy, no dancing, no meal- just a simple gathering for some of the upper class to speak with each other and perhaps have a few drinks. You were beyond surprised when Gortash connected eyes with you and instead of an angry or begrudging response, he greeted you with one of the brightest smiles you had ever seen on the man.

“There they are now! The person of the hour!” He walked over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. There were some compliments and coos of how darling you both looked together, and how you must have been a great match. Soon after the group walked away to give you two a few moments of privacy.

“You said that we were a couple?” You whisper-yelled at him.

“Of course. Because we are.” He whispered back as he leaned closer to purr into your ear, “We did almost kill each other after all.” Gortash gave you a peck on the cheek before moving you both to mingle with the other little groups of people around the room.

[throwawayhero]

hi!! could you do a kirishima bf headcanons? i feel like nobody ever writes for my boy, thank you! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Of course omg??? He doesn’t get the amount of love he deserves ong. One of the best characters imo, kill me if I'm wrong!! He’s been my favourite for YEARSSS and I will never get tired of him. Some of these are a bit random but I hope you enjoy!! ❤️

Eijirou!Kirishima who always walks to school and/or class with you. He’ll wait for as long as you need him to with little to no complaints (most of the time..)! He’ll just hang around in your dorm trying to look unsuspecting as he looks at your stuff while you rush to get ready. He especially loves to snoop through your trinkets.

“.. Hey, I didn’t know you still had this!”

“Neither did I..”

“Oh—“

Eijirou!Kirishima who actually takes care of his physical appearance/personal hygiene. He doesn't have a sociopathic 30 step skin care routine but don't be surprised when his bathroom drawer is full of hit or miss products that he's tried out. Will give tips about finding good products if asked about it. He always smells SO good. He also has hair products he uses to get the red dye to last longer.

"Hey, can I borrow this?"

"That made my skin super irritated, try this one."

Eijirou!Kirishima who always supports you and your hobbies, even if they only last a week. He's always up for being a test subject of sorts. Painting/drawing? He's ordering you top quality paints and pencils. Reading? Tell him about the characters, the drama, the romance, the plot twists, he's invested. Crochet/knitting? He's wearing the sweater you made him, even if it is a little bit itchy. Yoga? He bought matching yoga mats! He's ALWAYS supportive, now matter how extreme.

"Any other hobbies peaked your interest?"

"Rock climbing."

"..Sounds like fun!"

Eijirou!Kirishima who NEVER forgets to text you good morning/night. He forgot once and showed up to your dorm to apologise (You hadn't even woken up yet). Sometimes he sends little GIFs too.

'Good morning beautiful!! 💗💗💗'

Eijirou!Kirishima who has a highlight on instagram dedicated to pictures of you and things that remind him of you. He doesn't really post on social media, but when he does, 80% of the time it's about you. He also sends you a bunch of those lovey-dovey quotes from Facebook. His captions on photos are always so sweet.

'Spent the day Go-Karting with my beautiful girlfriend! Can't believe how lucky I am! #gokart #love #girlfriend'

Eijirou!Kirishima who is the KING of PDA, to an extent of course. He will kiss you anywhere, in front of anyone. Oh my GOD does this man know how to give good hugs. He's always holding your hand/wrist/finger no matter what you're doing. You could be on a walk, in a line, grocery shopping, or just sitting down together. He's always by your side :)

"..Can you let go of my hand so I can scan the groceries?"

"No but I'll help you!"

Eijirou!Kirishima who GUSHES about you to his friends. This man is head over heels and everyone knows it. He doesn't necessarily believe in soulmates but he does believe that you were the one he was meant to find. He gets this horribly happy look on his face when he thinks about a future with you that everyone can't help but laugh at. He talks about said future all the time.

"When do you want to get married?"

"..What?"

"I wanna know when to start editing my vows."

"..Editing??"

Eijirou!Kirishima who is a bit of a restless sleeper. And when I say restless, I truly mean it. This man will roll on top of you and just lay there, sprawling out and snoring happily. You have been and will continue to be kicked. One time you had woken up to him rolling off the bed.

"You slapped me in your sleep last night."

"Oops. You should've slapped me back!"

"I did."

Eijirou!Kirishima who goes all out on dates. He'll take you to a fancy restaurant and wear a suit and tie with his hair done nicely. He'll ask you to wear something pretty beforehand so that you know not to underdress. He arrives at your house/dorm with flowers and the biggest smile you'll ever see (besides your wedding day). He'll treat you like the princess you deserve!

"You're stunning, hun.. where would I be without you?"

[lucidlivi]

she calls me daddy now

popping in with the supernatural/true blood crossover you didn't know you needed!

Warning: not suited for minors, strong language, sexual innuendos, sex, slight threesome, violence, blood, gore, major character death, blood drinking, blood draining, mentions of death, staking, vampire burning, major angst, heartbroken Dean

I will be working on other prompt requests soon but I had this idea and didn’t want to lose it, I hope you guys love it as much as I do!

A switch in viewpoints will be indicate in bold italics

Reader

"Fangtasia? really?" I snort glancing at the boys beside me.

"Leeches with a sense of humor.. great." Dean grumbles.

"So much for mainstreaming, Louisiana has one of the highest disappearance rates in the country... 346 people in this last month alone. You and I both know what really happened to them." Sam says looking at the news article on his cellphone.

"And you're sure we're going to find help here?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"I mean there has to be some sort of order to things, even for vampires.'" I shrugged.

"And since we're not scoring a date with the vampire queen , one of her pawns should work just fine." Sam said as I watched the eager humans line up to get in to the famous vampire bar.

It's been years now since vampires exposed themselves to the world.

Of course we already knew of their existence.

However, with the invention of synthetic blood the vamps decided they wanted to become part of society, mainstream they call it.

It took the world by storm.

People were lining up to meet and more disgustingly volunteer to get bitten by a vampire.

It was sickening.

As you can imagine this did not go over well with the hunting community.

It was a question on everyone's mind.

Could vamps really change?

Could they be functioning members of a society?

In Louisiana the answer was no.

"I still don't like this." Dean growled as we took our place in line for entrance to the bar.

"No one does, but we have to try to work out some sort of treaty, some sort of peace between us and them, too many people are dying." Sam said.

Oh Sammy.

As if peace between vampires and humans was possible.

We were a meal to them, nothing more.

I could feel Dean's anxiety pushing in to me, making me anxious.

I grabbed his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. He was quick to lace our fingers together pulling me closer to him.

He instantly calmed a bit.

Dean and I had an interesting relationship.

Sam, he was like my annoying little brother.

But not Dean.

Dean and I shared a connection that went deeper.

He and I just got each other.

We weren't what you would call a thing though.

A hunter's life didn't afford us that privilege.

I knew that no matter what we would always look out for each other and if something were to happen to one of us, the other would never be the same.

It was a terrifying feeling in our line of work, since a brush with death was a daily occurrence for us.

As we got closer to the door I slipped my hand from Dean's.

I could see a lady at the door taking ID's, and from her too straight posture and her perfect looks I could tell she was one of them.

I had seen a vampire or two in my lifetime so they were easy for me to spot.

I felt the air shift as we got closer, causing me to pull my leather jacket tighter around my body.

"ID." she ordered extending her perfectly manicured hand towards me, her eyes focused elsewhere.

I sized her up, trying to guess her age. If I had to I'd say definitely over 100 years old.

She looked experienced, which is how you could tell a vampire's true age.

After a moment of stillness she finally glanced up meeting my eyes.

She glared at me, as if I was beneath her.

I simply stared back at her.

She flashed her fangs willing me to fall at her feet in submission.

I could feel Dean tense behind me, ready to pounce if needed.

"ID." She ordered once again with a southern drawl.

I gave her a forced smile, pulling out a fake ID card.

If she knew it was fake, she didn't say anything, just let me pass. Sam and Dean were let in without showing ID much to my annoyance.

As soon as we were past the rope, the woman at the door disappeared.

I could smell the stench of sex, sweat, and booze as the doors to the bar opened.

If I thought the name was ridiculous, the inside was even more ridiculous. It was decorated in reds and blacks, really selling the vampire theme.

I scoffed at the patrons who were clad in leather and lace. It was like they were proud to be flaunting their flesh for the bloodsuckers.

Perhaps though the most ridiculous and tacky thing was the throne in the middle of the stage overlooking the bar.

My eyes traveled up the throne before connecting with a pair of icy blue ones.

Suddenly it was as if I was being pulled into some sort of trance.

His eyes boring into my own.

I quickly broke eye contact taking a moment to take in his other features.

A mess of blonde locks lay on his head.

His jaw perfectly defined along with his other facial features.

His hands that were gripping the arm rests of the throne, large and lethal.

He was frighteningly tall, even taller than Sam, and he was basically Bigfoot.

It was however the smirk that played on his lips that made my blood boil.

He knew what I was, just as I knew what he was.

A vampire.

Just the pawn we were looking for.

I noticed the perfect blonde woman from the door suddenly at his side, leaning over and whispering in his ear.

I could see her glance in our direction.

She was trying to be discreet but I was on to her.

She was warning him.

Warning him about us.

I didn't get to see anything else as Dean pulled me towards a booth in the back.

I took this moment to study the people.

It was sickening seeing so many vampires and humans mingling like they weren't bloodthirsty monsters, and the humans eager to be their next meal.

"So I think the big blonde guy is who we need to talk to." Sam said looking between me and Dean.

I rolled my eyes.

Is he serious right now?

"Really Sam what gave you that idea huh? The throne in the middle of the stage? The way all the other vampires flock to him? Or, or maybe it’s the fact that he's glaring daggers at us right about now." I sassed feeling the blonde's eyes burning me from behind.

"Okay so what's the plan then, I don't think he's going to talk to us willingly." Dean said ignoring my attitude.

"Well maybe not us." Sam said pointing between himself and Dean.

Dean looked around seeing the blonde man's eyes devouring my form.

"No absolutely not." Dean interjected quickly.

"Dean, it may be our only shot I seemed to have peaked his interest." I said turning my body fully towards him.

"We can figure something else out then, this is reckless and you know that." Dean growled.

"I know but I don't think we have that kind of time, people are dying Dean, people we swore to protect." I shot back.

"Yeah well I swore to protect you." Dean gutted.

"So then protect me." I said rising from my seat.

Dean was not happy, that much was evident on his face. I couldn't focus on that right now though. I was doing this.

I took a deep breath straightening out my jacket.

I slowly approached the throne, center stage.I could see people eyeing me with envy. I was only focused on the vamp, whose eyes grew more curious the closer I got.

I was about to take another step but was halted by another man, who I could tell was also a vampire.

"Sorry no one speaks to Mr. Northman without his permission." He growled at me.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at this.

Who the hell did this vamp think he was, god?

"Chow, let her through." A strong voice spoke.

It didn't take me long to figure out it came from the vampire on the throne.

The man grumbled something under his breath before stepping to the side.

I took another deep breath striding in front of the blonde man.

"Mr. Northman I presume?"

"Please, call me Eric, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" He smirked.

I thought for a minute if I should make up some fake name.

"And mind you I can tell if you're lying." He added, somehow reading my thoughts.

"y/n." I offered only my first name.

"What I can I do for you y/n?" He asked interested, as if I was going to offer him my neck.

"I think you know why we're here." I stated crossing my arms in front of myself as if it would put more distant between me and Eric.

"Yes unfortunately , it was only a matter of time before you hunters showed up."

"We wouldn't have to if you leeches kept yourselves in check." I bit back quickly.

"Well aren't you sweet." Eric smirked.

"Yeah not really."

I knew I should probably watch my tongue in a bar full of vampires. However, when my anger got the best of me, I couldn’t control the things that spilled from my lips.

"You have no idea who you're talking to do you?" Eric laughed, standing to his full height.

He towered over my short stature easily.

I wouldn't let him intimidate me though which is exactly what he was trying to do.

"So enlighten me then Mr. Northman."

"I'm a thousand year old viking darling, I'm not threatened by you or anyone for that matter."

"I'm not here to threaten you, I'm here to help you." I retorted quickly, acting unfazed by the declaration of his true age.

My statement resulted in another laugh from the viking vampire.

"Help me? Now what in that pretty little head of yours makes you think I need, or want your help." He whispered menacingly, clearly trying to threaten me.

I would have been a little more afraid had I not noticed the slight crease in his eyebrows as he spoke.

He was worried about something.

My guess, pressure from his boss to solve his little vampire problem.

Order.

Creatures couldn't function without it.

I couldn't fight the smirk that made it's way to my face.

"I think you're worried, 346 bodies is a lot of bodies to hide, I mean we know that they didn’t really disappear did they? Also isn't it your job to keep all these vampires in line? I'm guessing a bunch of rogue vampires going on a killing spree doesn’t exactly fair well with your boss." I taunted.

I knew I pushed it too far when his fangs popped out with a click.

He quickly wrapped a hand around my throat causing Dean to shoot up, pulling out his gun loaded with ultraviolet emitting bullets.

If Eric saw him, he was completely unfazed by his actions.

I gave Dean a look, telling him to wait before he starts blindly shooting in a room full of vampires.

I could handle myself well, Dean knew as much.

“Don’t you tell me how to do my job.” he growled his hand squeezing a little tighter around my throat.

"Do your job then." I spat, pushing him a little further.

Eric then looked deeply in my orbs as his glazed over.

He spoke in an enchanting voice.

"Now you and your little gang of hunters are going to leave my bar, but before you go, you're going to let me taste you while your boyfriend over there watches me."

I knew what he was trying to do.

He was trying to what they call "glamor" me.

Get in my head.

Control me and my thoughts.

No man controls me.

"No offense Mr. Northman but you're not really my type." I managed to squeak out, his hand still squeezing my throat.

Eric quickly released my neck with a confused look.

"Why can't I glamor you?" He growled in frustration.

I quickly turned around, pulling my shirt up slightly so he could see the anti-possession tattoo in the center of my spine.

"Turns out this isn’t just for demons, works for your mind tricks too. Eric this is my final offer, let us help you or we're gonna handle things our way, and then you'll have a lot more bodies to dispose of. We’ll be in town, it’s your choice." I threatened before turning away from the vampire.

I could tell he didn't take kindly to my threats but he didn't retaliate surprisingly, given his nature.

I could see the relief wash over Dean's face as I returned to his side.

"Looks like we aren't getting his help, let's go." I said knowing full well Eric could still hear me.

Dean tucked his gun away roughly grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the bar.

I could tell by his face that he was trying his best not to explode.

He was irate.

As soon as we were in the impala the floodgates opened and all hell let loose.

"Wow you've done a lot of stupid shit in the past but that has to be the most fucked thing you've ever done, what the hell were you thinking?" Dean growled.

I wasn't sure if it was directed at Sam for suggesting I talk to Eric alone or me for actually doing it.

“Dean come on it’s…” Sam started but Dean quickly cut him off.

“Stay out of this Sam.” Dean growled.

I guess now I knew it was directed at me.

“You can’t be serious right now?” I scoffed at his behavior.

“He could have snapped you like a twig, you gave him every opportunity.” Dean snapped.

I knew this was his way of saying he was worried about me but l didn’t like how he was going about it.

“I can handle myself.” I said with an eye roll.

“I mean what was your plan exactly? Badmouth him until he sinks his fangs in to your neck? You had no plan going up there, that was so irresponsible.” Dean continued.

“Yeah well he didn’t hurt me did he?” I scoffed.

“Your lucky he didn’t, you just act without thinking about the consequences.” He retorted.

“Yeah well sometimes you think too much and don’t act.”

“At least you don’t have to continuously save my ass!” He growled.

“Ugh would you stop treating me like a child!” I said my voice rising along with my anger.

“I will when you stop acting like one!” Dean yelled.

I rolled my eyes again, sinking back in to the seat. I was done talking about this. It was no use anyways.

I knew Eric wouldn’t hurt me.

I don’t know how I knew, I just did. He wouldn’t admit it but he needed our help.

I was extremely thankful to be pulling in to the motel parking lot. I jumped out of the car before Dean could bring it to a complete stop, slamming the door in a fit.

I could hear Dean throwing open his door and quickly striding up to catch me.

“We are not done talking about this.” He growled grabbing my wrist.

“I am.” I seethed snatching my wrist from him.

I walked in to my separate motel room, slamming the door in his face.

God!

Dean didn’t usually yell at me, I had no idea where all this was coming from.

"Fuck!" I screamed, before quickly stripping my clothes wanting to wash away this evening and everything it brought.

I turned on the shower, steam instantly filling the bathroom.

I stepped in, the hot water relaxing my tense muscles.

What the hell was up with Dean?

Why was he acting so, so possessive?

He knew I was strong enough to handle my own, yet he was treating me as if I were some stupid kid walking in to the lions den unprepared.

I knew how to kill vampires, this wasn’t my first rodeo.

I was angrily scrubbing my body and hair, too caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t hear my motel room door opening, or the bathroom door for that matter.

I washed the shampoo from my hair before noticing Dean’s presence. It made me jump but only momentarily. He was standing on the other side of the shower curtain, his shoulders slumped over.

“I said I was done talking about it Dean.” I bit quickly.

I was expecting him to start yelling at me again, tell me how stupid I was being, but Dean didn’t say anything instead just stayed quiet.

"Dean?" I asked softening my tone.

Dean was never quiet.

Only when he was in his head about something.

Like I said we just got each other.

It was a moment before he spoke.

“You have no idea how worried I was for you, fuck y/n why do you care so little about your life when to me it’s everything?” Dean said, his voice being overtaken with emotion.

My breathing stilled at his words. I felt tears gather in the corners of my eyes.

