#if you don't take the angst and yearning seriously then what is it all for

[thefudge]

that persuasion trailer was incredibly obnoxious. i’m fine with tongue-in-cheek adaptations but why call it ‘persuasion’ if it’s just going to be a quirky episode of dickinson? that cutesy meta-style of comedy is so tonally wrong and clashes so awkwardly with the characters and  themes of the novel. and like, northanger abbey was right there!  it’s so much more suited for this meta-comedy angle, i mean hell, that novel is meta in itself (it sends up the Gothic genre) and the heroine lives in her head so much she’d be perfect for the ‘stare into the camera like i’m on the office’ gimmick. instead, they went with... Austen’s most sober & reflective work for a mockumentary. cool. 

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. ii

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chapter summary: Joel tries, and fails, to keep Sarah away from you, and you get to know the family across the street a little bit better. It’s a slow burn, so let the yearning begin, baby! pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 7.7k chapter warnings: some light angst, alcohol use, references to marijuana use, parental neglect. divorce mention, implied age gap. reader has daddy issues - shocker! a/n: Was absolutely floored by the love on part one. Seriously you all are the best. I hate doing chapter summaries because I don't like giving away too much info, so I'd suggest just reading this. This story might end up being a longer than six parts, because I don't want to rush anything and it's been really fun to write these relationships as they form! Let me know what you think :)

-March 25th, 2003- 

Joel cannot keep Sarah away from you. 

Unfortunately, he can’t blame her. Unlike him, she doesn’t need an excuse to show up on your doorstep after school and on the weekends to be in your company. Still, he doesn’t technically know you that well, and he imagines you didn’t intend to see her as often as you did after extending some kindness to his family for one night. 

Despite the two of you having not spoken since you helped him with the Tommy situation, Joel feels like he knows you, or is getting to know you, just from the snippets of information Sarah drops to him, which is then followed by a barrage of questions.

“Do you know she grew up in New York City? Have you ever been there?” 

“She gave me her old tennis racket. Do you think I could start taking lessons?”

“She says her brother got her front-row tickets to The Strokes last year. You like them, don’t you?”

Joel decides to give Sarah a talking to about her tendency to wander over to your house whenever she sees your car in the driveway. Perhaps you are just being friendly, and feel bad saying no each time she’s asked to come in. He tries to broach the subject with her one morning in the kitchen while she’s eating breakfast. They’re already running behind, her for school, himself for work, but neither of them are in a rush. If you’re already late, what’s an extra ten minutes?

“Take it easy, alright? She might not want company after a long day at work,” Joel leans over the countertop, hand wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, watching her shovel cereal in her mouth.  

“Dad, she said I could come over whenever,” It’s accompanied by an eye roll, which is a new thing that had started about six months back. Teenagers. Well, almost teenagers. She’s still the sweet kid he’s always known, he’s just playing with fire trying to talk to her at seven in the morning, an indent on the side of her face still fading from where she slept on a crumpled pillow. 

Joel was at least grateful that she did have occasional company on nights when he was working late. It made him feel better to know Sarah wasn’t alone.

“What do you even do over there?”

“Homework, reading….watching TV.”

“So the same thing you do here?”

Sarah thinks about it. “Well, no, because she’s teaching me to knit.”

“And what does she do while you do your homework?”

“She works too. Or makes calls.” Sarah smiles a little. “It sounds like people ask her for advice a lot. She does give good advice.”

“Better than mine?” Joel holds his hand over his heart with mock offense.

Sarah groans. “Relax, don’t get jealous…there’s just stuff I can talk to her about and not you. Girl stuff.”

“Girl stuff? What like, boys?”

“No, you wouldn’t get it.”

“I was a boy once.”

“Ew, dad, gross.”

“How is that gross?”

“Just- not everything is about boys, okay?”

Joel isn’t going to argue with that, and Sarah eventually goes back to finishing her cereal.

“Alright babygirl,” he raps his knuckles on the counter after he’s finished his coffee. “I’ve gotta load up the truck, and you better get going, or I’m gonna get an earful from Miss Davis.” He grabs his keys and his wallet, then yanks a baseball cap over his mess of hair that’s long overdue for a haircut.

“Oh, I bet she would love an excuse to talk to you,” Sarah slides out of her seat with her empty bowl and marches towards the sink to rinse it out, grabbing his empty mug on the way.

“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t you remember how giggly she was at parent-teacher conferences?” Sarah says. “I’ve never seen her so happy before.”

It’s Joel’s turn to roll his eyes. He’d pegged it as unusual, but never considered it was because Miss Davis was into him. He wishes Sarah isn’t so….observant. 

Over the years, Joel has basically kept his head down, doing his best to keep things together. Because of that, he feels like he’s sort of lost his ability to pick up on when women are interested in him. And it’s safe to say, in general, he’s had a pretty uneventful love life since Sarah’s mom left. 

For the most part, he got by on flings — one night stands, casual no-strings-attached arrangements that always fizzled out. Joel had never been a man who liked that sort of thing, and ultimately craved a deeper level of intimacy, companionship, but he had trouble sustaining anything more. And even when he thinks of the more serious relationships he’d had over the years, those were also never completely satisfying. 

The fact of the matter was that when you had a kid, you weren’t just looking for someone for yourself anymore. For most people, introducing their partner to their parents is always a big deal. But for Joel, it was always introducing girlfriends to Sarah. Over the last decade he’d only ever introduced her to three different women, and at that point he had usually been dating them secretly for several months before deciding that it was serious enough. It always felt like he was trying so desperately to ensure they liked each other. But he could tell that Sarah was never quite comfortable with any of them. And when they’d start asking about moving in, marriage, and babies — he’d always panic. It was reasonable for them to want those things, hell, he wanted those things. But it had to be the right person. He knew he couldn’t bring someone into his life, forever, that didn’t love Sarah like a parent should. Like he did. No one ever would, and because of that, he knows there’s a good chance it’ll just be the two of them forever.

So, even if Sarah’s teacher, as cute as she was, were to ask him out, he would never be able to go. But less for the latter reasons, and more because he knows he’d never hear the end of it from her. 

“Alright, that’s enough. I’m leaving in five minutes…with or without you.”

“Nooo!” Sarah screams in mock panic, scrambling upstairs to brush her teeth. 

Joel exits through the garage, grabbing a few extra tools from his workbench that he needs for the job today and a saw. 

When he opens the garage door, the harsh sunlight is the first thing to greet him, and then he sees you. 

You’re in your driveway across the street, barefoot and in a short, black silk robe that’s cinched at the smallest part of your waist. Next to you is a man in a suit, holding a briefcase and trying to straighten his tie. He can’t do both at the same time, though, so he pauses and turns to you, murmurs something, and you slow to help him, your fingers wrapping around the tie, tightening where it’s looped around his neck and tucking it into place, straightening his lapel before stepping away. The type of domesticity that doesn’t happen with a one-night-stand.

It makes sense, he thinks. That you’re with someone like that. It’s the world you’re in all day. And even though he’s standing in his own fucking driveway, Joel feels like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. Or maybe, he just doesn’t want to be seeing it. 

Joel tears his eyes away, putting his stuff in the back of the truck – the toolkit, the saw, glancing over to see the man kiss you on the lips and mutter something unintelligible before getting in a shiny, blue sports car. You nod, offer an easy smile, and stoop to pick up the newspaper. The car's engine roars to life, and you cross your arms, looking after it until it peels out of the cul-de-sac.

The bashful smile you’re wearing drops instantly once it’s out of sight, and he watches you pinch the bridge of your nose, and tilt your head back to the sky.

He turns before he gets caught, and slams the back of the truck shut, which is a little ignorant in hindsight. Joel looks over his shoulder to see your attention has shifted, and you’re shielding your eyes and squinting at him. 

Great.

“Hey Joel,” you wave, your opposite hand pulling at the bottom of your robe, in a futile attempt to cover yourself. You look good, obviously, but it makes Joel feel a little guilty to make the observation because it’s clear you didn’t actually intend to be seen like this.

“Morning,” he answers. 

“Where’ve you been?” you ask, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“Busy. Work.”

“That’s no fun but…same here, I guess,” You shuffle forward hesitantly. 

Joel takes a beat to think about what he’s supposed to say in response, but doesn’t get the chance, because you speak up again.

“Hey uh, not to put you on the spot, but were you actually serious about fixing my step the other night?” you ask. 

Before he can answer, you continue. 

