#i was honestly going to do this earlier than midnight and then it just did not happen

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FIVE

previous chapters | kofi | i'm honestly amazed that i actually completed this chapter today; as a lot of yall know i've been dealing with a lot of shitty life stuff lately and part of me expected this to not even get posted this month. and yet!! here we are. thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and amazing, this chapter is for you and i hope you like it 💖 chapter summary: you're starting to feel a bit insecure about your relationship with joel. perhaps a late night visit to his house is what you need 👀 rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, handjobs, comeplay word count: 9k (woops) ao3

The rest of the week goes by gruelingly slow. Joel is busy every day and has barely any time to talk, so you mainly communicate through texts. The "conversations" are slow and broken, Joel only able to text when he has a free moment, which doesn't seem to be very often. You don't talk on the phone again, as much as you want to hear his voice, and you don't sext again either. It's a bit weird, a bit confusing, but you navigate it as best you can. It's not like he's ignoring you, he always responds, but it's just not the same as that first day.

you still wanna do this, right?

You type it around midnight on Thursday, hands trembling a bit as you hover over the send button. In one way you're afraid to ask him, afraid to seem clingy or young or inexperienced; but you're all of those things. When he's actually talking to you directly there's no fear, no question about what he wants, but going so long without hearing his voice makes you more and more insecure about what exactly he's thinking.

You erase the first message and start to type another one:

i know you're busy but

You shake your head and erase that one too. This is so stupid. Of course he still wants you, you idiot.

He'd said he was okay with the lie you'd told, had even said he would actually teach you guitar now too, but you're an overthinker, always have been. You can't help but feel dread whirling around in the pit of your stomach; he wants to end it, it's too complicated now. You've turned something sexy and fun into something ridiculous and unnecessary.

You lock your phone without sending anything and roll around in bed a bit, trying to sleep. Your thoughts make it impossible though, nagging at the front of your mind worse than your parents. You sit up and slide the tip of your thumb into your mouth, biting down in thought and staring at the blank screen of your phone.

What if you just...

are you home?

He hadn't sent you anything earlier to confirm he'd gotten back; you've discovered over the past few days that contractors really like to drink after their shift. Joel's been at the bar every night since that first day, often 'til late; you have to admit, it makes you a bit jealous to imagine Joel and his contracting crew out having a great time while you're laying in your childhood bed with a curfew. Bar hopping and partying has never appealed to you before, at least not when your college friends did it, but now the thought of it doesn't seem so bad. Not if you were doing it with him...

Your phone buzzes and you feel excitement burst through you at his reply:

Got in about 10 minutes ago, didn't think you'd be up. You okay?

You soften at his concern, cheeks warming. You don't hesitate, knowing if you think too much about it you'll end up changing your mind. You type your your response and hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

can i come over?

You stare at the screen with bated breath, watching as his typing bubble appears. It takes barely any time at all for him to reply:

Of course you can. Door's unlocked.

--

Sneaking out of your house is much easier than you thought it'd be. You've never done it before, had almost expected the bottom half of your house to suddenly have some kind of security system with lasers and cameras, but nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You're wearing one of your old nightdresses, pink and frilly; you'd opted to start wearing them again the other day, liking the way they made you feel, accentuating your legs and breasts like your old Sunday school dress. You'd changed quickly every morning before going downstairs to save your parents from the heart attacks they'd have seeing you with so little skin coverage. But there's no need to change now, not with where you're going. You yank on a jacket and sneakers and carefully open and close the front door, scurrying out into the cool night air.

Joel's house isn't far, just a street over. You try not to run, as much as you want to; you know you'll end up all sweaty and messy haired - the opposite of how you'd like to portray yourself tonight, but your skin is practically glowing with anticipation. You hold the short hem of your nightdress down as you speed walk through the dark suburban streets of your neighborhood.

Your heart starts pounding when his house comes into view; the living room window is dimly lit. You jog up the front steps and take a deep breath before turning the handle, smiling to yourself when it opens easily; he'd really left the door unlocked for you.

"Mr. Miller?" you call in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and turning the lock.

He emerges from the living room and you feel your eyes widen. All he's wearing is a pair of loose fitting plaid pajama pants; nothing else. No shirt, no socks, and probably no underwear. You swallow, eyes trailing up and down the naked solidness of his chest, the greying hair smattered along the skin. He's got a softness to him, a bit of a pudgy belly that makes you want to smile, but his rugged sexiness is even more apparent. His strong pecs, freckled arms, the hair trailing down his stomach and into his pajama pants... it suddenly leaves you unable to breathe or form a coherent thought.

"There's my girl," he says, voice low and husky; he must have talked a lot today, called people's names, ordered them around, "C'mere."

Your brain is still muddled and awestruck as you feel yourself rush forward, arms immediately wrapping around his bare torso. His skin is softer than you'd thought it'd be, warm under your touch as you carefully press your cheek to his chest. You feel the scratch of hair against your skin, reminding you of his age; fifty six. The thought gives you an ache between your legs.

He holds you close and rubs your back, presses a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, fingers splaying across the wide span of his back. You find yourself able to breathe again, but all you inhale is his scent, fresh and masculine. It's then that you realize his skin is slightly damp, peppered here and there with little droplets of water.

"I just got out of the shower," he says quietly, answering your unspoken question, "Was about to get in bed when you texted but I figured if you were comin' over I should clean myself up a bit."

You hum against his chest, still not sure exactly what to say. The ache between your legs is growing stronger the more you stand here in his embrace; somehow you hadn't expected to feel this way just from hugging him, although you probably should have guessed.

"I wanna get in your bed," you say softly, opening your eyes again and pulling back to look at him. His expression says it all, eyes going dark as they fall to your lips.

"Then let's get in my bed," he murmurs, just as quiet.

--

The last time you were in Joel's bedroom there'd been more of a sense of urgency, when he'd sat with you in his lap on the edge of his bed and held you open in front of the mirror. Now things are much slower, more quiet. You slip in behind him and unzip your jacket, taking it off and hanging it carefully on the hook behind his door.

"That's pretty," he says behind you, and you feel him reach out to gently touch the pink material, hand ghosting the bare skin of your chest. Your breath hitches and he smiles, "Tiny little thing, isn't it?"

"I've had it for a long time, I thought you might like it."

"I do," he pulls you toward him, then reaches his hands up to thumb the thin straps of the nightdress. You watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pushes them off your shoulders, "I'm gonna take it off though, that okay?"

Your brow furrows; he notices your reaction and his hands freeze, "Not okay?" he asks, confused slightly.

"N-no, it's okay," you say quickly, "I just... I'm still a little self conscious."

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head, "You have nothin' to be self conscious about, sweetheart," he reassures you, "I wanna see you..." he pushes the straps down your shoulders and you stand there trembling slightly as he pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to him, "There you are."

You shiver a bit under his gaze, but not out of discomfort or fear. You feel safe with him; you know he'd never do anything you didn't consent to. You're just not exactly sure what you want, what exactly you've really come here for. Before you'd left the house you'd been so afraid that he was losing interest, already getting tired of you; now he stares at you like you're some kind of rare gem, making you feel bashful and beautiful under his gaze.

"I wanna touch you," you whisper, the shakiness of your voice betraying your nervousness - or anticipation.

His hands freeze for a few seconds but he regains composure quickly, tugging the dress down further until it's cascading down your legs, putting you completely on display. He swallows audibly, taking you in. You look at his face and feel yourself pulse under his gaze, the way he's staring directly at your bare pussy.

"Let's get in bed," he murmurs, "I think there's a few things we can touch."

His words send a buzzing warmth through your body and you cross your legs unconsciously, an action that makes him smirk. You turn away from him with heat flooding your cheeks as you climb into his bed; it's large and comfortable, but you already know neither of you will be taking advantage of the big space. You sit up against his headboard and pull the duvet up over yourself, hiding your breasts from view - as if he hasn't already seen them.

"I'll keep these on" he says softly, tugging at the band of his pajama pants, "Don't worry."

Your heart leaps to your throat and you nod quickly - probably too quickly. It's not that you're scared to see him naked; you've already seen both halves now and that's taken away a lot of the fear, but the concept of being in bed together, both naked... you're not sure you're ready yet. And you're glad he understands that without you having to say it out loud.

You watch as he climbs into bed and positions himself up against the headboard like you, scooches in next to you so your sides are touching. His skin against yours is unlike anything you've felt with him up until this point; he's so warm, a firm and large presence at your side that immediately has you feeling intimidated. Your nerves are already beginning to set alight just by having him so close. You open your mouth to speak but are unable to say anything when he inches even closer, his bare waist pressing firmly against yours.

"Hey, you're okay," he breathes, reaching up to gently thumb your cheek in a calming motion, brow furrowing slightly, "You don't gotta be nervous, sweetheart, it's only me."

"I'm not nervous," you whisper back, and while you're not exactly being honest there's certainly something else you're feeling, "I'm just..." you cross your legs again under the duvet, "I'm getting really wet."

He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat that makes you smile a little, cheeks burning under his gaze. He reaches over and slowly pushes the blankets down from your loose grip, exposing you to him once again. He moves his hand down, fingertips trailing along your bare chest until carefully bringing one of your breasts into his palm and squeezing gently.

"You don't gotta hide these from me, darlin'," he murmurs, thumb dragging across your nipple, sending tingles throughout your body, "They're too pretty to stay outta sight."

You shiver when he carefully tweaks your nipple between his fingers, his gaze firmly set on his movements. You watch together as he plays with it, toys with it, rolls it between thumb and forefinger. The warm and tight feeling sends an odd tingling sensation from your breast to your pussy, like they're connected somehow.

"I'm gonna put this in my mouth," he says softly, "Suck on it a little bit, that okay?"

You can't help but feel a bit unsure, biting your lip, "Is that... does it feel good to do that?"

He nods up at you, thumbing your nipple again slowly, "Feels really good, I promise. You got a lot of nerves here, just like your pussy. Really sensitive."

Your eyes are hazy as you nod to him slowly, "Th-that sounds nice."

At your words he leans his head down and brings your nipple into his mouth, dropping his fingers and replacing his thumb with the warm suction of his lips. You gasp out in surprise, hand coming up to immediately cup the back of his head.

You've never felt anything like this; the suction of his mouth is so new and strange, that tingling sensation returning as you cross your legs tighter and whimper aloud as he sucks your nipple. His tongue is wet and warm, tracing the shape of you in little circles, while his free hand comes up to squeeze your other breast, tweak it with his fingers. Your breath begins to come out raggedly, brow furrowing and legs tightening together as he suckles.

"Oh my god," you hear yourself whimper, hand tightening in his hair, "Why does that feel so good?"

He pulls off your nipple with a quiet laugh, peering up at you, "Yeah, you like the way that feels, babygirl?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and trying to get your breath back, "Yes," you whisper, "A lot."

He smiles at that, "Then how 'bout you lay back for me?"

It's an offer that's impossible to refuse. You quickly pull yourself down from the headboard and slip beneath the covers, head coming to rest on one of his pillows. He slips under as well, then very slowly positions himself on top of you, a leg on either side of your trembling form. You look up at him with wide eyes, unsure whether you're more nervous or excited.

"You're okay," he reassures you again, inching downward a bit and pressing a few gentle kisses to your neck, "Gotta be on top to do this right, so it feels good."

You nod slowly, "I c-can feel..."

"What?" he whispers, "What do you feel?"

Your arms are loose at your sides and Joel's are pinned above you, but there's an unmistakable feeling of something prodding into your thigh, large and thick.

"Your cock," you manage to whisper, voice trembling, "I think."

"That's right," he murmurs, "It's 'cause I'm gettin' hard from suckin' you like that, touchin' you," he trails his fingers down your sides gently, making you shiver, "You like feelin' it there?"

You feel yourself slowly nodding, eyes going even more hazy and hooded, "I wanna touch it."

"I know you do," he whispers, "I want you to touch it too, sweetheart. But I'm gonna play with you a little longer," he leans his face down and licks a small stripe against your other nipple, making your hips buck, "Then I'll teach you how to touch it, that alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, "Please."

"You like when I play with you, don't you?" he murmurs against your breast, then captures your other nipple in his mouth and starts to suck.

"Y-yes," you repeat, hand coming up again to tangle in his hair, already overwhelmed by the sensation, "I missed it."

He hums, sending another cascade of tingles throughout your body. To think that less than half an hour ago you were laying in bed wondering if he still wanted you; now you're naked and he's on top of you with his mouth on your breast. How is this your life?

"What did'ya miss?" he pulls off for barely a few seconds, scruff scratching perfectly against your sensitive skin, "Tell me, babygirl, wanna know what you've been thinkin' about."

You whimper when he goes back to suckling, your fingers threading through his greying curls. It's hard to get your thoughts straight when he's making you feel like this, every tight suck and wet lick going directly to your aching core.

"J-just missed you touching me," you breathe, voice rough and wanton with pleasure, "Missed your hands on me, your fingers..."

At your words he carefully brings one of his hands downward, caressing your body gently as he goes. Your breath hitches when he swipes his middle and index finger down your wet seam, urging you to open up for him. You uncross your trembling legs, looking down to watch as he continues to suck on your breast while his fingers dip down to your wetness.

"Inside," you whisper, finishing your thought but almost giving him a command at the same time; he doesn't hesitate, immediately pushing both fingers past your entrance and slipping them inside your throbbing hole, "Fuck," you whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, "Like that."

You can feel the head of his cock through his pajama pants, pulsing against your thigh, leaving a sticky spot in the fabric. The fact that he's getting hard just by doing this to you, getting wet in his own way, it just turns you on even more.

He pulls off your breast with a wet pop and tilts his head up to look at you, pressing little kisses around your nipple and then pulling himself up a bit to hover over you. You feel his clothed cock prod your lower belly and you shiver again.

"Wanted to be full again, huh?" he murmurs, eyes dark, "Missed havin' these big fingers inside you?"

You nod and tug at his curls, urging him to lean his face down toward you. He takes the hint immediately, smirking a bit before reaching down to press his lips to yours and kiss you hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, contentment and arousal flooding through you as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. Your hand moves from his hair to cup his jaw, loving the feeling of his beard beneath your fingers.

"Wanna know what I missed?" he asks against your lips, voice deep and breathy, "Missed this tiny little hole, so tight, all for me," at his words he curls the tips of his fingers inside of you, making you emit a loud whimper that makes him grin, "That's right, takin' my fingers so well, angel. Bet you could take three now," you feel another one of his fingers prod you alongside his others, "You want that, babygirl? Want three of those big fingers?"

You swallow nervously but slowly nod, tugging your bottom lip into your mouth, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "Wanna be full."

"Good girl," he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against yours, "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"

You hear the sounds you're making but you're not quite sure where they're coming from or how you're making them; you sound pathetic and breathless as he fucks you with his fingers, teases the third at your hole and leans down to kiss you again. His tongue slips past your lips and you feel the vibration of your own moans in his mouth when his thumb gently teases your clit.

"There you go, angel," he mutters against your lips as his third finger breaches your entrance, slowly pushes past the other two, "Thaaat's it, babygirl."

You tremble underneath him, feeling your body tense up at the new intrusion. You've had three of your own fingers inside yourself, but not three of his, long and thick and so much bigger than your own. You hear your whimpers turn into cries as his fingers fill you up, your own hands coming up to grip his back, nails digging into the skin.

"Shhh," he soothes, trailing more kisses along your face in an attempt to relax you, "You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay." And you are okay, being underneath him like this, being entirely at his mercy as he pushes your limits, helps you discover something new. It burns a bit, stretches and pulls and stings, but he talks you through it, whispers reassuring words in your ear, and you know you're safe.

He stills once all three fingers are deep inside, then pulls himself up a bit to look at you, pushing a stray hair behind your ear and peering down with a soft expression despite the depraved circumstances.

"How's that feel?" he whispers, voice gentle and soothing, "Tell me."

You're still making whimpering noises, shaky and quiet, but you're able to reply with the only word you can bring to the front of your mind: "Full."

He smiles down at you, brushes his nose against yours, "You did so good, angel," he murmurs, eyes not leaving yours, "I'm prouda you."

He knows what he's doing with that phrase; immediately you feel yourself loosen beneath him, hands going slightly limp against his back. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and slowly begins to move his fingers again, pumping them in and out at an even pace.

It's amazing. It's so different than just two fingers, so much bigger and fuller - you've never felt anything like it; something so dirty but somehow passionate and warm. He kisses you as he fucks you with them, hovering over you with his hot skin emanating onto yours, wisps of hair from his chest and stomach tickling you everywhere. He thumbs your clit again and you moan loudly against his lips, your orgasm swelling in your belly as your hands tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

"You gonna come, angel?" he asks you softly, sweetly, pulling back a bit to stare deeply into your wide eyes, "Yeah, you're gonna come on those big fingers, huh? Can feel your pussy gettin' all tight around me, she wants it so bad doesn't she?"

You moan even louder as you frantically nod, "Yes, gonna come, gonna come," you cry out, overwhelmed by the thickness of his fingers and the way he's looking at you, the way he's talking to you; everything is just him.

"That's right, give it to me, sweet girl," he urges you, plunging into you faster and faster as his thumb rotates mercilessly against your clit, "Make a mess for me, soak those fingers, there you go."

You keen, high and borderline ridiculous as you stiffen beneath him and begin to shake, pitiful sounds escaping your mouth as you come. He fucks you through it, watching your face every step of the way and not stopping his movements until you've come down completely. You lay beneath him, chest heaving and eyes closing involuntarily as he strokes your thigh tenderly, reassuringly. He keeps his fingers lodged deep inside of you, not moving but simply keeping you full as you come down from your orgasm; you find yourself hoping he doesn't pull them out just yet.

"Can I show you somethin'?" he asks softly, and you open your eyes to find him still peering down at your face. You can't speak, can only nod as you bite down on your lip and try to catch your breath, your entire brain focused solely on the way his fingers feel inside you. As if he can read your mind, he's suddenly pulling them out and bringing them up to hover between the two of you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, suddenly feeling beyond empty as you pout up at him. He just chuckles to himself, still holding his three fingers - wet and glistening - in front of you while his other hand reaches down to the waistband of his pajama pants. Your eyes go wide, lips parting a bit as you look from his face to where his hand is and back again.

Without words from either of you, he slowly reaches inside and pulls out his cock, thick and dripping. You make a weird sound in the back of your throat, sitting up slightly as you peer at it with wonder. He's showed it to you before, it's nothing new, and yet...

"That's about the same width, wouldn't you say?" he asks you quietly, bringing his dripping fingers down to his hard cock and aligning them side by side; he's right - the thickness of all three of his fingers is relatively similar to the thickness of his cock. There's certainly different aspects - the length being the main difference - but the overall width is pretty spot on.

"Y-yeah," you say softly, eyes glued to it, "Pretty close."