Dean wasn’t the vulnerable type, never admitting how he was truly feeling, but here he was laying it all out.

Before thinking I flung open the shower curtain looking at him. His eyebrows were creased with worry and hurt.

I suddenly felt extremely guilty.

I didn’t want to hurt him.

That was the last thing I wanted to do.

Dean was my person.

I jumped out and flung my arms around him, soaking his t-shirt. He didn't seem to mind much as he wrapped his strong arms around me holding me tightly to his body.

I buried my head in the crook of his neck, allowing a few tears to cascade down my cheeks. His hand found its way to the back of my head stroking my wet hair.

“I’m sorry Dean.” I spoke quietly.

Dean’s hand traveled down to the back of my neck, pulling my head up so he could look in my eyes.

Dean and I didn't need words to convey our feelings.

Our eyes alone did just that.

I could feel the heat spreading to my core as his eyes devoured me hungrily.

Dean and I didn't cross this line often.

In fact only once before.

It was a dangerous line to be flirting with.

But in this moment, I didn't care.

Dean didn't either, for a moment later he was crashing his lips on mine.

His lips had a petal softness to them, but he kissed like a man that had been starved for months.

I balled his t-shirt in my fists pulling him impossibly closer. Dean's hand gripped my neck harder as if I was about to float away and he was the only thing holding me down.

I broke away but only briefly to suck in a harsh breath.

Dean pulled me back in again, devouring my lips.

He kissed me as if I was oxygen and he was dying to breathe.

I couldn't help the breathless moans that fell from my lips as I felt Dean's trapped erection on my already burning center.

I wanted more.

Needed more.

"Dean." I panted, hoping he would catch on.

Dean didn't bother teasing. He picked me up quickly kicking the bathroom door open, before gently placing me on the run down motel bed.

He was quick to dispose of his shirt.

I trailed my eyes down his body.

Dean was the kind of handsome that got into my bones, that spoke to me before he'd even said a word.

I licked my lips as I admired him.

I sat up on the bed, not being able to stop my self from placing my lips on his perfectly chiseled jaw. He let out a guttural sound as my tongue worked down to his neck, kissing and sucking, marking him as mine.

He quickly disposed of his jeans, freeing himself at last. He gently pushed me back down hovering his body over mine.

Dean looked at me as if he applied too much pressure I might break.

He trailed his hand down my body painfully slow, stopping to brush gently over my aching core. I sucked in my bottom lip to try to stop the needy whine that wished to escape but I was too late.

I needed to feel him, all of him.

Dean leaned down once again kissing my lips tenderly.

"I promise." Dean whispered pulling away gently.

I shook my head in confusion.

"Promise?" I breathed out.

"I promise to make up for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you." Dean rasped.

I felt my eyes prickle with tears.

I grabbed his head bringing his lips back to my own.

I don't think I'll ever get over the feeling I get when kissing Dean, it was warm, it was safe, it was everything I needed, because with Dean, sometimes kissing felt like healing.

Dean grabbed his erection, slowly rubbing his tip up and down my folds, torturing me with pleasure.

He grunted pushing himself through my slickness all without breaking our hungry kiss.

Dean thrusted at a tortuously slow pace, hitting my sweet spot with every movement. Dean buried his head into my neck, heavenly groans fell from his lips.

I moaned a little louder with each slow thrust.

I couldn't take anymore, I rolled my hips up meeting his.

Dean pushed himself even deeper, causing a sensual whine out of me.

"So pretty when you're whining for me."

I could barely think straight from the fire burning in my veins. I closed my eyes digging my nails slightly in to his skin.

“Oh fuck Dean right there.” I moaned feeling my orgasm making itself known.

I could feel myself clenching around him causing him to cry out in pleasure.

“Good girl baby, cum for me.” Dean whispered in a husky voice.

His tone and praise alone was enough to have me soaking his length, my walls contracting all around him.

Dean began to thrust harder and faster, chasing his own orgasm. When his rhythm became sloppy I knew he was close.

Dean gave one last deep thrust before I felt white hot spurts of liquid coating my still sensitive walls.

Just when I thought Dean couldn’t get more attractive, here he was looking like a god as he groaned, riding out his orgasm.

I could cum again just from the sight of it.

Dean slowly removed himself, satisfied when his seed spilled out coating my thighs.

"I think you're gonna need another shower." Dean smirked.

Yep.

Dean was back.

I was about to make my usual snarky comment but a loud knocking on the door got my attention.

I thought it might be Sam coming to check on me, he has been on the receiving end of Dean’s wrath more than once.

I threw on a shirt and some sleep shorts before peeling the door open slowly.

I was not prepared to see Eric Northman behind it.

"You know for hunters you really need to cover your tracks better, wasn't all that hard to track you down, not with that sweet aroma you carry around." Eric smirked pompously.

I could hear Dean shuffling as he rushed putting his clothes back on.

He was suddenly at my side ripping the door open and glaring down the viking vampire in front of me.

It was the first time I saw them toe to toe.

Eric was definitely taller but Dean was unfazed by his size.

Dean was nothing to mess with either. He was lethal in his own right, and had more blood on his hands then he liked to think about.

"Now if you're done fucking your play thing, I'd like to talk." Eric said completely ignoring Dean’s threatening demeanor.

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.

Oh god he heard that?

Of course he did, fucking super hearing ability.

"I think that opportunity has passed, we're no longer interested." Dean growled slamming the door but Eric’s vampire speed won out and he caught it seamlessly.

"If you could do me a favor sweets and calm your guard dog here, I believe you and I can help each other." Eric said once again ignoring Dean completely.

"I thought you said you didn't need or want my help?" I finally spoke, feeling my anger rising again.

"Oh don't be smug, it's humbling enough having to come to a breather for help." Eric said rolling his eyes.

I could feel Dean stiffen beside me.

He didn't trust Eric that much was obvious.

I didn't trust him either.

I was realistic though, and I knew our odds would be better with him on our side instead of in our way.

"Hypothetically speaking of course, let's say I was still interested in helping you, what then?" I inquired.

Dean growled from beside me.

“Excuse us for a moment." Dean said through clenched teeth, shutting the door, this time Eric allowing him to.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath preparing his lecture but I quickly cut him off before he could deliver it.

"Look before you yell, let's be realistic here, I think we're in way over our heads and having Eric on our side instead of in our way is an asset, even if I don't trust him, keep your enemies closer right?"

Dean's eyebrows furrowed knowing he couldn't argue with my logic.

"You were mad before because I didn't have plan, this time I do." I promised.

Dean placed a gentle hand to my cheek pulling my lips to his.

He knew Eric would be listening behind the door.

He wanted to make it known I was his.

I would definitely have to unpack this situation later.

Dean removed his lips resting his forehead on mine.

"Fine we can talk." Dean reluctantly agreed.

I gave him a small smile as I opened the door, seeing Eric standing there looking completely uninterested in Dean's show of affection.

"So then let's talk." I said nodding my head at Eric.

"Just you, no offense but I don’t think your guard dog will fit in with where we’re going, also you might want to shower first, if you’re going to be with me I can’t have you smelling of another man, and one more tip try not to look so much like a hunter, I’ll be back in thirty.” Eric ordered before speeding away.

“Fuck this, no way in hell am I letting you go anywhere alone with him.” Dean said.

“The idea doesn’t thrill me either but I’m just going to need you to trust me.” I said quickly going towards the bathroom.

Dean didn’t say anything instead followed behind me sulking. He shed his clothes stepping in the shower after me.

He huffed pouting as he took his hand washing his seed away from my body. I moaned as his fingers dipped in my folds cleansing me.

“I can trust you if you promise me you won’t do anything reckless, I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt and I wasn’t there to help.” Dean said.

I quickly turned around facing him.

“I promise you Dean, nothing reckless.” I said standing on my toes to place a soft kiss to his mouth.

I finished washing myself quickly, then stepped out and towel dried myself.

I looked in my suitcase trying to find clothes that didn’t scream hunter. I settled for a sundress, this made me look more innocent, more naive.

Exactly thirty minutes later on the dot their was another harsh knock at the door. I took a deep breath opening it. Eric stood smirking behind it, clearly trying to provoke Dean. He let his eyes drift up and down my form very noticeably.

“If I didn’t know any better I would say you almost look normal.” Eric joked, that ever present cocky smile still on his face.

Dean wrapped a protective arm around me.

“I swear if you fucking hurt her..” Dean started but Eric cut him off.

“Down boy, she’ll be fine, besides I already ate this evening, though I wouldn’t say no to some dessert.” Eric taunted him.

I rolled my eyes at the pair.

I quickly turned around grabbing Deans shirt bringing him in for a feverish kiss.

Dean smirked in to the kiss hearing Eric sigh in annoyance.

I pulled away letting a hand linger on his cheek.

“I’ll be back.” I assured.

I turned towards Eric ignoring the arm he offered me.

“Well after you.” I gestured.

I saw the the expensive bugatti now parked outside my motel room.

A little over the top I thought, although I guess when you’ve been alive for so long your wealth is vast.

Eric smirked at Dean as he opened the passenger door gesturing for me to get in.

I gave Dean one more soft look before climbing in.

Eric zipped around clambering in the drivers seat. He peeled out of the motel at inhuman speed, making me grip the seat.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked annoyed.

“A tribunal meeting.” Eric simply answered.

“A what?”

“You people really don’t know anything do you?” He jabbed.

“Look if that’s how this is going to be you can just take me back.” I said rolling my eyes.

“You know your cute when you pout.” Eric laughed.

I rolled my eyes again ignoring his flirtatious comment. He was trying to get under my skin, and he was doing a damn good job at it.

“Listen just stay close to me, and don’t talk to anyone but me.” Eric said glancing at me.

“Eric..”

“No this is serious okay, for me to keep you safe you have to listen to me.” He said.

I glanced at his eyes, and for a moment just a moment I saw some of what I believed to be sincerity. It made him almost seem…. human.

“Fine.” I grumbled.

He pulled in to a field in the middle of nowhere.

I really wasn’t thrilled with this idea now.

I took a deep breath feeling the silver dagger Dean slipped in to the waistband of my underwear. It wasn’t much but it could help me out, give me some leverage.

Eric got out zipping around to open my door.

I got out of the car looking fully at the scene.

There were a few other vampires there, most looked pretty ancient. It wasn’t their looks per say, but their demeanor, the way they carried themselves.

I saw a few humans too, one vampire was openly feeding on a girls neck. If I had eaten I was sure it would come back up at the sight. The worst part is the girl moaned as if she was enjoying it.

Eric smirked as he wrapped an arm around my waist leading me towards the group of vampires.

"Remember what I said, be a good breather and keep quiet." Eric said.

"Fuck you." I cursed under my breath knowing full well Eric would hear me.

Eric's presence instantly got the attention of a man dressed in an expensive suit.

"Eric welcome, and who is this lovely thing you've brought with you, she smells delectable."

"Easy now magister, she's mine." Eric said.

His?

Oh hell no!

"Yours the fu.." I started but Eric quickly clamped his hand on my mouth.

"My apologies sir, quite the mouth she got on her, though it does come in handy." Eric joked.

I nipped at his hand covering my mouth as if telling him he was really pushing it.

"If you'll excuse us sir.." Eric said leading me away from the man.

As soon as he took his hand off my mouth, I raised my hand to strike him but he quickly caught it.

"Yours? What the fuck was that!? I am not now, nor will I ever be yours!" I growled.

"It's my way of protecting you, it's an unspoken rule for vampires that we can't harm or feed from another vampires claimed human, now that I openly claimed you, nobody can touch you or they have to deal with me."

I was still pissed at him but I shook my head in understanding.

"These guys, they're the authority?"

"Well sort of, we work for them, that guy was the magister, the judge of my kind, if you will. The others are area sheriffs like myself, we keep order in our area, and we're all here to talk about our little problem." Eric explained.

"And the humans are privileged to this information?" I questioned.

"No, you’re here to satiate us, but it doesn't matter what they hear they'll just be glamoured to forget, but since you can't be glamoured you better be good at acting." Eric said.

I nodded my head finally understanding.

I would be the only human to remember this meeting.

He was giving me information, leverage.

Eric was about to say something else when the magister cleared his throat getting the attention of all vampires present.

"Now stay close to me, and for fuck's sake act like you can stand to be near me." Eric whispered once again wrapping a cold arm around my waist.

I knew if Dean were here right now he'd be furious at Eric for even daring to touch me in such an intimate matter.

In fact Dean would probably kill him first and ask questions later.

Eric was right, Dean definitely wouldn't have fit in here.

I didn't fit in here.

I grumbled, leaning in to Eric's side, cozying up to him.

I had to pretend.

It might kill me.

But I had to pretend.

I could feel Eric's stupid smirk without seeing it.

"Stop enjoying this." I growled causing a chuckle to fall from his lips.

"Sheriffs, it's great to see you, unfortunately I wish it could be under better circumstances. You all have been gathered here because as you know your state has managed to gain the attention of the authority, and I can tell you they aren't happy. You were put in a position to keep order, lay low, push the movement along, so please someone tell me why it's a goddamn circus out here?" The guy who I now know as the magister yelled.

I could feel Eric tense beside me, his arm getting a little tighter around me.

I could tell the magister was in a significant position of power even without Eric telling me so.

"Sir it's the newborns, they're insatiable, unsupervised." One vamp spoke up.

"And who's fault is that, isn't it your job to handle problem vampires?"

"You wish us to kill our own’s progeny's?" Another quipped.

"Do you dare defy my order?" The magister threatened.

"No sir."

I was taking in all the new information.

It seemed that new vampires were being made, "progeny's" and being left unsupervised after their creation.

It was not only reckless, it was cruel.

"Well maybe the humans have it coming, all they've ever done is hunt us down and lynch us." A vampire beside us spoke.

I glance at him.

He was tall, not as tall as Eric but tall none the less.

He clearly thought he was holier then thou.

I guess he hadn’t come face to face with hunters yet.

"I mean we do kind of deserve it." Eric spoke, surprising me a great deal.

I didn't think he was capable of any compassion towards what he calls “breathers.”

"Wow I can't believe my ears, Eric Northman, the ruthless viking prince suddenly gets himself a human bitch and now he's mr. mainstream?" The vampire spoke turning and taking a step towards us.

Eric let out a warning growl.

"I would watch your next words sheriff, I’m not known for my patience." Eric said baring his fangs.

His hold on me got tighter, if that were possible, I was already trapped against his body as it was.

I could feel the tensions rising as both vampires hissed at each other.

I took my hand squeezing Eric's.

I was surprised when I felt him calm slightly.

It was a simple gesture that always worked for Dean, and seemingly Eric too.

It was a little way of wordlessly saying “I’m here, I got you.”

"ENOUGH both of you! Eric’s right, we all knew coming out of the coffin there would be risks involved, if you can't keep order the authority will come and eradicate your regions."

Eradicate?

As in kill them all?

I was all for killing vampires, but that seems a little excessive.

I worried for Eric.

Wait.

What the fuck am I saying?

I don't worry about vampires.

Vampires are nothing but killing machines.

They don’t have feelings.

Or do they?

I don’t know what I believed anymore in this moment.

"With all due respect magister this is complete bullshit." the previous vampire spoke again.

I could see the magister getting visibly angry.

"We are apex predators, the top of the food chain, and you expect us to just lay down and take it from a bunch of blood bags?" He continued.

I could feel myself getting heated at his words.

He was the epitome of the vampires we killed.

No regard for human life whatsoever.

"We don’t take it, we learn to control ourselves there’s a difference." The magister corrects.

He was all about pushing the mainstreaming movement along, that much was clear, but he could care less about humans as long as all killings and feedings were done in secrecy and done so as not to draw too much attention.

He was just another two faced authoritarian, pushing something he could care less about.

"You and the authority are out of your goddamn minds if you think..." He started.

In an instant the magister zipped over to him, producing a wooden stake before driving it straight through the vampires heart. The vampire exploded sending guts flying everywhere.

Eric quickly turned us around so I wasn’t hit by the debris but he was.

I let out a shaking breath as blood splattered the side of his face.

I didn’t think I would be getting this close to vampire politics tonight.

I was officially over it.

Eric looked in my eyes as if assuring me everything was alright.

The magister wiped some vampire guts from his suit before turning back to everyone.

“I think we’ve all learned our lesson yes?”

No one dared to speak so the magister continued.

“You,” he said pointing at one vampire, “clean up this mess’ and you,” he said now turning to Eric who was cleaning the blood from his face, “glamor your human and then come with me.”

Eric turned to me giving me a look, guess now it was time to put on an act.

How does one even act glamoured? A mindless zombie I guessed.

He stared at me with that glazed look in his eyes, the same one from the bar. He also had something else in there, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was; mischief maybe?

Next came his enchanting voice.

“y/n.”

“Yes.” I spoke quietly as if I was under his spell.

“Nothing happened here tonight, you don’t remember any other vampires being here, you don’t remember anything that was said, do you understand?” Eric ordered.

“Nothing happened here.” I repeated.

“Good…” Eric smirked pompously. “Now kiss me and wait in the car like the good little breather you are.”

I felt my insides boiling.

What the hell was he doing?

He knew I couldn’t say no to him.

It was either that or blow my cover to the magister.

I trusted my skills but not enough to take out an ancient vampire with a simple silver dagger, not while so many others were around.

I realized I was already taking too much time to think. If I didn’t act soon it was over, I was made.

I glared at Eric with furious eyes before leaning in.

He grabbed the back of my neck joining our lips.

I kissed him back with much reserve but he didn’t seem to notice.

He however kissed me gently to my surprise.