“It’s okay if you weren’t, but I twisted my ankle on it the other day, so I need to get it fixed before that happens to someone else. I was thinking maybe I’d just call-”

“No-”

“It’s no big deal if you can’t-”

“No,” Joel cuts you off. He had been biding his time, waiting for the right opportunity to bring it up to you, not realizing that taking said time probably made him look like an asshole. “Don’t call anyone else, I can do it. How about Friday night? Will you be around?” 

“Friday?” you answer, pondering. “Yeah, that works. I have a friend from out of town coming to visit, so I’ll be home early because I’ve gotta pick her up from the airport.” 

“Alright, I’ll try to cut out early, too.”

“And also I can pay-”

“Stop it, I”ve got you, don’t worry,” he waves his hand. 

You smile at Joel. He’s sure it means nothing, but he gets some satisfaction from how sincere it is compared to the one you’d given the guy you had been escorting out of your home. 

He feels himself grinning back, and you open your mouth to speak, but are cut off by the sound of his screen door slamming. Sarah stumbles down the steps, backpack hanging off one shoulder, headphones to her walkman around her ears, holding her bright pink windbreaker in one hand and a book in the other. She looks at Joel, then you, standing in your driveway, and her face lights up as she calls your name. 

“Hey, Sarah,” you wave. 

Sarah opens her mouth to speak, and Joel knows whatever she’s going to say will start a much longer conversation that unfortunately they just don’t have the time for.

“She’s gotta get to school,” Joel tilts his head in the direction of his daughter before she can say anything. “But I’ll get that done Friday.”

“See you then!” You turn on your heel, and he looks away for a second to Sarah before glancing back in your direction, and you’re already gone, the only evidence you were there being your front door slamming shut. 

Joel waits until he and Sarah are in the car on their way to school before he speaks again. 

“She’s never mentioned a boyfriend or anything, has she?”

Sarah doesn’t even look up from her book. “No.”

Joel nods, and it’s quiet for a moment.

He hears Sarah’s book shut. “Why?” she turns to him, and she’s got her eyes narrowed, like she’s trying to figure out what the question really meant. He’s never seen her make that face before, and it’s a little terrifying, because it looks like she could see right through him.

Joel wracks his brain for a good enough excuse. “If she has people over, I don’t want you hangin’ around adults I don’t know.”

That seems to satisfy Sarah, and the skeptical look on her face disappears. If anything, she seems slightly annoyed by the comment, which is definitely preferable. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that because it’s never happened.” Sarah plays with the dials on the radio, changing the station until it lands on one playing The Chicks, her favorite group. She hums along to the song, filling in the gaps whenever the radio cuts out, and looks out the window. 

“Alright.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-March 28th, 2003-

“Oh, I wanna come!” Sarah jumps up from the couch and joins Joel in the entryway. It’s Friday evening, and he’s about to head out the door to your place.

“You’re stayin’ in tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“Well first of all, you’re grounded, in case you don’t remember.”

“You don’t even know what that means, though.”

Joel shakes his head, because she’s right. He’s never had to ground Sarah before, but when he’d gotten a call from her teacher that she had failed her last math quiz, and was close to not passing the class, he figured it was an appropriate punishment. “I’m pretty sure it means you can’t leave the house.”

“But this is barely leaving the h-”

“Second of all,” he cuts her off. “She told me earlier this week she’s got a friend visiting, so it’d be rude to intrude if that’s the case.”

Sarah groans, throws her head back, and falls onto the couch dramatically. “But I’m so bored.”

“You could study. Practice dribbling, clean your room, clean your bathroom-”

“Dad, it’s literally Friday night.”

“And?”

“All that stuff is so boring.”

Joel can’t help but chuckle. “Look, when I get back we can watch a movie. This won’t take long.”

She sits up a little, placated. “Okay, but it’s my turn to pick.”

“Deal. I’ll be home in an hour or so,” he steps out onto the porch. 

There’s a special kind of glow in Texas about an hour before the sun sets. Warm light filters behind the trees, casting the leaves and anything else it catches in a golden halo. Joel takes in the view for a moment as he walks across the street, skipping the rotten step and knocking on your front door. 

You answer it quickly. “Hey, you wanna come in?”

Joel supposes he doesn’t have to, and could just let you know he’s here, stay out on the front porch and just get the job done, but he accepts your invitation anyway.

There’s another woman sitting cross-legged on the couch, two half-full glasses of wine on your coffee table, music playing low on some speakers in the corner. The front windows are open, despite the chill of the evening, and your sheer curtains billow in the breeze. 

“Claire, this is my neighbor, Joel,” you say. “He’s helping me out with the steps. His daughter’s Sarah, the one I was telling you about. ”

“Oh, yeah.” Claire’s face lights up in recognition. “Joel. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods.

“Claire’s visiting from New York. We grew up together,” you explain. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Her and I were roommates at boarding school,” Claire explains, finishing off a glass of wine. “We got into a lot of trouble together.”

“Hmmm, if I recall, it was more like you got me into trouble, but sure,” you say. 

“You were bad, if not worse, than I was.”

Joel smirks, and you turn to him, changing the subject. “She’s jetlagged, so we’re just staying in for the night.”

“But…we’re still getting drunk, obviously.”

“Oh yeah, that too,” you say flatly, although to Joel, you don’t seem drunk at all. Luckily, your friend answers his question with her next sentence.

“This one isn’t very good at keeping up, though,” Claire tilts her head in your direction, then finishes off the glass of wine in her hand.

“You sound like Vincent,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, how is Vincent?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you cross your arms and look at Joel. “She always had the biggest crush on my brother, and it was dis-gus-ting.”

“To be fair,” Claire clears her throat. “At the time, he was pretty dreamy. And if we’re being honest….he still is…too bad he’s married.”

“Divorced, actually. But still…” You wrinkle your nose. “Gross.”

“Divorced?” Claire sits up, jaw dropping. “When? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

You raise your hands and shake your head, like it’s too much to get into. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later. Sorry, we’re being rude,” you turn back to Joel. “Can I get you anything? Want some wine?”

“I would, but it doesn’t usually mix well with power tools,” Joel answers. “I should be good, though, I brought everything I need.”

“Great well… I’ll let you get to it, then.” you pad across the floor to return to your friend on the couch. “We’ll be in here if you need anything.”

“Sounds good,” Joel nods at you and your friend before stepping back out onto the porch.

The screen door shuts behind him, and the birds are quieting down for the night. He only has a little bit of sunlight left, but this shouldn’t take him long. Just as he is about to get started, he hears your friend’s voice, muffled, from inside the house. 

“Okay, I thought you were lying because your taste in men is usually questionable, but you’re right, he is really cute.”

“Dude,” you interject, and Joel hears a sound of impact, like a smack on the arm. “Lower your voice the fucking windows are open.” Claire starts giggling, and you continue. “You know you don’t have to say, like, every thought that comes into your head.”

He hears your friend laugh even harder, and eventually you join her. Joel shakes his head, but even after he starts working, can’t keep the grin off his face.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 5th, 2003-

It has been the longest week of your life. Work had been hectic – you’d spent the last five days going to so many meetings and dinners with potential clients that you had almost no time to do your actual job. Plus, your visit from Claire had already wiped out nearly all your energy, since you had spent the whole last weekend showing her around Austin, entertaining.

Normally, on a Saturday like today, you’d do a number of things – the first of which would be to sleep the fuck in. The ideal schedule would go something like this: You’d get out of bed in the early afternoon and immediately order some kind of takeout – most likely pho, or ramen, or some other type of soup. You’d get high, eat the takeout, and then watch TV until you’re tired enough to go back to bed in the early evening. If you’re feeling motivated at all, you might change into a fresh pair of pajamas before you crash again. It would be the ultimate lazy day, and you had desperately wanted it.

However, the past version of yourself had made plans to play tennis in the morning with some friends, and then check out a new breakfast place in the city. Sometimes you hated how optimistic she was about your ability to wake up before 10 a.m. While you weren’t excited to play tennis, you were excited that there was, at some point, going to be food involved. 

So you dragged your ass out of bed, rifled through a box of clothing in your garage (one that you still had yet to unpack) to find a tennis skirt and visor, and then got in your car to go play all before 8 a.m. Then, you’d had your ass handed to you by your friends on the court. It was a little humbling to realize that you weren’t very good at tennis anymore. The last time you’d seriously played was when you were still in school, and you’d originally started because your father had wanted you to be involved in an extracurricular activity. According to him at the time, anything involving the arts – music, dance, drama – didn’t count. You had challenged this idea, and it had escalated to become one of the top ten worst fights you’d ever had with him. After that, you had learned that it was better to just do as you were told. 