You watch as he carefully drags his fingers along the thick length of his cock, still soaked with your release. He spreads your juices along it with his thumb and fingers, fists it gently and very slowly fucks his fist once. Your eyes are hooded and dark, saliva beginning to pool inside your mouth for reasons you can't even begin to understand.

"You just took three fingers," he continues, thumb tracing the base of his wide tip, "So wouldn't you say that answers a question you've been worryin' your pretty little head about?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, trying to figure out what he means. It's hard to focus on absolutely anything else when his dick is right there in front of you, practically begging to be touched, the fat head pulsing and drooling under your gaze.

"Oh, this is gonna be a problem, isn't it?" he says, amused as he continues to slowly stroke himself, "Can't even think when there's a cock in front of you, huh?"

The words snap you back to reality, but only slightly. You smile sheepishly as you will yourself to look up at his face and away from his dick, "Wh-what question, Mr. Miller?"

He chuckles, "You were afraid it wouldn't fit inside you, babygirl," he reminds you gently, "But it will, we just proved that."

Your brain slowly makes sense of what he's saying and you can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you; he's right. It had burned a bit, been uncomfortable for a moment or two, but ultimately you'd been able to take all three and enjoy it. You feel a smile spread across your face, and you notice his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you.

"You're right," you say breathlessly, smile still wide, "I did it, didn't I?"

His expression softens even more and he smiles back at you, laughing quietly to himself. He opens his mouth to say something but then seems to think better of it, pulling one of his legs back and moving to sit beside you on the bed instead of over you. Your brow furrows a bit in confusion.

"What is it?"

He just shakes his head, still smiling softly to himself, "Nothin', you're just... you're adorable."

Your cheeks warm at that, unable to help feeling a little self conscious. Now that you've come down from your orgasm you're suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, of the fact that he can see every inch of your body. You draw the covers up around yourself quickly, hoping he won't mind.

"Such a shy little thing," he murmurs softly, but makes no move to pull the blankets down again like he had before, just watches you with a smile as your gaze slowly falls back to where he's hard and aching.

"Can I...?" you can't bring yourself to say the words, feeling flustered and nervous at the very thought. He just nods and reaches over to touch your hand, strokes your trembling fingers in his grip.

You watch as he carefully maneuvers your hand toward his crotch and slowly places your hand on his cock. Your fingers curl around his girth almost instinctively, imitating what you've seen him do before. Your lips part, breath hitching as your skin touches his most intimate area, a place on a man you never thought you'd ever be able to feel, at least not until you were married.

It's soft. Not in terms of arousal but just in texture, a silky and smooth feeling you hadn't been expecting. You stare down at your own hand in slight awe as your thumb gently strokes along his shaft, brow furrowing at how different it is than what you'd imagined. It's surprisingly just a body part, just an extension of Joel that usually remains hidden and secret; it's not as scary or intimidating when you can touch it like this, play with it like he plays with you.

"Wow," you say softly, barely aware of it as your fist ever so slowly moves along his length, pumps him just once in that hypnotic way he'd showed you; he's still covered in your own release, wet and slippery, but somehow you don't feel grossed out by it.

"You're a natural," he replies just as quietly, and your skin heats again when you look up to see his face, see the desire and pleasure in his expression, "Don't think there's much I need to teach you, to be honest. My parts are a lot simpler than yours."

You smile to yourself and pump him slowly again, this time brushing against the wet and throbbing tip. He makes a faint grunting sound that makes your eyebrows go up.

"This part..." you say quietly, thumbing the head ever so slightly and feeling your heart race when it pulses beneath you, "It feels different?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, biting down on his lip for a moment, "That part's sensitive, kinda like your clit."

You nod slowly, pushing your thumb up a bit and slowly rotating it along the sensitive area. He inhales sharply, grunts again when you prod the spongey head with both your thumb and index finger, teasing it like he'd done with your nipple.

"Fuck," he mutters softly, voice heavy and breathless, "That's it, angel, you got it."

His praise is like a warm blanket, shrouding you in safety and comfort as you slowly pump his cock again, teasing the head intermittently and trying not to smile too much every time he makes another one of those breathy grunting sounds. You feel pride swelling in your chest, the knowledge that you're actually making him feel good pushing you to continue on.

"What about these?" you ask softly, stilling your hand on his cock for a moment to gesture toward his balls, round and heavy beneath the base, "Does it....do they feel good when they get touched, too?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice dark and full of arousal, "They do."

"Can I touch them?"

The sound that emits from his throat sounds almost like a growl, low and husky, "Yes," he groans, "Go ahead and touch 'em, sweetheart."

The tone of his voice is slightly desperate, bordering on depraved. Your eyes travel back up to his face and his jaw is slack, eyes hooded as he watches you touch him. You've never seen him like this, almost completely wrecked by something you did.

"Gotta be real gentle," he continues, taking a breath through his nostrils and reaching down to pull his pajama pants down a bit more for easier access, "They're sensitive too."

You resume your slow pumping of his cock with one hand while your other reaches down to lightly trail the tips of your fingers along the shape of his balls, round and tender. You cup them gently, teasing them one by one in your palm. He hisses in pleasure, eyes shutting tightly as he leans back a bit against the headboard.

"Feel good?" you whisper, trying your best to fall into the role Joel usually takes on, the role of the person giving the pleasure.

"Yes, baby," he groans, pressing the backs of his hands against his shut eyes, "Yes, feels so good, sweetheart."

Your pumping gets a bit faster, a bit wetter as precum continues to drool from the tip and down his shaft. It's unbelievable that you're really sitting here in a man's bed, a man about thirty years older than you, pumping his cock and making him come apart like this. You can feel yourself throbbing beneath the blankets, getting wet all over again at the reality of the situation, and when your movements cause the blankets to fall from your chest and expose your breasts again, you don't bother trying to cover up.

Joel groans at the sight, reaching over to tweak one of your nipples between his fingers, making you whimper, "You know what happens when a man comes?" he asks you suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure, "You learn about that in school?"

You nod quickly, feeling sweat trickle down your face as you continue to stroke him up and down, "Yes," you whisper, "I know what happens."

He groans again, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath as he begins to palm your breasts, "I'm about to come, darlin'. There's gonna be a lot, need to know where to aim it."

You bite down on your lip, trying to keep all your focus on making him feel good and not on the hands now squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples. "Wh-where do you want it to go?" But you already know the answer.

"Here," he grunts, thumbing your hard nipples, "These. Wanna come all over these pretty tits, sweetheart, will you let me?"

You nod, "Y-yes, Mr. Miller."

It's everything he needs to suddenly pull himself up from the bed and pull your hands off him, gesturing for you to lie back against his pillows. Your heart races in anticipation, eyes going wide and lips parting again as he leans over you and starts to jack his cock, fast and unrelenting. This is what he'd done the other night, when you'd talked on the phone; you'd tried to imagine what he'd looked like, making his own mess... now you're about to find out.

"Stay just like that, babygirl, just like that," he grunts out, pumping himself over and over as he aims the tip toward your bare breasts, swollen from all the attention he's given them tonight. His expression is tense and so is his body, soft stomach suddenly taut with pressure, chest heaving as he works his hand. He looks almost pained, brows scrunched together as he pulls himself over the edge.

"Come," you find yourself saying quietly, a shaky whimper playing at the edge of your voice, "Come for me."

Within seconds of your words your skin is hit with long ropes of a warm, white liquid, splattering across your breasts in uneven patterns. You watch with hooded eyes as Joel slows his strokes, groans louder than he has all night as his release spurts continuously from the head of his cock, painting you all over. His tense expression eases into one of pure bliss as he tosses his head back again, moaning up at the ceiling.

Wow.

Without asking for permission, without even questioning whether it's proper sex etiquette to do so, you find your hand travelling quickly downward to your wet pussy. You frantically begin to rub your clit, still gazing up at Joel's pleasured form, feeling his come slipping down the sides of your breasts onto the sheets below. You throb and pulse beneath your fingers, whining softly to yourself as your body readies itself for your second orgasm.

Joel looks down at you then, cock still in hand, slowly beginning to soften. He sees what you're doing immediately, and the devilish smirk that crosses his face is enough to send you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck," you moan out as you come, trembling in the sheets and curling your toes in pleasure, "Mmmm," you squirm and writhe beneath his gaze until it's over, then lay still and loose on the bed with barely any thoughts floating through your mind.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to collect yourselves. You can't help but look down at your chest, see the thick patches of come splattered all over your breasts, your nipples. How all of that could come from one person is wild to you; this certainly hadn't been taught in any of your health classes.

The memory of being so naïve, so innocent... it makes you grin. Because you couldn't be further from that person anymore, the one who did everything that was asked of her, never listened to her own heart, stayed on the sidelines and focused on math and extracurriculars and God while other people had these experiences. And now here you are - actually having them.

"I guess I'm not a good little Christian girl anymore," you find yourself saying with a shaky giggle; you suddenly feel reinvigorated, sexually liberated... free.

Joel laughs at that, breathless and genuine. He grins down at you, releases his cock and shuffles downward to lay beside you, "You're my good little Christian girl," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cradle your face, "You did so good."

"Did I?" you ask sincerely, "Be honest, I wanna know."

He just smiles and thumbs your cheek, eyes going crinkly, "You were perfect, babygirl, I swear." He leans forward and kisses you gently, sweetly, like you both didn't just do something completely filthy and depraved - but you're starting to realize that maybe it's normal to do things like this, not as taboo and sinful as you'd always thought.

When you part, you're suddenly painfully aware of the state of the bed, not to mention both of your bodies. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat, you've got come dripping down your skin, and both fluids are already beginning to stain the bedsheets. You make a face.

"Can we...can we change the sheets? And can I maybe take a shower?"

Joel chuckles at that, stroking your cheek one last time before pulling back to extricate himself from the bed, "I'll change 'em, sweetheart. You go get in the shower, it's right across the hall."

You slip out of bed on shaky legs, losing your balance a bit and having to grab on to Joel's bed side table for support. You both laugh, and you find comfort in the casual intimacy of it all - both of you standing there naked without any shame or embarrassment. It's strange and new but so refreshing, that familiar safe feeling warming your skin as you make your way to the bathroom. You pick up your discarded nightdress as you go.

You stare at yourself in Joel's bathroom mirror for a bit longer than necessary, eyes wide as they trail up and down your bare form. Splotches cover different parts of your skin, especially your breasts, nipples swollen and dark, not to mention covered in come. You feel an ache between your legs again at the sight and almost roll your eyes at yourself - when will you stop being this insatiable?

Unable to push down the urge to do so, you carefully drag one of your fingers through the layer of white splattered across your chest, fascinated by its sticky texture. He'd marked you, in more ways than one.

The shower is pleasant and relatively quick; you want to get back in Joel's arms as soon as possible. You try not to think too much about the implication of that desire, the safety you feel when you're with him versus the anxiety you feel when you're not and what exactly that means. You try to remind yourself of your roommates and their experiences, their ability to sleep around without catching feelings or getting attached. How do they do it? How do they do it when being close to another person like this is so intimate and special?

You change back into the nightdress after your shower and slip back into Joel's room, finding him laying in the freshly made bed beneath a new duvet. For a moment you think he might be sleeping, quietly shutting the door behind you and tiptoeing over to the bed. However when you get close enough he opens his eyes and looks at you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there," he murmurs, reaching down to pull back the blankets on the other side - your side, "Get on in."

Your heart pounds harder than it probably should.

Climbing into bed beside Joel feels surprisingly normal, easy. You wriggle underneath the duvet and cuddle in beside him, immediately wrapping an arm around his solid form and nuzzling your head against his shoulder. He's wearing his pajama pants again but his torso is still bare, the hair on his chest tickling your skin. You feel him press a soft kiss to your hairline and you can't help but smile.

"I'm glad I came over," you whisper with a content sigh, "I was... I was starting to worry you didn't want me."

"Really?" he asks softly, brow furrowing, "Why's that?"

You shake your head and nuzzle in deeper, "Just me being self conscious and insecure, as usual."

His hand comes up to rub your back soothingly, circling it with his palm through your thin nightdress. He pulls you in a bit closer, kisses your forehead again with a bit more firmness.

"It's normal to feel that way," he murmurs against your skin, "But I do want you, babygirl. You're all I think about lately, I mean that." You shiver at his words, closing your eyes and willing yourself to believe that he really does mean them like he says. "Most beautiful little thing I've had in my bed for a long time."

You press a gentle kiss to his collarbone in response, nose trailing along the skin. He didn't shower but you're sort of glad he didn't; he still smells like sex, a deep masculine musk that you can only attribute to him now, a scent that makes you feel safe.

"I just feel bad...making us sneak around and all that," you admit, "I know it's childish and silly, but I'm so scared of disappointing my parents. I shouldn't be but I am."

"You're young," he says softly, tenderly, "That kinda stuff still matters, especially when you're livin' with them. I get it, honey. You don't have to defend yourself."

You grimace against his skin, "I just wish this could be more normal. That you could just be a guy I'm seeing instead of my guitar teacher," you shake your head, "It's not fair."

He pulls you in even closer with a soft chuckle, "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm lookin' forward to teachin' you how to play."

You make a face, "Hymns," you say with a roll of your eyes, "You're teaching me how to play hymns. I don't see anything exciting or sexy about that."

"We'll make it sexy," he murmurs, inching his face downward so it's more level with yours, eyes casting down to your lips, "Thought you were my good little Christian girl."

All thoughts suddenly seem arbitrary when he's looking at you like that, your gaze immediately going hazy as he leans in and kisses you deep, pushes his tongue inside your mouth softly and tastes you. You hum against his mouth as a response, thighs tightening together as if on instinct the second you feel yourself begin to throb again.

"Are you?" he asks huskily when he pulls away, eyes dark but tired, "Are you my good little Christian girl, baby?"

You nod, swallowing down your arousal, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

"You gonna let me touch you while I teach you guitar?"

You nod again, biting back a whimper, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

His eyes dart back down to your lips, hand on your back traveling downward to cup your bare ass beneath the nightdress, "You gonna let me fuck that soft little pussy while you play one of your hymns?"

"Yes, Mr. Miller," you repeat, leaning forward to bury your face in his warm skin and inhale him again, moan softly against the hair on his chest, "Yes."

He squeezes your ass for a moment and then brings his hand back up, pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you tightly, "See, babygirl?" he whispers, "Told you we'll make it sexy."

--

Joel's alarm wakes you around six, rousing you from one of the best sleeps of your life. You open your eyes groggily, feeling him lean over you in bed to turn it off, warm chest brushing your arm. You roll over in bed and cuddle into him again, humming sleepily to yourself when he pulls you in close.

"I gotta get ready for work," he murmurs gently into your hair, "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to go."

You frown sleepily but don't have the energy to protest, eyes closing again as you melt back into his pillow. You feel him release you from his embrace and press a kiss to your forehead, a simple reminder that this isn't some dream you're having, it's somehow reality. You smile and fall asleep again within seconds.

--

He wakes you up again after about half an hour, seats himself on the edge of his bed and strokes your hair. You peer up at him with a sleepy and satisfied expression, unable to stop the words that fall immediately from your lips:

"Kiss me."

He doesn't need convincing, still thumbing your hair behind your ear as he leans down and kisses you softly, bumps your nose against his and lets your tongue lazily explore his mouth, tasting mouthwash. You sigh contentedly, pulling back to smile at him while he strokes your cheek.

"Sleep good?" he asks you softly.

You nod, remembering the closeness the two of you had shared all night, the soft hugs and tender cuddles, the quiet intimacy you've never experienced with anyone else. "Amazing," you whisper.

He kisses you again before you get out of bed, then takes your hand as he leads you downstairs. You grab your jacket on the way out of his bedroom, still hanging on the back of his door. You look down at yourself as you both reach the top of the stairs, realizing there's no way you'll be able to walk home in an outfit like this without certainly being accosted by a nosy neighbor.

You push down your worry when you reach the kitchen, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face when you see that the kitchen table is set with breakfast; scrambled eggs and bacon.

"You made me breakfast?" you ask in awe, looking from the food to Joel and back again.

He laughs, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup, "I did," he says with a smile, "And as much as I'd love for us to just sit and enjoy it," he looks down at his watch with a grimace as he takes a sip of coffee, "we have about ten minutes before I gotta drive you home and then get to work."

You sit down at the table, picking up your fork and immediately digging into the eggs, "You're gonna drive me home?"

He seats himself across from you, watching you enjoy what he'd cooked with a fond smile, "Can't have you walkin' home in that tiny little thing, can I?" he says teasingly, "Your parents would wring my neck."

You groan, "Oh god, please don't even joke about that. If they knew..."

He just chuckles and starts to eat, looking up every now and then to give you one of those crinkly-eyed crooked smiles that makes you weak. You smile through mouthfuls of food and feel your skin alight every time you feel his gaze on you.

"I don't usually eat this fast, I promise," you say through a mouthful of bacon, covering your mouth, "It's only 'cause we're on a time crunch."

He shakes his head, still smiling, "You're so damn cute."

You try your hardest not to reach across the table and pull him toward you for a kiss.

--

The drive from his house to yours is extremely short, no less than two minutes. Still, you enjoy the short time you spend in his truck, his big hand spread out on your bare thigh while he hums along to a tune on the radio and gives you soft little sideways glances that makes your heart flutter. You can't help but feel like someone else when you're with him, someone more carefree and outgoing, happier and more experienced. It's only when you slowly near your house that you realize maybe this person is who you really are.

"Stop here," you tell Joel with a grimace, still a few houses away, "My parents are still home."

"How're you gonna get in?" he asks with an edge of concern to his voice, eyeing your house, "Think you can climb the fence?"

You bite your lip, "Probably. I've never done it before but I don't have much choice," you lean your head against the backrest in irritation, "God, why did I choose now to rebel? I coulda learned how to do all this shit when I was a kid if I hadn't been so obsessed with being perfect."

He gives you a sympathetic look, thumb stroking your thigh reassuringly, "I'll stay right here 'til you're inside."

You yearn to lean over the small space between you and kiss him, but you know there's always a risk of a neighbor coming out of their house and seeing you. Instead, you place your hand atop the one on your thigh and squeeze his fingers gently, giving him a small smile.

"I had a really nice night," you say quietly, unsure how exactly this kind of thing is done, "And morning."

"So did I, sweetheart," he replies, voice tender, "We'll do it again, promise."

With one final squeeze of his hand you slip out of his truck, tying your jacket around your waist to cover up your legs a bit. It leaves your upper half more exposed than you'd like, your eyes going wide when you realize how much cleavage this nightdress really shows.

"Here," Joel says, understanding your reaction immediately, "Wear this on top." Without giving you any time to protest he's unbuckling himself to undo his plaid button down, shirking it off his shoulders and handing it to you. It leaves him in a t-shirt and jeans, your eyes trailing to his strong arms without meaning to, the arms that had held you close all night.

"Thank you," you murmur, brow furrowing a bit, "You're sure?"

He smiles crookedly and buckles up again, "I'm sure, angel. You keep that."