In fact he was kind of good at kissing.

What the fuck?

Shut up brain!

This was a vampire for fucks sake!

I willed the moment to be over but Eric was taking his sweet time tasting my mouth.

As we were kissing I tasted something metallic on my tongue.

I knew that taste.

Blood.

I swear if he bit me, I don’t care who’s watching I’ll kill him.

I was confused when Eric pulled away and it wasn’t my lip that was bleeding but his own.

It was his blood?

I quickly turned around walking back to his car as instructed.

I was trying to soak in all the information.

At least now we knew what we were up against.

A bunch of unsupervised baby vamps.

Great.

Eric came back moments later getting in the car. I held my breath until we were far enough away from the field before speaking my thoughts.

“I don’t understand, why are there unsupervised baby vampires allowed to run amok, they need to be taught, isn’t that a little cruel, illegal?”

“It’s unfortunate not every vampire has such a responsible maker.” Eric answered.

“And your maker?” I wondered.

I heard the vampire call Eric a viking prince, I wondered just how he came to be what he was now.

He hesitated a moment before he spoke.

“Godric, he’s gone, he saved me from dying on a battlefield.”

I scoffed a little catching his attention but kept my comment to myself, further annoying Eric.

“Go ahead, say what you want to say.” Eric pushed.

“I don’t know how he saved you, making you crave blood to survive, making you a slave to the night, making you practically immortal, I mean that has to be really lonely, eventually everyone you know will be gone and then it’ll just be you.” I said glancing at him.

“It’s a good thing I don’t care for mortals then.”

“I don’t believe that.” I quipped.

“And I don’t believe you actually hate vampires, I saw how you reacted when the magister spoke of the authority eradicating our regions.” Eric pushed back.

“About that, can they actually do that?” I asked.

If vampires had enough power to eradicate entire regions I think we had bigger problems to worry about then a bunch of baby vamps.

“Yes, they can and they will if the problem isn’t solved.” Eric said slowly pulling back in the motel parking lot.

“So what do we do about it so that doesn’t happen?” I asked turning my body towards him.

“We?”

“Just shut up, and tell me!” I said rolling my eyes at him again.

“I guess the only thing we can do, go on a hunting trip. If we can’t control them we have to eradicate them.” Eric said.

“Alright we’ll be ready then.”

“You and your dog can meet me at fangtasia tomorrow night, sunset, we’ll formulate a plan from there.” Eric nodded.

“Sunset.” I confirmed turning to get out of the car.

“Oh Eric, one more thing.” I said turning back around.

Before he could realize what was happening I balled my fist, sending it flying in to his nose. I heard a satisfying crunch as it connected.

“ If you ever trick me into kissing you again, I’ll kill you myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I smirked getting out of the car.

“You broke my nose!” Eric yelled out the window.

“Eh your a vampire, you’ll heal.” I shrugged, glancing once more at him.

“I know I’m a vampire but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He growled pushing his nose back in to position.

“Goodnight Eric.” I called one final time.

Eric rolled his eyes before peeling out of the parking lot, the sound getting Dean’s attention. He flung open the door pulling me to his chest. He inspected my body for any signs of injury but found none.

“Dean it’s okay, I’m okay.” I said placing a hand on his cheek.

I took him inside telling him everything that happened.

Well almost everything.

I left out the kissing part.

It would just further cause problems between the two, and besides I handled it.

He groaned when I told him we’d be seeing Eric tomorrow night.

He didn’t want to work with him but he agreed with me, that if we didn’t take care of this little problem we’d have a much bigger problem on our hands, i.e. an authority of ancient vampires that could eradicate entire populations.

“It’s nearly dawn, we should get some sleep.” Dean said stroking a hand through my hair.

I looked at Dean’s face, he had a slight crease in his forehead that only showed up when he was worrying about something.

“Dean what is it?” I asked.

“Who’s to say we don’t help him and then he turns right around and tries to kills us? I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.” Dean says sincerely.

“I know your worried but I don’t think he’ll try anything, he needs our help, besides he had every opportunity to kill me tonight, but he didn’t. Instead he gave us some pretty valuable information, which I’m suspecting he could get staked for if someone found out.” I said my mind traveling to the blonde haired vampire.

I had no idea why he was on my mind right now.

“Are you concerned for him?” Dean asked a look of jealousy and disgust on his face.

When I didn’t answer immediately, Dean continued.

“He’s a killer y/n, a leech, you can’t seriously be worrying about him?” Dean growled.

“I’m not.” I told a half lie.

“What is it then?” Dean pushed.

“It’s just everything might not be as black and white as we think that’s all.” I said trying to carefully chose my words.

“I mean they drink human blood to survive how is there any grey area in that?” Dean retorted.

“Some of them didn’t ask for this life, you know they thought they were being saved..” I trailed off thinking of the story Eric told me of his creation.

“It doesn’t change what they are.” Dean said.

I shrugged my shoulders. I guess he was right. At the end of the day they would still be feeding on humans to survive.

We were prey to them.

“I think we should get some sleep.” I said leaning up and pecking his lips quickly.

Dean was not satisfied with how we ended things but he didn’t push further to which I was thankful. Instead he pulled me in closer so my head was laying on his chest.

I felt the exhaustion starting to take a toll on my body, and the darkness starting to envelop me.

I reached my hand up to touch Dean but was surprised to feel the space empty.

Suddenly fingers were hooked in to my sleep shorts pulling them slowly down my legs. I groaned as lips kissed tenderly up my thigh, making my core burn with pleasure. I cast my eyes downward, meeting a pair of green ones.

“Dean.” I moaned as his head dipped down, his breath fanning over my center.

I didn’t know how Dean slipped down there without me noticing but right now I didn’t care.

Instead of devouring me like I wanted, his lips trailed back down to my thigh.

I could feel my blood pumping with need and desire.

“Beg me for it.” Dean commanded.

Didn’t need to tell me twice.

“Oh god please Dean.” I begged running my hands through his hair.

Suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my thigh.

I gasped looking down but instead of Dean, Eric was there with extended fangs, licking blood off his lips

What the fuck is going on?

Am I dreaming?

I’ve got to be dreaming.

A million questions surged through my head.

How?

When?

Why?

“Eric?” I blushed trying to hide my body from him.

“The femoral artery, like the jugular if pierced wrong can cause you to bleed out in mere minutes.” Eric said licking my thigh.

I looked down realizing blood was seeping out from too little pin pricks. I could feel my heart start to race but it wasn’t from fear… rather excitement.

What was wrong with me?

Was I turned on by this?

“It is indeed the best place to draw blood, so pleasurable and not just for me.” Eric said dipping his head back down, sinking his fangs in to my thigh.

I threw my head back with a moan as Eric drank my blood. His long fingers trailed up my thigh, dipping in to my folds that were already slick with arousal.

Oh god this was so wrong.

But it felt so good I didn’t want to stop.

But Dean?

Fuck!

As I was about to push Eric away, I felt lips against my neck, a hand trailing down my shirt to play with my hardened nipples.

I sat up a little seeing Dean now behind me.

Okay now I know I am in fact dreaming. These two can’t even be in the same room together, let alone take turns pleasuring me.

Eric removed his fangs and started to devour my core, his tongue working expertly up and down my folds.

“Oh god.” I moaned, biting my lip.

Dean trailed his fingers down further and started rubbing circles on my bundle of nerves, making my body writhe with pleasure.

“Mmm such a good girl, wouldn’t you agree Eric?” Dean whispered with a husky tone that made my legs shake.

"Mmm, the best girl.” Eric said removing his mouth from my folds momentarily before diving back in.

I felt the coil in my stomach winding tighter and tighter, begging to spring free. The sensation of Eric devouring me with his mouth while Dean worked me with his fingers was too much to bare. I was so close and then….

I sprang up, gasping for air.

The room was still dark, however sunlight started filtering through the curtains.

I guessed it was just after sunrise.

I looked to my left seeing Dean sound asleep. Eric was nowhere to be found.

“Of course not dummy, he’s dead during the day” my brain screamed at me.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead trying to calm my racing heart.

Why in the fuck would I dream of Eric pleasuring me?

Dean makes sense but Eric?

Eric?

A thousand year old vampire?

What the fuck was wrong with me!?

The worst part is he bit me, he bit me and I enjoyed it.

I deduced I was in need of some serious therapy and counseling.

I took a few deep breaths before laying back down next to Dean. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours before finally succumbing to pure exhaustion.

I woke up to a hand running through my hair. I was hesitant to open my eyes, my dream still at the forefront of my mind.

I was relieved when all I saw was Dean.

“It’s almost sunset.” Dean said placing a soft kiss to my forehead.

I groaned in response causing Dean to laugh.

“I’m not looking forward to this either.” Dean said getting out of the bed and heading towards the bathroom.

I sat up stretching my limbs. I was dreading having to face Eric after the impure dream I had about him.

I was still struggling to understand why I was dreaming about him in that way. I mean sure he was attractive, but he was a monster and I was the one who hunted him.

I didn’t realize how long I sat there in my head until Dean was coming out of the bathroom freshly showered.

I quickly collected myself so I didn't look like a mess.

Dean could NOT find out about this.

I rushed in to the bathroom turning on the cold water. I splashed my face a couple times trying to calm my shaking hands.

Fuck.

Get it together.

I stepped out getting dressed for the night. Dean was already ready to go, reloading uv bullets in both guns.

“Sam?” I asked lacing my boots.

“He’s keeping the police off our backs for now, he’ll meet up with us later.” Dean said tossing me my weapon.

I grabbed some colloidal sliver as well as a couple silver daggers.

“Alright, let’s do this.” I sighed.

Dean grabbed my hand pulling me to his chest.

“If shit goes down, you get out, and I’ll come find you.” Dean said placing a gentle hand on my cheek.

“You and I both know that isn’t happening, we’re in this together, until the end.” I said looking deeply in his eyes.

Dean leaned down capturing my lips in a passionate kiss.

I wished desperately we could just stay in this moment but that was a fairytale and our lives were anything but. It was more like a constant nightmare if you asked me.

Dean pulled away giving me a silent nod.

It didn’t take us long until we were sat in the fangtasia parking lot.

“If he tries anything, I will kill him.” Dean said pulling the safety off his gun.

“I know you will, you’ve only been chomping at the bullet to since we’ve met him.” I said mimicking his actions.

Dean shrugged knowing I wasn’t wrong. I saw the blonde lady from before opening the door. I guess that was our invitation to go in. I tucked away my gun, climbing out of the impala.

“Oh great they’re back.” The blonde lady spat sarcastically.

“It’s nice to see you again too.” I bit back.

“Pam, play nice now, these humans are here to help us.”

I gulped as soon as I heard his voice.

My mind flooded with the images of him tucked between my legs, my blood dripping off his fangs.

Dean must’ve noticed my unease. He put a hand on the small of my back giving me a reassuring pat.

I pushed past the blonde lady, Pam I now knew was her name, and I walked in to the empty bar. It sure looked a lot different with the lights on. Eric once again was sitting on his ridiculous throne. He smirked at me as soon as our eyes connected.

Dean was quick to catch up with me.

He stood so his shoulder was slightly blocking me from Eric.

“So what’s the plan?” Dean growled.

“Oh no formal introductions, straight to the point huh.” Eric taunted looking at me.

“Eric please, save the jokes, let’s get this over with.” I sighed.

“I for one had a great time last night.” Eric smirked.

I glared at him, silently telling him to shut up.

Dean didn't know about the kiss, and if he found out now, he'd kill Eric and then maybe me.

“Well except for that little part where you broke my nose.” He said.

As he said this the blonde lady flashed her fangs at me. Dean immediately shifted pulling his gun and aiming it at Pam.

“Pam stand down.” Eric commanded.

Pam was protective of him, that was abundantly clear.

I was starting to put the pieces together.

Pam was his progeny.

He created her just as Godric created him.

Dean slowly lowered his gun once there was no threat to me anymore. He gave me a incredulous look as I hadn’t told him that part of the story.

“It looks to me you healed just fine, now please let’s get on with it.” I sassed him.

“As you wish, follow me.” Eric said standing from the throne.

“Where?” Dean quickly ordered.

“What you don’t trust me?” Eric taunted him.

“I don’t trust bloodsuckers no.” Dean retorted.

“Ha, I could snap you in half in just a matter of seconds” Eric threatened.

“I’d really like to see you try, give me a reason to fry you.” Dean growled cocking his gun.

Ugh these two were incorrigible.

“Ok enough of the dick swinging contest are we doing this or not?” I asked rolling my eyes at the men.

I could see Pam for once in agreement with me.

I gestured for Eric to show us what he wanted to. He walked down a hallway leading us to a stairwell.

“Is this your dungeon or something?” I joked.

“Yes.” Eric answered seriously.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.

“You first.” Dean growled not trusting Eric to go behind him.

“Guests first, I insist.” Eric said opening the door.

“Seriously?” I groaned, pushing past both men, and starting to walk down the steps.

I heard footsteps following behind me, they weren’t heavy like Dean’s so I knew they were Eric’s. He was close behind me.

I felt a chill run down my spine the closer he got.

“So, tell me y/n have any good dreams lately?” Eric whispered in my ear.

I about lost my footing, as my face went pale.

He knew?

How the fuck did he know that?

I quickly pulled myself together, I wouldn’t let him get under my skin.

“Yes in fact, Dean was in all of them.” I bit back.

“I bet he was.” Eric smirked.

I could hear some low growling sounds as we got to the bottom of the stairs.

He wasn’t kidding it really was a dungeon down here.

I felt Dean once again at my side.

Eric disappeared for a moment pulling a lever.

I heard the growling get louder, a vampire descended from the ceiling suspended by silver chains.

He thrashed around trying to break free, the silver burning his skin as he did so.

“I found this one feeding on a human right outside my bar, he’s new, not yet a month old.” Eric said.

“A newborn, I’m guessing his maker is nowhere to be found.” I said eyeing up the vamp.

He looked weak, I would guess he’d been down here for a few days, starved of blood.”

“Oh on the contraire, his maker is very much around, in fact he’s responsible for the surge of newborns, that’s where we need to go.” Eric said.

“How do you know that?” I asked him.

“We’ve been spending a lot of quality time together lately.” Eric joked.

“Where’s his maker?” Dean asked.

“Only thing I can’t get out of him. What do you think she’s for?” Eric asked nodding at me.

Dean was quick to put an arm out in front of me.

Before Dean could protest Eric spoke.

“Tell me guard dog do you know her blood type?” Eric asked Dean.

“AB Negative.” Dean answered quickly.

I was a little shocked that he knew that, but I guess I had to be given blood a time or two since we started hunting.

“Yes, the rarest of all blood types, a delicious treat for a vampire, a treat that is very very hard to resist.” Eric answered.

Oh great so basically I was crack for vampires.

“I’m not giving any of my blood.” I growled.

“Oh you won’t have to.” Eric said stepping closer to me. “Just your scent alone will drive him mad.” Eric added inhaling.

“Fine.” I said rolling my eyes.

“If it even moves an inch, I’m shooting.” Dean says taking aim at the newborn vampire.

I took a few steps closer to the still thrashing vampire.

Eric was right, as soon as I was within distance, his fangs popped, his neck craned to hiss at me.

“I don’t think you want to do that.” I warned.

He hissed again in response.

“See that gun, it’s loaded with uv administering bullets, it’ll feel like the sun is invading every part of your body, it will be a most unpleasant sensation.” I explained.

Dean aimed the gun a little higher, waiting for the vampire to make a wrong move.

“Don’t make him have to use it, all you have to do is tell us where your maker resides, and all this can go away.”

“Fuck all of you.” The vampire spat.

“Why are you protecting him?” I asked circling him.

“He’s my master.” He answered.

“Well he clearly doesn’t care about you, he left you to fend for yourself.” I pushed.

“He released you?” Eric questioned coming closer to me.

“Yes.” The vampire answered.

“You are no longer his problem then.” Eric said.

“You have no loyalty to him.” I added.

“Shut up all of you please.” The vampire cried out.

Eric and I were trying to break him down, and it was working.

“He wouldn’t care if we killed you right here right now, in fact he wouldn’t even think twice about it.” Eric pushed farther.

“In fact he’ll probably just make another to take your place, it’ll be like you never existed.” I said.

“I think we’ll go ahead and do just that.” Eric said popping out his fangs.

“Alright stop, please I’ll tell you, just don’t kill me”.

Eric gave me a satisfied look before going in the newborn’s face.

“Where is he?” Eric growled.

“He’s got a whole nest next to the old cemetery, he’s stashing humans there to feed us. Please now let me go, I did what you wanted.” He begged.

“You’ve been a great help.” Eric said putting his hand through the newborns chest producing his heart.

I could see betrayal flash on the newborns features as blood seeped from his mouth.

I turned away as Eric crushed his heart in his hand, causing the newborn to explode in to pieces.

“Was that necessary?” I asked kicking a chunk of vampire guts away from me.

“Yes, he broke the law so he must suffer the true death. It was either this or let your boyfriend fry him from the inside, I gave him a quick way out.” Eric said.

I took a deep breath, I needed to get out of here, the smell of vampire guts was starting to make me sick. I ran up the stairs, hearing both men trailing behind me.

“You mortals have such weak stomach’s.” Eric said going behind the bar.

He quickly produced a glass of water for me. I took it gratefully, choosing to ignore his comment.

“I need to go call Sam.” Dean said.

“I’ll be fine, go ahead.” I nodded.

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” Dean said glaring at Eric.

“If I wanted to kill either of you I would’ve done it by now.” Eric shrugs.

“Yeah well I’m still debating about killing you.” Dean said.