You’d joined the tennis team, and started to pick up on how intrigued your father was by the trophies and ribbons you’d bring home when you did well. He started to ask you questions when he saw them, pat you on the head and say things like ‘that’s my girl’. Regardless of whether or not you liked playing, you had finally found a way to earn his attention. So, you got better. One time, he even came to your school to watch one of your matches. Of course, when you lost that one, it all kind of crumbled. But you still stuck to the sport since that’s what all your friends were doing, even if it didn't get you what you wanted. 

On the drive home from your morning out, belly full of breakfast and ready for a nap, thinking of your family brings about a terrifying realization. 

You look at your phone. Shit.

April 5th. 

Immediately, you dial a number on your cell. You’re aware of the dangers of talking while driving but you know if you don’t make this call, you’ll never hear the end of it. The line only rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Hello?” 

“Vincenzo!” you say with your best – but probably horrible – attempt at an Italian accent. 

“Well, well, well….if it isn’t the estranged daughter…” the familiar timbre of your brother's voice answers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

You roll your eyes. “Well first of all, fuck off…” We're off to a great start. “...and second of all…Happy Birthday.”

You hear your brother’s chuckle on the other end of the line, a noise that you’d been on the wrong side of –  laughing at you, not with you – more than once, but your heart aches a little at the sound of it now. I miss you, you wish you could say, but you keep it to yourself. 

“Thanks, I’m surprised you remembered,” he says, lightly.

“I’ve never forgotten.”

“There was that one year-”

“Oh my god, I was like twelve.”

“You were fourteen.”

“Okay, well, sorry…It’s been over ten years and it hasn’t happened since.”

“It feels like you’ve forgotten more than once, but that might just be because it’s pretty much the only time you ever call me these days,” Vincent says, and if you were with him, in person, you’d be able to tell by the look in his eyes whether or not he was joking. But over a cell, you’re not sure at all. 

“That’s not true,” you say, turning your car into your neighborhood. “But I mean, the phone does work both ways.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you catch something flippant in his tone. 

“Do you want this to be a nice conversation or are you gonna be an asshole?” you ask, maybe a little too matter-of-factly, but at least you can determine whether or not it’ll be a waste of your time to try and be cordial. If he’s in a bad mood, you know it’s pointless.

“Relax,” he says, and you hear a hint of the teenage boy you once knew. “You’re always so ready to argue with me, I’m joking.”

“Very funny,” you say, and try to be nice about it, because deep down, you know Vincent is right. You don’t talk to your brother enough to argue with him when you do speak. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “So what are you doing on your big day? Anything special?”

“Nothing really special, I worked out, had lunch with a friend, and I think I’m having dinner with Elizabeth tonight.”

“Oh…really? Elizabeth?” At the mention of his soon-to-be ex-wife – or maybe current ex-wife? You’re not sure – you’re surprised.

“Yeah she and I are uh….talking still, I guess. For Ethan, mostly, but…I don’t know…the divorce isn’t finalized, and I think now that I’m seeing a therapist and shit, maybe we can work something out. We’ll see.”

“And do you want to work something out?”

“I mean, she’s only the love of my life so yeah, it’d be great.”

“I think so, too. How is Ethan, by the way?”

“Oh he’s great,” you hear your brother’s smile over the phone. “Just a big ball of energy, and so fucking smart. He told me he misses you the other day.”

Your heart lurches at the mention of your sweet, five-year-old nephew. “You’ll have to tell him I said hi, and that I love him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will,” he answers. “You know, next weekend I’m having a proper birthday party.  We’re all going to the Hamptons. I could fly you out here, you could tell him in person.”

“I can’t, I got shit to do,” you answer a little too quickly, turning the car into your cul-de-sac.

“What uh, your little corporate gig keeping you busy?”

There’s a subtle dig in there, little. 

“Maybe.”

“I’m telling you, all I have to do is phone a friend, and we’ll find you something here that’ll pay a thousand times better and won’t have you working weekends.”

“I don’t work weekends,” you say, pulling into your driveway.  “And I’m not interested.”

“You like making yourself miserable, don’t you?”

“Vinny,” you say, exasperated, putting your car in park. “I’m happy here.”

“In Texas? I don’t believe it,” he says. “And you know, at this point, you’ve proven whatever you wanted to dad. After everything you’ve done, he probably respects you. Like, you did it. You cut yourself off, you made a name for yourself, you don’t need us anymore. Congratulations, amazing. I get it. But you should come home now.”

“Vincent,” you repeat yourself. “I’m not going back. You know what it was like for me. For you.”

“You’re my fucking family too, you know? You can’t just let him control every decision you make,” he says, and he’s not quite yelling at you, but he is sounding a lot more stern than he was before. “And by the way, it wasn’t so bad. You and I always got along.”

“Even if I move back, things will never be like they were.”

“You don’t know that.” he says it with such a deep sadness in his voice that you want to take back every cruel thing you’d ever said to him – not just from today, from forever. And then he speaks again. “You know, you used to be so sweet when we were kids….I don’t know what happened.”

I do, you think. “I had to look out for myself.”

Before he can respond, you change the subject. “Anyways, you should move out here instead,” it’s only halfway a joke.

“I’m not leaving New York.”

“Well, I’m not leaving Austin.”

“Well…” he says, clicks his tongue. “Then I guess things’ll just stay this way.” 

“I guess so.”

You wish you could offer more. But he has never understood. The silence on the other line is so loud, your ears are ringing.

“Look, I just pulled in my driveway, I gotta get going.”

“Yeah.”

“But have a nice day, okay?” you’ve gotta turn this conversation around because it went so far off the rails. “Tell Elizabeth I say hi, and I hope you do work things out with her because you know I think she’s great. And give Ethan a kiss for me.”

“I know, and I will,” you can see him closing his eyes, fingers pinching between his eyebrows.

“I love you.” 

“Yeah…okay,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you, and it’s a punch to the gut. As usual, you weren’t able to say the right thing. Tears start pricking the back of your eyes, guilt twisting deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Goodbye,” in one swift movement, you end the call and get out of the car, slamming the door shut. You’re sad now, but it’s only a matter of time before you become angry, which is always easier to deal with, so you just gotta suck it up until it passes.

Trying not to be upset is such a high priority that you don’t hear your name being called right away, and when you turn around, it’s too late.

“Hey!” Sarah Miller is skidding to a stop in front of you, wearing boots that look a size too small for her feet, dressed in athletic clothes with her hair pulled back. “My dad says I’m not grounded anymore so I can-” she falters when she sees your face. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Clearing your throat, you fix your expression and try to shake away the lingering disappointment like dirt off a kitchen rug. “Yeah I’m fine,” you lie. “So does that mean you passed math?”

Since that night you let her stay when she was locked out, you’d seen quite a bit of Sarah. It was a little unconventional, and you probably needed to find friends in the community that were more age appropriate, but you enjoyed her company. She would hang out and do homework at your house while she waited for her dad to get home from work. You had always valued your independence, and told yourself you preferred to be on your own, but whenever she left, your house always felt a little emptier than you remembered. Maybe you needed to get a fish or something, since Martini’s appearances were few and far between. 

“Not yet, but I did get an A on my last test. I hate to say it but my dad was right…studying actually helps.”

“Yeah, that tends to be true,” you say, relieved at how easy the smile comes, and you glance over your shoulder to see Joel standing at the edge of his driveway with his hands on his hips. He looks fucking good, and you’re almost sort of mad about it, or it’s hopefully just the irritation kicking in after the conversation with your brother. 

Does Joel know? He has to. It’s like having whatever the male version of a siren is living across the street from you – working with his hands, being a doting father, and mowing the lawn shirtless when it’s hot out. And apparently this was a record-breakingly hot spring, because you’d seen that more than once. Not that you minded, though it only made you want a closer look. Years ago, you probably would’ve scoffed at what sounded like a suburban mom’s wet dream, but actually experiencing it, you felt differently. There was just something about him. 

You give Joel a wave, and he waves back, shifting his weight from foot to foot like he’s trying to decide if he wants to come over and talk. As usual, he seems like he’s got somewhere to be, but he’s too polite to tell you to fuck off. 