Your heart flutters as you wrap his shirt around you, slipping your arms into the much too long sleeves and inhaling the scent of him - your new favorite smell - surrounding you. You're never getting rid of this. Ever.

With a wave you hurry down the sidewalk, feeling slightly ridiculous in your layered and baggy outfit but relieved that you're covered up. You eye the tall white fence of your backyard, trying to formulate a plan in your head as you go. Hop the fence, get a ladder from the tool shed and climb up to your bedroom? But did you even leave your window open? You can't help but feel rage in your chest for your parents rules, the curfew, all the nonsense you've been living with for your entire life. Why the fuck don't you have a fucking key to your own fucking house?

You can feel Joel's eyes on you when you reach the fence, still sitting in his truck a few houses down.

Please, God, you think to yourself as you slip one of your sneakers in between the fence posts and yank yourself up, I know I've sinned. I know I'm a mess. And I'm not even sure I really believe in you anymore. But please, if you're there, don't let me make a fool of myself in front of Joel Miller.

Surprisingly, your prayer seems to work. Climbing up the fence is relatively easy; you keep an eye out for your neighbors as you quickly pull yourself over and flop down on the other side, extremely grateful that neither your jacket nor Joel's shirt gets caught on anything. You hurry to the tool shed, eyeing your bedroom window as you go and feeling beyond relieved when you see that it's wide open; God bless Texan summers.

You decide to wait inside the tool shed until your parents are gone, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself with the ladder. You close the door behind you and sink to the concrete floor, heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you've just done overwhelms you.

You snuck out to see a man. You slept in his bed. He drove you home so you could sneak back in.

Quiet laughter fills the tool shed, all coming from your own mouth. You grin to yourself and shake your head in the darkness, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes. Who are you? Who is this new person you've become? You don't know, but you love her.

You find yourself pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket and typing out a new message, but this time it's not to Joel - it's to your friends from college:

i think i'm officially a bad girl.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden. 

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay. 

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly. 

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice. 

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break? 

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.”  You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.” 

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back. 

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

[marnikula]

Can u do early seasons spencer x reader who has a lot of problems and they let people walk all over them and they dont set boundaries and they struggle with their emotions. Reader likes spencer a lot but doesn't seek him out bc they feel like he deserves better! And u can decide what happens but make it happy ending :)

Oh my word, I literally spent like 2 hours writing this because I wrote something and then my internet cut out when I posted and now it's lost, so I had to rewrite it. Hope you enjoy!

Cw: gn reader, people dumping work on reader, Spencer being cute

Enjoy!

You were a doormat. You knew it, your friends knew it, everyone knew it. You tried to set boundaries, to say no, but it never seemed to stick. Saying no made you feel guilty, it made you feel like a bad person even though you knew you weren't.

Being a doormat, people tended to walk all over you, requesting ridiculous things of you. That is how it came to be that you were sitting alone in the bullpen, the clock ticking away, showing you that it was around midnight and you still had a whole stack of papers to go through. You felt yourself about to fall asleep, and truly, you were too tired to fight it off when a ding signaled the arrival of someone.

Without even turning to look who it was you knew it was Spencer Reid. You recognized his footsteps, and even if you didn't, the smell he brought with him would have alerted you. It was the smell of coffee mixed sweet undertones, almost as if he had spent his whole day in a café. It was intoxicating. "What are you still doing here?" "Working, I have a lot of stuff to finish before tomorrow" "you mean today" looking back at the clock you could see he was right, it was now officially the next day.

"Do you need some help?" without even waiting for you to decline Spencer took half of the pile you were working on. He moved fast, knowing you well enough to know that you hated asking for help, especially from him, he just could never figure out why.

"Spencer, you really don't need to, I've got this" reaching your hands to take the files back only to be swatted away by the doctor was something you did not expect. "I'm not saying you don't have it, I'm just going to help you so you can go home earlier"

Sighing you admitted defeat and went to go make coffee for the two of you. With Spencer's help you managed to make it through the massive stack of papers on your desk in less that an hour, something you would never have been able to do on your own.

"You, doctor Spencer Reid, are amazing, what can I do to thank you?" it was a slight tease on your part. You didn't expect him to ask you anything return, it wasn't like him, he was too nice . That was one of the things you loved about him, and one of the reasons you willed the crush growing in your heart to shrivel up and die. He deserved so much better than you. Someone with a mind as amazing as his own, someone with kindness rivaling his and someone who knew how to say no. You were none of those. At least not in your own eyes.

"You could go on a date with me" Spencer surprised himself with those words, he really hadn't meant to say them out loud, but he really liked you, and in a moment of confidence inspired by sleep deprevation, he decided to take a chance.

"Really? You mean it?" the both of you were blushing hard at this point, him thinking about how he could have possibly screwed this up and you thinking about how this could possibly get any better.

"I-I mean, only if you want to, you really don't have to feel pressured, I know I said I would take it as paiment, but honestly spending time with you was enough of a payme-" grabbing his face in your hands you turned him to look at you, shutting off his ramblings with the movement and shutting off his brain with your words

"I would love to"

[aka-indulgence]

Gentleman

Thank you @skelliefanatic for another commission! They wanted a Buckshot roulette Dealer and man do I need More Dealer huehuehhe Commission Info

(The Dealer x Female!Reader)

Working at a club wasn’t fun. The lights, the sounds, the smell (ugh, the smell), not to mention the people…

There is an upside to working there though. The owner of the establishment was a nice, polite, respectful man. Even if his face looked like something out of a nightmare.

TW: Guns, injury and blood, general club stress (canon typical stuff)

———

You were not having a good time.

Your head pounded, and the time you should’ve spent walking to the bus stop was taken by having to deal with a rowdy drunkard until eventually you resorted to asking the bouncer for help. It wasn’t realistic, but you hoped to go home before the last bus- at 1-2AM. You asked your boss to go home earlier tonight; you were exhausted and easily overwhelmed tonight. He did give you permission (you think he might have a soft spot for you), but despite his goodwill you ended up missing it anyway.

You might’ve had a bit of a panic attack… just a little one. You fled to the bathroom and locked yourself in there for about half an hour. The music was too loud, the thick smoke was nauseating, and if you had to stand under the flashing neon lights for much longer you think you’d start screaming. The stalls muffled the sounds a bit, which was better than nothing. (Though you did hear a couple of girls come in to… expel their stomachs. That didn’t help.)

When you got out, it was clear to anyone that you weren’t ok. The bartender, Jacob, took one look at you and grimaced.

“Hey, you look rough. Do you want something from back here? Dealer probably wouldn’t mind if it was you to be honest.”

“No thanks. I don’t really wanna get sick tonight.”

“Fair enough,”

You tried to help him out even though you knew you wanted nothing to do with the club patrons right now- but he was kind enough to give you reprive and let you stay at the back of the bar for the rest of the night.

After many long hours, the club finally closed and everyone dispersed. You felt like you could take a good long breath; and it meant the next bus was coming soon.

You took a peek out the door. The sky was as dark as ever and you could feel an immediate chill down to your bones, even though you only opened the door a crack. The music’s off and so were all the lights of the club, except for the bar. Your eyes and throat feel dry. You can tell your muscles were going to be sore once you got home, and honestly, you might sleep on the bar floor if the club wasn’t so eerie.

For the record, you do prefer a closed club over the sensory overload that was an open one, but the silence is deafening and this building always felt haunted when it wasn’t in use.

You really didn’t want to go home in the dark. You don’t feel safe- not that you ever did, but you were especially tired tonight and you don’t think you’ll be aware and alert enough to be walking home in the dark. But you also don’t think you have it in you to stay in the club until six… if you’re going home, you have to go now. The next bus won’t come for another hour.

Not like leaving in the early morning is any more dangerous than going at midnight. … I think…

Might as well.

You yawn and toss your coat over your shoulders when you hear heavy footsteps approaching.

Even though you could guess who it was, you yelp and drop your bag when you see the Dealer’s large face in front of you.

“Careful, angel. You never know when there’s a greedy monster’s lurking around these parts,” the Dealer laughed, catching your bag and returning it to you. “Of course, it’s always a pleasure to see you but… why are you still here? I thought I told you you could go home early if you wanted.”

“Oh um, yes but… I missed the bus.” You sighed. “There was a guy we needed to kick out, and by the time I looked at the clock I realized I missed the last one.”

The Dealer frowns and tsks. “Those are the kinds of men I wish were upstairs with me instead. Sorry you had to deal with them, beautiful.”

“Th-thanks!” You mumbled. You never knew what to do when he calls you those things… it’s always more respectful than what you’d expect him to say.

“So are you… done… up there…?” You floundered. You didn’t really know what goes on upstairs, just that the Dealer spends all his time up there and you hear what sounds like gunshots but uh… you try not to think about it too hard!

Sometimes it was a bit of a gamble whether or not the Dealer was going to show face at all, usually towards the end of your shift. There are nights when he comes down full of life and beaming his razor-grin, nights when he comes down heaving and ask for an obscene amount of beers, and then other nights where he doesn’t show up at all… and the upstairs is quiet. Jacob tells you that out of all nights not to go upstairs, it would be the quiet ones.

The Dealer smiled sinisterly, grabbing a tissue from over the bar counter and wipes the ends of his teeth.

“... Yes… It was a plenteous one.”

You can’t tell in this lighting. The Dealer’s teeth never looked ‘right.  Crooked, sharp, too many, and stained a rusted color, and right now it looks redder than usual. Bright red. Whatever it was, it stained the tissue the Dealer used and it almost looked like…

You swallowed.

“That’s good to hear!” You think? “Thank you Dealer, boss, sir. I have to go now- the bus comes in twenty minutes and it’s a fifteen minute walk from here.”

You don’t know what to call him sometimes. He prefers the name ‘Dealer’ the most, and that’s what most people call him. You don’t think that’s his real name, but no one knows his real name as far as you know, and the man (if he even is one) is cagey about it.

(“Boss? No… just call me Dealer, angel. Everyone does.”

“Is that… your real name?”

“Practically. Besides… I love hearing it from you.”)

“Who are you going with?”

“Um… no one,”

“What?” Dealer scowled, “what about the boy?”

“Jacob had something else to do, he’s not taking the bus my way tonight…”

The dealer strides past you towards the door and opens it wide. A cold, dark street looks back at him. He seems to be thoughtful… then turns to you with conviction.

“... Right, c’mon treasure, I’m coming with.” The Dealer barked, tossing his trench over himself.

“I- really?”

“Yeah. Now what kind of boss would I be if I let a beautiful thing like you walk alone down those streets?”

Your eyes… sparkle. You’re touched. You’ve been dreading the walk home to the point that you almost considered crying in the bathroom until the sun rose, but now that you’re going to have a large, menacing presence lumbering near you, you feel your stress melt away. Even the scariest club goers pale whenever they see his face.

“Th-thank you so much! That’d be great”

He extends his arm towards you like a gentleman. It was almost hilarious how big his arm was, built more like a log. You’re happy to take it.

“Let’s catch that bus of yours, shall we?”

*****

The walk to the bus stop was the most atmospheric it’s ever been. Walking down these streets were always so tense. Granted you only started working at the club only recently, but you don’t think you’ll get used to the walk home in the dark anytime soon. And you’ve had your fair share of walk-home-alones before, and they never get any better no matter how many times you’ve done it. It’s dark, you always need to pay attention and sometimes even that’s not enough. Fast walking, hoping that man behind you isn’t actually following you…

But now, with Dealer next to you? He walked leisurely with a smile. Even hunched over he was the biggest man you’ve ever seen. You felt like you didn’t have to on the lookout, even enjoy the breeze a little.

“Is your home this way too, Dealer?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I’m not going home.”

“...?” You tilt your head at him. “You mean you’re staying at the club?”

“Mhm. Don’t have anywhere else I need to be.”

“... Do you live in the club?”

Though he didn’t have pupils, it looked like the Dealer was looking somewhere else, and his hollow eyes crinkled. “You could say that.”

… Why did he have to be so enigmatic? What does he mean when he says things like that?

“What about you, angel? How’s yours?”

“It’s nothing that fancy,” you laughed awkwardly. “Just the usual shoebox apartment, just a couple of bus stops from here. It’s not the best but…”

You trail off as something catches your eyes. You purse your lips, looking nervously at a group of smoking men in the alleyway. Their eyes were seedy and all of them had an unpleasant scowl, cigarettes stuck between their teeth. You looked away too late, because they turned to glare at you.

It didn’t last long, though.

The Dealer looks over your shoulder and flashes his toothy, red grin.

“Good evening.”

The men’s eyes all widen like saucers and in an instant they scramble out of sight.

… You walked closer to the Dealer and held his arm.

The Dealer chuckles. “You can relax, angel. Those boys won’t bother us.”

“Do you know them?”

“Yes. One of their men died in the club.”

You blink your eyes and shook your head in disbelief. This information, given to you so freely- and the Dealer didn’t seem all that bothered by it.

You bit your lip, thinking about the questions you shoved under the metaphorical bed all this time. You thought about the gunshots you hear from upstairs.

You look up at him.

“Dealer?”

“Yes?”

Rip the bandage off. He doesn’t seem all to bothered by it anyway.

“Can I ask what you usually do upstairs?”

His eyes widened a little, looking more alert. You expect him to react emotionally- not sure in what way, but he doesn’t emote beyond that. It was less like he was upset and more like he was excited.

“I run a game up there. A gambling game. If you’ve noticed, I don’t really pay attention to the club… I have someone else deals with it, I’m simply the de facto owner. The game is where I pour my attention.

“It brings all the gamblers who’s willing to bet their life away, which is most lucrative… not to mention, fun.”

Your brows furrow. The Dealer looks at you knowingly.

“You’re wondering about the gunshots, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Go ahead, ask.”

The Dealer looks so… unbothered. From the way the other people in the club frown and speak vaguely about it, you thought the Dealer would be equally as secretive about his activities. Thinking back at it, you realized how many players you must’ve encountered on the job- people who walk in disgruntled, sometimes drunk, sometimes just obstinate, almost angrily asking where the ‘roulette’ is. Of course you didn’t know anything about a game, and had to be saved by Jacob who quickly sent them upstairs.

You hem and haw as you ask the question: “So um… those are… were those for the… cheaters…?”

The Dealer laughs.

“Cheaters? No, not most of them. It’s hard to cheat in front of me and get away with only a few gunshots,” the Dealer looks on darkly.

“So… you’re just killing gamblers?”

“It depends on how the game goes whether they die or not, though most at least stand in the doorway of death. But they’re definitely getting shot.”

You would’ve stopped walking right there if you didn’t remember you were trying to catch the bus. The Dealer slows down his walking pace a little for you.

“How can you just say that so easily?” You ask, less judgemental, more genuine, distressed confusion.

“You can only play once you discharge any claims towards me and my parties by signing the waiver. It’s legally binding.”

“So basically them telling you they allow themselves to be shot?”

“Something like that.”

The Dealer summarizes. “It’s a game of roulette, but with a shotgun. Buckshot roulette. We take turns with the gun, either choosing to aim the barrel to yourself or the other player.”

So… it’s like russian roulette, as you know it.

You knew whatever was happening upstairs had death written all over it, but you didn’t know it would be something as harrowing as literally gambling with your life.

You’re shaking a little when you ask again.

“H… have you ever gotten shot?”

You’d guess at least a few times, right? He’s lucky that none of them hit his vital organs or…

The Dealer snrks.

“Lots.”

“... Huh?”

You look again at the edge of his mouth, something glistening under the broken street lamp. He’s still holding the tissue from earlier, crumpled and messy in his fist. … It looks much redder than it was before.

“Defibrillators and blood transfusions work like a charm,” he says matter of factly, winking at you.

… You… you don’t think it works that way???

The Dealer takes one look at your flabbergasted face and laughs.

“It gets my blood pumping… after I get my face blown off. Exhilarating,”

Your mouth hangs open.

“How are you alive after all that?” You cry helplessly, “Are you sure you’re not up there fighting, I don’t know… gang members or something?”

“No, they know not to. They have no reason to, after all. Don’t want to knock on the devil’s door so to speak.”

As you wonder if you’ll ever understand the Dealer’s cryptid wording, you find the only pleasant part of the street. The bus stop was up ahead, sitting in an island of yellow light from a street lamp that was actually upkept. The street itself was empty and silent.

Of course, you didn’t realize how most cleared out as soon as they saw the Dealer.

You run up to the time table and open your phone to check.

You sigh. “Phew, just in time. It’s gonna come here in a bit.”

The Dealer stops short of the street, his shadow long and dark under the light. You turn to him and smile.

“Thank you so much for accompanying me, Dealer,” you say softly and sincerely.

The Dealer blinks owlishly at you. His smile stretches and his cheeks darken a little. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was a blush.

To be honest, there was a small part of you that didn’t trust the dealer completely and hoped it wasn’t a ploy for something more nefarious… and it wasn’t. Though now that you think about it again, you were also alone with him in the club, as the others had left earlier. If anything, it’d be the best place to jump you…

You’re glad he wasn’t like that.

You step back when he bends down on one knee. He was still taller than you, and when he places his goliath hand on your shoulder you’re reminded of a parent talking to a child.

“Be careful with your life, ok angel?” He says, his forehead pinched. “I never want to see you lying dead on the ground.”

You give him an appreciative smile. It’s… really sweet, coming from him.

“I will.”

It isn’t much, but he seems reassured by that. He leans in a little and for a brief moment you thought he was about to kiss your forehead, but he braces himself on his knee and stands back up.

You both turn as the bus appears out of the corner, the lights shining into your eyes. It creaks and steams as it stops, and the door folds open. You quickly climb onto it and shiver when you’re blasted by the heater- glad to be out of the cold. You turn to wave at the Dealer, but by the time you do, he’s no longer there.

You stand there dumbfounded as the door closes quietly, and the bus rumbles as it departs. You stare at the lonely bus stop until you can’t see it anymore and finally take one of the many empty seats.

…

Now you’re really questioning whether he’s human or not.

[bts-0t-7]

So What? | MYG | Chapter 2

Pair: Hybrid Cat Yoongi x F Reader 

Summary: Running from a past that foreshadows him, Yoongi is adamant about ever turning back to his human counterpart form, in hopes that nobody would recognise him and take him away. You worked at a cafe with your best friend. As a more-than-normal day seemed to go by, you discovered something amidst your housing block. Perhaps - just perhaps, the nighttime is where the angels arrive. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au

Warnings: Contains explicit language, abuse

WC: 2.1K

Taglist: @bearr02 @svnbangtansworld @vintageoldfashion @rkivemaar

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Three days passed with the same and the schedule between the both of you remains the same. The black cat - you should really start to come out with a name for it - will only come out from the sofa when you feed it, never allowing you to pet it and only starting to eat when you turn away. But you started to get worried. Its fur was matted in blood and you were afraid that it had sustained severe injuries. You wanted to give it a bath to see how bad the injuries were but it was extremely on edge. 