“For once we agree on something.” Eric retorted.

“For the love of god both of you stop acting like children!” I said slamming my hand down on the bar top.

I walked to the other side of the bar taking a seat in an empty booth. I was tired of the back and forth. Dean gave me a apologetic look before stepping out to call Sam.

I rolled my eyes as Eric joined me in the booth.

“What do you want now?” I groaned.

“Quite a temper he’s got on him.” Eric said.

“I can see you got your own guard dog.” I said nodding my head towards Pam who looked like she wanted to rip my head off for even daring to breathe the same air as her maker.

“Yes Pam, she’s my..” He started.

“Your progeny.” I cut him off.

“How did you know that?”

“I’m not completely dim Eric, I put the pieces together. I saw how you looked when talking about your maker, it’s the same way Pam looks at you.” I shrugged.

“Jealous?” Eric smirked.

“Did you save her too?” I asked ignoring his comment.

“Yes in fact I did. I didn’t set out to create Pam, but if I didn’t turn her she was going to die, and Pam had a hard life, I thought she deserved a little good.” Eric spoke tenderly.

“I guess you didn’t leave her at least.” I said.

“I never would, I made her this way, it’s my responsibility to look out for her, teach her, just as Godric did me.” Eric said.

“Hmm so you can insightful, good to know.” I said offering him a nod.

“You never answered my question earlier, any good dreams lately?” Eric smirked.

I rolled my eyes at his teasing.

“I guess you’ll never know.” I shrugged.

“I have a feeling your boyfriend doesn’t know either.” Eric pushed.

“Okay I’m debating on killing you now.” I said annoyed.

“It’s okay if you did dream of me, I mean it is a side effect of taking my blood after all.” Eric said nonchalantly leaning back in the seat.

I spit out the water I was drinking as the words left his lips.

“Wait what?”

I don’t remember taking his blood.

I remembered then the kiss, when I pulled away Eric had blood on his lip.

“You see when we kissed, I accidentally cut my lip on my fang and you drank some of my blood. It was what allowed you to break my nose, it gave you a boost of strength. Unfortunately it does come with a few side effects.” Eric explained.

Accidentally?

I somehow didn’t believe that.

“You mean when you forced me to kiss you.” I growled.

“Ah yes forgot about that little detail.”

“Yeah what else did you forget to tell me?” I asked balling my fists.

“You see now that you have my blood inside you, I’ll be able to locate you quickly, and I can feel the things you feel. In return your innately more attracted to me, dreaming of me. You and I are bonded now.” Eric explained.

I suddenly felt very violated.

“I didn’t want that, I didn’t want any of this.” I bit.

Eric chuckled and leaned in close.

“Oh come on you’re not fooling anyone.” He whispered.

I could feel my heartbeat uptick just from his proximity to me. I couldn’t control it, it was as if it completely shut my brain out and was thinking on its own.

“I don’t want anything to do with you, in fact I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over so I never have to see you again.” I growled.

“I think you’re forgetting I feel what you feel, I know that’s a lie.” Eric said sliding a little closer.

“It’s not.” I defended.

“I know you want me.” Eric said placing one of his large hands on my thigh.

I sucked in a sharp breath trying to calm myself.

“You want me just as much as I want you.” Eric added trailing his hand upwards.

I quickly jumped up causing his hand to fall.

“Sorry you’re dead wrong I love Dean.” I growled walking away from him.

I was relieved when Dean came back. I quickly walked over to him wrapping my arms around him. He was surprised for a minute but hugged me back.

I can’t believe I admitted my love for Dean, to Eric of all people.

I seriously needed some therapy now.

“Sam’s going to meet us there.” Dean said.

I nodded my head.

“Let us get a few things and we’ll meet you there.” I nodded to Eric. 

“No chance, I’m coming with you. I don’t trust you mortals either.” Eric said grabbing his jacket.

I guess that was fair.

“Eric, I’m coming with you.” Pam spoke.

“No Pam, I need you to stay here and handle opening. I’ll be fine don’t worry about me.” Eric said walking over to her and placing a kiss on her forehead.

Pam gave me a look, one that said if he gets hurt you’re dead.

I gave her a silent nod that it would be fine. I wouldn’t let Dean kill him.

I might still kill him, but Dean won’t.

Eric followed us back to the impala.

I opened the trunk where we stored all our weapons, or most of them at least. I grabbed a silencer putting it on the end of my pistol, the last thing we needed was to attract more attention.

I grabbed some silver chains as well as some silver bullets in case we ran out of the uv ones. I grabbed a wooden stake, before turning back around.

“Really?” Eric asked rolling his eyes.

“I would stay out of the crossfire if I was you.” I threatened.

Dean smirked as he shut the trunk.

Eric zipped to the old cemetery while Dean and I drove. I could see headlights at the entrance belonging to Sam.

It was eerily quiet.

Eric led the way as Sam, Dean and I aimed our guns, taking in our surroundings.

We walked a few steps seeing and hearing nothing.

“I don’t think anyone’s here.” Sam said.

Of course as he said that, a newborn came out of the dark and lunged towards my neck.

Eric was faster and caught the newborn by the neck while Dean shot a bullet through it’s chest. It immediately sank to the ground in agonizing pain as the uv bullet pulsed in its chest.

As if on queue we were surrounded by insatiable newborns, all looking for one thing, our blood.

I took a deep breath.

“Dog, keep her close, her smell will drive them mad.” Eric said pushing me closer to Dean.

Dean gave Eric an almost silent thank you.

It was as if they were suddenly given a silent command to attack, the newborns rushed towards us fangs bared. I fired multiple rounds finding a different target each time.

I could feel my ears ringing from the gunshots as well as the wailing of newborns who were being fried by the uv bullets.

I stumbled crashing in to Eric.

He caught me quickly standing me up on my feet.

I ran out of bullets shortly after, having to resort to the stake and silver daggers. I was wrestling with a particularly strong vampire, my silver dagger doing little to deter it’s advances. I lost my footing falling to the ground with the vampire. I held an arm to it’s throat keeping it’s fangs away from my face.

It was getting harder and harder to hold it back. I suddenly felt blood splatter on my face as a wooden stake stuck out of the vampires chest.

“Oh fuck.” I heard the vampire groan before exploding.

Dean quickly picked me up brushing me off.

“Dean watch out.” I called.

A vampire was approaching him quickly.

But this one wasn’t a newborn.

It moved far better, it was more experienced.

It was the maker we had been looking for.

And it was coming straight for Dean.

I didn’t know what I was doing until I was already moving.

I quickly shoved Dean out of harm’s way.

 I felt a hand go around my neck and teeth sink in to my flesh.. and then I felt nothing.

Dean

“Dean watch out.” I heard her voice call.

Before I had time to react I was being shoved to the side. I looked up to see a vampire grab her by the neck and sink his teeth in to her throat.

“No!” I screamed, grabbing my gun and firing six or seven silver bullets in to it’s chest.

Eric noticed the commotion and ran up behind the vampire pulling it’s heart out ultimately ending it.

I quickly ran over as y/n slumped to the ground, her hand going up to try and cauterize her wound. I quickly replaced her hand with my own, putting as much pressure as I could to stop the bleeding. I felt the tears already welling up in my eyes as the blood gushed from her neck despite the pressure I applied.

“Dean.” I heard her gasp, her eyes filling with tears.

I was soon joined by Sam.

“Dean, her jugular is severed, what do we do.” Sam panicked.

I didn’t know what to do.

She was losing too much blood too fast.

I let out a sob running my other hand down her cheek.

“It’s okay baby don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.” I sobbed kissing her forehead.

“Dean it’s okay I’m not afraid.”

How could she say it’s okay.

Nothing is okay!

“It’s not okay, please just hang on.” I cried.

“Dean, I’m in the arms of my first love, I’m with the only man I’ve ever loved, I’m okay.” I could hear her choke barely getting it out.

She loved me?

It was the words I had been longing to hear for years, but not now.

“I love you too, I love you so much which is why you can’t leave me.” I begged.

I looked over seeing Sam now crying too.

I looked back to her face, noticing it go paler and paler.

My hand was doing little to stop the massive blood loss.

Her eyes slowly fluttered shut as she lost consciousness.

She was dying.

My love, my world, dying in my arms.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I wouldn’t.

I gently laid her down, grabbing my gun.

I pointed it at Eric who was standing there just watching with furrowed brows.

He acted like he was hurt by the situation, like he cared about her.

“Change her.” I growled.

“Dean, you can’t.” Sam said as he started standing up.

“Sit the fuck down Sam.” I screamed at him.

I turned back around to Eric who still hasn’t moved.

“I said fucking change her, now.” I hissed.

He made no movements.

I fired a single silver bullet right in to his shoulder making him hiss in pain.

“I’m not asking again fucking do it.” I screamed.

“I don’t think you know what you’re asking for.” Eric said.

“I don’t care, I’m not losing her, do it.” I said.

I wasn’t thinking straight, all I could think about was that I didn’t want to live without her.

“I don’t even know if it’ll work.” Eric growled getting closer.

“Try, you fucking owe us that much.” I growled.

Eric gave me one last look before sinking his fangs in her neck wound, completely draining her of blood.

I sank to my knees as he bit his wrist forcing it in her mouth.

“I need you to start digging a hole big enough for the both of us.” He said once her heartbeat stopped.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“It’s either that or she dies from sunlight exposure.” He growled dripping more blood in to her mouth.

“Sam go.” I growled.

“Dean you can’t be serious with this?” Sam protested.

“Goddamnit Sam go.” I yelled.

He gave me one last look before running off to dig a hole. Eric finally yanked his wrist away going to help Sam dig. I crawled over to her now lifeless body.

“I’m so sorry baby, this is all my fault.” I sobbed on her chest, not caring that I was getting covered in her blood.

I didn’t protect her.

I should’ve protected her.

It should’ve been me.

“Alright move.” Eric growled pushing me off of her.

I grabbed my gun pointing it at him. I wanted nothing more than to kill him right then and there, but if this worked, she would need him.

He lifted her carefully in his arms jumping down in the hole that was dug. He gently laid her down, before laying down himself and cuddling her body to his chest.

I couldn’t stand the sight,

“Now cover us up. No sunlight can seep through or we’ll both die.” He growled.

“How will I know if it worked?” I said utterly defeated.

“If she wakes up tomorrow night, you’ll know.” Eric said.

I grabbed a shovel dumping dirt over them.

I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as I buried her.

Once I was sure she was far enough underground I collapsed as my body racked with sobs.

“Dean what did you do?” Sam questions sitting down beside me.

“I don’t know Sam, I couldn’t let her go.” I cried.

“It would’ve been better than this, Dean she wouldn’t want this.” Sam said.

I felt rage cloud over my eyes. I turned around shoving Sam.

“It wouldn’t have been better how can you say that?” I seethed.

“Dean I loved her too.” He started.

“No you didn’t, not like I did.” I whispered.

“So what you’re just going to wait here until tomorrow night?” He scoffed.

“If I have too.” I snapped.

I didn’t care what it took.

I was going to see her again.

“I’m sorry Dean but I can’t be part of this, I won’t.” Sam said.

I didn’t answer him.

If he didn’t want to be apart of this then he can go.

“Dean?” Sam pushed again as if he was going to change my mind.

When I didn’t answer him for the second time he finally left.

I brought my knees to my chest laying down beside the pile of dirt that contained her. I felt as if I died right along with her.

Reader

Am I dead?

Is this what death is like?

A permanent darkness?

I felt something cold and heavy on my body.

Where was I?

I can’t remember anything.

I felt something stir beside me alerting all of my senses.

I tried to move my hand and realized I was surrounded by dirt.

Was I buried alive?

What was going on?

I was panicking now.

I quickly started digging trying to free myself.

I was suddenly being ripped from the dirt by a strong hand.

Moonlight flooded my eyes as I took a sharp breath in.

It however provided no relief to my burning throat.

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” I quickly flipped around seeing a tall blonde.

I felt my memories come back like a flash flood.

Eric. Dean. Vampires. Death.

I died.

But I was still here.

That’s impossible.

Unless….

“I’m a..” I started too stunned to speak.

“A vampire.” Eric finished.

I looked at him, suddenly feeling a pull towards him, an unexplainable urge to protect and care for him.

I realized then that he was my maker.

He did this to me.

“I don’t understand.” I said grabbing my throat that was still burning.

“I saved you, you were dying and I saved you.” Eric said taking a step closer.

I found that my vampire self didn’t want him to step away, I wanted him to take me in his arms and tell me everything was going to be okay.

“I’m so..”

“Thirsty, I know, I’m going to take care of you.” Eric said.

Thirsty.

For blood.

I craved blood.

It made me sick, but I needed it.

Eric was about to take me away when a voice caught my attention.

“y/n?”

Dean

I laid by the freshly dug grave until I could see the sun starting to set.

If this worked she’d be up soon.

Please god let it work.

I sat up when I heard something stirring.

Eric arose out of the grave, eyes clouding with fury when he saw me standing there.

“You need to leave now.” He growled.

No fucking way.

“I’m not leaving.” I pushed back.

“Look she will be insatiable, and you’re covered in blood, so unless you want her to have your death on her conscience for eternity you’ll leave.” Eric said this time putting his hands on me and shoving me away from the grave.

“It worked?” I asked ignoring his request.

I couldn’t believe it worked.

“I need to see her.” I said, standing my ground.

“I need to feed her, so unless you want to become her meal you’ll leave. This is the last chance I’m offering you!” Eric growled.

I hesitantly backed up.

I didn’t want to torment her new senses.

I sighed before jogging off in to the tree line so I was out of sight.

I watched as Eric stuck his hand in the dirt pulling her out.

She still looked like herself, but everything was more defined now.

I felt my heart break as her eyes looked around terrified.

Oh god..

What did I do?

“It’s okay, everything is okay.” Eric assured her. 

Her face contorted with realization.

“I’m a..”

“A vampire.” Eric confirmed for her.

I could see her heartbreaking for just her face.

She didn’t want this.

I did this.

Oh god.

What did I do?

I felt the tears start to cloud my vision.

I was completely selfish.

Sam was right, she didn’t want this. But I wouldn’t listen.

“I’m going to take care of you.” I heard Eric say as he went to leave with her.

I couldn’t let him.

I stepped out of the tree line.

“y/n?”

She quickly whipped around in my direction. I saw her eyebrows contort in pain as she looked at me. Eric grabbed her hand bringing her to his side.

“It’s okay y/n, come here, I’ll help you.” I said taking a step closer.

She didn’t budge. Instead just stared at me with longing eyes.

I heard Eric chuckle making me growl.

“Remember that part where I said you had no idea what you were asking for?” Eric taunted.

“y/n come here.” I said again choosing to ignore him.

“Sorry, she only listens to me, she calls me daddy now.” Eric jabbed.

No.

This was all wrong.

This isn’t what I wanted.

I felt my hands shaking.

What did I do?

Part Two: Coming Soon!

[yesmansyesman]

Fanfiction added (Yes Man x Reader)

AN UNUSUAL NEW UPDATE

[ Includes ]

Wireplay (Sort of?)

Filthy, filthy smut

Dub con (I guess?)

Really, really enthusiastic con the immediate next line

Overstimulation

Robophilia

[ Read at your own discretion! ]

[ Heavily inspired by this AO3 Fanfiction]

It was a relatively slow day at the Lucky 38. Well, as slow as things can be around here. You’d sent Yes Man out on a small quest on your behalf; getting rid of some remaining Caeser’s Legion members hiding out in Freeside.

It wouldn’t be even remotely challenging for the both of you, especially compared to the other things you’d fought in the wasteland. Compared to an army of charging Deathclaws, a couple of Rome cosplayers were trivially easy to deal with. So, you sent Yes Man out by himself. It would simply be more efficient. 

Quest completed

PICKING OFF STRAGGLERS 

Ah, speak of the devil.

Almost like clockwork, the doors to the Lucky 38 swung open, a blood-soaked Yes Man entering the building. Needless to say from his now crimson chassis, the mission was a success. 

“Hello Courier! I’m glad to say the last few members of Caeser’s Legion have been properly dealt with!”

“I could tell. You might want to clean yourself off, bud. Dried blood doesn’t come out too easily.”

Yes Man inspected his dark red chassis, examining his arms, coated in dried blood.

“That sounds like a great idea!”

Yes Man began to make his way to a backroom in the Lucky 38, when he suddenly paused, and turned to face you.

“Oh, I almost forgot! On the way, I also paid a visit to Mick & Ralph’s!”

A hidden compartment revealed itself on Yes Man’s chassis with a satisfying hiss and click, as he reached inside, unveiling a slightly rusted holodisk. It looked fairly normal on the outside, only with a small label plastered on; ‘From, Ralph’.

“A man in a Buffalo Check shirt gave me this; he told me he’d ‘heard about how things turned out for you’ and asked me to help him deliver this! I’m not sure what it does, but boy, does it sound interesting!”

“Interesting, indeed. I’ll have Raul take a look at this.”

“That sounds like a great idea! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be thoroughly scrubbed down! Really, really thoroughly!”

Quest added

TALK TO RAUL

“Hey boss, how can I help ya?”

You passed over the holodisk, placing it gently on his desk. 

“Could you help me take a look at this?”

“Sure thing. I’ll see what I can do.”

He delicately picked up the holodisk, examining it closely. Inspecting the label, still on the device.

“Ah, from Mick & Ralph’s, I see.”

Raul lightly dusted the holodisk, before loading it into the personal terminal located on his desk. With a few swift clicks on his keyboard, the screen lit up, green text rapidly loading onto the display. He read the gibberish on the screen carefully, like it was a language only he could understand.