“How have you been? I’ve hardly seen you,” Sarah says. “Did you play tennis today?” she pokes at the racket that’s hung over your shoulder. “Were you serious about teachin’ me to play this summer?”

It’s hard not to be amused at the barrage of requests. You admire her ability to be so enthusiastic, so open, something that most people are unable to do, but for her, is effortless. She’s older than your nephew, but you get the same kind of relief from interacting with both of them. The kids are alright. At least, some of them are. 

“Of course,” you answer, and notice that Joel is slowly and hesitantly making his way up your driveway. It’s upsetting that everytime you run into him, you conveniently look like shit – like last Tuesday when you’d just rolled out of bed and were still in your robe. Or right now, after spending the whole morning chasing after balls on a clay court, scuffed knees and hair slick with sweat. But you suppose that’s sort of what neighbors are for.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask Joel. 

“It’s goin’,” you take him in as he gets closer, notice the way the arms of his t-shirt are just a little too tight because of his biceps, and feel like you need to take a cold shower to wash yourself of this morning. “Babygirl, we should probably get going.”

He calls his daughter babygirl? There’s no way he was being serious, that it isn’t some ironic joke, or part of an act. You always assumed that was just something you saw in movies.

“Because I did so well on my test my dad is takin’ me on a hike,” Sarah says, and then her face lights up. “Wait….you should come with us! Dad, can she come?” Sarah whirls around to face her father.

Joel looks down at Sarah, and then up at you, and then at Sarah again. “I mean, that’s fine, but…she might have other things going on.” 

It’s hard to tell if he’s trying to give you an out, or if he’s hinting that you shouldn’t come. And you probably normally wouldn’t want to go, but the alternative is moping around your house and thinking of all the things you could’ve said differently to your brother to ensure the conversation would have gone better than it did. You’re always desperate for a second chance to do things over, and do them right. 

You look between the two of them, back and forth. “I mean I would totally, I just…don’t want to interrupt a father-daughter activity-”

“You aren’t,” Sarah says so quickly that Joel looks offended. “I couldn’t leave the house this week so we’ve been spending too much time together.”

Joel frowns. “That’s rude.”

“What?” she says. “It’s true.”

Joel sighs. “She’s right, though. You wouldn’t be interruptin’.”

“Please?” Sarah begs, and you realize you can’t say no even if you want to. You wonder how Joel was even able to ground her for a week, looking in those big, innocent eyes. 

“Yeah, just…uh, could I put my stuff inside and maybe change?” you ask, gesturing towards the house. 

Joel nods, and Sarah rocks back and forth on her heels. “Yes, yes! Take as long as you need.”

“I’ll be fast,” you assure her, and duck inside. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halfway into the hike with Sarah and Joel, and you’ve decided you’re out of shape. You try to tell yourself there could be another reason you are so out of breath – you already worked out once today while playing tennis. But that doesn’t seem like a good enough excuse. Of course, you’re trying to play it cool, because you’re not about to embarrass yourself. Sarah is entertaining you with all kinds of talk about school, and soccer, and sleepaway camp she gets to go to for two weeks once school's out. And you suppose the pain you’re in right now is also  welcome distraction from thinking about Vincent. 

However, you can’t dip away from the group to rest for a second, because Joel is already trailing behind, and he’d catch on. However, his distance – several paces back from where you and Sarah walk – is not because he’s out of shape. On the contrary, he seems to be putting almost no effort into the steep climb. He’s on his own, head on a swivel, kind of like a brooding security guard, and you wonder if he feels left out. 

You steal a glance over your shoulder to take him in, shrouded by the verdant foliage. He looks at home in this environment, sun-kissed and rugged, a finger hooked behind the strap of a leather bag he carries over one shoulder, his gait measured. Aloof, but there’s a quiet confidence to him that draws you in, causes your stare to linger just a touch too long, so when he turns his head straight, his eyes catch yours. You focus back on the trail ahead. 

He hasn’t said much since you’ve started hiking, or in the car, even. Most men are easy to read, but so far, Joel has kind of stumped you. There were times, during the night that you’d helped him bail his brother Tommy out of jail, that you had thought maybe he was- no. He’d been pretty tense in every other interaction you had, so you still couldn’t decide if he had been flirting with you.

And he was older than you, you were pretty sure. Not so old that it wouldn’t be out of the question for him to be interested, but enough that, depending on the type of person he was, might see you as a little too young for him. And he had a kid, responsibilities. 

You were a-single woman with a high-powered career, one cat and a fish on the way. You slept in on the weekends, refused to learn to cook for one, and got violently stoned on your back porch a minimum of three times a week. In suburban Texas, most of the women your age were long since settled, and you were an outlier. It was fair to imagine that Joel probably didn’t see any real promising future when he looked your way…. or maybe he was more of a one-night stand kind of guy, and didn’t care about that at all. This was not necessarily information you needed – but you wanted it anyway.

Not feeling like an outsider would be one upside of moving back to New York – you could be exactly yourself, and still blend right in. It was one of the parts you missed most, besides Vincent. Your heart sinks, and you realize that the hill you’ve been climbing has flattened out, and so you’re able to think clearly again, which is why you’re thinking of your brother. 

Sarah has pulled away, and is wandering towards a clearing. Your eyes are on her form, bounding up ahead on the pathway, the sunlight peeking through the leaves dancing on her skin, when your foot lands on a loose rock, and slips out from beneath you. 

Please, God, n- You don’t even get the chance to plead yourself out of humiliation, because there’s a steady hand on your hip and your back collides with a broad chest. 

“Gotcha,” Joel’s voice is right in your ear — when did he get that close?  

He’s solid, strong, and for the shortest, sweetest moment, you’re overwhelmed by him – get notes of his bar soap (pine, cedar, mint)  mixed with whatever laundry detergent he used, and just the faintest bit of - Fuck. In one swift movement, he brings you upright like you’d never slipped at all, then pulls back. The skin on your hip smarts even after his hand drops away.

“You alright?” Joel steps beside you, watching Sarah, who stands with her hands on her hips, her back turned to you both.

“Yeah,” you nod. He looks back over at you. “Come on,’ he tilts his head towards his daughter, and you walk beside him to where she’s standing.

The whole hike you’d been so occupied with bullshit. Trying not to think about your brother. Trying not to act too out of breath. Trying to not let Joel catch you staring, although you’d already failed at that. But now, you wish you wouldn’t have been in your head, because what you’d come to see made worrying about all that seem stupid.

Stretched out in front of you was a wide creek with moss-colored water that flowed down over layered slabs of rock, and crashed into the waterfall’s churning basin. The sun hits the mist in just the right light, and casts a series of rainbows midair, which move and shift as you turn your head to study the lush, tree-lined shore across the river. 

You’re standing with one hand on your hip, and out of the corner of your eye Sarah shuffles back a few steps to stand beside you, looping her arm through yours, her cheek on your shoulder while you both enjoy the view. 

“I’m glad you got to see this,” she says, and you can just make it out over the sound of the falls. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Joel’s hands land on Sarah’s shoulders as he steps close behind you both. She straightens, leans back against him until he wraps his forearm across the front of her in an easy embrace, and she grabs for his wrist with both of her hands, tucking them beneath her chin. A pang of familiar grief stirs inside you at the sight, and you turn away, back towards the view.

“This is the only time of year it’s worth seeing,'' Joel says to you. “It dries up in the summer.” 

“It’s still pretty in the summer,” Sarah pipes up.

“Not as pretty.”

“Can you get me the water?” she asks. Joel grunts an affirmation and a moment later you hear the sound of a zipper.

When you’ve had a considerable amount of time to contemplate life while looking at the water swirling across the granite, you turn to find Sarah sitting on a rock, struggling to peel an orange, and dropping each tiny piece of skin she can get off into Joel’s begrudgingly outstretched hand.

You use the opportunity to stretch your calves against a nearby tree.

“Have you hiked before?” Sarah asks.

“Here and there,” you say. “But not often.”

“Why not?”

“Well this is basically a workout. I don’t like working out, I’m pretty unathletic.”

You’re surprised when that draws a smile from Joel.

“But you play tennis.”

You shrug. “Eh, kinda.”

“Me and my dad go hiking a lot.”

“That’s sweet,” your eyes flicker from hers to Joel’s, because they are both staring at you, and you’re pretty sure, though it’s hard to tell from this distance, that their eyes are the identical shade of caramel. Sarah finishes peeling her orange and Joel pockets the scraps of skin. She eats a slice before offering you both your own, and you step closer to accept it.