You sighed. Your work shift starts in over an hour and you still need to travel down. You left your room and prepared a big bowl of food and water, placing it at the edge of the sofa. 

“I’m going to go work now, kitty. Don’t eat everything for lunch. Keep some for dinner. I’ll be back before midnight.” You waited to see or hear any response from it but, nothing. You didn’t know what to expect - honestly. 

Your keys clanged against each other as you opened the gate and wore your shoes. “Bye, kitty!” You called out one last time as you hastily locked the gates. 

08 33.

You were going to be so, so late. “Damn it.” You looked at your watch. “Never mind.”

You were going to be late, might as well be late. Right? You ran down the block and unlocked your car. Normally your car sits in the parking lot as you prefer the public transport. However, you can’t afford to be late today. There were important events held today and you need to supply them with the necessities before and during the events. 

You drove as fast as the speed limit allows and managed to reach the shop just in time - spare a minute. 

“Y/N! Good, you’re here.” Your boss exclaimed. “You put everything down first and help pack the cart.”

“With the boxes?” You pointed to the cardboard boxes that were strewn across the floor. He nodded. “Which ones?” You started opening every box to peek inside. “And this cart is for which event?”

Your boss helped you carry the correct boxes to wrap, saying, “This one is for the company event. I think it’s called Furman or something.”

You nodded. “I have no idea what that is.” The both of you burst out laughing. “Normal, eh?” 

The both of you worked together in sync and the things were wrapped, packed, and ready to go. 

“What time does the driver come?” You asked as you sat down on the nearest chair. It was only 10 00 and you were already tired. 

Your boss looked up from his phone and said, “In five minutes. Peng just texted and said he will be reaching soon.” You nodded, getting up from the seats. 

The whole day went by as usual - aching arms, spilling coffee and milk, carrying boxes, serving nasty customers, the list goes on. But today, you were more than happy to go home for a whole new reason. You packed up faster than usual and cleaned up like a speeding train, all to go home earlier to see your cat. 

Well, he wasn’t exactly your cat to say.

What the hell do I call him?

Bringing your bag out of the storage room, you turned to ask your boss, “What is a nice name for a male cat but not generic?” 

“That’s a rather random question?” He looked up from behind the cashier. 

“Come on, please? I wanna go home already.” You whined. “I just need some ideas.”

He scratched his chin. “Did you get a cat?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm… Maybe Cookies? Or you can try… What is its fur colour?”

“Erm, black?” Your reply was as if it was a question.

“Blackie? Stormy? Burnt?” He shrugged.

“Hmm, alright thanks.” You scurried out of the shop. “Gotta go, bye!”

You ran for the car park at the back of the building where the store was located and quickly got in. Turning on the engine, you thanked the gods that the roads were fairly empty today, allowing you to reach home earlier than usual. You parked in the multi-story car park where it is sheltered and decided to head over to the nearest supermarket to get some food. 

You headed over to the cat food section, picking out a bag of new kibbles and can food. Then, you gravitated over to the vegetables and meat, chicken, and beef. Maybe some seasoning and a tad bit too many crackers. 

You paid for the groceries and headed up to your block, struggling to grab your keys as you reached your level. You opened your door and ran to the kitchen, putting everything down before rushing back to close the gates. You turned on the lights and started to pack everything into their respective places on the shelves. 

Heading over to the bowls that you have left out for kitty, you spotted that there were only a few kibbles he didn’t finish. You tossed those out and gave them a good wash, placing them on the rack to dry overnight. 

You turned off the lights and cautiously headed to your room, hoping that all the noise you made had not yet woken the sleeping cat under your sofa. But when you stepped into your room, oh, you were so wrong. 

Kitty was indeed asleep but not under the sofa. It hissed at the sudden attack of light that you switched on, scurrying to your pillow’s snout first. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t know you were there. I thought you were sleeping under the sofa.” You dimmed the lights and headed to the closet, walking over to your bathroom from the connection point there. 

Yoongi could hear the water running down the shower room from where he was laying on your bed. He was just about to fall back asleep when you picked him up, making him hiss at the sudden contact. Trying to pry your hands away by lightly scratching you didn’t seem to phase you at all. 

Where are you taking me? PUT ME DOWN! I SAID, PUT ME D - 

“If you want to sleep in my bed, you are going to take a bath first.” You announced, bringing him to the bathtub which you have already filled up with water. 

NO, NO, NO. I DON’T WANT TO BATHE! I WANT TO SLEEP!

You slowly placed him down into the water and he hissed, not wanting to be washed. He sloshed around in the water, attempting to get out but your grip on him was too tight. 

“Come on, kitty. I’ll leave you alone later if you are willing to let me bathe you now.”

Fine. 

So Yoongi floated there, let you wash him up, blow dry his fur, coo over how soft his fur now is, and check his injuries. When he had gotten enough attention, he jumped off the countertop of the basin and trotted back to the pillows with a meow. Letting you close enough was already pushing his instincts, he wanted to rest now and that was exactly what he was going to do. 

Yoongi heard you sigh from the washroom and started to clean things up. He didn’t last too long with the warm pillows and your scent, lulling him into the darkness. 

A few more weeks went by and the schedule essentially stayed the same. Nothing really changed. 

Nothing really changed. 

Food schedules may not have changed but your cat sure did. Kitty, you decided to call it, started to be more comfortable with you after that day you bathed him. His injuries didn’t seem too bad, just a few scratches here and there but have mostly healed over the past few days. You realised that it was indeed a he and that his fur - oh, it was the softest thing you have ever touched. It was even nicer than the fluffy rugs you have lying on the floor of your house. 

Sometimes, you even wake up with him snuggled in between your arms. 

What a character this cat has.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until a few days ago when you realised that your cat wasn’t eating as much as he used to. He ran fevers, occasionally spasming, and always whined for your attention every time you were near. Hell, you think that he probably vomited while you weren’t around too! You decided to take a leave today to see exactly what was wrong with your cat. 

So the moment that you woke up, you prepared to leave for the veterinarian. Your cat, however, did not seem at all fond of the idea. It mewled and clung onto your sofa when you tried to bring it out of the house. 

“Come on!” You struggled. “Come on, kitty, seriously! You have been sick for god knows how long and I’m not going to let you keep going like that!” You huffed. “Come…On! Let’s go already. The faster you finish, the faster we can come home.”

When you finally managed to get him out of the door, he meowed the whole way to the vet, almost ripping apart the towel that you had wrapped him in. You heaved a sigh of relief when you reached and got him into the clinic, heading right to the registration counter. 

“Hello, what are you here for?” 

“Erm, my cat has been having fevers and spasming recently. I would like to have him checked out.” You said, eyes darting around the place, seeing many different animals and feeling real… Out of place. You only fed the stray cats downstairs your blocks but never really had a pet by yourself. 

“Have you seen any doctors or come before?”

You shook your head. “No, we haven’t.”

The receptionist nodded. “How long has this been going on?”

You tried to think back to the earlier times when you started to suspect that your cat was sick. “Erm, about a few - maybe around four - days ago?”

“Alright.” The receptionist typed something into her computer and took out a ticket. “You can head over to the seat and wait for your queue number. It will show up on the screen when it is being called.”

You thanked her and went to take a seat. 

A3009, You read on the ticket. 

“That’s still a long way from ours, kitty. It’s only A286 right now. Hang in there.” You told him as he started to gag after a while. You ran your hands down his back in an attempt to calm him down. 

He started to shift around in your hold and you started to panic. “Erm,” You looked up, trying to ask for help just as he puked, vomit splattering off the floor and onto your shoes. People jumped back and pets got startled. The receptionists and nurses came out, trying to diffuse the commotion and clean the mess. 

You stood there trying to calm your cat down to no avail. “Gods, I’m so sorry -”

“It’s fine.” A nurse said. “I think this is more serious than you may have thought. Go to room five and knock. The doctor there will let you in. The receptionist has already informed her that you would be going first.”

You nodded and rushed to the room on as steady feet as possible, hoping that your quick movements would not trigger him again. 

ROOM 5: DR. PARK JI-HYUN

You knocked and went in, hastily greeting the doctor before explaining what was going on. “I really have no idea and I didn’t know how bad it was. I thought it would have gone away after a while.”

Dr Park conducted some tests and checked his lungs. As the results came back, the frown on his doctor’s brows was not making him feel any better. All the sources online stated that stray cats have a much stronger immune system to counter diseases than domestic cats do, so you decided to try for a few days. 

“I think it isn’t quite the problem of what your cat has eaten or what disease it has contracted.” Dr Park said. She scribbled something on the papers and moved to the screens, calling somebody to arrange for some sort of transportation. 

When she came back, she looked you dead in the eyes and frowned. Sighing, she said, “Goodness, how do I phrase this?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your cat isn’t a cat. It is a hybrid.” 

[kitteneddiediaz]

(Early) Tease Tidbit Tuesday

tagged by honestly everybody since I haven't posted in over a month sorry!

So I'm doing probably my 10th rewatch of Psych, and during one of my favorite Shawn & Juliet scenes I thought it was be so cute to rewrite it with Buck and Eddie. This isn't actually a WIP, just a fun little pre-relationship Buddie thing I wrote. If anybody wants to watch the scene in question, here is a link to it on YouTube. I did kinda switch up the beginning of it - since Buck and Eddie aren't detectives and I didn't feel like flushing out an entire au for just one scene... so if it's a little choppy, no it isn't. I also added a little bit to the bottom to wrap it up nicely since it was hard to do it exactly like it is in the scene... ANYWAY enjoy!

It's well past midnight by the time Eddie pulls up to the roller rink. The parking lot is empty, save for the Toyota Matrix belonging to the attendant - whose name is Sam - still inside, the facility closing up since Saturday Night Skate ended an hour ago. He grabs the skates from his passenger seat and hops out of the truck cab, locking the door behind him and jogging up to the doors of the building.

Sam let him borrow the skates (perks of Sam happening to be Carla's nephew) for a goofy community event the firehouse was hosting, that for some reason involved putting Eddie in skates since he was the only person besides Bobby who wouldn't fall on his face.

They ended up fundraising way more than they were expecting for the community, and despite what he's willing to admit out loud, Eddie really did miss skating, so he can't complain too much. He used to go with his little sisters when Adrianna was thinking about trying out for the roller derby when she was in high school. He practically taught himself how to skate just so that he could teach her.

The spare key Sam gave him slots into the lock on the front doors, and a minute later Eddie is walking through the dark hallways towards the rink, footsteps echoing along the walls.

The only thing that was missing today was Buck - who had prior plans with Kameron and Connor, something about putting in effort to be more than just an ex-roommate and a sperm donor to them. Regardless, Eddie's only a little (a lot) disappointed Buck didn't get to see him skate around the firehouse, weaving in and out of the 80's themed decorations and community members filing in and out of the bay doors.

He walks through the doors to the open skate track, eyes locked on to the skates as he fidgets with one of the wheels. He passes the glide lane into the middle of the rink, where there's a few chairs and speakers set-up.

Just as he's passing by, a figure rises up from the chairs, startling Eddie only a little bit and stopping him in his tracks. There's Buck, sitting down in front of Eddie at the skating rink, looking up at him in surprise, as if Eddie's the one that's out of place here.

"Oh, hey, Eds! What are you doing here?" Buck asks.

Eddie has to shake himself, exhaustion giving way to complete bafflement at Buck in front of him.

"I'm returning my equipment, what are you doing here?"

Buck shrugs, "just hangin'. You know, chillin'. I was actually feeling a little nostalgic." Buck pauses, chuckling to himself. "Remember when I dropped you off here to pick up some roller skates for an 80's themed fundraiser at the station?"

"Yeah... I remember that."

"God, it just... it just feels like it was just yesterday."

"Probably because it was... yesterday." Eddie says as Buck stands up from the chair he's sitting in. The three inches in height Buck usually has on him is weirdly... not three inches. Eddie has to fully tilt his head up to meet Buck's eyes, which is unusual unless they're standing less than a foot apart.

Eddie's eyes drift down Buck's form to land on his feet, "why are you wearing skates?"

"Oh yeah, look at that!" Buck says, looking down at his feet. "I guess I am."

The confusion Eddie felt earlier has increased tenfold, and he's giving Buck a look like he's lost his mind.

"I don't know, uh," Buck continues. "I guess I just thought it was a shame. We have this big beautiful track, and... no one to skate on it."

Eddie looks around towards the glide lane, nodding along.

"It's also been a long while since I've had a good blister." Buck says.

It draws Eddie's eyes back to him, and he can feel his heart rate jump with the look Buck is giving him. Confident, playful, maybe a little flirty. Eddie can feel a blush rising up his face, painting his cheeks and ears a pretty pink that Buck always teases him for.

He doesn't get a chance to respond though, because Buck breaks eye contact to look up at the tech booth that's perched over the entrance doors. He lifts a single finger, making a swirling motion with it towards Sam. Who Eddie didn't realize was up there the entire time since he walked in and started talking with Buck.

Sam's voice filters in over the speakers in the rink, "this will be a couple's skate. Couple's only."

A second later A Flock of Seagulls' Space Age Love Song filters through the speakers.

Eddie turns back to look at Buck, flush spreading through his entire body, heat rushing down his spine, to the tips of his fingers, pooling in his belly. The heavy beating of his heart turns up a notch into full palpitations, and Eddie can't for the life of him remember the last time someone made butterflies burst to life in his belly, warm and bright and colorful, threatening to spill out of his throat if he isn't careful.

Buck just looks at him, a small easy smile tugging at the corner of his lips, eyes crinkled.

The echoing of the guitar picks up, and Buck reaches his hand out towards Eddie. "Come on," he mouths.

"Buck," Eddie says softly, reverently. Unable to fight his own smile pulling at his mouth, nervous energy spilling out of his pores, dripping down onto the floor for Buck to see how happily unsteady he makes Eddie. The spotlight flicks on from behind Eddie in the tech booth, and everything that isn't Buck and Eddie is bathed in darkness, highlighting them alone in the center of the room.

It's not a minute later that Eddie has his skates laced up, following Buck out into the glide lane to drift together against the airy, floaty music filling the space.

Buck stumbles once, towards the middle of the song after they had done a couple laps, and Eddie's arms fly out to catch him, one wrapped around Buck's bicep and the other curled around his abdomen, determined to keep him upright. Buck recovers a little too quickly though, and Eddie pulls his arms back, eyeing Buck suspiciously.

"Did you do that on purpose?"

"No... Maybe... Okay, yes. Yes, I did."

Eddie smiles and ducks his head, entirely flustered that Buck would pretend to almost fall over just to get Eddie's hands on him.

After another lap around the track, Eddie feels Buck reach out, curling his pinky finger around Eddie's.

Eddie grips his right back, stars and butterflies bursting under his sternum anew. They skate in slow circles around the rink for the rest of the song, until it fades out and the spotlight shuts off.

"Sam only promised me one song, and I know you're tired so, we should head out." Buck says, turning to drift backwards in front of Eddie.

Outside, after the skates were put back into the rental area and the spare key was placed back in Sam's hands, Buck walks Eddie to his truck, hand gently resting on the small of his back.

He pauses them at the drivers side door before Eddie can climb in. "Thanks, for tonight. I was a little bummed I didn't get to see you in action at the firehouse."

"Of course," Eddie laughs. "Thank you."

Buck just nods, looking at Eddie with that same stupid boyish grin he had been earlier that made Eddie's insides melt and Eddie... can't look away. Buck is so beautiful under the dim streetlights and the neon lighting of the roller rink sign.

It's Buck who breaks their moment first, looking down at his feet for just a second. "Well, you should get home. And don't forget, I'll be there bright and early to make breakfast before we take Chris to the planetarium."

"Right... I almost forgot."

The grin on Buck's face grows, and he takes a small step forward into Eddie's space, towering over him, close enough that Eddie can see the individual freckles decorating his nose.

"Have a good night, Eddie. I'll see you bright and early." He says, whispering.

And with that he's gone, carrying his warmth with him as he skips along the parking lot to where his Jeep is parked, and Eddie doesn't know how he didn't notice it earlier.

The cool night air is a small reprieve against his heated skin, tempering the flush that's decorated his features since Buck practically jumped out at him inside the skate rink.

He has to take a few minutes once he's inside his car to stop the shaking of his hands. Buck has been a little more flirty with him in the past few months but this is the first time Eddie can truly say that Buck was wooing him. He feels like a teenage girl, remembering how Sophia and Adrianna would talk about the boys they had crushes on like they were the only thing in the world that would bring either of them happiness. He wants to bury his face into his hands, squeal and cry and giggle and- goddamn he's so far gone. He already knew he was, but fuck now that he's been on the receiving end of Buck's charms he knows there's no going back.

It's a full ten minutes before Eddie has himself pulled together enough to start his truck and drive home, but sleep doesn't come as easy as it should once he gets there, too wrapped up in Buck's pretty eyes and toothy grin and open flirtiness.

He wakes the next morning way later than he wanted too, the smell of bacon and chocolate chip pancakes permeating the house, sweet sounds of Christopher and Buck talking and giggling at each other all the way in the kitchen.

Eddie lets out a small happy sigh, burrows a little farther into his pillow, and relishes in the butterflies fluttering around in his belly.

[occasionallyprosie]

Devotion - Chapter 8: "The Wilds Reborn"

Dev wakes up to a familiar boy… one thing leads to another, and somehow he ends up co-parenting with a wolf.

Read On AO3

First

<<Previous | Next>>

----

Dev roused when a presence approached and was instantly aware of the thick darkness in the air. It was still there, and it was strong.

"Wow," a soft voice breathed. "No, Wolfie, stay back."

A whine. Footsteps.

A hand around his hilt. A familiar soul—

He went willingly. Maybe if it had just been Fi, he would've expected her not to even allow him to draw her. She was barely strong enough to keep shape, and Link was weak, extremely so.

Dev was maybe half capacity. He let the sunlight go to Fi and he took form in front of Link, kneeling in front of him.

Something snarled and lunged.

Dev didn't flinch, just went intangible and the wolf flew past him. He couldn't help but snort a bit.

"Wolfie!" Link scolded. "I'm sorry—You... I know you."

Dev looked up at Link. He gave a sad smile. "Hey, Cub."

A glazed look fell over his eyes and Dev looked at the wolf, which looked at him oddly.

"I'm the spirit of the Master Sword," Dev told the wolf, a past wielder who Dev had never met. There was awareness behind those midnight blue eyes, a sort of understanding, recognition even. Dev looked at Link, who was staring at nothing. The scars on his face...

Dev cupped his face, wanting nothing more than to soothe such injuries, but he sensed no pain in his wielder. 

How he wished he could've prevented him being injured at all. How could everything have gone so horribly wrong?

"This is your fault."

Whine. "How is this my fault?!"

"You've been with him since he woke up. This is completely your fault, you're his responsible adult!"

A blazing fire behind the wolf and sword spirit was all that remained of a monster camp, Link cheering happily as he walked over to gather the spoils.