“Luckily for me, it ain’t some kind of malware.”

“Then, what is it?”

“It looks like some package of code intended for Securitrons. It’s not even anything major by the looks of it, just changes up some button inputs.”

Raul scrolled through the brief paragraph of code, discovering more text, this time actually understandable, product information, it seemed. Raul read through it thoroughly, scoffing when he finished. He rotated the terminal, facing the CRT monitor towards you.

“Boss, they wrote down what this thing does right here. Come and take a look, I think you’ll be… interested.”

Quest completed

TALK TO RAUL

Quest added

READ THE FOOTNOTES

Quest completed

READ THE FOOTNOTES

Quest added

INSTALL THE DISK

“Courier, are you sure about this?”

“Yes Man, I promise you; this holodisk won’t affect your personality in any way, and if you feel otherwise, you can always tell me to stop. You had that personality upgrade installed for a reason, right?”

“I-I’m not telling you to stop! I just sure hope you know what you’re doing, because you aren’t, this Securitron body may self-destruct! And that would be bad, really bad.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

You carefully installed the holodisk. Yes Man’s, unlike other Securitrons, circuits were haphazardly placed all over the inside of his chassis. Whatever Benny did to him, he sure did it messily. Eventually, however, after working through piles of unsorted wires and mismatched machinery, the disk was installed. With a brief system reboot, Yes Man had been successfully updated.

Quest completely

INSTALL THE DISK

Quest added

UPGRADE PLAYTEST

“Hm, that’s odd. I don’t feel any different. Or explosive. Well, that’s a good sign!”

“Not so fast, Yes Man. There’s still one more thing I need to do. I need to see if the upgrade works as intended.” “Sounds interesting! How may I help you with that?”

“Don’t worry, just stand still. You’ll find out what that holodisk does very, very soon.”

Gently, you lead your hand towards Yes Man’s keypad. You deftly place a finger on a key, pressing it before he had a chance to react. 

“O-oh!”

“How was it?”

“D-do that again…please?”

“Sure thing, big guy.”

Click!

“A-ah!”

Click!

“Ngh-!”

Click!

“M-mph!”

Yes Man was losing his composure more and more with each deft click, his antenna spinning rapidly and a cool layer of condensation forming on his display. Of course, how could he have forgotten, Mick & Ralph’s had experience working on robots before with Fisto, didn’t they? Of course their idea of an upgrade would be… this.

Not that he was complaining, though.

“W-wow! That feels really, really good…”

You carelessly push a few buttons all at once.

“H-Hah-!”

There you go, just let me hear those beautiful noises.

“O-oh! S-six!”

You decide to go all in, discarding any resemblance of self-control. Using and holding as many keys as your fingers could reach. 

“O-oh my-y-!”

“Having fun, bud?”

“I-I love you I love you I love you-!”

"I'll take that as a yes."

Yes Man’s vocal processor was being pushed to its limits, the audio scratched and staticy as Yes Man wore his metaphorical throat out singing moans of pleasure, screaming to the heavens above. His display was drenched in condensation as water droplets visibly dripped down his chassis. The tornado-like buzz of cooling fans were the only other audible noise amongst the squeals of pure ecstasy.

“Y-you’re my everything-g-g-g-!”

“Glad to hear it. You ready?”

“P-p-please!” Silly boy, his processors were already turning into melted plastic from the overstimulation.

“I’ll just press one more button, alright?”

“P-please please please please-!”

Click!

Quest completed

UPGRADE PLAYTEST

Quest added

CRASH LANDING

Quest completed

CRASH LANDING

“Yes Man? You there, bud?”

“W-what?”

“Oh thank god, you’re still alive.”

“Oh, hello Courier!”

Yes Man scanned his surroundings, having woken up on the floor of Raul’s workshop. His circuits were exposed, connected by several multi-coloured wires to a terminal being manned by the mechanic himself. He must’ve crashed. 

“Luckily for you, your main circuits aren’t badly damaged. You just blew a few fuses.”

“Wow! That was… sure some upgrade!”

“Some upgrade, indeed.”

You deftly place a hand on his keypad, with a touch so feathery light that it didn’t manage to push down on any of the keys, but merely tease him with the warmth radiating for your hand. A sensation he could barely even feel, but felt so, so good.

“So, how about a round two?”

“Y-yes please!”

Raul scoffs, turning off his terminal and unplugging the several cords connected to it. He lifts himself out of his chair with a grunt, and makes his way to the door.

“I’ll let you two do your thing then, boss.”

Quest added

JUST A FEW MORE ROUNDS

[devilfic]

girl. the honeymoon series. LIVING FOR IT. this is a really like loose request, but could you do like a charity event night? not really sure what to happen but the thought of having to reallllly sell the whole marriage thing to everyone at the event is just quite interesting. thriving rn

❝honeymoon❞

IV. sugar-coating.

parts: previously / next plot: an ex corners you, bringing up bad memories. bruce offers you super illegal catharsis. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, angst, eventual fluff, reader has a scummy ex, bruce is allowed to be a little bit chaotic as a treat and so are you. words: 2.8k.

"So. Wayne, huh? How's that going for you?"

You laugh behind your glass, feigning innocence with a light and fluttery "What do you mean?"

Coulson is a family friend, as much yours as he is Bruce's, and even though he's the competition, he treats you and Bruce with as much respect as you could hope for in your line of work. Bonds formed in boarding school tended not to break easily, "It's just... gotta wonder what you did to make it up to him. Last I checked, you didn't even exist to him."

You swallow your champagne, just for something better to do than flinching, "Yeah, well, he found it in his heart to hear me out. Love like that doesn't really go away."

Coulson's eyes narrow for a second. He doesn't fully believe you. In an attempt to steer toward calmer waters, he elbows you in the side, "Must've learned some impressive tricks if it got that skirt-chaser to commit." But calmer didn't mean desirable.

You really don't want to discuss what you and Bruce (don't) do in the bedroom right now, so you steer the conversation a different direction, "And how is your new girlfriend, Coulson?"

He has a lot to say about her. A violinist in the Gotham City Orchestra with two degrees and a tour coming up later this year. He tells you he'll send you and Bruce tickets, tells you that one of the tour dates is in Spain and it will line up with your anniversary next year. The mention of your anniversary makes your stomach knot up a bit; the wedding was still weeks away, and you'd only just gotten on decent speaking terms with Bruce.

If anyone here knew how thin your marriage's facade was, it would be more than an embarrassment. Your mother would waterboard you in your own blood and tears.

It helped that most people didn't have a clue. Sure, there was gossip and the occasional rumor, but it was all for "fun". It never went anywhere, and any whisper that got too big for its britches could be easily stamped out with a little effort.

But Coulson? He was a friend. He'd known you a long time. If anyone were to put weight to a rumor about you and Bruce, it would be him. Which is why you couldn't let him figure you out.

"...For a while there, I swore you and Bruce weren't on speaking terms at all." Your ears catch the last bit of Coulson's rambling, right as he settles into a silent, knowing smile. "Care to catch me up on the rekindling?"

Well, you see, there's this little thing called blackmail- "When the board appointed me as acting CEO, I felt it time to reach out and make amends. It'd been years since we'd even talked, and with him so busy with his projects, we never really saw each other either. I was surprised that he even had the time, so we met up and just talked. About everything. About the company, about his work, about... what happened. It was a little while after the flood, so it just sort of lined up at the right time."

Coulson nods, impressed and seemingly unaware you'd just pulled that out of your ass, "Damn. Near-death experiences really do wonders for the heart. And now you have a wedding coming up." He catches it before you do, the micro-expression of discomfort. You swear his smile gets bigger, "What's that? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise already?"

"No, sorry. Not trouble. Just stress. Lots of wedding planning and company business at once. I was kind of hoping to get away from it all here, focus my efforts on alleviating others' stresses." You tip your glass in the direction of the giant banner at the entrance that reads, "Hope For Homes: Housing Gotham's Youth One Helping Hand at a Time".

Coulson doesn't take his eyes off you for a second, "Had I known you were ready to settle down, I wouldn't have let Bruce beat me to it."

“I’m sorry?”

Your friend's smile doesn't waver. You feel a chill settling in your chest, a warning that he’d taken control again. You try to casually scan the crowd for Bruce but you find him in deep discussion with some business partners and your stomach twists. He’s turned, he can’t see you. You can’t call for help.

“Ah, you know,” Coulson steps forward, a friendly distance to anyone else, “saw you and Brucie together and just got to thinking about us. You remember, don’t you?” You keep a solid expression, much to his amusement, “Or was I just a step on the ladder too?”

It’s supposed to be a joke. You ought to laugh it off. You do, stiffly, pressing your sweating glass to your inner wrist to ground yourself, “We were… 17. Weren’t we?”

“The first time, yeah.”

“How could I forget?”

“You did always like Bruce better.” Coulson comes closer. He’s close enough now that anyone would think you were just two childhood friends gossiping, reminiscing on your youth and laughing all about it. Coulson keeps up a pretty smile even as your heartbeat accelerates, “Always worried about him. Always running after him. He didn’t even give you the time of day.”

You keep smiling, “He was angry. I understood-“

“Bullshit,” and he says this so loud that a few people turn and look, but with such a joyful expression that they don’t look long, “you were obsessed with the guy! Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Your blood curdles. You know you should correct him, but your jaw is locked tight.

"That's okay. Bruce is... fickle. One day he's in love with you, the next you're a bug on a windshield. You're no bug now, are you?"

Now he's pushing it. The hand that captures your chin is lightly scented with cardamom, what should smell pleasing and sexy and disabling. It should sweep you into familiar arms, whisk you off into a whirlwind affair that gets the whole party talking. It should spark controversy. It should make you excited to ruin your mother's plans.

Your heart pangs as you remember the look on Bruce's face. Standing in the hall, one hand on the door to the library, yours and your mother's faces illuminated in flickering candlelight. You must've looked like a monster to him the way he fled-

You grab his wrist and tug, peppering a laugh in as if this is all just one big joke, "Let go."

Coulson's eyes spark alight, "I like you the way you are. You know what you want."

"I am not a gold-digger."

"But you are. Even if mommy's pulling the strings, you like being pulled. Only someone with something to gain would play along."

He'd looked at you once like you'd hung the sun in the sky, and now you were the devourer of light. You had consumed it, put out its burning devotion in one fell swoop. And then nothing. As if you were nothing before and would never be anything after. You were nothing as he told you, in no uncertain terms-

"Coulson, let go."

"I wouldn't mind, you know. Brucie is too soft for you. My girlfriend, you know, love her to death, pretends she's not in it for the money. People like that? They come into our world and think that we don't see how it changes them. How they're driven by it just like the rest of us are. She thinks she has to prove to me that she's different. You don't have to. You're committed, I respect that. But it doesn't have to be Bruce."

Your hands tremble at your sides. Almost more than you've ever wanted anything in your life, you want to give him a shiner that would put you out of high society. Your dominant hand curls into a fist, delighted by the idea.

You go to bat off the hand that touches your hip, but when your skin meets theirs, you recognize it isn't Coulson's. You feel the coolness of their ring against your sweating palm and almost sag into it, "I leave you alone for one second, and vultures descend." Bruce places a cool, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips hover there as he turns ever so slightly towards your ex. Coulson releases your chin. "Coulson. How's Lydia?"

You shouldn't delight in the way Coulson tightens up as much as you do, "Bruce! Good to see you. She's fantastic. Tour starts later this year. You lovebirds should come."

"It's a shame she couldn't make it."

"Oh, you know how it is. I'm still in good company. Right?" Coulson turns to you, winks. His smile is rigid.

When others are around, Bruce would snap back into a Wayne: all propriety and good will. You take a look at his expression and it is unreadable. There's a faint smile there, but nothing else he gives away. He is studying Coulson quite intensely though. You don't think he's blinked in a minute.

His eyes flicker down in fake-bashfulness, "I should thank you for that. You know once the board starts talking numbers, they can't stop. Not even for a good cause." Coulson nods politely along, half-listening, "You did good seeking this one out instead. I'm sure you've heard more than enough about numbers after this past month."

It was a simple statement. Most of the people in this room had been spending their days stuffed into board meetings for the end of the fiscal quarter, talking about finance, watching the stock market, money and more money... but it was the bit at the end that did it.

Coulson's eye twitches just so. He hesitates on asking but just can't help himself, "How do you mean?"

Bruce's smile takes on a patronizing color, "Oh, the boys and I were just discussing... sorry, I thought... I assumed it was public knowledge by now, forgive me." He laughs, just a touch awkward enough that it looks like he didn't mean to say anything at all. Now Coulson's smile is falling.

Even you are curious.

Coulson crosses his arms, hugging himself, "It was... a minor error reallocating funds. Nothing more. It isn't public knowledge because it's been handled. Who told you about it?"

"Has it? Been handled, I mean."

You glance between the two of them. For the first time since he'd come over, Bruce looks back at you.

Coulson clears his throat, "It has. Anyone saying otherwise must not have anything better to talk about."

Bruce hums. His mouth falls from your temple to your cheek, placing another kiss there, then another behind your ear. The hand on your hip moves to close around your neck, holding you close so not a word slips out of the space between you and him, "Let's go."

You keep your eyes on Coulson's, watching the gentle flicker between annoyance and politeness. You throw in a giggle for good measure, "Sure thing."

Bruce peels back from you, acknowledging Coulson with little more than a nod, "Good seeing you, Coulson. I'd stick around longer but I think I'm gonna steal them home, if you don't mind."

"Not at all! I envy how much you two are obsessed with each other, truly." Coulson sips his champagne and in a bitter tone, shifts his focus to you, "Think on what I said, hm?"

The nerve.

Bruce is whisking you toward the front doors without giving you a moment to respond. He kisses you more, leans into you with an arm thrown around your shoulders and a giddy smile as he sets his barely-touched champagne on a waiter's tray.

It isn't until you two are outside by the curb that you break your silence, "Thank you."

Bruce doesn't fully acknowledge you with his body, even as his arm remains slung about you, helping keep the chill of the night off you. He sends off a message for your driver, "What for?"

That was right. You'd never actually gotten to talk to Bruce about Coulson, "He... he was questioning the marriage. Questioning if you were the right fit for me. Saying that maybe I'd be better off with someone who understands me," you grit the next part out, "the real me."

"And?"

You look at him. He's watching cars pass as your eyes prick with tears. "I don't think he understands me at all. He never did."

He appraises you out of the corner of his eye, "Could've told you that years ago."

"You wouldn't even give me the time of day four months ago."

You've got him there. You're shocked to find that he isn't annoyed, or defensive, or even ignoring you. He sucks his teeth and shrugs. Presses the bottom of his shoe into an old cigarette on the sidewalk, snuffing out a flame that had died a long time ago. "You were going to hit him. I saw you." You feel heat crawl up your neck as you remember. "I don't know what he said, but he would've deserved it."

"I... couldn't. You know I couldn't."

Bruce turns up his nose as if he's smelled something foul, "It would've felt good, though."

"Yes."

The two of you wait there, just wobbling in the wind, watching cars go by as music and chatter and people flutter out of the ballroom behind you. You don't know what you're waiting for, but you can indulge yourself once in a while. If Bruce wants to stand on the street with his arm around you doing nothing, then maybe you ought to take the time to do nothing.

A few minutes pass before Bruce releases you, nodding for you to follow him up the street. You do, even confused.

He stops right in front of a bright red convertible, a shiny and expensive thing, parked just far enough out of the way that the music is fainter here. "C'mere," Bruce instructs, walking around the front of the sports car, and you follow him, watching your step lest you fall prey to a puddle, "hold this."

He removes the handkerchief from his front suit pocket and lays it over your open palm, much to your bewilderment. Then, reaching into the inside of his jacket, he drops a batarang into your hand.

"Bruce-!" You instinctively close your hand around the thing to hide it, thankful that his handkerchief kept you from slicing your palm open, "what are you-"

"One tire is a spare. Two is a tow."

"Have you been drinking? Like actually?"

You're startled by the grin he gives you, "If we stand here all night, someone'll catch us."

You go to argue when you recognize something hanging from the car's rear view mirror. A pair of dingy, fuzzy dice. Dice you've seen before in older, just as expensive cars. This is Coulson's car.

You grab Bruce by the arm and turn him to you, "Are you insane?"

"It's better than punching him."

The batarang weighing in your hand feels a little lighter at that.

"Couldn’t stand the idea of him knowing what you really are.”

Who Coulson thought you were wouldn't slash the tires of a backup option. They'd be nice, wait it out, play the game for maximum benefit. Jump ship at the first sign of trouble. They wouldn't risk making enemies. They'd let their mother keep pulling their strings.

You sink the batarang into the first tire's sidewall sharp and quick. If Bruce is curious as to how you know how to slash tires, he doesn't ask. He moves beside you and blocks onlookers from seeing what you're doing. When you move onto the next, the entire left side of the car is beginning to sink toward the ground.

Bruce confiscates the batarang from you and quickly tucks it back into his suit pocket, calmly walking you back down the street to where your ride is waiting.

As he is holding the back door open for you, you turn to look up at him and find your breath catching at the still present grin on his face. You haven't seen him this happy to be alone in your presence in a while. It feels... familiar. He meets your eyes and you're reminded of a younger you. A you that could kiss Bruce with all the bubbling adrenaline in your veins. A Bruce that would let you. A Bruce that thought you hung the sun in the sky.

That grin of his softens but doesn't fully go anywhere. You drink it all in. You don't know when you'll see it again.