Sarah’s taking her last bite of orange when Joel speaks up. 

“Should we head back?”

Sarah turns to take one last look. It’s mid afternoon, the slant of light from the sun as intense as it can be, and you squint when it reflects back off the water and into your eyes. 

“Yeah, we can,” Sarah decides, and it’s clear that Joel would have stayed there for as long as she wanted. It wasn’t up to him. 

The hike back isn’t nearly as difficult. It’s all downhill, and Joel leads. Sarah stays behind with you, and clings to your arm while she teaches you how to navigate the trail without slipping. Back at the trailhead is one steep step that drops off into a puddle of stagnant water. 

Joel jumps down first, and turns to offer his hand to Sarah, who takes it and leaps lightly, landing on two feet on the other side. You aren’t sure what you’re expecting, but it’s not for Joel to offer you his hand to you as well. But he does.

“Careful,” he murmurs. And of course, you could’ve easily done this yourself, with no help. It’s a two foot drop and an inch of water. But you accept it anyways, putting some of your weight against his hand as you hop down, noticing how he doesn’t waver.

By the time you’re long since settled in the car, pulling into Joel’s driveway, you can feel sleep tugging down your eyelids. A steaming shower and a pair of pajama pants is imminent, and it’s like your body knows. Surely, you will still probably feel guilty about your brother, but you’re convinced that you won’t lose sleep over it, which you consider a win.

Sarah, who insisted that you both sit in the back together on the way home – leaving Joel in the front alone – gives you a quick hug after you’ve gotten out of the car, and then plucks the car keys from her father.

“Sorry, I drank a lot of water and I have to pee!” she says, before jogging up the walkway and unlocking her front door. 

Joel lets out an exasperated sigh, but turns back look at you with startling warmth. 

“Thanks for having me, I really needed that,” you tell him, and you’re not sure why you feel compelled to be honest with him, but continue on. “My brother and I got into it on the phone this morning, so if I didn’t go I probably would’ve spent all afternoon moping in bed.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice soft. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” you say, quickly, brushing it off. “Siblings, you know?”

“Yeah,” he nods, but you can tell he isn’t convinced. “I know.”

“How’s Tommy, by the way?” you ask. “Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

“He is,” Joel answers. “We actually have a big project we might be about to book. Pays well, and will keep us employed for the next year.”

“Oh that’s exciting,” you nod. “So what I’m hearing  is…if my step rots again, you wouldn’t have time to come fix it?”

“No,” Joel chuckles again, and you’re dizzy after hearing it. “I’d make time.”

You take a deep breath. “Good to know,” you shuffle a few steps backwards. “I better get going, though.” He doesn’t answer right away, and just as you’re turning to walk across the street, Joel calls out to you again.

“Hey,” and you pause, facing him again. “I wanted to ask you if…” he hesitates, blinks and shakes his head once before continuing. “If Sarah is coming over too much. If you want, I can tell her to cool it.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask. “I don’t mind at all. She’s great company, really.”

“You sure you’re not just sayin’ that to be nice?”

You sniff, look at the ground, then back up to him. “I’m not actually very nice.”

He studies you. “I’m not sure I believe that.” 

“You hardly know me,” you shrug, and his eyebrows pinch together very briefly before his expression neutralizes. “I’m just saying….if I didn’t like having her around, you would know.”

He bobs his head slowly, and you turn back around to walk to your house, glancing at him from over your shoulder. 

“I’ll see you around.”

- - - - - - - - - -

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg @yeehawbitchs @ay0nha @eldahae @lol-im-done @melancholicmelanin @reggies-floatie @omniscientqueer @superflymaterial @mikkorantanev @zbeez-outlet (i'm sorry if i missed anyone, i didn't tag anyone that didn't explicitly ask!).

part iii

[cosmic-cogs]

So, I want uh... an Autobot (NB) reader and Soundwave, both pinning on each other and in a more calm battle (maybe 2v1) readers "subtlety" compliments him in his battle skills and the other member of the team prime is like 'THAT'S THE ENEMY' while Soundwave is completely calm about it, at least in the exterior and beating their asses. You are welcome to add whatever you like, and if it was headcannons I would be pleased

(I am aware that that would be extremely ooc from Soundwave but it's was a funny idea in my head 😔)

You get both hc's and a short blurb, aren't I so delightfully evil? Also I don't know how I managed to make this into angst but I hope you like it.

Pairing: tfp!Soundwave x nb!autobot!reader, romantic

Missions with Bulkhead were, simply put, fun. There were no real restrictions, safe for the obvious once like "don't cause human casualties" and "aim for the spark but torture isn't cool". No one would complain in the background as the wreckers lived up to their name and utterly wrecked the surrounding area.

Bulkhead didn't complain about the mess, no, but he did complain about… other things. 

"Oh! Such elegance and grace! He moves like he's air~' the bot practically purrs in admiration as they stare at the sleek Decepticon who's very much so trying to get somebody killed today.

"Uh- hey you do remember that he's the enemy, right? Haven't hit your processor and forgotten that, have you?" Bulkhead asks as he barely dodges another attack from Soundwave, giving his teammate an opening to shoot, which they gladly take. To no one's surprise Soundwave gracefully moves to the side and dodges the energy blast, "I knoooow, it's such a shame the cute ones are all Decepticons, right?" "I- have you lost your mind?!" "First Knockout, then Breakdown, and now him!  I mean seriously, what's with that?" "(N/N) now is not the time for this" talking and fighting at the same time come to the pair like breathing comes to humans, at this point it's just how things are. They kick ass and exchange their thoughts in the process. 

"If not now, when?! I can't just gush over him at the base! Arcee would yell at me" they frown, taking another shot at the con, finally landing a hit though it barely even scrapes his paint job. 

Bulkhead is so done. If it was anyone else- correction- if this was an autobot his friend was gushing over he'd be nothing but supportive. Truly he wishes them all the best. 

Not with a goddamn Decepticon though. He's internally begging that they're just messing with him.

They aren't. 

Miko definitely sneaked through the groundbridge to witness the battle and yeah she definitely heard and yeah she definitely ships it.

In a sense, Soundwave is completely unaffected by the compliments. Of course had this been a time of peace he would have entertained the thought of returning the affections, but he knows it's a foolish thought now. His spark may yearn for a lover but he denies the call, he won't betray his cause, not after everything he's done in its name, and he knows the autobot is unlikely to betray their friends.

He's neutral toward the compliments, he doesn't need the praise, he's not blind to his talents. He knows he's graceful, agile, and though he doesn't give it much consideration he knows he's beautiful in the eyes of many.

Though slowly and slightly he warms up to the bot. They seem kind, he might be a Decepticon but that is still a trait he admires, even if he more often than not would take advantage of such a trait.

As time goes forward, slowly he starts to go just slightly easier. Gives them a second longer to dodge, doesn't immediately go for their spark. 

Small changes, but once he hopes they can notice. 

Maybe after the war is over, regardless of whose victory it'll be, maybe then he could spare them more of his time, get to know them a little better. Return their compliments, allow himself to open up to them.

But that is all wishful thinking, he's aware of as much. But it's a wish he keeps close to his spark.

Perhaps he would meet his doom by their servo, or perhaps he would extinguish their spark before that wish ever came true, they were in the middle of a brutal war after all. 

He's fully aware that each fight could very well be his last, or theirs. He knows that each time seeing them could be the last, he tries to savor those brief moments.

Either way, whatever the future holds, however the story goes, he hopes that their face would be the last thing he sees. Be that because they bested him in battle, or because they'll be the last thing he'll be thinking of, along with his long lost cassettes.

There was a time they met alone in a barren battlefield, or, now it was just a field.

There was no need to fight, no real desire to.

Both were standing face to face with an enemy, yet neither made the move to kill.

No, for that brief moment they looked around and exchanged their wordless confessions. 

The world was still, for a moment it felt like the years of endless bloodshed were yet to happen, or almost as if they never existed at all.

It felt like they were back home on Cybertron. The other's presence didn't feel like the one of an enemy, no. Instead it felt like they were both new sparks who had met for the first time, yet at the same time it felt like they'd known each other for all their lives. 

It felt like all these eons spent at war had been pointless after all. 

They stared at him for a little longer and he stared back, he didn't need to say a word, they understood the meaning easily.

"After the war"

"After the war"

That was a promise he could only hope he could keep.