"Not my fault!" Huff.

"It so is. When he used my methods, the fire would already be out. The trees wouldn't still be burning!" Dev froze. "The trees!"

Ice rod drawn and soon the air cooled from blazing flames.

Dev started making Link train with him.

He used his tornado rod, tapping Link’s leg and arm gently into place.

"Your form is off, you have no knowledge of how to hold that sword much less manage to wield it without breaking it. I'm not letting you wield me and Fi until you can use a regular broadsword without breaking it."

Link groaned, swatting his magic rod away. "Oh come on, Dev! You're a legendary sword! I doubt it’s even possible to break the Master Sword.”

No. None of that. Dev grabbed Link's shoulders. "Fi died once. I had to replace her, cub. I was a regular Hylian once, and I tried to fix her, goddesses I tried. All I did was fix the blade, her spirit decayed, and after a few years I became the new spirit. Right now her spirit is fine, just exhausted, but the blade won't be able to take much abuse."

Link visibly faltered.

"I'm not telling you that you're wrong or that you're a bad fighter, honestly, you're a wild one." Wolfie made some sort of huffing noise that sounded almost like the dog equivalent of a laugh. "It's incredible what you can do. But you treat your swords like a club and don't even do basic weapon maintenance."

"Weapon maintenance?" Link questioned.

Dev gave Wolfie a disappointed look. He pointed his ice rod at him. "Your fault."

Bark. "Stop blaming me!"

"I'll show you how to do weapon maintenance, then how to use a sword without breaking it. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be able to fight hordes of monsters with only one sword... and a wolf."

Link snorted.

Link beat Ganon, Wolfie disappeared before the end of it, and after a few months, Link disappeared.

Dev was used to it by this point, both of his former wielders had disappeared too. He hunted those portals again, burning and slaughtering the monsters that came from them. 

Eventually, far earlier than the last two times, a portal formed near him and it wasn't monsters that came out of it.

Link was back, and in tears.

"Cub!" Dev spotted him near immediately.

Link saw him and he ran to him, collapsing into his arms and sobbed.

Dev gave a worried look but he wrapped his cub up in his arms and cloak, cooing softly. "Hey, hey what's wrong?"

"I had to leave," Link cried. "She called me back and we're not done."

Dev didn't understand, not completely, but he could figure it out. He rubbed Link's back. "If there's anything I've learned, she never lets you leave things half finished. You'll—You'll go back, okay?"

He inhaled shakily. It took some time before he was breathing stably and not breaking down.

Several years later, Dev was carrying a torch as he followed Zelda below Hyrule Castle, just beside Link. He raised the torch higher, scanning the walls and its engravings. It was new, or well, newer than the ruins that remained from when he was alive. But still ancient… had he really been around so long? That some things called ancient were far, far younger than him.

"Recognize anything, Dev?" Link asked.

"Nothing," Dev admitted. "Some of the architecture a few floors up was familiar, but this is completely new to me. Not older than me, probably from a time I was absent from Hyrule or dormant."

“How interesting," Zelda breathed, brushing her fingers against the stone walls. “It’s… incredible, truly incredible.”

They went deeper. Dev sliding ahead of Zelda, as they moved things were getting… darker, something dangerous was deeper in these catacombs. As much as he wanted to have them both leave, handle the problem himself like he would have so long ago, that wasn’t an option. He wasn’t the hero anymore, he could help and protect, but he’d retired a long time ago.

“Something dangerous lurks below,” he said lowly. “If you wish to avoid battle, then we should turn back.”

Link and Zelda shared a look before shaking their heads. Dev nodded and he moved on deeper, the young hero and princess behind him.

At the base of a set of stairs, the walls opened up into a huge chamber. A large circular chamber, one with a dais at the middle of the room with some skeletal creature on it… one he didn’t recognize. It was no monster he had faced before, but the malicious darkness that enshrouded it was familiar. Too familiar… and far stronger than what he recognized it.

A green hand, one in a magic completely unfamiliar to Dev, ceased holding the skeleton down, it and a golden stone falling to the ground. The skeleton’s head turned, and from that moment, everything went by so fast.

The skeleton spoke, something about a Rauru and trusting Link.

Then the malice around it reared up, swarmed around, its power exploding around them. Dev dove forward, it was his job, his and Fi’s duty to protect the hero from darkness, and his duty to protect every scion of the goddess, every one of hisZelda’s descendants.

He pulled his energy into a shield, blocking both his spirit and Zelda from the attack. Link disappeared from Dev’s senses as he focused them to hold back the barrage of power—

It suddenly reared back, pulling back into nothing before attacking again far more powerfully.

It swarmed, carving holes into his shield and then cutting into him. He almost screamed, all his energy rapidly diverting to protect Fi. She was still in need of more power, she was still weaker than she should be. He had to protect her, he had to keep her safe like she used to do with him—

The malice tore through him, he lost all senses.

He couldn’t even protect Zelda and Link anymore. As the attack let up, he fell, pulling what remained of his energy together quickly. He had plenty, he had enough.

Link grabbed his arm. “Dev—“

The malice reared up again, twisting and diving toward them.

Dev snarled, shoving Link back, and he threw a splitting blast of his own magic at it, trying desperately to protect his—

Everything went white, senses shattered, energy drained in an instant.

Next>>

[magnolix]

demon slayer | tsuguko!y/n headcannons

I got inspired after reading some other stories and wanted to make some personal headcanons as to what y/n would be like as a tsuguko. Hope you all enjoy~

tw: gn!reader, mild cursing, Tengen acts like an older brother, Rengoku doesn't understand personal space, drunk!giyuu

Shinobu:

she actually approached you originally

you were good friends with the boys (tanjiro, zenitsu, inoske) and she wanted to take advantage of your energy

you were also really good friends of Kanao's anyways

while you were a demon slayer, you honestly hated front-line work

if you could, you'd be a kakushi

but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon

after getting the proposal of possibly becoming Shinobu's tsugoku, you declined

"Kanao deserves it more," you told her

Shinobu finally agreed but still took you under her wing in other ways

you left your position as a slayer and became an assistant at the Butterfly Mansion

You worked your ass off studying medicine and all of the different types of ways you could help your fallen comrades

Gyomei

you were there long before Genya

you honestly treated him like a little brother when he was taken on by Gyomei

you yourself had a larger build than most

taller too, almost as tall as Tengen

every day, you'd wake up just a little earlier than Gyomei and start your morning ritual

a hike around the training grounds

another lap, this time sprinting

practicing your total body concentration breathing

and then head back just in time to eat breakfast with your master

he would always go over the same things with you as you were eating together

"Did you sleep well?"

"Anything happens overnight?"

"Were you staying healthy?"

one time you said you felt down and he dedicated the rest of the day to just let you rest

he even brought his cats over for you and Genya to meet

you loved it

Mitsuri

every Friday you two cook together

a big part of her training is exercise so you two can stay flexible

so as a reward, every Friday, you two take over the kitchen in her estate and make a feast of treats

when it comes to training though, she's surprisingly ruthless

she also likes talking a lot

one minute, you two will be stretching and getting ready to start practicing breathing techniques

the next, you two will be talking about bees or something

she's weird like that but it keeps you on your toes

when you learn a new technique, she starts screaming like a little girl when she sees a pony

it's honestly really heart-warming

"I'm so proud of you Y/n!"

sometimes, you work overnight and end up getting drowsy the day after

Misturi's solution?

cold water

lots and lots of cold water

you hate it, but in her defense, it works incredibly well

Sanemi

when he originally scouted you out to be his tsugoku you were terrified

you had heard rumors of his ruthlessness when it came to training

and those were right

mostly

as you started, you were training the entire day

working as much as possible and really stretching your limits

you would be in bed by midnight and up by 5am

but then you started to see a change

your body started to adjust and you were able to train for longer with him

eventually, you two started to train less and compete more

each day would be a sparring match to see if you could beat him

most of the time you'd be knocked to your ass

others, you have to run, screaming that you were sorry for somehow winning

"It's not my fault!"

"GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT-"

every now and then, he brings you by Genya to show you off

you always apologize to him and tell him he's doing great

Genya sometimes comes by and visits in secret

he actually taught you how to make Sanemi's favorite food

that little trick saved your ass numerous times

Rengoku

I'll say this now, he is one ruthless motherfucker

he's never been known to be a kind and easy master

most of the time, you'll spend the whole day practicing one move

"Sir, can we please stop for the day? I can't feel like legs."

"Just a little longer Y/n! You're almost there!"

"You said that 5 hours ago!"

he's very hands-on in training

most of the time he's either right next to you or just eclipsing you to show you how a move is done

safe to say, it gets you flustered quite easily

when you finally do get a break, you're immediately starting to fall asleep

one time, he had to hold you up and help you feed yourself you were so tired

but it does pay off

you got a six-pack in like a week

and your arms,

damn did they get swole

whenever the weather is too bad to train, you both head to his father's estate

the first time you went you stayed outside, not because of Rengoku's orders but because you had heard of what he was like from the other slayers

it was scary too, you heard something crash and you assumed the worst

the second time you went, you actually went inside

safe to say that Shinjuro wasn't the happiest

"Who the hell are you?"

"Y/n L/n, sir. I'm Rengoku's tsuguko."

Shinjuro sent you out of the room before he started screaming at his son

on the way back you talked about it with your master

"Is he always like that?"

"Not always, I'm just thankful he didn't harm you."

that made your heart skip a beat

you didn't realize how much Rengoku cared about you

Muichiro

most days you're just on your own

you don't exactly do much as his tsuguko as he's always distracted

he's also incredibly absentminded

sometimes you're training, but once you go off to do a task you're just entirely forgotten

it's honestly depressing

one time you snuck out to watch Sanemi's training and was brought back like a lost child

you got scolded by all the Hashira which made it even worse

"You really should listen to what your master tells you to."

"He doesn't tell me anything!"

"Don't talk back to me."

after this, Muichiro really had to pay attention to you

he gave you more tasks, more jobs, more techniques to practice, and eventually you were just above him in technique

after that it was just a bit of a waiting game for when he was hoping to retire

Tengen

the first day of training was spent seeing how flamboyant he could make you

I'm talking makeup, clothing, jewelry, he even gave you a vocabulary to pick up

his wives check in on you every now and then to make sure he's not being too much for you

Hina makes you snacks

Suma and you do stretches together

and you go shopping with Makio

Tengen trains for 5 hours a day with you on the art of the sword

after that, it's another 5 hours of breathing techniques and perfecting sound breathing

finally, afterward is other stuff like learning about different weapons, situation training, heightening your senses

one day you two started poison immunity

you were out for weeks after trying to impress him and start off with a large amount

every now and then, you'll see him be more familiar with you

he'll treat you like his own child which, while yes it's weird sometimes, you personally find really endearing

one every month or so he'll take you to sit in on a Hashira meeting

the first time, you felt so out of place, but afterward, the other pillars started to get excited about your arrival

they'd make a whole day of it

you'd get through the meeting

you and Sanemi would spar

Shinobu and Mitsuri would both give you a sort of "check-up"

Rengoku, Giyuu, and you would all practice agility training

Muichiro and you would discuss upcoming events and recent gossip

and Gyomei would always bring you a little gift like a pendant or a book

the moment that Tengen did finally retire really set you back

you didn't know what to do the first few times

you would go to the meetings and bring back the information all the way to his estate

eventually, he had a chat with you

"You know I'm no longer the Sound Pillar, right?" "Yes sir, I know."

"And as flashy as it is of you to visit me every day, you gotta think about yourself now, Y/n."

"I'm trying sir."

"...you know I think the world of you. And I wouldn't have made you my tsuguko if you couldn't handle it."

"Thank you, sir."

Tomioka

he actually made you his tsuguko to prove himself to Sanemi

the master had put on a celebration at his estate for the summer solstice and Giyuu and Sanemi had gotten drunk

"You're so lonely- hic -you only have one brain cell."

"You're so lonely, you can't get your brother to like you.

"You're so lonely, you won't even get a tsuguko!"

"Well, you're wrong!"

it was at this point Tomioka looked around for the nearest slayer, got up, and made a bee-line straight to you

"See you at training tomorrow."

"Pardon?"

"You're my tsuguko now."

as Tomioka wandered back to a crowd of laughing Hashira, you and your friends all started celebrating

the next day, you showed up at his door and he had just finished washing up

after that, he realized he actually had work to do

every day, he trained with you from sunrise till sunset

every minute was spent either practicing with your sword, your breathing, your art style, or your stamina

it actually went surprisingly well

and now, every summer solstice, you and Tomioka come into the celebration to flaunt your skills

Obanai

originally, he took you on because you weren't afraid of Kaburamaru, his pet snake

he asked to watch you fight with one of your fellow slayers and after seeing your potential he agreed to take you on

he was merciless

every day you would be forcefully woken up, eat a quick breakfast, and get straight to training

rain or shine, storm or snow, you would be out there, regretting your life choices and swinging your katana

as you learned more about serpent breathing, you couldn't help but be curious about your master

"Why do you always wear a mask?"

"What's the deal with your eyes?"

"Do you like Mitsuri?"

"Wh-what? No, I don't!"

"Sure."

with your progression going well, one time, he took you to have you evaluated by the master

and by god was he mean that day

he even invited the other male Hashira to show them how brilliant of a tsuguko you were

but alas

"Obanai, you should really lessen the amount of work you're making them do. Y/n tells me they're barely getting any sleep."

the other Hashira's laughing was enough to know you'd be getting scolded

but sure enough, the serpent hashira went a little easier on you

but only a little

[poraphia]

“Cross My Heart As You Crossed The Line.”

➵ PAIRING! teen!rebel!clinic!Wilbur x teen!rebel!reader

➵ CREATING! 9.29.23 | 2347 words

➵ CONTAINING! mini robbery, gunshots and death, arguing, angst.

➵ SAYING! this is the siren x reader enemies to lovers i wanted to work on for SOO long! I really hope this doesnt flop because I’m literally in love with this story. So I hope you enjoy! this chapter is roughly based off favorite crime, but dw its not a song fic! just some inspo and I def recommend listening to it while reading :)

My masterlist :)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Wil, please, I’m not sure about this.” I quickly muttered.

“Oh, come on, (y/n). We’re going to be fine.”

The midnight air sent chills down my spine. The moon shined down on us like it wanted the world to know the dirty crimes we were about to commit. I rubbed my own arms reassuringly, but the feeling of skin-tight gloves against my bare skin just reminded me of our current situation.

We were outside of a stationed train as Wil picked the lock of one of the carts. I glanced around every so often, paranoid for any officers or snitch pedestrians walking by. “I saw them load this cart earlier and heard that one of the crates inside is full of cash. All we gotta do is take it and go.” He smirked. A small hum rumbled in my throat.

“Wil, this isn’t as typical as stealing snacks from the gas station or sneaking out in the middle of the night. This is actually serious.” I whisper-shouted at him. Again, he groaned and rolled his eyes.

“(y/n), honestly, we’ve got the skills to do this. We’re going to make money and you’re finally going to be able to support yourself!” He announced proudly.

“But like this—?! Wilbur—!”

Before I could finish, Wil dropped the lock onto the dirt ground and slid the cart right open. He turned around to face me, a devilish smirk on his face. A smirk that made me weak in the knees. A smirk that he knew I couldn’t say no to. With a defeated sigh, I followed him into the cart, searching for our cash reward.

“It has to be here somewhere…” He thought out loud. I examined the area. There was nothing here other than crates and boxes labeled in sharpie. As I walked while looking around, a rope in the middle of the floor caught my foot.

“Ah, shit—!” I hissed, losing my balance. Wil immediately took notice and rushed to my side. Before I crashed into the ground, he caught me by my waist with one hand, holding me up as my hair brushed the floor.

“Can’t stop falling for me, can you?” He cheekily commented.

“Oh, be quiet!” I exclaimed. Wil helped me up, and immediately I wrapped my arms around him for a quick but passionate kiss. He kept his hand on my hip, pulling me close to his waist. My hands then trailed to his chest, only to lightly push him away. He whined a little as he tilted his head.

“Don’t give me that look!” I lectured. “You wanted to go on this heist.”

“I did…” He said, jokingly sad. I laughed before we continued searching through the piles of crates. Will examined the crates that were on the opposite corner of where I was stood. Most were against the wall and stacked on top of each other. Curiously in one corner there were three crates visible. I lifted the crate that was on the top and luckily enough there was a special crate that was a darker shade than the rest of them. On the top it was labeled: “do not touch!”

“Hey, honey, I think I found it.” I called out. Wil stepped to my side, examining the crate with me.

“Yup, I think that looks like the one.” He said. We worked together to move the other creates out the way, and once we were successful, we placed the special crate in the middle of the cart. I dusted my hands off and looked at him. Wil had his hands on his hips with his eyebrows knitted together. Once he finished his thought, he slid off his jacket and backpack and clasped his hands together.

“Okay, (y/n), here’s the plan,” He said, digging into his backpack. He pulled out a crowbar along with a drama mask that frowned. “First of all, put on your mask because this is when things start to risky.” I immediately obeyed. I placed my backpack onto the floor and pulled out my matching drama mask that smiled. I placed it on my head, making sure it was secure. He nodded before placing on his own mask. “Next, I’m going to open this crate. Once I do, we stuff this money into our bags and don’t look back, got it? We’ll go through the back alleys so that we don’t look suspicious to anyone wandering around the streets.”

I stared at him a bit, my heart beat starting to race. Is this really happening? Are we actually about to rob a train and try to get away with it? There was no turning back now. With a reluctant sigh, I nodded. Wilbur positioned the crowbar between the actual box and the lid. Using all his strength, he pushed down, cracking the wood open and revealing the bundles of cash inside. I stared down at the container in awe, but even then, I could never push that this nagging feeling of guilty and selfishness.

Regardless, I brushed off the feeling for now and began stuffing my bag with as much wads of cash as I could. Wilbur did the same as he crouched down, digging up as much money as he could and stuffing it deep into his bag. The smell of freshly printed money started to fill my nostrils, so much so I felt a little lightheaded. Once I filled my backpack to the brim, I zipped it right up.

As I stood up, not only did the weight of my backpack held me down, but so did this pit in my stomach. Or maybe it was the immense guilt on my shoulders? Nonetheless, I felt like some sort of… Monster—

“This is LMPD! Step out of the train cart now!”

Flashes of red and blue were highlighting our bodies. My heart dropped to the floor as I all I could do was stare down at Wilbur, who was still crouched down gathering money. The beams of blue outlined his hair and body. I looked down at my pants, noticing that only red was all over my body.

Blue

All over his body.

And red

all over mine.

“(y/n), we need to fucking run.” Wilbur said hastily.

“W-What—?” I trembled out.

“LMPD! OUT OF THE TRAIN AND HANDS UP NOW!”

“(y/n), start running now.”