Bruce touches the small of your back as a taxi whips by, driving cool air up into your faces and breaking the moment. You indulge in the touch for as long as he lets you.

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | meet cute, part 2

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 9.5k words; joel takes you on your first date, and it doesn't end up like he'd planned. not that either of you seem to mind, of course. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, relationship/dynamic not established yet like the other chapters, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), reader is a little bratty in this chapter, talks of brat punishment, sub/dom relationship, dirty talk, pet names for reader, joel is so fucking handsy here i am Feral, minor bits of angst (reader backstory stuff) a/n: welp apparently i am incapable of writing a short chapter for these two right now >< i'm really loving the way that pretty wife started out a bit bratty and has this pipeline to being joel's good little wife it's kinda doing something for me

You don’t know if your heartbeat could get any louder, nearly drowning out the trill of the line ringing in your ear. You’re moments away from speaking to your mystery man from the bar again, to Joel, who’d seemed intent on changing the entirety of your life with one single fuck in a bar bathroom.

“Hello, Miller Contracting,” a deep voice lumbers out on the other end, sounding nearly clinical with the greeting. You have no doubt it's Joel - his voice feels too recognizable, the deep richness of it combined with his Texas twang that had you absolutely swooning last night. You will your lips to part, for words to rush out, but you pause, trying to get the lump out of your throat.

“Uh - Joel?” you croak out.

“Mhm,” he replies absentmindedly. You picture him at a desk somewhere, sorting through papers, or working on a construction site, his muscles bulging out his shirt and you’re temporarily lost to the fantasy. “What can I do for you?”

“I-it’s me -” you say, repeating your name to him. “From last night…” you add on.

He laughs, a deep rumble in the phone, and your heart lifts what feels like miles within your chest. “Yeah, from last night, didn’t need to clarify, sweetheart.”

“S-sorry. I’m Nervous,” you say simply, wringing your hands together on your lap.

“Now hang on a second, how’d you get this number? Don’t recall givin’ it out,” Joel says, a hint of playfulness in his voice. The fact that he seems eager to talk to you, tease you, immediately dissipates the nervousness you’d had about calling him. 

“Er, I’m persistent, that’s all I’ll say,” you tell him with a flush of your cheeks.

“Well, if I’m honest, I’m happy as hell to hear from ya,” Joel says. You feel your eyebrows twitch and mouth part in surprise.

“You are?” You wish you didn’t sound so desperately surprised by the fact, but the words tumbled out of you before you could stop them.

“Felt like a damn idiot, forgettin’ to get your number last night. Not how a gentleman should act.” You can practically visualize Joel shaking his head at himself and running a hand through his hair on the other end.

“And you think you acted like a gentleman otherwise?” You smirk and bite your lip, already feeling a tingling in your limbs, a slow, swirling pool of arousal sinking deep into your gut.

Joel chuckles and makes a small humming sound. “Maybe not, but it got you callin’ me, didn’t it?”

You laugh heartily and agree with a sultry “mm-hmm.”

“So listen, I knew if I ever got to speak to you again, I wanted to… uh-” Joel clears his throat, and you can hear a slight wobbling, like he’s nervous. “See if I could take you on a proper date.”

“Oh really, a date? Not just a bar bathroom this time?” you ask, trying to quell a little bit of your excitement, play it cool around him. You’re having a hard time believing that he’d want to take you out, for some reason. This past year or so has been a slew of failed dates, refusals to call back, men telling you one reason or another you no longer interested them. This tended to happen after they’d already gotten something from you, which had only served to make you feel worse about the entire thing. You tried not to let it get to you, but really, you were craving to be loved, to be seen for who you were and loved for it. That was something you hadn’t gotten enough of in your life.

“Now listen, if you’re gonna be like that, maybe I don’t need t’take you out, do I?” Joel teases, and the tingling in your core intensifies, your legs rubbing together just at the low drawl of his voice prodding at you.

“I’d love to, Mr. Miller,” you say coyly, and you hear a sharp hiss of breath from Joel’s end.

“Little shit,” he mumbles.

“What’s that?” you lick your lips and fight the urge to twirl your hair, the feeling of getting him so riled up just over the phone giving you a perverse little twinge of satisfaction.

“Fuck, I need to see you again,” he nearly groans, and you’re unsure if he’d even meant the words for you to hear, so low and quiet. ”Dinner this Friday, then?” Joel asks you, and you bite your lip and scrunch your face up in excitement, knowing he can’t see you.

“It’s a date.”

Joel picks you up that Friday at 6:30, a bit of a sweating, anxious mess after fussing over your makeup and outfit for the last two hours. You end up landing on a white, frilly mini dress with a corset top, knowing your tits are on perfect display for him. A devious huff of laughter leaves you when you reach into your underwear drawer and dig out your sheer white over the knee stockings with a lace trim at the top and slide them up your legs. Maybe you are in the mood to be a bit of menace for him tonight, you think to yourself. The thought of Joel’s eyes practically falling out of his head when he sees you in this makes you smile and nearly squeal with delight as you put your finishing touches to your outfit with accessories and a touch up of your shimmery lip gloss.

When you bound outside of your apartment building, you can see a nearly pained expression on Joel’s face through the windows of his blue truck, pulled up right in front of your building. You hear the clicking of your little heels on the pavement, giving you a boost of confidence as you stride towards him, feeling your hair bouncing behind you.

You feel… fucking hot. And you know it’s partly because of who you know is going to be looking at you all night. Joel takes too long to stare and enjoy the view of you walking over before he’s scurrying out of his truck to reach you and grab the car door. 

“Evenin’,” he says, clearing his throat and you notice he seems a bit more quiet and shy in the light of day. He seems almost dazed, trying to take in as much of you as he can in just a few seconds, blinking as he processes just how tiny everything you’re wearing is.

“Got you these,” he says, holding out a small bouquet of flowers full of different pastel flowers and greenery. You can tell he put some thought into it, that he didn’t just pick a random bouquet and roll with it, and it makes you smile. 

“Thank you,” you say, studying the flowers for an extra beat. “Such a gentleman,” you coo as you step past him and start to climb into the seat. He huffs a little as you pass and shoots his hand out to grab your wrist, a tight hold as he yanks you back towards him. He doesn’t waste a second before pulling you flush with him, pressing the tops of your tits further out of your dress and onto his chest, covered in a button up shirt. His hand splays along the small of your back, rough and warm, seeping through the fabric of your dress. He leans down, capturing your lips with his.

“Not gonna give me a proper hello, were you?” he rasps once he pulls away. “Thought you were a polite girl.”

Your lips part and spread into a little smile as you lick your lips. “Sorry,” you say, putting your eyes down to the pavement for a moment before lifting them back up to his and cupping his face, raking your fingers through his beard and leaning back in for a soft, chaste kiss. “There’s your hello.”

“Mhm” Joel mumbles before he takes your hand in his, guiding you into his truck where you settle in, wrapping the seatbelt around yourself and watching him walk back around the front of the truck to the drivers side, admiring the way his button up hugs his broad form. 

When he sits down, instead of starting the truck he just looks over at you, drinking in your show of skin, hungry glances all over your body until his gaze lands on your tits, the swells of your breasts heaving slightly as you breathe nervously now that you’re alone with him. 

“You look like a goddamn angel, or somethin’,” he finally says, flicking his eyes to the tops of your stockings, and you notice his jaw set tightly while his hands clench in his lap. He softens a little once he looks at your face, amused eyes looking back into his. “Beautiful,” he adds, and you beam at him, twirling a bit of your hair around one of your fingers.

“Thank you,” you say shyly, leaning a little closer to him, knowing your cleavage is only being pushed together that much more at this angle in your seat. “You want me to be your little angel, Joel?”

“Christ…” he says under his breath, reaching his hands up to grip the steering wheel, knuckles going white with the strain of it. “Think you already seem to know the answer.”

“Well, I’ll take it you like my outfit, then. I picked it out special for you,” you tell him cheerfully, flouncing the skirt of your dress in your lap a bit. 

“Sure do,” he says quickly, starting the car, seeming to need to high tail it out of here before he completely ditches the dinner reservation to have his way with you. You opt to just watch Joel drive, observing his profile with a small, thoughtful smile. You see his brows twitch as he feels your stare on him, and he turns to the side while he’s stopped at a red light, giving you a closed lip smile.

“Did you just ask me on a date because you felt bad?” you ask suddenly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Felt bad?” Joel asks, turning his eyes back to the road. 

“For what happened the other night.”

Joel huffs in the seat next to you, his head shaking the smallest bit. “You think I felt bad about any of that? What gave you that idea, now?”

“I… I don’t know. I was just surprised you still wanted to take me out after…” you trail off, glancing out the window to try and avoid your own spiraling thoughts.

“C’mon, doll, need to give me more than that. If you don’t wanna be here you gotta say.”

“No!” you cry out a little too loudly.

“If you just need to hear me say that I liked fuckin’ your tight little pussy or whatever gets you off, just say it, yeah? Don’t need these roundabout questions like a little brat,” Joel snips, and you swallow hard, realizing he’s gotten the complete wrong idea.

“N-no, nothing like that, Joel, I… I really want to be here, I really do. I guess I was worried,” you suck in a breath. “That you’d just be done with me after you got what you wanted. That’s what other guys have done. Older guys.” You can feel your voice getting mousier, quieting with your confession, afraid that the answer will be exactly what you’re afraid of. Joel’s expression softens, the lines between his brows letting up as his eyes lighten a bit.

“First off, I ain’t other guys, and I want you gettin’ that in your head right now, okay?” Joel says, glancing over to see you nodding small little bounces of your head, eyes wide. “Okay?” he asks again, a little more stern this time, reaching a hand over to grip your thigh.

“Okay.” 

“Good. An’ I ain’t even close to getting everything I want from you, probably never could be, so don’t wanna hear you say anythin’ like that again, got it?” His grip squeezes on your thigh, and you place your hand over it, covering his hand with your own.

Your mind spins, reeling with such a strong confession from him. You don’t know how it’s possible that after one night together, the both of you have something damn near unexplainable, something that’s been nestling itself deep into you since then. You tilt your head a little, giving him a soft smile, feeling all the worries you’d had this entire week start to melt away.

“Got it,” you tell him with a stern nod, your hair falling over your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh a few times. They twitch and clamp together a bit with his praise, the familiar rush of arousal from the other night coming back to you when he used those same words. You catch Joel smirking out of the corner of your eye, the effect he had with those two simple words not lost on him. 

You can see his face steel, his jaw setting tighter as his fingers move up your thigh, unsticking from the bare flesh he’d been touching and climbing upwards.

“You dress like this a lot? Or just wanted to get a rise out of an old man, hm?” he asks, fingers digging into your plush skin a little harder.

You twist your lips into a thoughtful pout, knowing it shows off the shiny pink of your lip gloss a little better, and Joel’s eyes drift there for a brief moment when he glances at you. 

“Sometimes.” You give him an indifferent shrug. “Mostly wanted to see how you liked it.”

“I’ll bet you did,” Joel replies plainly, nearly sounding irritated, but you somehow know that he’s more angry with himself right now, barely able to keep his trembling hand from moving further up your thigh.

“I mean, I thought the stockings might be too much, but don’t you think they go just perfect with this dress?” You trill in an innocent tone to him, moving his hand to play with the lace edges at the top.

“Mmm,” Joel replies, lips pressed tightly together. His fingers bury themselves under the band of the stockings, pads of his calloused hands grazing the skin underneath. You try to hold back a shudder but it’s no use, Joel’s touch is fully electric, sending a zip of pleasure up your spine. 

Your legs spread open wider in the seat, inviting him to move higher and you let out a quieter moan and slide the hem of your dress up a bit higher. You’re warm all over, skin flushing as his hand creeps up towards the apex of your thighs. You admit you’re having even more fun than you thought teasing him. He’d done this same thing to you at the bar, sloppily kissing along your neck until you’d felt nearly insane with need for him, and it gives you a little pump of satisfaction to see him falling apart so quickly. 

“Even got…” you breathe out, “The matching panties on.” Another tiny little mewl slips out when Joel’s fingertips slide along your inner thigh, ever closer to where you know you’re already wet for him. He peers over to see your chest heaving a bit, curves looking so inviting - all it would take was one little tug and your tits would be spilling out, just as they had the other night, so pretty and just for him. 

“Fuck it,” Joel grunts out, tearing his hand away from you and pulling off to the side of the road, turning into a passing neighborhood and swinging the car into the closest driveway to turn around. “I live close by, we’re goin’ to my place right now,” he says. “Fuckin’ wearin’ this little shit to get me all worked up…” His voice is mumbling now, seemingly to angrily talk to himself as he keeps his eyes straight ahead, not looking at you. 

His face is going pink with the effort of holding back from you, grunting while he maneuvers the car and speeds off, booking it towards his house. Your mouth forms perfect O before it splits into a grin, knowing you got exactly what you wanted from him. Something about driving a man like Joel crazy - someone who seems reserved, in control of these kinds of situations, makes you feel a little spark of pride mixed with your dousing of arousal.

“Teach you some damn manners, that’s what I’m gonna do,” Joel mumbles quietly, letting out little sighs of irritation.

“J-joel…?” you ask carefully.

“Mm-mm, not a word right now. You’ve said enough.”

You clamp your lips together, knowing you maybe shouldn’t be as thrilled as you are right now, feeling like sparks are dancing across your skin, magnifying right where Joel holds you, squeezing to where it might leave a bruise tomorrow, as if to hold you down, keep you in this car with him.

“Please…” you whimper, unsure what you’re asking for, just knowing you’re growing more desperate to feel him on you, inside of you.

“Please nothin’. You’re gonna act like this, I’m gonna react accordingly, you got that?” Joel snips, veins on his forehead protruding as he drives along, unable to even look in your direction. You stay silent while he whips through a suburban neighborhood, finally pulling into his driveway. 

“Stay,” he spits out before exiting the car, coming over to your side and opening the door. 

“Thank you,” you coo sweetly, which gets a devious smirk from Joel. 

“You’re tryin’ to be good now, are you?” he scoffs, wrapping his hand around your upper arm. 

“Thought you liked fucking good girls,” you say with a sly smile, repeating his own words back to him. He chuckles low and deep in his chest before tugging you out of the car, keeping one hand on your arm and the other pressed on your lower back, guiding you to the front door. Instead of letting you step out of the way, he presses himself so that you’re between his body and the door as he reaches around to unlock it, keys clanking in his awkward position. 

You can feel him, hard and long, cock painfully erect and pressing against your ass. You fight the urge to grind into him, thinking that maybe he may not see that as something a good girl would do. Instead, you let a little whimper slip out when he digs into you deeper as he turns the nob and pushes the door in. 

“Gonna be makin’ a lot more of those pretty little noises soon, honey,” he says low, near your ear as he nudges you inside. It’s dark, only bits of the setting sun coming through the windows, and you fumble past the doorway, the only anchor you have is Joel’s hand on your back. 

He flicks a switch, illuminating the room with a dim floor lamp, and you can see that you’ve stepped into his living room. It’s modest but cozy, and definitely seems to ooze his busy, bachelor lifestyle with plain, somewhat mismatched furniture. You had to hand it to him, though, just upon first glance he seemed relatively clean, unlike some men’s places you’d visited. 

“This is a nice pl-“ you start, cut off by one of Joel’s arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you into him with a thud. Your back is tight against his chest now, his head burying near the crook of your neck. He’s kissing you urgently - every spot he can find, biting and sucking and flicking his tongue, all gentle but firm, full of an unrelenting passion and frustration.

He groans loudly, hand tracing up your chest to grasp at one of your tits, squeezing it firmly and running his finger over your nipple. Both are hard and aching for him, poking through the fabric of your dress with no bra holding them back. He sucks so hard on a spot on the side of your neck that you gasp and twitch in his hold. He chuckles, quickly soothing the spot with his tongue and lips. 

“Couldn’t wait for me to get my hands on you, is that it? Why you dressed like that, hopin’ I’d bring you back here? Say fuck the nice dinner reservation I made us?” he finally speaks, nearly growling in your ear.

“I just - I-“ you stutter, mind reeling from his warmth blazing into your skin now, his voice rumbling close to your ear, low and gritty and sounding… almost angry with you. You feel a tightening in your core, pooling between your legs and you already start to ache for him, turned on by the way he’s chastising you and covering you with marks. 

“You were such a good girl the other night for me, can you do that again? Or you want to keep bein’ a brat?”

“N-no I liked being good for you, remember?” you blurt out, chest heaving and body fighting the urge to squirm out of his arms and show him, get on your knees and finally get him in your mouth. 

“Didn’t seem to think so in the car… if I didn’t know any better you wanted me to punish you, fuck you fuckin’ dumb ‘til you submit to me. And the thing is, honey, I like my girls to be good f’me. Don’t wanna have to work for it unless I want to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just wanted to play around, make you a little crazy for me,” you say with a whine, your bottom lip starting to quiver. 

“C’mere, lemme see you,” Joel says, a quick grunt as he spins you around, catching you along your back with one hand, tilting your head up by the chin with the other. He takes in your wide, pleading eyes, plump lips turned into a frightened frown, and sighs. 

“S’okay, doll,” he says much softer, thumbing your chin and then stroking his fingers up your cheek. “Lucky for you I was in the mood to work for it a bit tonight, and you know why that is?”

You shake your head mutely, absolutely dumbstruck by his dark eyes narrowed and looking straight into yours. He’s so beautiful, so much more than you even remembered from the other night. It nearly sends an ache into your chest, just how perfect he is. 