But as the cruel and unrelenting fate, which at this point he assumes to be vengeful, would have it, he was right. That accursed moment of separation came eventually. Not because death tore them apart, rather it was the fault of humans. 

Now he was to roam this lonely realm, Shadowzone, alone, silently watching as the bot he'd made his sweet promise had to quietly grieved for him in solitude. 

After all, Bulkhead was under the impression they were merely joking, and how could they ever tell the others the reason behind their sparkache? As if they'd understand the pain that came with this loss, one they needed to cope with by their lonesome. He was their enemy yet he was undeniably loved by them. But now it seemed that said love could never truly bloom, not even after the war as they'd once promised to one another.

He never left their side, not till they went too far for him to follow, back to Cybertron. 

Now he's alone.

Even still, he hopes that one day he'll be able to keep his word. 

"After the war"

He'll wait for that moment for as long as it takes, but at the same time he wonders.

Will they be waiting for him as well?

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 28

Hello my darlings,

Welcome to TSD week 28! I read some stuff this week that is definitely going in my all time faves list, seriously. Y'all are amazing. I've got 14 fics for you this week!! (Joel Miller, Frankie/Santi, Ezra, Din Djarin, Dieter Bravo, Max Phillips, Frankie Morales, Dieter/Javi P, Marcus Pike, Javier Peña). Summaries and tags are author provided unless they didn't have them (then I did it myself).

As always you can find all my fic recs here and my masterlist here

Recs under the Baby Cow Eyes

Cosmic Oddities - Din/Joel series by fromthewhales (Ao3)

Summary: Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other? (ed. note: this summary does not do this beautiful fic justice. READ IT). Tags: parental bonding, parallels, angst, everyone has issues, everyone needs a hug, touch starved din djarin, injuries, strangers to ??? to lovers, smashing the space western and the zombie western together like 2 ken dolls, trauma, crack-fic adjacent at times, hurt/comfort, soft not super explicit smut, self harm, found family, din djarin eventually removes the helmet, blindfold, long distance relationship, survivors guilt, angst with a happy ending, non sexual intimacy, it gets worse before it gets better, alcohol mention, game II canon divergent — but boy does it come close, canon typical violence, minor character death, major character injury, bi!joel miller, bi!din djarin

To be explored later - Frankie/Santi one shot by @legendary-pink-dot

Summary: You and your boyfriend Santi fuck his best friend Frankie and it's a little more MMF than you were expecting -- much to your delight Tags: Swearing, dirty talk, rough-ish sex, hair pulling, oral sex (m receiving), a couple of spanks, edging if you squint, also yearning m/m if you squint, unprotected PIV, snowballing, threesome, dom!Santi.

sweets for my sweet; sweets from my sweet - Ezra one shot by @tinytinymenace

Summary: you are a cook at an exploration camp and one of the miners asks you about Earth and brings you a treat Tags: Brief mentions of planet death (RIP Earth) and strained family dynamics but on balance this is soft.

Release Your Inhibitions - Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Shortly after revealing his face to you, Din’s worried about the faces he makes during sex, since he’s never had to worried about that before. You suggest something that might ease his worries; a blindfold. Tags: canon divergent, established relationship, Din is insecure and inexperienced, helmet comes off, blindfolding, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, light biting, creampie, super romantic and loving sex, use of Mando’a words/phrases (Cyar’ika = sweetheart, Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum = I love you, Yooba solus mesh'la = You are beautiful), no use of y/n

Best in Show - Dieter one shot by @covetyou

Summary: The Academy Awards, the most well known, well planned, film award ceremony in the world. So why is the host missing? Tags: dual narrative, masturbation (m), voyuerism, drug reference (our boy is sober but struggling), subby Dieter, slight humiliation kink, very brief mentions of other sex acts (anal play, PIV, cum play), reader talks Dieter through a very nervy wank.

Still Bejeweled - Joel one shot by @janaispunk

Summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, your self-esteem is crushed. your best friend takes you to your favorite bar to take your mind off of things. there's a band is playing there tonight and the singer immediately catches your eye. inspired by taylor swift's bejeweled – and when i meet the band, they ask, 'do you have a man?', i could still say, 'i don't remember' Tags: no/pre-outbreak au, no sarah, musician!joel, small age gap (reader is in her late 20s, joel's in his mid 30s), reader is described as smaller than joel and has hair long enough to pull, a bit of angst, fluff, making out, fingering, dirty talk (joel talks you through it, i just know it), praise kink, unprotected p in v (i just didn't feel like mentioning it, this is my fantasy world where pregnancies & sti's don't exist, but they very much exist in the real world, don't do this), joel has a big dick (it's canon), consent king joel, rough sex, ass-slapping, hair-pulling

Negotiations - Max Phillips one shot by @prolix-yuy

Summary: Max Phillips never found marketing to be all that helpful. Hell, running an ad on Facebook was easy enough. But then you walked in the door and he knew he had to have you, in all the ways he could. Tags: T, descriptions of male and female bodies, some fantasizing and suggestive themes.

Under the Stars - Joel one shot by @undercoverpena

Summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. Tags: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel

Apotheosis - Din series by @beskarandblasters

Summary: Din Djarin is a force-sensitive bounty hunter, working for the remnants of the Empire. He's on the hunt for you, an ex-rebel spy who has key information; the location where Luke Skywalker is building his Jedi training academy. But when you're captured, you're not going to give up the location easily. Din will have to utilize “alternative methods” to turn you over to the dark side. Tags: canon divergent, dark!Din, switches between Din and Reader’s point of view, eventual smut, Star Wars lore (not super heavy), manipulation/gaslighting, murder/minor character death, no use of y/n

Home - Frankie series by @dancingtotuyo

Summary: Frankie always comes home to you. Tags: fluff, angst, girl dad!frankie, recovering!Frankie, references to drug use, references to violence, trauma, healing.

Met the Devil Last Night - Joel one shot by @pedgito

Summary: I made a joke about wanting to screw dirt-covered Joel even if he was deep in the trenches of hell and...well, yeah. This is pure filth and nothing else. Tags: Porn with minuscule plot, if you willfem!reader, demon!joel, no specific age gap since dude is a literal demon, but reader is early 20s and I picture Joel to be his younger self (around 36), mentions of su*cidal ideations, this all a completely made up concept pls don't come for me about rituals, ect i will cry. virgin!reader, reader's father is a priest and horrible (just a total douche)/mother isn't alive, spitting, oral, unprotected piv, blood drinking, competency kink, innocence kink, mutual masturbation

Pearl Rosary - Din one shot by @sweetercalypso

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession Tags: public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

Good Boy - Dieter/Javi P one shot @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Summary: Dieter gets cucked. That's it. That's the fic. Tags: cucking, PIV, creampie, oral sex f receiving, cum eating, PWP/plot what plot?, dom!Javi, sub!dieter, idk what reader is... having a good time?

Whatta Man - Marcus Pike series by @atinylittlepain

Summary: He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him. Tags: this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

----

Self Promo:

in the a.m. - javier peña loose fit series

Summary: Between sleeping with informants and getting in bed with Los Pepes in the fight to bring down Escobar, Javier Peña also finds time to be with you. Wrestling with crippling self hatred, Javi tries and fails to keep his blood stained hands off of you. Based on some of my favorite Arctic Monkeys songs <3 Tags: smoking, probably shit spanish, smut, angst, established situationship, emotionally unavailable!Javi, references to past arguments/past hookups because this has been an ongoing thing and I love to start in the middle of a story, loose fit series, trauma, probably, sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, Javi very briefly picks you up, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst?

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

V ║ Confound

Dieter Bravo x f!reader

{ << Part 4: Contingent | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 6: Confute >> }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: You and Dieter keep things inside... in more ways than one.

Warnings: NO angst/fighting/jealousy/possessiveness (whaaaa), FLUFF (whaaaa), drinking, swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (m receiving), safe unprotected sex (be smart kids!), Dieter is softer than ever, yearning, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7.2k (!!!)

Note: This part is dedicated to the one and only Ash @mandoblowmybackout 😘 HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY MONTH! Thank you for cheering me on, sending me endless inspo and letting me scream at you in DMs about Javier and Din before always guiding me back to the light that is Dieter Bravo these past few weeks. You are the real MVP! More notes at the end.

This chapter picks up immediately after Part 4: Contingent.

He holds up a finger and reasons, 'What if I went to bed intending to fuck you the next morning? Not really breaking the rules if you asked me.'