Without thinking, I bolted out of the cart with my legs in total control. Desperately I tried to ignore the blaring lights and screams that were behind me, but the more I did, the more I crumbled in fear. I dodged through the bushes and litters of trash everywhere. My feet slapping against the concrete as it echoed through the alleyways. Soon enough, I spotted Wilbur from above, who was jumping off elevated ledges to catch up with me. He eventually dropped down beside me before continuing to run.

“W-Where are we going?!” I sputtered out. My body ached and I was running out of breath. Ahead of us in this small alleyway was an open view of what seemed to be an open graveyard.

“We’re almost near the hidden exit! Come on, we—!” We exited out of the narrow path only to be welcomed with three police cars and dozens of cops surrounding us. Both of us had paused in our tracks. I stood closely next to Wil as his arm was held out as if to shield me.

“DROP THE CONTRABAND NOW WITH YOUR HANDS UP!” an officer shouted. My heart was thumping out of my chest. I turned to look at Will, but I could just barely read the expression on his face.

Reluctantly, he spoke. “Cover your ears.” He whispered.

“W-What—?!” Tears started to form in my eyes.

“YOU HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE BEFORE WE SHOOT!”

“FOR FUCKS SAKE!” Wilbur threw off his backpack and rushed to cover my ears. I covered my eyes too in a sense of panic. All I could hear was the muffled sound of screaming, but the screaming then turned into gunshots. Gunshots that would pop in your ears if you weren’t getting them covered. I cowered in fear as my knees buckled with each gunshot.

I was in fear, and I was terrified for my life.

But that itch of curiousity was there.

Begging to be satisfied.

My fingers began to part ways with a little light peeking into my vision.

Everyone knows the phrase “curiousity killed the cat,” right?

Well curiousity also killed the cops.

I watched in utter horror as the cops who were once standing before us shot at each other until they saw red.

Red.

Red.

Red.

Gradually, Wil started to uncover my ears. The shooting was over and all of the cops were dead. Wil took a step away from me, giving me space to gain my composure. Each inhale felt like another step from sobbing my brains out, and it was apparent.

“Okay, we have to go now before they send more, come on!” Wil grabbed my hand as he carefully navigated me through the dead bodies and weapons scattered along the grassy patches. I trailed behind, not having the courage nor strength to voice any type of concern. We had finally arrived to an alleyway that was hidden and led directly to Wil’s house just a couple of block from here. From there, Wil let go of my hand, but instead of following him, I stood stiffly with my head down.

“(y/n)..?” Wilbur whispered.

My heart was thumping hard out of my chest as tears quietly streamed down my face. I threw off my backpack in frustration, landing it close to Wil’s feet. Without a word, I began walking away.

“(y/n), hey! We finally did it!” He reached out and held my hand again. “We won, didn’t we? Come on, let’s just go home.” Wil quietly begged. I pulled my hand away, not even hesitating for a bit. Even if he wasn’t wearing gloves right now, I just know that his skin would’ve been cold. Cold and painted in blood.

“Wil, I can’t fucking do this anymore.” I said. “I— I have to draw the line here.”

The world fell silent for a minute. I turned to look at him, but I didn’t see his face. No, instead I was only bet by that drama face frown. It honestly felt like some sick metaphor. Seeing the agony on his face, but it wasn’t even his.

“W-What do you mean?” He stuttered out. He let go of my hand as we both stood facing each other just a few feet away. “Come on, (y/n)! We did it. We have the cash and we got away! What’s the problem?!” He cried.

“This!” I gestured behind me. Though the bodies were out of sight, they were definitely not out of mind. “Fucking killing people, Wilbur?! What is wrong with you?!” I screamed at him. My throat ached from the sob I forced to choke down.

“What’s wrong with me?! (y/n), we could’ve gone to jail. Are you fucking kidding me?! I SAVED YOUR LIFE!” He shouted back. “YOU’RE FUCKING UNGRATEFUL! I helped you get this money so you can finally have some sort of income and I just saved your ass from getting prision for life!”

“WILBUR THAT DOESN’T MEAN KILL PEOPLE! THERE WERE SO MANY OTHER SOLUTIONS.”

The tears were streaming hard now. Thank God I was wearing a mask.

Wilbur, after some careful silence, began talking again. “If you don’t want this, (y/n), you can fucking leave. You can keep living this fantasy that this world is just rainbows and sparkles, but this is the real shit we have to get through in order to get by.” He turned around, picking up my backpack along the way. He walked slowly, as if waiting for some sort of argument from me. Some form of plead that showed that I still loved him.

I couldn’t lie to him.

I just couldn’t.

He stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side so I was at least in eye’s view. “I fucking loved you.” He mumbled. “And I thought you did too.”

Wil was not only my first boyfriend, but was also my first friend. After roughly a year of him moving into West End, we became neighborhood best friends at the age of 13. When we started to go to school together in high school, we started dating. The night of the incident happened when we were 16, and life hasn’t been the same since.

“Delusion?”

I turned around, noticing that Dream was also on the rooftop with me. I sighed before returning my gaze back onto the abandoned train stationed on the tracks.

“I know, patrol time and all. Just give me a moment.” I said, absent-mindedly. He made a noise of confirmation before vanishing behind me.

My name is Delusion. A highlighted hero of The Hero District with the power to enforce visual and audio imageries, fucking with people’s minds. I’d like to believe I’m loved and appreciated in this city, but I know deep down these people fear me. No matter how much I engage with the citizens or how I volunteer to patrol Eastside, I’ve already created a sense of paranoia for them without using my powers.

But at the very least, I’m not using my powers to kill them.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ @deadphantomsociety I KNOW WE BRAIN ROTTED ON THIS LIKE WEEKS AGO BUT I FINALLY DID IT EEEEE hope yall enjoyed!! reblogs and likes and replies are super appreciated and they what help me continue writing! Much lovee

[herofics]

Hii, idk if you take emergency requests, so I apologize in advance if you dont, but i was wondereing if you could please write a hurt/angst/confort oneshot in which Present mic or midnight (or both) walks into their niece room (Aizawa's daughter) and find her attempting suicide. And they they have to tell Aizawa about it?

Thanksss, love ya ✨️

A/N: There’s been a lot of Aizawa lately, but I don’t mind. I consider requests like this to be a priority, so I wrote it as soon as I could. I’m sorry if this is kinda OOC, I haven’t watched the anime in ages, but I tried to do it as well as I could. I still have two more Aizawa requests that are just WIPs at this point, but those are probably gonna take a while, because I wanna write other stuff too. I picked Midnight for this, since I don’t really ever write about her. If you want more of these kinds of things, check out the masterlist in the pinned post

You were sitting on your bed, a pile of pills in your hand, when there was a knock on your bedroom door. You scrambled to hide the pills under your pillow, but a few of them fell on the floor next to the bed.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Auntie Kayama. What are you doing here?” you said as nonchalantly as you could.

“Your dad sent me to check in on you, since he’s gonna be late again tonight” Kayama said.

“No offense but why does he suddenly think I need a babysitter?”

“He’s worried about you… we all are” Kayama said, as she sat down on the chair that was by your school desk.

“You really don’t need to be, I’m fine” you said, looking down at your feet, now noticing the fallen pills.

Kayama followed your gaze down to the floor, now also taking note of the few tablets that were laying on the floor.

“What’s this?” she asked, leaning down and picking up one of the pills.

“Oh, I must have dropped it while taking my meds earlier” you shrugged, evading direct eye contact with her.

“Honey, I know a lie when I hear one” Kayama looked at you compassionately.

You sighed in defeat and lifted the pillow to reveal the pile of pills. You weren’t even sure why you did that, maybe you just wanted her to talk you out of it.

Kayama had heard about what was going on with you from Aizawa. You’d been hurting yourself and acting in a self-destructive manner otherwise too, so your father had been worried about you. They’d agreed that you might have an easier time talking to Kayama, since you’d been so distant with your father lately. She never would have thought her timing would be this on point though.

“Oh sweetie” Kayama said, and moved to sit next to you on the edge of the bed. “Come here” she continued as she opened her arms to hug you.

You leaned against her and let her wrap her arms around you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked as she rubbed your upper arm.

“Honestly, I don’t really know. I just don’t want to bother anyone, I’m enough of a burden already”

“You’re not a burden honey, and you’re not bothering your dad, or me, by talking to us. You can call me anytime if you need someone to talk to, I’d much rather you call me at three in the morning than you hurt yourself” she smiled sympathetically.

Kayama talked with you for a while, and you cleaned the pills off the bed before turning in for the night. She sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea until Aizawa came back. She’d barely drunk any of it, she just sat there, thinking, with the warm cup in her hands. She’d known you since you were just a baby, and you were like family to her. How did it end up like this? She knew Aizawa was a wonderful father, even if a very busy one. Kayama snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the front door open and close.

“Hi” she greeted Aizawa quietly as he walked into the kitchen.

“So, how did it go?” Aizawa whispered as he sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, opposite of Kayama.

“We talked, they definitely need some help, and I don’t know if we’re enough. They were considering trying to kill themself and I’m pretty sure they would have attempted it if I didn’t happen to come by, but I think it’s safe for now. At least I really hope so”

“I knew they were having a really hard time lately, but I was hoping it hadn’t gone this far” Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

It’s not like he was angry with you, he was just extremely worried about you. No parent wants their child to be in pain. It was his job you keep you safe, but how could he when the danger was your own brain? He would just have to be patient, walk alongside you wherever you were going to go, and help you pick up the pieces when you were ready. There was nothing he wanted more than for you to be happy and healthy.

“What am I going to do Kayama? How do I talk to them about this?” Aizawa asked.

“I think it’s best to just be honest. Tell them you’re worried and that you love them. They were worried about being a burden, especially to you”

“I wish they didn’t think that, they’re not a burden, they’re my kid” Aizawa sighed.

This was his first time raising a kid, at least one of his own. He had seen all kinds of teenagers pass through his class, so knew it wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. There was not a single parent on the planet that knew everything their kid was up to, but he just wished he had intervened earlier, maybe he could have stopped things from snowballing to this extent.

“It’s going to be okay, Aizawa. I know things are not going to change overnight, but with a dad like you, I’m sure they’re going to make it through this” Kayama said.

“Thank you, Kayama” Aizawa smiled tiredly.

“I need to head home now, just keep an eye on them and talk to them, but most importantly, listen” she emphasized the last word.

“Good night, get home safe” Aizawa said, hugging his friend goodbye.

“Take care” she waved as she walked out into the night.

Kayama was like family to Aizawa and to you as well, and he was just glad you’d been able to open up to her. He just hoped it would give you the motivation to start talking to him as well. It’s not that you didn’t talk, maybe he just didn’t know how to ask the right questions, but he certainly wanted to learn. For you, he was willing to do anything, for you, his only child he would go to hell and back, especially so you wouldn’t have to.

[cherryxcadbury]

hiii, i wanted to request a gavi x reader where the reader hasnt had proper sleeps thanks to work/university and gavi forces them to sleep, pls?

Thank u 4 this amazing req love

2nd person pov 

"One last bloody paragraph." You mumbled to yourself, thumbs moving rapidly on your phone screen. 

You'd been studying since you got home at 4. It was now midnight. You had economics and statistics exams tomorrow, and an essay due by 9 in the morning. It was safe to say your procrastination had gotten the best of you. You'd been studying for your exams for the past 8 hours and honestly didn't understand much of the what you'd studied. 

But hey, at least you did something. So now youd moved onto typing your essay. But your laptop was broken. So you'd resorted to typing it on your phone. Which, by the way, happened to be quite inefficient. 

"Dios mío. Why is the light still on?" You heard a voice coming from inside your bedroom. 

Your work station was fixated on the kitchen island. Easy access to outlets and food of course. Snacking through the night helped you stay awake. 

"Y/N? Mi amore que haces (my love what are you doing)?" Your boyfriend, Barcelona footballer, Pablo Gavi questioned.

He was dressed in sweats and a nike jumper.  He'd just woken up from his sleep as evidenced by him rubbing his eyes. His natural curls were all over the place, giving him a tousled look. 

"I have some exams tomorrow. And I'm about to finish up my essay." You shot him a tight lipped smile.

He looked at you and rolled his eyes before coming over. You stood up and turned around. Back leaning against the kitchen island. Pablo came over and circled his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"You need to go to sleep amorcito." He mumbled to you, pressing a kiss to your ear.

You sighed, "Sí pero no. I still need to do this essay and my studying earlier didn't exactly go as planned."

"You need sleep to be able to show everyone what that beautiful mind of yours is capable of." He responded, lips still lingering near your face.

You blushed profusely. You always did. Even after almost a year of dating, Pablo's constant compliments messed with your mind. He was always so sweet, so sincere, so genuine. You couldn't help but grow as red as a tomato.

Pablo was so caring. Always encouraging you to get enough sleep. 

He'd say, "Y/N. What you do is way more important than what I do. You're going to run the country one day, and you need sleep."

"Hermosa, that pretty face needs rest to stay as beautiful as it is." He'd tease.

But your university work always came first. You had never ever turned in an assignment late, something you took pride in. Sure you bull shitted a lot of those, but no one would ever catch you not turning in an assignment.

You gingerly pushed him away, "Pablo I have to do this. Otherwise I might fail the course."

Okay, maybe you lied a bit right there. You were far from failing the course.

"Y/N. Come onnnnnnn." He groaned, dragging out the on. 

He tried to bring you to your room to sleep but you refused, not budging. He paused for a bit, deciding what to do. You knew very well that he could've picked you up and carried you to the bed if he wanted to. But he opted against it.

"Fine. Stay up." He seemingly gave up.

A wave of relief flashed over your face. Now you didn't need to fight him on this.

"Gracías ahor-" You started before being cut off.

"But I'm staying up with you." Pablo interrupted.

"Que? Pablito you have a match tomorrow." You reminded, hoping his nickname would convince him to sleep.

Gavi shrugged his shoulders. 

"Just the copa del rey, no big deal." 

You scoffed, "Just the copa del rey."

"Sí. Now come on. Back to work." Pablo instructed patting the seat next to him.

You rolled your eyes and sat, reorganising your notes and papers. You turned to see your boyfriend staring at you, eyes wide. 

"Por que?" You asked, gesturing at his staring.

"If I stare, you'll work more efficiently." He smiled.

Que idiota. 

You shrugged your shoulders and got to work. 

***

Pablo woke up, rubbing his eyes. 

"Ow." He muttered, upon realising he'd fallen asleep at the kitchen island.

Which was hard, very hard.

His eyes moved to the clock which read 2:46 am. It'd been two hours since he'd decided to stay with you while studying. He turned to see you, head against the counter, sleeping peacefully on top of your notes. 

Pablo chuckled at the sight. 

Every part of him wanted to whisper, I told you so I'm your ear. He pulled out his phone and checked his texts. Sure enough, he saw one from Pedri, who was apparently still playing video games at this ungodly hour. 

He snapped a picture of you being a real life sleeping beauty and gently picked you up. He carried you bridal style to your room, plopping you down on the bed a little too roughly.

"Pablito." You mumbled a bit groggily, rubbing your eyes.

"Oops sorry. Did I wake you?" He asked, peering at you.

You shook your head then rolled over to your side to continue your rest. 

"Are you going to sleep as well?" You inquired.

He nodded with a chuckle, "Yeah. Give me a minute." 

While you were soundly sleeping, he was in the kitchen ordering all of your notes in a neat manner, preparing them so you'd be ready to leave the house in a few hours. Pablo then went to join you in bed, getting under the blanket with you. He admired your sound face when you were sleeping. It took a while for you to sleep, but when you did, you rarely woke up. 

"Buenas noches mi amore." He pecked your cheek before dozing off. 

[a few hours later]

@privdepablito

Liked by @pedrigonzalezpriv, @ansufati, and 721 others 

@privdepablito: me & mine 🤍😼

Tagged: @y/f/n.y/l/n30

Comments: 

@y/f/n.y/l/n30: my love 💓🫶

↳@privdepablito: mi niña ❤️❤️

@ferrantorres: que novio 🤩❤️ (what a boyfriend). 

↳@privdepablito: mi bro 🤜🏼 

@pedrigonzalezpriv: so YOURE the reason he didn't play fifa w me @y/f/n.y/l/n30

↳@y/f/n.y/l/n30: go cry about it ✋

↳@privdepablito: tu eres loco pedri como una chupacabra 

@siramartinezc: mamacita que bonita 🤩

↳@y/f/n.y/l/n30: TE QUIERO (i love u) 

@ansufati: boy is in love jajajajaja

↳@privdepablito: mi amigo mejor ❤️

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for caring about my perfect record (and that of my protégée)?

So loads of people seem to think I'm an awful person for this, but I (65?M) am a Prosecutor, and a very good one. I have never received even so much as a mark on my record, or at least I hadn't until roughly 15 years ago (December 2001).

See, I used to have this rival (35?M), we'll call him G. G was a Defense Attorney, and during one of our cases, he proved that some of the evidence I presented was dodgy. I still won the case in the end, but the judge couldn't overlook my "misconduct" and marked it on my record. I was understandably upset, and honestly quite angry at G by this point -- he had ruined my record!

Luckily for me, just as G was leaving the courthouse, an earthquake struck. G was in the elevator at the time, and it got stuck.

Now at this point I should tell you that G was not alone. In the elevator with him were his son M (then 9, now 24M) and a court bailiff who we'll call Y (then 37, now 52M).

You can imagine my surprise when, upon finding the elevator, a bullet shot out through the window and lodged itself in my shoulder! I have recently learned that this was the fault of M, he had thrown Y's dropped gun in order to stop Y attacking G, and then passed out due to lack of oxygen. By the time the elevator doors opened, Y and G had passed out, too

Seeing Y's gun laying on the floor, I suddenly realised what I had to do. I picked the gun up off the floor, and shot G dead. I then feigned shock at the scene, raising the alarm.

Y was accused of the crime, since his gun was the one used, but the court did not charge him as he plead temporary insanity on instruction from his Attorney. M believed he killed his father, still did until fairly recently. He also developed an irrational fear of elevators and earthquakes as a result, which I believe merely speaks to a weak mind but that's none of my concern.

Following G's demise, I took young M under my wing. He wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Defense Attorney, a delusion I swifty put a stop to, instead persuading him to become a Prosecutor like myself, training him to be the best, to fight for a conviction no matter what.

However, recently a "childhood friend" came back into his life. As a Defense Attorney. And he began to try to make M fight for the truth -- as if truth is more important than a clean record! This upstart Attorney also won several cases against M, destroying his record. And M even seemed to be beginning to fall for his "friend"'s trickery!

Naturally I had to put a stop to this, and so I had a letter written to M pretending to be the Attorney who defended Y all those years ago, R (48M), asking M to meet him at a local lake. I then called up R, asking him to go to the location (but earlier than M) and had Y shoot him and throw his body in the lake. Next, I made Y dress up as him, and shoot over M's shoulder and jump into the water (I instructed Y to take M on a boat ride to the middle of the lake). From the shore, this made it look as though M had shot Y (it was a misty night, and roughly midnight). M made it even easier to frame him as, in his shock, he picked up the dropped gun, meaning that when police found him, his fingerprints were all over the weapon. My plan was perfect, as anything by any member of my family should be.