“‘Cause you’re worth it, pretty girl. What kinda man would I be if I didn’t have to work for it a bit, hm?” His voice is changed, a bit more flexible, his tone coming off kinder now. You feel a surprised smile tugging at your mouth and you let it spread a bit, showing Joel that you’re pleased with what he said. 

“Show you how pretty you are…” he trails off, his eyes drifting down to your chest, where he’s watching your curves spilling out the top, your dress pulled down from the way he’d been touching you there. He tugs slowly on the fabric, pulling it so your tits are both spilling out, letting the neckline tuck underneath and press them upwards. 

He leans down to capture your lips in a softer kiss, letting your lips and tongues begin a gentle dance with each other. Joel’s fingers make their way under your dress, sliding the hem up to reach your ass, large palms splaying across both globes. He pulls you even closer, grinding you against his arousal and you groan, absolutely soaking for him, needing for him to touch you where you want him most. 

“Got your ass and tits out like a little whore for me now, don’t you? Like being my little whore?” he grits out, and you nod with a quiet mhm, lolling your head back as he places a few little bites on your neck. 

“Let me fuck you in that bathroom and comin’ home with me the first date ‘fore I can even buy you dinner,” Joel tuts, continuing to knead the plush flesh on your ass, stepping forward so that you have no choice but to walk backwards and further into the living room. He smacks your ass hard before rubbing the spot with a soothing touch. 

“Now get inside and take what you’ve been askin’ for, honey,” he says, stroking the side of your face gently. 

“W-where do you want me?” you ask timidly, looking into his chest before trying to meet his eyeline. He’s so intimidatingly in charge right now you can hardly meet his gaze, dark brown, nearly black in the dimness of the house. 

Joel seems to like your question, smirking and stroking your cheek again, calloused fingers sending a jolt of electricity that travels down your spine. “Good girl for askin’,” he coos, a flash of excitement in his eyes at your docility for him. He takes his hands to your shoulders, gently guiding you to stand in front of the couch. He turns and sinks back into the cushions, watching you stand in front of him, anxious with anticipation. 

“You gonna dress like a slutty little doll, I’m gonna treat ya like one and play with you as long as I want, yeah?” A quick, stunned nod from you before he continues. “Now take off that pretty dress,” he says, his tone deepening with the command. His eyes are glued to your chest where your tits are still popping out of the top, practically burning a hole in you with the intensity, heat creeping over your skin. You lift from the bottom, pulling it over your head in one slow movement, standing before Joel in only the skimpy lacy thong you’d chosen for tonight - white to match your dress and stockings. You reach to pull the stockings down and Joel shakes his head, eyes snapping to where your hands are. 

“Mm-mm, didn’t tell you to do that now, did I? Leave those on, doll. Panties next,” he drawls, and you follow his command, stepping out of your thong and leaving it on the floor beneath your feet. You take a nervous gulp, waiting for his next words, feeling right between your legs slickening even more as his eyes hungrily take you in. 

“C'mon over and sit right here,” Joel says, patting his lap. His words have an immediate effect, just like when he’d asked you to get on your knees at the bar, your body moving for him of its own accord. You pad over the few steps to him and settle yourself onto his lap so that you’re facing him, thighs on either side of his. Joel’s hands find your hips, holding you and stroking his thumbs along your bare skin there. There’s such a stark difference between the two of you right now - Joel, fully clothed, not even a button undone yet on his shirt, and you with the entirety of your body naked and exposed save for your stockings, sitting on top of him because he’d asked for it. All the fabric on your bare skin feels odd in the best way, like you’re doing something so wrong yet so right at the same time, like you’re Joel’s dirty little secret somehow with the way he has you in the palm of his hand right now.

He cocks his head a little, looking at you more seriously now. “Now listen, should’ve said this the other night, but you saw how I like to be in charge of things, right?” he says.

You nod. “Yeah,” you breathe out, just barely. You’re distracted by the feel of his broad, muscled body beneath you, his hard length pressing into you through his jeans. You feel your head swimming but you try to focus on his words.

“So tonight if it gets to be too much, if somethin’ is wrong, you gotta call out ‘red’ for me, mkay?”

You nod again. 

“Gonna need you to use your words, honey.”

“Yes, I got it. Red,” you repeat back to him, and the ghost of a smile comes to his lips. 

“Good girl,” Joel says, tucking your hair behind your ears and smoothing it. “Now…” he trails off, his grip tightening on you in an instant to flip you off of him and next to him on the couch cushions, his body following closely behind so that he’s on top of you. His mouth crashes into yours, all heat and tongue and teeth clashing and you moan into it with surprise, still trying to get your bearings from all the sudden movement.

He slips down your body, his lips trailing a hot, wet mess along the way as he sucks your neck, your tits, briefly swirling a tease of his tongue over one of your nipples before he finds his way between your legs. They fall open for him in your dizzied state and he takes no pause before burying his head there, licking fat stripe up your slit, groaning loudly at the taste of you. He licks the same pattern several times, relishing in all the slick arousal that was just for him, he thinks greedily.

When Joel starts to lap at your cunt in earnest, his tongue poking your entrance before flicking at your clit, repeating the motions over and over, you throw your head back, whining loudly and writhing down into his face and chasing your pleasure.

“F-fuck, I’m -” you whimper. “Joel I’m already gonna -” Your legs shake and he seizes one of your thighs into his palms before the other hand slips between your legs and swiftly buries two fingers inside of you, going deep to press against your g-spot. You’d thought endlessly about that feeling since the night with him in the bar, the way he’d been the first person to show you what you’d been missing, to bring you world ending pleasure when he split you open. You’re desperate for it again, knowing his fingers are enough, but you can’t help but picture the way his girth had stretched you, pressed into you so deeply that you already felt addicted to it.

When he pulls your clit into his mouth, pressing on the spongy part inside of you at the same time, you cry out, feeling your hips bucking into him, body taut and shaking as he pulls your orgasm out of you. His name spills from your lips as easily as anything you’ve ever said in your life, like you’ve been saying it for years and no other man has existed for you, could exist for you.

You slump back, breathless and wanting, a sheen of sweat coating your body from the intensity with which he’d rocked your reality, and you quickly realize he’s likely far from done with you tonight. It makes your stomach churn with anticipation, and you bring yourself back, focusing on the gentle touch of his lips on your sensitive nerves, peppering your pussy with little kisses, leading out to your thighs.

“Good fucking girl f’me, didn’t take long at all, did it?” he says wryly. 

“M-more…” you mumble, blinking your eyes to clear some of the post-climax fog you’re feeling, but it’s no use - Joel can see already how fucked out you are, barely even five minutes in. His heart swells with pride, excitement, the sick satisfaction of having you under his thumb, his to devour completely, body and soul.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, finally meeting your desperate, soft lips with his. He’s on top of you, his body slithering over yours again, pressing against you. Your hands reach up and start to unbutton his shirt, hesitantly at first, but a small noise of approval from him urges you on, indicating that he’s okay with you making that decision. When he finally shrugs it off, you take a moment to pull yourself back from his kisses to gaze down at him, his bare chest revealed to you for the first time. You feel your sex ache as fresh arousal starts to drip out of you seeing the salt and pepper of the curls on his chest, his defined but still soft abdomen, so inviting and sexy. You start to feel nearly feral, your gut coiling tight with the need for him to fuck you again, to watch his perfect body relentlessly use you for his own pleasure.

“S-shit…” you manage to gasp out when you gingerly run a hand down his chest, letting your nails scratch through his hair, and Joel hums against you as his lips find your shoulder. You rake your fingers downwards, leading all the way to his happy trail where you leave your fingers to rest on his belt. He looks delighted at your visceral reaction to his body, never thinking much of it himself, the way it had gotten slightly doughy with age and his hair had already started graying. But seeing you see so much in it that he can feel your legs tighten underneath him, pussy likely fluttering just at the sight, makes his core twist in pleasure and his cock twitch.

He caresses your face gently, his touch soft despite the mischief growing in his eyes. “Don’t think you learned your lesson yet, bein’ such a brat in the car,” he says, letting you start to undo his belt. When his cock springs out, you nearly start again at how length and thick it is, nearly having forgotten just how stunning it was outside the confines of your memory. 

Joel notices your fresh reaction to his cock, the length of him twitching in anticipation to fuck you to pieces, to fuck you into being a good girl again. He can’t help but remember just how much it had shut you up to take his cock just a few nights ago, and he nearly whimpers at the memory alone. 

“N-no? Don’t think so?” you tease back, grinding yourself against his bare and freed cock and Joel responds first with a surly little growl, two of his fingers possessively gripping your chin. His eyes flash in a way that you think should scare you, but you can’t help but feel comforted by Joel’s presence nonetheless.

“Exactly what I’m talkin’ about, bratty little ass, y’are. And let me fill you in on somethin’ for your own good,” he drawls, running his thumb along your lower lip. Your breath is baited as your lips part in invitation to him and he doesn’t slip it inside, not yet, at least. He hikes your hip up with his other hand, angling you towards his body as he steps closer between your legs. “I don’t like brats, I want my girl to be nice ‘n good to me. Are you gonna be nice ‘n good to me, doll?” he says, finishing the thought.

You swallow hard. You don’t know how serious he is, if this is part of some bigger game of his, this dominance he likes to have. You feel a pull in your heart, like you find yourself agreeing with him, that the look he’d given you when he called you good girl and obedient the other night were exactly what you’d been seeking your entire life. There was something there, something to take pride in, that he thought you were doing good enough for him. You’d wanted to tease him tonight, sure, make sure he still thought you were beautiful and sexy, afraid you’d get left behind so quickly in the more than likely slew of women he could have interested in him. Joel’s version of sexy just happened to be someone submissive for him, and the way you’d felt being that for him the other night, so far tonight, it was exhilarating, like a part of you that you’d had no idea existed until now, until him.

“I don’t want to be a brat,” you say quietly, gazing up at him with delicate eyes now, having your decision made. You reach a hand down to his cock, practically pulsating with need for you, sitting so close to your warm heat as he hovers above you. You gently palm it, wrapping your hand around the shaft, admiring the fact that your fingers can’t even fit around the expansive girth of it.

“I want to be your good girl,” you breathe, and Joel’s eyebrow cocks before his thumb settles into your mouth as he groans a little. You sit still, the saltiness of his skin so inviting but you don’t dare move, feeling that it's some kind of test, one you intend on passing.

Joel knows that you’ve figured it out. He strokes the side of your hair lovingly with his free hand and chuckles deep and low, the sound reverberating in the quiet room.

“Suck,” he finally commands, and immediately you suckle on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue around it. Joel’s eyes flutter a bit and he groans between the feel of your hand on his cock and warm tongue wrapping around his thumb. He pushes it deeper and deeper, another one of his fingers entering your mouth, met with the same enthusiasm by your tongue. He gives a final push of his fingers, gagging you, and your hand falls off his cock, having you distracted enough that you barely notice he’s notched himself at your entrance. When he splits you open with his head you gasp around his fingers, stuffed far back in your throat. It burns and aches and stretches but you feel exhilarated by it, awakened and alive by the absolute girth of him breaking you open and finding a place inside of you as he pushes on inch by inch.

“Good girl,” he whispers roughly, eyes intently locked onto yours as they widen and tear up with all the different intrusive sensations. But despite all of that, your insides warm at his words, finding a home in your heart and nestling in. That’s when you know for sure - you’re done for, you’re a goner, this is the man you’ll spend your life doing this for, chasing and seeking those two little words from him no matter what it takes. You want this.

“Y’sure that’s what you want? Be my good little doll? Be sure before I use you like one,” he says, checking in with you quietly, his lips lingering just above yours.

You nod, your breath hitching, and he can see the fear of the unknown in your eyes, but he smiles at your willingness to try for him. “I want it, I want it, use me, Joel,” you breathe out erratically, the words tumbling out of you without a second thought.

The next moment is nearly a blur, a switch seeming to flip in Joel as pops his fingers out of your mouth, grunting with the effort of yanking your hips upwards so that you have no choice but to wrap your legs around him. He begins a relentless fucking into you, pounding his cock over and over, and its only now that you can see just how well controlled he had been these last few minutes, so collected only to unleash it on you now. Your eyes squeeze shut, rolling back into your head as you bite back the cries of him stretching you so quickly and harshly, so much more rough than the other night.

“Fuck…” he groans, “Tight little pussy, could never forget how good it feels, just like I remembered, baby,” he praises as he continues to jackhammer into you. Your body is crumpled up underneath his huge frame on the couch, legs moving further up his body until they nearly reach his shoulders. He takes the initiative to tug them that way, propping your ankles onto his shoulders before he takes a swift bite at one of them. You yelp but quiet immediately, letting the soft moans you’d been making slip past your lips again instead. 

You see Joel’s approval in his smirk, the way his face contorts with pleasure as he goes red from exertion, his body gathering sweat as you run a desperate hand down his chest. You feel so far away in this position, your lips so far from his, wanting to feel your skin touching in every possible spot. You’re drunk on him already and need more, more of his warmth and his scent and the feeling of him. 

“I want to - p-please, feel you closer, please…” you beg, hoping that your politeness will win him over into doing something that you want.

“Yeah? Want to bounce on this fat cock of mine, pretty girl? That do you some good?”

You nod quickly and urgently, breathing in with the anticipation of being moved as Joel pushes his cock as deep as he can before bracing himself to swap your spots. It feels effortless, the way he contorts the both of you until he’s laying back on the sofa and you’re straddled on top of him. 

“Oh my god…” you murmur when you sink fully down onto him. Your head tilts back and mouth gapes open as you feel him so fully, pressing so deep inside of you at this angle. “Joel…”

“I know, baby, m’so deep in there,” Joel says soothingly now, his demeanor changed for the moment. He starts to move your body for you, achingly slow on his cock while he urges your hips up and down. One hand slides to your belly, gently pushing low down on your abdomen. “Feel m’self right in there, baby, right where I’m meant to be,” he coos, looking at his hand in amazement. 

“Feels so fuckin’... so good,” you whine, starting to move more quickly on top of him. You can’t compare it to anything else, anyone else you’ve ever been with, the way Joel’s cock stretches you with each new thrust, the pain giving way to an aching pleasure as your walls are stimulated over and over by him.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts out, wrapping his bulky biceps around your back and pulling you down so that your top half is more flat against his chest. He slips one hand into your hair, bringing you in for a deep, hungry kiss that you both moan into. At this angle he holds more power, able to thrust up into you after he bends his knees. You’re losing all sense of time, of sensation and noise around you, just Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel fucking into you with everything he’s got, his hot breath on your neck and ear and buried into the side of your hair. His lips warm and wet on any part he can find while you take and take and take what he’s doling out, your cunt starting to ache from the way he’s pounding into you but desperately begging for more, fluttering around his length. Your moans ramp up when you feel your clit start to brush against the curls at the base of his cock, his name whispered into his neck in between your cries. 

“There we go, doll, get what y’need, c’mon,” he says near your ear, urging you on. You’re only brought back to some semblance of reality as Joel smacks your ass with a swift, hard slap and you moan out. A new flutter and gush from your cunt around him makes Joel grunt and he fucks up into you like a crazed, possessed man, intent on only you you you. 

“Tha’s right, honey, so fuckin’ wet for me,” Joel grits, his hips snapping in a nearly impossible pace into you. You think you’re starting to black out, your vision a bit spotty from how hard he’s ramming the entirety of his cock into you, your g-spot so stimulating along with your clit and you’re grasping at the cushions on either side of you, nearly pounding your fists into them as Joel holds you close, not letting you move an inch, not letting this climax get away from either of you. 

“God, Joel, fuck… I c-can’t -“ you whine, your entire body tightening, damp with sweat as your tits slide across his chest with each new thrust. 

“Y’can, now be a good girl and come for me,” Joel says, hot heat of his lips meeting yours for a sloppy kiss, both of your tongues half missing the others’ mouth, making a mess on your faces full of saliva and the remnants of your lip gloss. Everything is so slick, slippery, and you gush between your legs, your wet arousal dripping out around where he enters you again and again. 

You snap, the invisible tether you’ve visualized inside of yourself finally breaking and you let go, practically convulsing on top of Joel with erratic grunts and moans and the lewdest sounds you’ve ever heard yourself make. You bear down on his cock as he rides you through the waves of ecstasy that take over your entire being. 

“Good girl,” he coos over and over, his quiet praises only serving to plunge you further into this blinding hot cavern of bliss that you’ve fallen into. You can feel how his cock slips in and out around the way you’re creaming over his length, and you finally quiet into his chest, a spent mess. 

Joel stops moving for a moment, giving you time to catch your breath as he strokes the back of your head. You nearly want to purr with the contentment you feel as he lightly drags his fingers across your head.

“Your turn,” you finally say, a wry smile pulling at your lips. You pick yourself up a bit, wiggling your hips on him and hissing a little at the oversensitivity of your shot nerves. 

“My turn,” Joel echoes, a devious little twinkle in his eye is all you see before he sits up, pulling you close and kissing you as he ruts his hips into yours a few times. He quickly pulls out of you, handling your body roughly but smoothly as he turns you, pushing you down, knees on the cushions and chest pressing against the back of the couch. He crowds behind you, spreading your knees for you and you can feel his wet cock slap against your ass as he positions you and then himself. 

Joel’s cock forces its way between your legs again, immediately sliding into your wet heat. You bristle a little under the full size of him again, determined to take it like the good girl you say you are and let him spill every drop of cum he has inside of you. You realize you’ve said some version of that out loud in your mental fog when Joel chuckles a low, devious little noise and slams into you hard. 