You roll your eyes at his convoluted argument. 'Well, are you going to?'

The morning after

You didn't know that you snore.

But you know you're awake. A hangover is pounding audibly in your ears, and it's unmistakably snoring that you hear over the dull thud.

Your elbow hits something warm and solid as you turn on your back. The snoring breaks off for a second in a snort, then resumes its steady rhythm.

You groan in exasperation, your throat scratchy from slumber as you reach out and slap the expanse of the broad bare back next to you. 'For fuck's sake, Bravo, I said no sleeping over!'

Dieter jolts, grunting as he reaches out blindly to fend you off. He mumbles into the pillow, 'Fuck off.'

You try to sit up, but you're naked under the covers. Wrapping yourself in the sheets, you try to bodily shove him off the bed. 'I'm serious. Get the fuck out of here, Bravo!'

In a flurry of white linens, you find yourself knocked flat on your back, your wrists firmly in one of his big hands. He scowls at you, hair mussed, his voice deeper than you've ever heard it. 'Seriously sweetheart, I'm not a morning person, so cut it out.'

'You agreed to the rules,' you remind him. You try to move your hands but his hold on you is unforgiving.

Dieter shrugs. 'Whose fault is it really? Me, who fell asleep, or you, who fell asleep and failed to enforce your own rules?'

'You're such an asshole.'

He holds up a finger and reasons, 'What if I went to bed intending to fuck you the next morning? Not really breaking the rules if you asked me.'

You roll your eyes at his convoluted argument. 'Well, are you going to?'

A lazy grin tugs one side of his lips upwards. 'You'll just have to wait to find out,' he says with a yawn. 'I'm fucking starving. Can we order room service?'

'Which part of we're just fucking do you not understand, Bravo?' you grouse. 'I'm not having breakfast in bed with you.'

'It's my treat, you're welcome, sweetheart,' he replies and clambers over you to reach for the phone, literally crushing your protests as he calls front desk and proceeds to order what sounds like everything on the breakfast menu.

'I'm going to take a shower,' he announces when he's done, slamming the receiver back on the phone and pecking you on the lips.

You splutter at the casual show of affection. 'Shower usage was not part of the deal -'

With a huff, Dieter presses a firm kiss to your lips, tongue tracing the seam of your mouth until you capitulate. Drawing back leisurely, he grins at you. 'Relax, sweetheart, you don't have to say no to everything. All the fucking time.'

Clearly smug at having shut you up - for now - he saunters into the bathroom, still in his boxers that he didn't take off last night.

A very small part of your brain admits that you wish he did.

You dive back onto the bed, pulling the duvet over your face. Ugh. It's 7:30 in the goddamn morning. After making good on his promise of making it up to you with a very respectable hat trick of orgasms last night, your pussy is still very rudely raring to go since he insisted he was too strung out to fuck.

Dieter hasn't been in the shower for long when there's a knock on the door. Your tummy rumbles and you perk up at the prospect of coffee and bacon. Maybe room service isn't the worst idea, after all. You put on your robe and cross the messy floor to open the door.

It's the skinny pink suit that throws you first. You realise on second glance that the woman at the door has a few years on you - probably in her mid- to late-40s - primped to Hollywood perfection with white blonde hair, Botox and red lipstick. She radiates authority.

You're pretty confident that she isn't here with the room service.

She glances at you from head to toe in what seems like a cool assessment, before asking, 'I'm looking for Dieter Bravo. Is he here?'

'No,' you answer too quickly. At her arched eyebrow, you add sheepishly, '...Ma'am?'

Then of course, Dieter chooses this particular moment to start singing in the fucking shower. A very throaty and off-key rendition of Fleetwood Mac's Go Your Own Way bounces off the bathroom tiles.

The lady gives you a look that says busted.

You sigh in defeat and open the door wider. 'Come in, please.'

You wince when she casts her eyes on the disarray. The air is stagnant with alcohol and sex. You snatch up clothes from the floor, both yours and his, and shove them into a pile in a chair.

'Sorry,' you mumble in embarrassment.

She gives you an understanding smile. 'Trust me, darling, I've seen far worse where Dieter's involved.'

Rubbing your elbow awkwardly, you ask, 'So, you are...?'

'Rebecca,' she replies, extending her manicured hand to you. 'Dieter's agent.'

Her handshake is unsurprisingly firm. 'Oh, I thought Bernado was his agent.'

Rebecca smiles, which warms her blue eyes. 'I’m the big guns they bring out when Dieter gets in trouble. And you are?'

The sound of water tapers off and there's a slide of the shower door.

You clear your throat. 'Um... I'm the intimacy coordinator on the movie. And uh, this isn't what it looks like.'

Before Rebecca has a chance to reply, Dieter yells from the bathroom. 'Is the food here yet, sweetheart? I really need to eat first if you want to fuck. Preferably pancakes. Need some fast-acting glucose.'

You sigh in resignation, face in hand. Rebecca bites her lip, clearly amused by now.

Steam billows dramatically out of the bathroom when the door swings open, and Dieter emerges with a towel around his waist, his damp hair slicked back.

He doesn't look at all surprised to see his agent. If you have to wager a guess, she's clearly the only one who is able to keep any kind of a leash on him.

He ambles over to give her a kiss on the cheek. 'How did you find me, Becks?'

Rebecca tuts. 'Your phone's dead, and your poor driver was waiting outside all night. I'm here to deliver the message that the studio's booked you an STD test at 9am and then a sex therapy session at 10am. It's all part of the deal.'

Dieter groans, flopping onto his back on the mattress, arm flung over his eyes dramatically. 'What, so they think I'm some kind of fucking sexual deviant now?'

'Don't do the crime if you can't do the time,' chides Rebecca with a pat on his towel-covered thigh. 'I'll send a car at 8:30am, don't be late.' Turning to leave, she smiles at you. 'I'm sure I'll see you around, darling.'

The door closes, and you breathe heavily through your nose. 'Well, that was mortifying,' you deadpan, hands on hips.

Dieter props himself up on his elbows and wriggles his eyebrows at you. 'Wanna fuck?'

You glare at him, but it's half-hearted as you're distracted by the fact that you really like his hair pushed back like this. His face is all angular cheekbones and jawline this way. You have to consciously try to put up a fight.

You point at the door his agent just walked through. 'Bravo, that was the second rule broken before breakfast.'

Sitting up, he reaches for you and unties your robe, peeling it back to uncover your bare skin underneath. Pressing a wet kiss between your breasts, he stares up at you with dark eyes, his big hands finding your bare behind and squeezing. 'Come on sweetheart, it's no fun being a goody two shoes.'

Your pulse ticks up, and your head lolls back when he kisses up your neck, thick fingers finding your already wet folds. You let him tug you onto your knees on the bed to hover above his sitting form, pushing your robes off completely.

Beyond feigning any kind of pretence now, you tug off his towel to reveal his already hard cock. Rocking your hips, you rub against the ridge of him and tease, 'I thought you needed pancakes first.'

A deep rumble echoes in his chest, and he thrusts upwards to slide against you, hot lips suckling your tits one after the other. He murmurs against your skin, almost petulantly, 'Want your pussy now.'

You yelp in surprise when he wrestles you onto your back without warning. A whimper escapes you as his thumb finds your clit. You warn him, 'Don't think you can just fuck your way out of sticky situations, Bravo.'

He chuckles and pins you down with his broad frame, and he has the same answer for you as he did last night. 'We'll see about that, sweetheart.'

Neither of you hear room service arrive.

Week 5

It's Tuesday evening and you'd rather be catching up on Succession in bed with a glass of wine, but when one of the assistant directors of photography invited you to his impromptu birthday dinner, you couldn't say no and your plans for a quiet night in were dashed.

At least Pete is here. The pair of you are sat at the end of the table in case a quick escape is necessary, since neither of you really hang out with this particular group, and you suspect you were only invited to make up the numbers.

Wine is running low and the dessert menus are being handed around when your phone, sat on the table in front of you, buzzes with an incoming call.

DIERDRE CALLING

You press the decline button and continue pretending to listen to the conversation, when your phone buzzes again. This time, you turn off the vibration and let it ring out.

Then a barrage of eggplant and water splash emojis appears on your screen and your nostrils flare in annoyance. Pete peers at your phone with an eyebrow up.

'Who’s Dierdre?' he asks.

You sigh. 'My great aunt. Let me just make sure it's not a medical emergency.'

You excuse yourself from the table and call the number back.