But I failed to account for the amateur Attorney M used to call a friend. He decided to defend M. I thought this would be no big deal, he hasn't even been practicing law for a year yet! But he is thorough, and he can bluff his way through things. He ended up revealing everything, even solving the murder of G right before the Statute of Limitations ran out!! And I have now been charged with murder. All I ever wanted was to protect my record, I think it was all justified. Yeah, yeah, I killed M's father on Christmas Eve so now he has December-related trauma, but this is about me!

TL;DR: AITA for straight up murdering my rival in cold blood, taking his orphaned child under my wing, and then trying to frame said kid for another murder 15 years later? I did it to protect my perfect record, I think I'm justified :(((

[raccoxn]

CONFLICTED FEELINGS • GHOST x TF-141!READER

SCENARIO: you, the reader, have liked Ghost since joining 141. Over the years, you noticed small gestures from Ghost that were definitely meant in a "more than friends" way. in this scenario, there's conflicted feelings between you two, and you want to get to the bottom of this....

**told in y/n pov**

+

Maybe it was the way he looked at me.

Or maybe I was just stupid.

Katsuki kept saying there was something between Ghost and I, but I couldn't see it. Maybe it was because I was a new member that he was constantly by me to make sure I didn't fuck something up in every mission. Honestly, I thought he would rather be with Goose since the two are practically clones...minus the fact he wears a mask and she doesn't...and Goose is very outgoing and will make her feelings known. Either way, I couldn't see what she sees.

At one point, I had Soap come up to me and ask about it. I guess he thought it was unusual for Ghost to be following me everywhere on missions and constantly assigning himself to me all the time. 

Maybe it was him being a good mentor? Like I said earlier, I was a new member.

It was almost midnight when all of us got back to base. Goose and Gaz were rushed to the infirmary since they suffered head injuries and one of them was shot. Price and Soap left with them to make sure they were okay while I was left with Ghost and Alejandro. They didn't have any injuries, thankfully, but we were splattered in the enemies' blood and covered in mud. Alejandro nodded his head to us before catching up with Price and Soap.

Well, Alejandro and Ghost didn't have injuries. For me, I could feel the gash on my thigh sting from the mud stuck to my gear and the bullet wound in my shoulder screamed at me. I was thankful my poncho covered it. I could dig it out later.

Now it was just me and Ghost. 

He glanced to me, his eyes staring blankly into mine as he wordlessly walked past me. While he did so, he grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of the infirmary.

"What're you doing?" 

"Your leg, it's got a nasty gash."

Be yourself. Tease him a bit too. He's a cheeky bastard, Goose's advice echoed in my ears, but I couldn't exactly trust her with this. From what Soap told me, Kat can be full of shit.

But maybe she told some truth? Maybe I could break through some of that harsh exterior he puts up all the time...

"Aw, you like me then?" I asked in a teasing tone. I noticed the grip on my arm tightened as he dragged me along.

"I like you alive and uninjured so you can do your bloody job."

I scoffed at his response but tripped when my leg gave out. He quickly pulled me up like I was nothing, my feet almost dangling from the ground from how rough he was.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

He looked down at me as I limped, my right hand gripping the sleeve of his dirty uniform jacket as I tried to stay upright. Should I tell him about the bullet wound?

"It was need-to-know." 

"I needed to know!"

When Ghost shouted, the soldiers around stared at us. I glanced around to see them all look away and continue what they were doing. Ghost pushed open a set of doors to walk inside one of the buildings, an annoyed huff coming from him.

"You're lucky I noticed when I did." Ghost grumbled. "You we're looking rather pale."

"Tis but a scratch." I said to him before falling forward completely. I landed on my bullet wound but I was too weak to shout in pain as my body relaxed. 

Ghost shook me, shouting for help as a bunch of doctors surrounded me. Next thing I know, everything went dark.

+

Ghost put me on medical leave while I recovered from my injuries. I had to stay in the hospital for a week or more since my wounds were mildly infected and I lost a lot of blood. 

Every morning, I woke up to having a hot cup of tea made for me and a stack of biscuits were beside it. The tea flavors changed every morning or whenever I would go to sleep. Sometimes, instead of biscuits, there would be a small tray of scones. Goose and Soap would come in and eat all of my snacks before I could get to them.

I had a pretty good idea on who was leaving this for me, but I didn't want to assume it was Ghost in case it was actually Price being soft toward me for once.

One day I woke up earlier than usual. That's when I saw Ghost come into my room to set up my tea and give me biscuits. That was also the morning I saw part of his face—his real face. His mask had been pulled up above his nose so he could breathe better. 

I wished I wasn't half asleep when I saw it, but I'm glad I was since I know how he is with his identity. I never brought it up to him, even though I wanted to.

As the week ended, the small gestures turned into ones that were completely obvious. He would offer to clean my guns or sharpen my knives; go over mission reports to file for later; stay with me through the quiet hours of the night just to talk to me. Most it was complaining about how Soap and Goose were more annoying lately. It was funny to hear him say what he did, and it took every ounce in me to not laugh.

My leave was over when I was requested back into the field. All of 141 were against me coming back, but after Goose recalled the time she continued on in a mission with a bullet in her leg and a major concussion, Captain Price allowed me to join. 

Of course, that didn't stop Ghost from being Ghost.

He hovered over my shoulder. He watched me with those piercing eyes that were always narrowed into a stone cold gaze.

After everything, these past two weeks, there was definitely something going on between us. But was I going to be the bigger person and acknowledge it? No, I was not.

Goose made everything difficult by purposely partnering herself with me to get every ounce of info she could get. She wanted to know so badly of why Ghost and I were acting so different toward one another. 

Then the inevitable happened: Ghost and I got split up while on a mission. Our comrades were on standby waiting for us to clear the area so they could get our target.

"Y/C/S. How copy?" (YOUR CALL SIGN) Ghost's voice came through my ear piece as I walked down a gated alley, my pistol in hand. He sounded panicked.

"I'm all right. How about you?" I replied to him as I peered into a window to see if I was clear.

"Better now that I see you."

I frowned, cheeks burning underneath my mask, and looked around the alley. When I looked up into the taller buildings and towers, I saw the glare on Ghost's sniper sight in the moonlight

"What are you? My stalker?"

"I'm making sure you're clear. Focus L/N."

I jumped through a broken window and looked around the abandoned home, seeing some broken glasses and plates on the tables and ground.

"See anything?"

"Nothing but broken dishes. Reminds of my life."

"How so?"

"I'm a bunch of broken pieces that need to be flex taped together. Actually, you could just use desk tape."

"I wonder about you sometimes."

"Same here."

I walked out of the building, but crouched behind the door frame when a car came out of nowhere. 

"There's two inside. I'll take the one in the driver seat, you take the other." Ghost ordered and I did what I was told.

I slowly crouch-walked to the broken front window of the home, peering out it to see two armed men get out. They must be the patrols Alejandro warned us about in the briefing.

"On my mark."

They started to walk into the house but Ghost sniped the driver. I vaulted out of the broken window and grabbed the other man, shoving my throwing knife into his throat then shooting him with my suppressed pistol. 

"Nice execution."

"Thanks. You got that on camera right?"

I could've sworn I heard a laugh come from him but it was suppressed. I didn't make a comment about, but I smirked as I looked around.

"Are we clear?"

There was a silence on his end and I couldn't help but get worried.

"L.t?" I questioned as I grabbed one of the shotguns from the dead guys. I loaded it with the extra bullets I found in their car then slung it over my shoulder.

"Ghost?"

"What?"

"You okay?"

"Back track to where you were, Y/N. It's time for a bang." He ordered, completely ignoring my question.

I did as I was told, but I froze midway climbing out the window.

He's never called me by my first name. He's only called me my rank, call sign, or last name...

My stomach turned as I started to think about the conflicted feelings I had toward my superior. Does he feel the same? Would he let me close to him?

No... He wouldn't. He's too war hardened; too emotionally vacant. Goose had told me about how he can be when he gets close, but she told me something I'll never forget.

Simon Riley and Ghost were two different people. It's only a matter of which one you love.

God damn me for loving both. It may be the mask....

"Any day, Sergeant. You've been in that bloody window for five minutes."

"Sorry, sir!"

I climbed through the broken window I got into the house from then backtracked to our team. The fluttering feeling in my stomach grew stronger as I sped down alley after alley, knowing that Ghost was watching my every move from his tower.

I was getting to the bottom of this between Ghost and I. There too many mixed signals here and too many conflicted feelings, and I had to know if what I felt was reciprocated or not.

But could I really be okay if he completely rejected what I felt?

+

pt2, mayhaps????

[startanewdream]

#6 - DANCE, for @hinnymicrofic

Is this a canon missing moment? Possibily not, but bear with me.

The Burrow was eerily silent as Harry walked down. He wasn’t really paying attention, but as he passed in front of the bathroom on the second floor, the smell of flowers overwhelmed him; the door of the bathroom was ajar, showing the remains of the mist inside, and he knew that Ginny had just taken a bath.

The memory of everything they had shared that day — his birthday kiss — popped up in his mind, almost as if that hadn’t been the reason why sleep eluded him; his creative mind kept insisting in showing scenarios of what might have been if they hadn’t been interrupted—

Stop that, he told himself severely. They had broken up for a reason and that kiss — and everything else he wished they had done — would not change it.

He forced himself to keep walking down, and avoided looking in the direction of her room as he passed the first landing, even though he could see the light was up. But when he reached the kitchen, he realised that all his effort was for nothing; Ginny was there, mumbling to herself as she went around to finish a tea for herself. 

For a moment, he just stared at her profile, at her face lit by the lights of the stove: the blue and red flames cast shadows over her face, made the brown of her eyes shine warmly, highlighted how gorgeous she was, standing there in her slightly too short nightgown, her wet hair combed in a quick braid. He could stay there and look at her forever, without tiring, but the minute that Ginny’s head turned to him, Harry looked away.

There was a moment of silence; he could still feel the feel of her lips against his.

“Do you want some tea?” She asked calmly, and once again Harry envied how she could pretend nothing had happened earlier that day.

“Sure,” he agreed, sitting on the other side of the table while she served two cups. “Thanks.”

“It helps me sleep.”

“I could use that.”

“Bad dreams?” She asked, with a sympathetic look that Harry couldn’t face.

“No, I—” I dream about you. “Just everything.”

“I know.” He didn't doubt that she knew. “I—”

But her voice shutted down as they heard the sound of boards creaking somewhere in the house, then a door being shut quietly.

Harry felt guilty at once; he promised to stay away—

“Don’t worry,” Ginny told him as if she could read his mind. “This is just Bill, probably.” She was rolling her eyes. “Something tells me he doesn’t care about the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding.”

He flushed with the implication in her words; Ginny chuckled.

“Well,” Harry tried, “it’s not midnight yet, so it doesn’t count.”

“So it’s your birthday still,” she noted, and for a second their eyes met; Harry thought about her birthday gift, at that blissful moment they shared, and he wished there wasn't a table between them, that he could pull her closer and—

He looked away.

“How does it feel, being seventeen?”

Harry breathed slowly. “I thought it would be different, but honestly, other than this—” He flickered his wand, turning on the lights of the kitchen. “It’s the same. You’ll see next year.”

He intended to say it with a smile, but a strange melancholy took control of him. Next year. He didn’t know if he would be there for her seventeenth birthday, he wouldn’t share her joy with silly spells, he wouldn’t give her a birthday kiss—

“Oh, I can’t wait,” she said, her voice bright even though her hands were gripping the cup tensely. “Fred and George won’t know what hit them.” He laughed, letting her words dissipate his worries. She rested her cup on the table. “I should go—I have to wake up ridiculously early tomorrow. Perks of being the maid of honour.”

“Why?”

“I have to look presentable—Merlin knows it's pointless, between Fleur and Bill this wedding will already exceed the quota of beautiful people—”

“You are beautiful,” he said without thinking, and even after he did think about it, Harry didn’t want to take his words back, feeling bold even as his heart was racing in his chest. Ginny hesitated for a moment, then she seemed to dismiss his words.

“That’s just makeup,” she said calmly. “You will wear one as well, cousin Barny.” She took a deep breath. “Save me a dance, will you?”

“I—I can’t.”

Her eyes betrayed her annoyance. “No one will know—”

“I will know. And this… this is hard enough without—” Without being close to you, Harry thought. Without sharing a dance with you fearing all the time that I won’t share anything else. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, I—” Ginny forced a smile on her face; Harry hated it—they had shared too many happy, beautiful, truthful smiles before. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“No,” she agreed. “But there will be other dances.” And when Harry opened his mouth to remember that he couldn’t make any promises, her eyes blazed with defiance. “There will be, Harry.” She left no room for argument. “Good night.”

“Night,” he replied belatedly, watching her go away.

[neylani-smith]

@miidnightcowboy

Tonight had been anything but uneventful and truly, Neylani could use a long, scalding soak in the tub. Her skin just felt... unclean. Not that it would be surprising, considering the commotion of the last two hours that had only begun to settle down. Her perp had caused them to tumble over at least two different tables, the second of which had a nearly full bottle of gin that shattered over them and drenched them both in the pale yellow liquor. The stench still persisted, sheriff's uniform slowly drying in various areas, and she'd be stuck with it until she got home later. "Make sure medical takes a look at that bump first," Neylani instructed the officer who would escort the troublemaker to jail from there. The sheriff, though, hung back to help the others in cleaning up the mess made of The Den, feeling responsible for it. Their doors would close earlier tonight than usual as result.

One-by-one, as the hangout slowly reorganized itself back to its typical glory under many hands' help, the people filed out and went home for the night. It had to be past midnight at this point. Neylani set up the last few glasses and faced around, surveying the room at large for anything out of its placed or missed in general. The woman reached to undo the clip at her nape in order to release her black hair and ease the tension in her scalp, idly massaging her fingers through and once again, wishing she could be home. Her gaze focused to the front when the door opened, and she was reminded that Abraham was still there, helping to carry the last few bags of trash to the dumpster. There were only two left now. "You don't need to worry about those," Neylani told the man, "I can take those with me on my way out. It's late, you should go home and get some rest."

The wolf turned away from him and paused in the doorway to the back, where she could see there was quite a bit of food left out and waiting to be canned. She hated to waste food. But it was Abraham. There was a certain tension there, probably more from her end, to be fair. It was instinctive, honestly, to be wary of the vampire. There was something about him that just made her a tad on edge and not entirely willing to put faith and trust in him. Not the way Ryden did. In fact, it was only because of Ryden's opinion that the woman bothered to keep her unease to herself, because if he approved of the other then she ought to, as well. And yet, clearly, the female did her best to avoid being left alone with the southerner. Was he a southerner? Who knew, she had never really asked. They didn't interact much beyond the superficial. Ney looked over her shoulder at the other-- knowing that, if it had been anyone else but Abraham, she wouldn't have hesitated. The guilt is what drew her back.

"Abraham.."

Neylani came back to the counter as she called him back. It'd been a long night, none of them had any real chances for a break, and he had helped them to clear the place out and up. The least she could do, was show some gratitude and not treat the poor fool as some unwanted company. "Are you hungry?" she questioned, uncertain, as she gestured towards the back. "There's a lot of leftovers from the day... On the house, for helping.."

[whiskeynwriting]

How We Used to Be

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Mentions of… insecurity, birth control, having kids, age gap, I think that's it.

◆

A/N: just you and daddy sight-seeing and reminiscing on the past 

◆

Daddycember Masterlist

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◆

This is everything you’ve been waiting for, everything you didn’t get to do the first time you were here. Granted, your first trip wasn’t nearly as long as the one you’re currently on. You wished you could have done more then, but you’re more than thankful to do so now. 

It wasn’t a secret that Jack liked to spoil you. Earlier in your relationship, it was something you had to get used to. You’d never been treated the way Jack treats you. No one has ever been so attentive or caring or generous with you, and it’s made you eternally grateful for him. What did come as a surprise, though, was your husband’s ability to step up his game. Not only did he spoil you on every trip, but he managed to make each one better than the last. 

“So, how much do tickets cost again?” Calling out to him, you do your best to keep your lips still while applying the bright tint. 

“I already told you,” His deep, lucious voice responds, his feet thumping on the wood as he strides over to you. “Don’t worry about it.” Jack finishes, walking up beside your prettily-decorated frame. 

Grinning, he lowers his hand to give your backside a little tap. Leaning over, he murmurs against your cheek, “You look nice.”

Smirking, you look over at him. “Thank you, baby.” 

It’s really not much, what you’re wearing. But to Jack, every outfit you put on is practically brand new. You’re really what makes the pieces shine. Today, you chose a pair of black, ripped jeans, with a beige sweater tucked into the front of them. For shoes, you chose a pair of midnight-tined boots, and a brown shoulder purse to carry your essentials in. Your hair is down, just how Jack likes it, and you’re wearing a necklace. It’s the first gift he ever got you. 

The two of you are going to be traveling all day, so Jack decided on something semi-cozy, too. Matching your color scheme, he’s wearing that signature white tee beneath a black long sleeve. Dark wash jeans hang on his hips, with coffee-colored boots covering his feet. A similarly colored belt is looped into his pants, with that southern hat sitting on his head. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, sweetheart.” You add on, turning back to the mirror, the application of your nude lip nearly complete. “Anything you want me to carry for you?” 

“Actually, yeah.” He says, hands tapping on his pants pockets. “My reading and sunglasses, if you could.” 

“‘Course, baby.”

Jack feels like his old age is really getting to him, having to wear reading glasses. When you were first together, he never wore them. But honestly, he had them when you first met, he just didn’t use them as often. Truth be told, you find his glasses incredibly cute. He’ll wear them when the two of you are laying in bed, glancing at his phone before he goes to sleep. There have been times that they sit on the bridge of his nose as he eats his breakfast, reading the paper like the old-fashioned man he is. From the start, Jack knew you liked his age, but he still never wanted to show it. But now, he knows he doesn’t have to hide anything from you. 

Slipping the two pairs into your purse, you press the button to shut it, fixing your hair as you look up at him. There’s a small smile on his lips, one he can’t seem to get rid of since the day he, before God and your family, made you his. 

“Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t say anything, just turns, offering you his arm. Jack is nothing if not the perfect gentleman. 

Your first stop is at the Colosseum. Jack bought tickets for the two of you to go on a tour, and it just so happens to be within walking distance! And striding down the streets of Italy has its own perks, too. The architecture is beautiful here, entirely different than that in the states. The simple act of listening to passersby speaking a language you don’t understand makes you feel like you’re on a different planet. But at the same time, you love it. This is all so fascinating to you. 

Meeting the group at the entrance, your tour guide greets the two of you with pamphlets. She welcomes you to the ancient monument, starting your small exploration shortly after you arrive. Jack has to tug on your arm to get you to follow along, chuckling when you stumble. Since stepping before it, you’re astounded by its size. It’s magnificent; you can’t stop staring at it. 