“Yeah? Want all my cum, want to have me fuckin’ my cum into you, fillin’ you up?” Joel asks and you nod dazedly in reply. He plants a firm hand on your back, sinking you into the back of the couch while he pounds into you, chasing after his pleasure, using you to get himself off. You’ve never been more turned on, and you feel the creeping need of desire filling low in your belly again. 

Joel’s free hand starts to smack your ass relentlessly, as if to spur you on while you bounce your hips back into his movements. 

“Yeah, pretty girl, so good, takin’ this cock like a good girl,” he chants, erratic movements of his hips telling you how close he is. 

“Fuck, fuck, so tight…” he bellows out, “Gonna come inside you, baby.” One more thrust and he’s done for, his hips sputtering and stopping deep inside of you as he unleashes while your cunt flutters, your body reacting in pure effervescent joy to feel his spend coating you again. Joel wraps his arms around your chest, yanking you to fall back with him so that you’re laying side by side, tangled in each other's arms. You both breathe heavily, sweat and stickiness intermingling as you lay so close. 

“We missed our dinner reservation,” Joel says after a few moments of silence stating the very obvious. “We could order some takeout, how’s that sound?”

You listen to the beat of his heart where your head rests on his chest, steady and strong as it still comes down from his climax. You hum a little approving noise, nodding your head. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you tell him, barely able to care much about anything else right now. You think in this completely fucked out, limp state you’d let him feed you practically anything, spooning each bite into your mouth like you’re a helpless child. The thought makes you shudder a bit, a feeling of fear creeping over you that someone could have such an effect on you as to change you like that, to pull this side of you out that you’d buried deep inside. 

“Don’t wanna move, though,” you whine, snuggling down onto his chest. 

“I know, I know,” Joel says soothingly with a hand running down your hair. “Gonna have to eat to keep up with what I’m gonna do to ya next, though.”

You lift an intrigued brow and glance up at his face to find him already giving you an amused expression. “I’ll order us some food, why don’t you put on your pretty dress again and we’ll pretend we got our date, how about that?” he says.

You bite your lip in an effort not to smile too widely, and you give him another nod of agreement, finally sitting up and then clambering off the couch and stretching. Joel’s eyes roam your still bare body, unable to believe he could be ready for another round this quickly when his cock twitches at the sight. You throw on your dress and adjust it, smoothing the sides of your hair. 

“How do I look?” you ask innocently with a twirl, as if he hadn’t just been buried deep inside of you, stealing any semblance of reality from your very being. 

“Perfect,” he says with a chuckle. 

Joel orders Chinese food, and the two of you sit at his kitchen table, a candle lit that Joel had dug out from deep within a cabinet sitting between you two at the table. 

While you’re already sure the physical attraction with Joel isn’t wanting for anything, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that you two are connecting on all sorts of topics - from old country music that you listened to growing up to your dream vacation destinations. It seems like you two have more and more in common the longer you talk, or at the least, have an interest in the things the other person is saying. You can’t help but feel like you have a lot to learn from Joel, someone who has life experience, different interests (“old man interests” you tease him), and a whole new perspective on the world. You could listen to him for hours, sitting with your chin in your hand and lashes fluttering as you gaze at his perfect lips speaking about all of these new things. 

“Can I tell you something?” you finally say during a quiet moment, when your plates have long been pushed away, swirling your third glass of wine in your hand. One foot is planted on the dining chair, knee tucked up to your chin where you rest it, lip worrying in between your teeth. 

“Mhm, ‘course,” Joel says casually, sipping from his own glass. 

“When I said I couldn’t find my passion before… I’ve always known what it is, what I want out of life. I just can’t… say it because it sounds, well, silly.”

“Try me,” Joel replies coolly, his eyes flickering with curiosity. 

“I’ve always wanted to be -“ you hesitate, swallowing hard. “The reason someone comes home. The person they come home to. That’s it. That’s all I want. My parents… they never had that. Sure, they came home, but only because there wasn’t anything else to do, nowhere else to go. I never felt it from them. I’ve always wanted to just take care of someone and be that for them…” you confess, trailing off as your cheeks heat with the tipsy confession, slightly embarrassed to reveal it to Joel. 

He considers your words with a small hmm and a cock of his head. “You’re talkin’ about a marriage, yeah? You wanna be a married woman.”

You nod, breathing out a sigh. “Women I know, and my parents, oh god, would probably freak out if that’s what I told them. That I just want to be someone’s wife, make each other happy. Be there for them. It’s something I’ve been too scared to admit until now, because my parents just want me to go to school, get a job, and be successful in the ways they’re successful, but…” you pause to glance at Joel, then back down to the table, tracing your nail along the knots in the wood. “What if I want to be successful in the ways they aren’t?”

Joel’s face contorts slightly, feeling your pain. “You gotta do what you need, sweetheart. Fuck what anyone else says,” he says plainly. “I can relate, y’know. I was married before.”

You snap your gaze up to him, somehow surprised, but realizing maybe you shouldn’t be, that this man is well into his forties now and has lived an entire life before ever laying eyes on you. “Yeah? And…”

“Was all pressure. Wasn’t right. Divorced over ten years ago, so don’t feel too sorry f’me. Her parents had all this pressure on us gettin’ married but I knew she wasn’t the right one for me. Ended up divorcin’ five years later.” He tuts at the memory - the waste of time, the endless arguments, the strain of it all for nothing.

“I’m sor-“ you start, cut off by Joel grabbing your hand across the small table, dwarfing it in his palm.

“Said don’t be sorry for me, yeah? I’m sittin’ here with you now, aren’t I?”

A smile tickles at the corners of your lips and you look down bashfully, letting your fingers curl around his. “Yeah, guess that’s true.”

“Come on over here,” Joel says, patting his lap and setting his wine glass on the table with a small clink. 

You slide out of your chair, padding over and getting into his lap effortlessly. His fingers spread along your back to support you and you curl your legs up, resting against his chest. 

“Y’know marriage is a lot, right? I know you know, you’re a smart girl, can tell you’ve thought about this.”

“I know,” you snip. “It’s not something I’ve ever taken lightly. I just… that’s what I want.” You don’t know how to express to him the yearning deep inside of you, the way you’d watch your parents moving in parallel lives, just happening to share children and a home, and wishing for anything more than that. Praying you’d never meet that same fate, that you’d be so sickly, passionately in love with your future spouse that the entire world could know from a single glance. That you’d give your life to make sure they were well taken care of, and they’d do the same for you.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says quietly, nuzzling his nose against the top of your head. “I know you’ll get what you’re lookin’ for. Anyone’d be lucky to have you.”

Your skin heats at his close contact and adoring words, your stomach twisting a little with the anticipation that it could be him - could Joel be the one lucky to have you, as he said?

“W-would you?” you stutter out, licking your suddenly desert dry lips. “Have me?”

“Honey, I’d have you a hundred different ways and never tire of it. Such a sweet, smart, special little thing you are.”

Your lips purse into a smile, fighting the urge to giddily giggle right in his lap. You tilt your head up to kiss him, a motion he gladly returns as he deepens it for a few moments, tasting remnants of the wine on each other's tongues. 

“That what you want? Want me to have ya?” he asks quietly, the question carrying more weight in your mind than maybe he’d meant. 

“Yes,” you say, a whisper into the quiet air of his house.

“Stay w’me then, this weekend. Don’t wanna let you out of my sight.”

You nod, nearly imperceptible as your mouths meet again, passion driving the kisses now as you squirm in his lap, desire igniting every cell of your body. Joel chuckles against your already puffy lips and shakes his head. 

“Gonna ruin me, you know that?”

Three months later, Joel proposes to you in a park you frequently walk in together, a perfectly sunny and breezy spring day with the smell of fresh blooms surrounding you. You have on a pink dress, matching the explosion of color around you in the budding and blossoming trees and bushes. Joel wraps a hand around yours before getting down on one knee and revealing a solitaire diamond in a black velvet box, promising you all of the things you’d revealed to him in private months before. Someone to come home to. Someone who will come home to you. Succeed together in all the ways you’ve always wanted. Cherish you. And most importantly, love you for who you are.

[aetherdoesthings]

I cannot tell you how loud I cackled when the card was revealed. One moment I was cooing at how cute this was and then I start straight up laughing at 2AM. The atrocious spelling of a child 🤣, i loved all of it! I'm wondering if the other kids notice Father's favoritism towards the reader, and how they would react? What if they bully Reader and Father steps up for Reader? 🤭 I love your characterization of Father in here. Much softer than canon which is what I needed.

~EL anon

would you like a new home? (pt 3.1)

forethoughts: thanks for the compliments about part two! i didn't expect my silly love letter to arlecchino to blow up haha. i originally was going to write this as just one big part but i changed plans. part two is called would you like some cake! i also planned for part two to be the last one but i had to sneak one in to give reader and father a happy ending of sorts :)

notes: gn!child!reader, NOT AN X READER READER IS A CHILD IN THIS!!!

You never cared about what the other children thought of you.

Father made sure you would never get hurt.

Father ensured that the very day she gave you your new toys.

Father said not to use the toys, only if I was being attacked then I could use them. 

Father said not to show the other children your toys.

And you always listened to Father to the best of your abilities.

Well, you tried.

You were walking down the hall, admiring the small trinket Father had found you during one of her expeditions. It was a compass, Father said. You followed the red needle, a huge smile at your face as you watched it shift and move.

You held the compass dear to your chest, using two hands to hold each side. Your eyes were glued to the needle you didn’t even notice the leg that swept your shins, causing your grip on the compass to disappear as your body went sideways, landing on your arms. 

Footsteps.

You got up before you could hear another thud, turning around. “Hey!” You exclaimed as one of the other orphans picked up Father’s gift, admiring it themselves.

“What? We were just interested in what you were holding, Y/N.” One of the other orphans snickered. 

“Give it back.” You said, balling your fists. That was Father’s gift to you. Yours. Not theirs.

“Why? You have more gifts than us given by Father. Not having one more isn’t going to kill you, loser.”

Don’t attack. Don’t be quick to anger. Always seek out a compromise before arming yourself. Father’s words rang in your head.

You took a deep breath, blood boiling at the sight of the other orphan haphazardly tossing the compass around. 

“What do you want?” You questioned, feet still spread apart.

“Don’t you get it, you stupid idiot? We want what you have.” 

“You’ve never wanted anything from me.”

“Because you didn’t have anything we wanted.”

“What do you want now?”

“We want Father.”’

Your knuckles started to turn red as your hands fell to your sides. “What?”

“Don’t act like we don’t see how Father treats you. Always first to get food. Extra dessert. No curfew. Bigger room? Who do you think you are? You’re a nobody! You don’t even have friends! Why does Father treat you better than everyone else?!” The orphan shoved you back on the ground, pressing his foot against your head. You stared at the orphan. You couldn’t deny that his words did not hold truth to them. Father did ensure all of that. You never questioned why Father would show you more generosity and kindness compared to the other children. Yes, Father treated everyone equally. That was obvious before you went inside the armory that day. Father still treated everyone equally even after that. You just had… perks.

“I didn’t ask to have a bigger room and no curfew.” You retorted, trying to resist.

“But you have it. And we want that too. So go to Father and tell her you want a smaller room, last in line, no dessert, and an earlier curfew.”

“That’s not fair. I’m not going to do that.” “If you don’t do that, we’ll break the compass. And don't think about lying and saying you did it. We'll know.” The orphan dangled the compass with two fingers, close to the rim. 

“Hey!” You gritted your teeth, hand slowly creeping towards the knife strapped onto your belt. 

“Three…” The orphan sneered, digging his boot deeper into your hair, pressing your head into the ground.

“Two…” Your hand curled around the helm. 

“One…”

Forgive me, Father.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Comeback Queen - Part 1 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Here you go! I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it. Part 2 will be out tomorrow night! Also if you want to share your theories on where reader is going please send them my way. I’m interested to see what you guys think! 🫶

Months. That’s how long it had been since you had been in this position. Month and months and months. Months longer than it should have been too. Alexia had unfortunately had complications with her knee after coming back to playing the first time and this meant that she was side lined for a further few months.

During her time out on the side lines, you had picked up a knock yourself and was now part of the recovery squad. You hated the first month of your recovery purely because if you couldn’t be playing you want to be watching your love do what she does best, but that wasn’t possible either.

So, when Alexia went away with the Spanish squad and phoned you to say even though she wouldn’t be playing she is fit enough to sit on the bench, you knew it wouldn’t be long until that did happen.

You were proven right a couple weeks later. It was

You were sat in the stands with Mapi and a few of the other girls who had some sort of knock or injury, just behind the bench. Alexia had excitedly told you last night that Jona was planning on putting her on in the second half of todays match. This had excited you too as it meant you got to do your second favourite thing to do with football, watching her play. Of course, this was slightly behind playing yourself but that isn’t possible right now.

The first half flew by and with Salma’s hattrick Barca was already cruising towards the win, something that meant slightly less pressure on your loves shoulders when she did come on which you knew would help even if she didn’t really think about it. Alexia had gone through a pretty extensive warm up during the half time break so you had a feeling it wouldn’t be too long until you saw her enter the field. You didn’t leave your seat like the others wanting to make sure you caught every ball touch the woman had. She had just run back down the tunnel to catch the last bit of the half time team talk and probably give her own little captains speech with Irene.

The next time you caught her moving was in the 60th minute. She was up on the side lines in her kit, bib over the top to warm up quickly but you knew it wouldn’t be long until she was out on the pitch and the rest of the stadium could tell too. Not even a minute later and she was lined up with .. and .. ready for her much awaited and eagerly anticipated return.

She got given the captains armband and received a loud round of applause as she ran on, you made sure to whoop and cheer as loud as you could. Determined to show your support for your lover.

Alexia had been on the pitch for barely 10 minutes when the ball was crossed into Lucy at the back post, you held your breath as the ball bounced off her and into the middle of the box where your favourite number 11 was waiting. She didn’t catch the shot as cleanly as you knew she would have wished to, but it didn’t matter as it nestled into the bottom right corner.

You were up in a flash jumping with the other injured players as much as physically possible for you all. Of course she was in the right place at the right time, she had been studying tapes her whole life pretty much. She just knew the game and now even more than ever possibly, she knew her team.

The rest of the game went on and even though the opposition scored it didn’t dull the buzz around the stadium, the return of Frido last game and now Ale today just had set the right feeling within the club. Now all that was left was you and Mapi.

Speaking of, Mapi was dragging you by the hand down to the pitch where you greeted Ingrid when she approached, you chatted with them as well as Keira and Aitana for a while, but your eyes never drifted far from Alexia as she made her way round the fans. You were always in awe of how she interacted with them no matter the occasion, she always had time to sign things and take photos.

She had made her way around all the fans she could today and was about to head down the tunnel when she spotted you. Her eyes met yours and you could see the joy in them as soon as they did, the smile widening on her lips to match. She changed direction and headed towards where you were stood with the other women.

As she got closer you excused yourself from the conversation around dinner and made a beeline for her. You instantly wrapped your arms around her and held on with all you had, her arms wrapping around your waist and holding you firmly but not tight. “I’m so proud of you, mi vida. A goal too right away, only you could do that.” She gave you a little extra squeeze before pulling back.

“Had someone to score for didn’t I.” You grinned in her direction and went to reply when Pina jumped into the conversation from behind you both.

“You always score for y/n can’t you dedicate it to someone else for once.” You exchanged a look with your wife at this, you could see the smirk rising on her face, but you gave her a warning look. As much as you loved Claudia you knew she had a big mouth and what you had to share should only come from the two of you, being as it affected those you play with or did play with.

“What can I say, when you love someone this much it’s easy to dedicate a goal to them.” This caused a smile to rise to your face.

Pina walked away with a slightly disturbed look on her face, one that you knew was due to her distaste for the lovey stuff she had just heard from her captain. “You are capi mush when y/n is around.” Was a comment thrown over her shoulder as she walked away, a comment that had your girlfriend giving you a quick peck to the lips before she was off running after her. Causing the young Spaniard to squeal and bolt off in her counterpart Patri’s direction, you wife hot on her heels.

You giggled at their antics and met back up with Mapi to go out to the car, you had picked the couple up today and would be dropping them home on your way back to yours and Alexia’s place.

Mapi and Ingrid had just departed the car with the promise to be ready for when you are due to pick them up later to car share to dinner. Alexia was staring out the passenger side window obviously deep in thought because her eyebrows had the cute crinkle in them, they always had when the gears in her head were working overtime.

“What’s going on in the beautiful mind of your babe?” When she didn’t reply you got a little concerned, Alexia was not normally that far in her head that she couldn’t even hear you. To gain her attention you gently rested your hand on her thigh which caused her to jump slightly. “Lo siento I didn’t mean to make you jump, are you okay?”

Alexia grabbed the hand on her thigh and laced your fingers together and gave your hand a squeeze, “Si no sorry I’m okay just thinking.” This caused you to chuckle slightly which meant you got a confused look from the woman riding shotgun.

“I know you are thinking gupa, that’s why I put my hand on you to get your attention. I asked you what was going on in that beautiful head of yours and you were too far gone.” You squeezed the hand in yours a couple time to give her some comfort.

“I think we should tell them.” She was looking directly at you now and you knew this had been playing on her mind longer than just this car journey. You gave her hand another squeeze before you replied.

“I think we should soon too, but not today. Today is about you amor, I don’t want anything to take away from us celebrating that, you. But yes, I do think soon we need to too.” Alexia was nodding away in the passenger seat as you spoke and gave you a smile as she gripped your hand in 3 successive squeezes, a gesture you knew meant she loved you.

The rest of the journey home was spent talking about how you were going to share your news, you were still not sure how some of the girls would take your departure from the squad.