“Originally, this monument was built with the intention of holding up to eighty-thousand spectators, all visiting to witness play dramas and sporting events.”

Walking through the ancient amphitheater is chilling, especially when hearing about the monument’s history. But truly, you’re in awe. You’ve always loved history. And amidst your excitement and wonder, you notice Jack isn’t by your side. Looking back, you see him only a few steps away. He’s smiling, admiring you in your childlike state. 

Grinning happily, you reach out to him, extending the fingers on your hand. “Come on.” You whisper, nodding your head in the group’s direction. 

You remember your first time doing this, confidently reaching out for his hand. It took months for you to do it - you were constantly shy around him. You’d never dated anyone even close to his age before, and it intimidated you greatly. You didn’t want to seem like a little girl without experience, you wanted to be the attractive adult you knew you were. So, for the first little while, you didn’t show him your needs. 

If Jack had to leave, you let him. You wouldn’t ask him to stay for another hour or to spend the night and go to work from your place. You’d give him a kiss, letting it linger for as long as you could before letting him go with the promise of speaking soon. And at night, you’d sigh, wrapping your arms around a pillow you’d convinced yourself was him. 

If you were feeling sad, or even when you were happy, you wouldn’t ask Jack for hugs or for him to hold you. You didn’t want to come off clingy, or too touchy-feely. So, you kept your emotions to yourself, allowing them to be expressed only on your face. It made you feel reserved, like you couldn’t be who you truly were around him. 

Both verbally and physically, you wouldn’t let yourself beg for his attention. When in reality, it’s normal to ask for things like that. And after so long, Jack noticed this, and being the confident man that he is, he confronted you about it. Sitting you down on his living room couch one night, he took your hand, expressing wholeheartedly to you, “Sugar, I want you to be yourself around me. I know we have our differences, but… I think we’re more alike than you think.” With a soft smile, and a reassuring swipe of his thumb over your hand, he continued. “Have I… have I done something? To make you uncomfortable?” He looked so concerned, and it broke your heart. “Are you no longer interested in this? In me?”

You admired Jack’s openness, and seeing him so emotionally vulnerable gave you the push you needed to let your emotions run free. Instantly, you’d reassured him, telling him why you haven’t been acting as affectionately lately, ‘lately’ being the past three months. 

“I don’t want to come off clingy or… needy.” Slowly, you’d explained to him that you just weren’t sure how to express all of your feelings. “Don’t want to scare you away.”

Smiling, he dropped your hand, reaching forward to tilt your chin up, eyeline meeting his. “I like clingy.” He told you gently. “I like knowing you’re interested, sweet pea. So, give me clingy, give me needy, give me everything.” 

And from that point on, you did. You did ask him to stay for another hour, you did ask him to spend the night. You did request that he hold you tight, no matter how you were feeling. That conversation gave you the confidence to truly dive into your relationship, so that reaching out for his hand now, feels nothing like it used to be. 

Taking your smaller hand in his, he grins, stepping forward to match your stride. Together, you glance at your surroundings, eyeing some of the crumbling areas off to the side. 

“Once glorified for its beauty and ability to maintain its free-standing form, it was ruined by earthquakes and stone robbers. However, many modifications have since been made, allowing this site to be one of Italy’s most popular tourist attractions.” 

“Can you believe this?” You whisper in wonder, glancing at the limestone form surrounding you. 

“You really love this, don’t you?” 

When you turn your head, you realize he’s not even looking at what the guide is pointing to, he’s just looking at you. 

“Have you seen any of the things she’s been showing us?” You joke, laughing quietly beside him. 

“‘Course I have.” He shrugs, feigning offense. “You’re just distractin’ me, is all.” After that, he gently shoves your shoulder, walking ahead of you. “Outta my way, I’m here to see the mausoleum.” 

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you jog after him, reaching out to grab his hand again.

“It’s the Colosseum, dummy.” 

“Whatever.” He shrugs, lifting his nose at you. 

“You’re annoying.” You chuckle, shaking your head again. 

“I think you mean funny.” Jack says, giving your cheek a wet kiss. 

“You’re not tired yet?”

Jack has made a habit lately out of kissing the back of your hand. And when you cup his face, he’ll turn his head, kissing your palm, too. It’s nice to see that after being together for so long, he hasn’t grown stagnant in your relationship. His love is always growing for you. 

Shaking your head, you grin, watching his lips press to your skin. “No, I’m too excited.” 

After visiting the Colosseum, Jack wanted to check in to make sure your feet weren’t getting sore. The tour was longer than expected. But for your next stop, you won’t be doing much walking. And you’ve changed your mode of transportation this time from foot to cab. 

“Well if you do get tired, tell me.” He requests, lips leaving your hand but still holding it in his, resting your intertwined digits on his lap. “Maybe I can give you a foot rub when we get back.”

“Truly Jack,” Leaning in, you cup his handsome face, fingers sliding along his jawline and chin. “You’re the perfect man.” At least, he is in your eyes. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in life. 

Finally at your second destination, Jack steps out of the cab, keeping the door open for you with his hand held in your direction. Taking it, your fingers grab hold of him, allowing your husband to gently pull you onto your feet. He’d already paid the driver, closing the door once you’re out and sighing. He’s happy you let him do these things now. 

When Jack took you on your first few dates, he saw how nervous you were. Opening doors for you, taking off your jacket, pulling out your chair, it was all very new to you. Honestly, you weren’t sure how to act. You’d duck your head, avoiding his gaze while a tingling warmth blossomed on your face. After so long, though, you got used to it, and Jack genuinely loved to see it. He likes doing these things for you, his small, gentlemanly habits. 

Now when you go places, you’ll let him get the door for you, stopping to wait if you’d walked ahead of him, too. In restaurants, if you’re wearing a jacket, you’ll turn your back to him before sitting, expecting and accepting the soft brush of his hands along your coat. And before you even turn, he’s already pulling your chair out for you. And when he does it, you smile at him, eyes meeting his and sometimes even winking at him. Jack brings out something wild inside you, something fun and full of life. It’s this very sense of confidence that now allows you to so easily take his hand. 

For this particular site, you don’t need a tour guide. Everything you need to see is right before your very eyes. And it’s gorgeous, engaging almost every one of your senses. 

“This is… this is beautiful, baby.”

The ancient Roman aqueduct, the Trevi Fountain, sitting only a few feet away from the two of you. Taking your hand once again, Jack steps forward, leading your pace. 

The closer you get, the more amazed you become. You’ve heard of this fountain before, and have seen pictures of it, too. The statues surrounding the back of the large fountain are incredible pieces of art, something you never thought you’d get to see, at least not in person. You know that there are many different parts to the crafted scenery surrounding this enormous art piece, some of the statues resembling depictions of tarot cards, both physically and metaphorically. That specific note fascinates you. 

Of course, Jack has seen this all before, just not with you. Turning to him, you’re smiling ear-to-ear grabbing a coin out of your pocket and holding it out to him. “Tell me what to do.” 

Jack chuckles, taking a coin out of his own pocket, too. “You’re gonna take it in your right hand,” He instructs, moving to stand beside you. Now, both of your backs are facing the fountain. “And toss it over your left shoulder.” He does so, demonstrating for you. “Landing it in the water.” 

“Okay.” Nodding, you get ready to do it, stopping when he decides to add, “And if you choose to, you can make a wish.”

“Did you make a wish? Just now?”

All he does is shrug. And you’re helpless to the muscle movement, more like muscle memory, of your eyes rolling at him. 

Sighing, you close your hands, holding the coin tightly in your hand. 

A wish? What should you wish for? What could you wish for? Should you be realistic, or shoot for the moon?

Opening your eyes, you find he’s still staring at you. So, you smile, tossing the coin over your shoulder just like he told you to do. When the soft sound of its plop hits your ears, you step toward him, framing his face in both your hands. 

“You make a wish?” He asks quietly, looking down at you.

“A-huh,” Comes your nod, lifting your hand and laying your pointer finger over his lips. “I wished for ten more of you.” 

In a moment of weakness, you give into the smell coming from the numerous food trucks lining the street. When you get within view of the menu, you’re shocked to see the options. It’s nothing like what you’ve seen in America.

“Chicken and eggplant parmesan?” You ask, turning to your husband with a raised brow.

“You want that?” He asks casually, staring at the menu as he decides what to get for himself.

He’s so nonchalant about it that it makes you laugh. “Sure, baby.”

In all honesty, there’s not much else to do at the fountain. You’d touched the water, tossed a coin, admired the architecture and its creative features, but that’s about as far as it goes. Still, you’re glad to have the experience, there’s really nothing like traveling the world. Especially when doing so with the love of your life. 

“Isn’t it beautiful here, baby?” You’re digging into your eggplant parm, eyes wide and constantly scanning your surroundings. 

Jack smirks, shaking his head at you while running a fork through his own food - he decided to order the mushroom ravioli. “You’re the best thing about this place, babycakes.” 

Last on your to-do list, the Pantheon. Within walking distance from the Trevi Fountain, as soon as you’re done with your food, your feet are back on the street. Hands clinging to Jack’s bicep, you take in the scenery, all while feeling the sturdiness of your husband beside you. It’s easy to become overwhelmed from it all, but he grounds you. 

It’s an enormous, dome-shaped building, with a concrete porch leading the two of you inside. Again, you have no tour guide, so your exploration is up to the imagination. For the third time today, you’re impressed by the monument’s size. The interior seems even larger than the outside, too. When entering the building, you walk directly into an enormous, circular room. Natural lighting keeps the space bright, allowing you to see its brilliant yet contrasting interior design. 

Jack’s arm slides around your lower back as you walk in, hand resting on your hip. His other sits in his front jeans pocket, head tilted up as he looks around. This is by far the most detailed place the two of you have been to. 

“Have you been here before?” You ask, turning to look at the face you long for most through the sea of crowd. 

He shakes his head, looking up at the patterns and decoration. “No.”

“Really?” You’re shocked, you honestly thought he’d seen everything before you.

“Really, sweetheart.” Turning his head, he smiles at you, pulling you closer to him. “First time for everything.” 

Beaming up at your love, you grin. “I’m glad I can be with you for at least one of your firsts.” 

“Baby, everything with you is a first for me.” Kissing your head, he urges you forward with a nod of his head. “Let’s check out the rest of this place, honey.” 

There are multiple zones all over the circular, decorated walls, the two of you taking your time to stop at every one of them. Each space is decorated individually, its color scheme and geometric design different from all the others. One in particular grabs your attention, prompting you to stay in this section a bit longer than those before it. 

“You like this one, babycakes?” Your husband coos, coming up behind you. 

Jack’s strong arms wrap around your midsection, leaning down slightly to place his chin right beside your neck. Peeking up, he witnesses what’s capturing your attention. The patterns here are different, more circular than the checker-board floor throughout the room. 

“Yeah,” Comes your quiet, gentle response. You are in a temple, after all. The Temple of all the Gods. 

Before he can fully admire this particular section with you, he catches something out of the corner of his eye. Slight movement, a man walking towards you. He stops when Jack looks over at him, lifting his head and making eye contact. Just barely, his arms hold you a little tighter, a little closer. 

“You okay?” Bringing your head to the side, you look up at your love.

“I’m just fine, babycakes.” 

Jack doesn’t always verbalize his possessive nature, he never really has to; but it’s always been there. When he saw you that night in the bar, the very first night you met, he felt something pull at his heart. He wanted to have you and not just as a notch on his belt, he wanted you to be his. He’d watched you from his seat for a while, for a few dances. Genuinely, you looked angelic to him, something about you appearing so nice and sweet. But there was something specific that stood out about you. He couldn't figure out how or why, but… you looked like home.

And when he approached you, he wanted to be proven wrong. He didn’t think there could be a woman like you, a woman to grab hold of him so firmly yet so easily; at least, not after losing his first wife. But you did. Your first conversation only made Jack fall deeper into the beautiful, comforting embrace of you. And how could he ever allow himself to lose that? 

After dancing with you, and then kissing you, he looked into your eyes. It almost scared him, the feeling he got from looking at you. It’s like all at once, every emotion came crashing into him. Adoration and desire, pride and insecurity, curiosity and domesticity. And to top it all off, to seal the deal on his intentions, you wanted him. You wanted him, too. 

While your head is turned his way, he takes the opportunity to plant a little kiss on the apple of your cheek, watching as you grin. 

“I could live like this forever.” It’s said alongside a peaceful sigh, heart beating warmly in your chest. 

“You know, honey, I was thinkin’.”

“About what, baby?”

“There’s a beach closeby, you wanna visit before we take off?” Brushing his nose against your hair, he inhales briefly. It’s always so soft, always smells so flowery. 

“That sounds nice.” It feels like you’re in a dream; your entire body relaxing into his touch, your mind caressed into tranquility by the beautiful scenery.

“And then we can get room service,” He sighs happily, content with this seemingly soft moment. “Maybe have some dessert.” 

“Maybe?”

“And then have some dessert.” Your husband laughs, the vibration of it shivering over your back. 

In all honesty, the Pantheon is… overwhelming. And after traveling so much today, you think you’re finally in need of a break. Maybe the two of you can visit again tomorrow, when it isn’t so crowded. Jack is more than okay with this, taking your hand and leading you away. 

“You okay, sugar?” Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he brings you in, placing a firm kiss on your temple.

“Yeah,” Yawning, you settle into his hold, letting him direct your walk. “Just kinda tired, I think.”

“You still wanna stop at that beach?” Jack knows that when the sun starts to set, it will be a breath-taking sight.

“Yeah,” Your sleepy eyes look up to his, crinkling slightly from your smile. “Sounds pretty.” 

And it is. You can barely make your way down to the beach without staring at the sun. Both of you take your shoes off, rolling up the cuffs on your pants to avoid the sand. But that proves to be a rather mindless act, because as soon as you’re on the shoreline, you’re sitting, resting in each other’s embrace. 

Jack pulls your back to his chest, surrounding your body with his legs and letting the weight of you rest on him. He holds you with his arms, too, that clean-shaven chin resting on your shoulder again. 

You never thought of your life this way, not before Jack. It’s like a fairytale, the way you met, the way your relationship grew while dating, and now your marriage. It’s a dream come true, just having him. 

The water floods bright with amber before your very eyes, the sun now beginning to say goodnight. Its rays dazzle across the water, shimmering in the splashes that make their way to the shore. The beach is relatively empty, and further in the distance, you can hear the chatter and laughter of passersby. The pleasant thrum of music begins to fill your ears too, the night life approaching alongside the fading light. 

Thinking about the night you met brings him back to your first dance. Inside, his heart pounds, pulse picking up beneath his skin. He doesn’t matter how long the two of you have been together, he always gets nervous asking for your hand. 

“Hey, sugar?”

“Hm?” You’re sliding your fingers over one of his hands, tracing meaningless patterns along his skin. 

Lowering his voice just a bit, he proposes, “How ‘bout a dance?” 

From the side, he can see your smile growing. Retracting his hands just a bit, he moves his palms along your body, holding your sides gently. The two of you stand, leaving your shoes in the sand. Taking Jack’s hand, just like you always do, you let him lead you out to the wetter, flatter parts of the beach. 

“You know how much I love you?” He says, strong hands sliding over your hips. 

Linking your arms around his neck, you grin, swaying gracefully. “Enough to take me to Italy.” 

You make him laugh, that beautiful smile coming in to connect with your lips. Slowly, he moves you, the two of you dancing along the sand with your bare feet. The entire situation puts him at ease. When it comes to his day-to-day, Jack is often anxious. His job is stressful, his only real reprieve being when he comes home to you. You’re always there to pick up the pieces, making him whole once again. And he revels in the delicate moments he gets with you, moments like these. 

“Eventually, don’t you think?”

Nodding, you give him a thoughtful pout. “Of course, baby.” 

Even though there’s nothing there, Jack’s hand slides over your belly. He smiles, huffing out a small, amused breath.

“I can’t wait to see your pregnant belly.” Jack has always wanted kids. 

“I can’t wait to make you a daddy, baby.” Resting your head back on his shoulder, you sigh, the warm water helping your muscles to relax. 

“When do you think?” Your husband asks, eyes draping over your form. 

Shrugging, you offer, “Maybe I can stop my birth control, and just see what happens.”

He nods, both hands now resting on your tummy. “I like the sound of that.” And then he sighs, wrinkling his forehead. “You think I’m too old for kids, honey?”

“What? Of course not.” 

“I just, I don’t know. I wanna be able to play with them, run around and chase them.” 

“You’ll be able to do that, baby.” Bringing your hands over his, you give them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve kept yourself in shape, I know you’ll have so much fun with our babies.” 

“You want more than one?” He sounds giddy. 

“I want as many babies as I’m able to have with you.” At this, he laughs, shaking his head. “Of course, I do. I want a few.”

“That sounds good to me.” Jack's hands then slide up, landing on your shoulders to give you a soft rub. “You know, I must’ve done something pretty good to get you.”

“Yeah, maybe you were the pope in a past life.” 

“You’re so fuckin’ sassy.” Those words make you grin, eyes closing as his fingers press into you. 

With a sigh, you express wholeheartedly, “I have no idea what I could’ve done to deserve you.” 

When you’re done with your bath, Jack wraps you in a towel, kissing your head. He gives you another for your hair, not wanting to pull it so he lets you do that. The two of you step into your room just as room service arrives, and Jack takes it upon himself to close the double-doors to your bedroom before letting them in. He’d ordered dinner for the two of you, and dessert. 

“Food’s here, honey.” Comes that deep, southern voice. 

The two of you decide to eat on the bed, lounging lazily against the other. Instead of getting dressed, you decided on a simple robe, your husband doing the same. 

“Your hair is always so soft after you wash it.” He comments, playing with the ends of it. 

“You’re cute, baby.” Already, you’re diving into your sweet treat. 

Jack lets you eat in peace, munching on his own plate of food. It’s quiet, the air surrounding you. You suppose you could put on a movie or show, but you both like it like this, just the two of you with no distractions. 

It’s the same at night, when Jack lays you down, pulling you into him. There’s no TV, no music, just the sound of cars on the street and each other's relaxed breaths. 

“You're the love of my life, sweet pea.” He tells you quietly, petting your head while you lay on his chest. “I’ll always be here, you know that?” 

You can feel the metal loop of his wedding band every time his hand touches your head, the small sense bringing you happiness. 

“I know, baby. I know you will.” Snuggling into him even further, you sigh. “You’re the best man I will ever know.” 

Jack doesn’t respond because, well… he’s feeling emotional. You’re a gift to him, something that makes life worth living. His precious girl, his beautiful wife, the woman he met at the bar giving him everything he’s ever needed in life. 

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” You ask when he’s quiet for a bit too long. 

Jack shrugs, smiling softly. “Just reminiscing, I guess.” Sighing happily, he then adds, “About how we used to be.”