He picks up on the first ring. 'Finally, sweetheart.'

You pinch the bridge of your nose. 'What do you want?'

'Need an excuse to get out of that dinner?'

You frown and your eyes dart suspiciously around you, confused. 'Are you stalking me?'

He scoffs. 'As if. Overheard the costumes girls talking about how you'll be at this boring last-minute birthday dinner tonight. I'll give you an out if you ask nicely.'

'I don't need you to do anything of the sort. I could get out of it if I wanted to.'

You can practically hear him rolling his eyes on the other side of the line. 'Please, sweetheart. You're a terrible liar.'

'No, I'm not,' you argue hotly.

'Just tell them I have an urgent issue with tomorrow's script and I need your help.'

You cross your arms. 'You just told me I'm a terrible liar, only to ask me to lie the next second?'

'It's a white lie, you can do it,' he says with a grunt.

You suddenly hear the unmistakable sound of skin sliding on skin on his end. 'What the fuck are you doing?'

'Warming up. If you don't get here in ten minutes, I’ll finish without you.'

Heat prickles under your skin. Unbidden, your imagination conjures up the image of him sprawled lazily in bed in his green robe, his ratty pajamas bottoms tugged down just enough for him to touch himself, while he talks to you on the phone. You ignore the urge to rub your thighs together, and instead, call his bluff. ‘Yeah, right. Now who’s a terrible liar?’

You try not to stutter when you haltingly make your excuses to the birthday boy, blaming your early exit on Dieter and something vague about the script, as he told you to. You hate that he's not wrong - you really are a sorry liar.

Pete gives you a knowing wink and elbows you in the ribs when you return to your seat to grab your coat. 'Have fun watering great aunt Dierdre's eggplants, babe.'

Week 6

Dieter Bravo is a fickle man.

When one is rich and famous with nothing to prove, especially so with an Oscar on the bookshelf, one can afford to be.

Dieter’s been around the block and then some. He's been engaged no less than four times, twice to the same woman. Countless girlfriends. He's never been with anyone who doesn’t want anyone else to know. If anything, the opposite has always been true.

He's never had a problem with women wanting their five minutes of fame - he only keeps them around for just that long anyway. He's also not the kind of guy who needs to be pressed to be affectionate. There are thousands of pap shots of him with his girlfriends of the moment, hand in hand, hand on waist, kissing and nuzzling. He enjoys intimacy and he's not afraid to be seen doing so.

Then you come along with your ground rules. This secrecy - the not being allowed to give anything away - is unexpectedly titillating.

It’s been two weeks since Sundance and he actually has put in an effort to be good. Knowing his tendencies for PDA, he really watches himself. His fingers twitch from restraint when you're near, and he deliberately looks away when you pass each other in the corridors.

You, on the other hand, seem to have it down pat.

In fact, you’re so unflappable that he sometimes sends you random filth to try throw you off. Mainly lowbrow shit with lots of eggplant and cat emojis. He'd watch you from across the room as the screen lights up your face. You would roll your eyes and when you find his, you would give him a stern look with a touch of contempt before carrying on with whatever you were doing.

Never in a million years would he have thought that you'd be the one to fuck up and nearly give it all away.

It's Thursday and the crew is on set, filming an intimate scene in bed. Dieter is braced above Brooke, both naked other than the nude underwear they're wearing. It's probably the most tender love scene in the whole script, and the relative tameness is coming off as a bit flat on camera compared with the more bombastic choreography filmed so far.

You're talking to Tobias and the director of photography, hovering and gesturing over the director's monitor.

Dieter eyes the uncharacteristically tight top you're wearing, cut low with buttons running down the front. He intercepted your laundry run last night by showing up at your door without notice, knocking the basket of dirty clothes from your hands and practically tackling you into bed, where he kept you all night.

You grumbled at him this morning for your lack of clean work clothes while he lounged in bed with an iced coffee from the mini bar, watching you dig deep into your suitcase for something wearable, with this particular blouse being the least revealing and crumpled of the lot.

His mind wanders as he schemes to thwart your laundry plans again tonight. He jumps when Brooke elbows him in the shoulder.

She gives him the side eye. 'What's up with you? You're so distracted today.'

Dieter pfffts in protest, maybe a bit exaggeratedly. 'No, I'm not. Just bored waiting around for the intimacy coordinator to come up with something for the scene.'

Right on cue, you turn around from the directors' huddle, clapping your hands to get the actors' attention.

'Alright folks, I think we cracked it,' you say excitedly, voice raised so they can hear you from across the set. 'Dieter, we need more elevation from you so we can let more light in on Brooke. We also need a bit more movement, so I was thinking, why don't you try that thing you did with your hips last night, and we'll see how it looks on camera.'

The hush that falls over the set lands delicately like first snow.

Dieter's had a lot of things thrown at him over his two and a half decades in the business - including a literal cat once while on Late Night. Very little fazes him.

Still, it's taking an enormous amount of willpower to keep his jaw locked so his fucking tongue doesn't roll out.

The look on your face would've been funny if he didn't think you having a heart attack was a real possibility in this moment.

So he comes to your rescue.

Dieter chuckles, cutting through the quiet, just a tad too loudly. 'You mean the hip thing that I did in the sex tape from 2011 that I showed you last night?'

It's not great. Improv has never been his forte, and you've put him on the spot.

But it works. The veil of silence lifts as the crew laughs good-naturedly, and you seem to unfreeze as what just happened obviously hits you. Being the trooper that you are, you bite your lip and you try your best to laugh with everyone else, and carry on.

Dieter grins to himself.

You're fucking adorable.

Week 7

The problem with having an agent who is practically family is that it's impossible for him to get out of anything.

Dieter tried throwing a tantrum. He tried begging. He tried to fire her.

Rebecca had laughed like he said something hilarious, handed him his suit for the evening, and told him to get ready for the limo at 7pm. She had the audacity to wink at him and pat him on the cheek. 'Enjoy, darling.'

So here he is on the red carpet of Samantha's Secret, with the starlet in the titular role on his arm. His sunglasses are on per usual, and he’s trying not to scowl too obviously at the cameras.

You'd been genuinely amused when he told you his plans for this particular Saturday night. You'd laughed loudly, 'The studio is basically pimping you out.'

It's part of what he calls his penance package for his fuck-up at Sundance. This C-list film (to be kind) is the pet project of the actress in the lead, one of the bigshot studio executives' daughter. She wanted Dieter to be her date for the evening - what baby wants, baby gets.

The worst part of all this? The whole cast and crew of Resurgence have also been invited to witness his humiliation. And you've been driving him to distraction from the moment you arrived some fifteen minutes ago.

Not that you're trying to. In fact, it's precisely because you are not trying. You haven't even looked in his direction since he spotted you. You're hard to miss tonight though, in a black sequin dress with long sleeves that hits just above your knees. You're hanging out with the makeup and hair girls, champagne in hand, obviously having a far better time than he is.

As his date for the evening steers him into the cinema proper, his chief makeup artist on the film yells his name and waves vigorously. 'Dieter! Come take a selfie with us, dude!'

Relieved for the diversion, he all but shakes off his date and strolls over to your group, tipping his sunglasses down his nose and grinning broadly. 'It would be my pleasure, ladies.'

While the girls fuss with their multiple cameras and argue about filters, Dieter discreetly makes his way to the back of the group to stand directly behind you.

'Hello, sweetheart,' he whispers into your ear. 'I like this dress on you.'

'Thanks. And your date is super cute,' you reply sarcastically, nodding towards the redhead who's rolling her eyes at him and tapping her foot impatiently.

'Play nice, sweetheart,' Dieter tuts, pausing to smile with teeth as the camera flashes. While your friends are distracted checking the selfies, he sneaks a hand into the space between you to casually squeeze your ass, and smirks at your outraged hiss. He counts it as win that you don't bat away his hand. He placates you, 'After all, you know who I'm going home with tonight.'

'We’ll see about that, Bravo,' you throw the now oft-used refrain over your shoulder, a challenge in your eyes, before being pulled away by your friends in between shouts of thanks Dieter!

The screening is in a fancy cinema with plush velvet sofas and mahogany side tables.

You know Dieter is sitting a couple of rows behind you. You saw him on his way in from the corner of your eye, with the starlet of the hour - a seriously dubious honour - on his arm.

The movie is, as expected, terrible. Not even terrible in a funny way, just plain terrible. But is it worth sitting through a two-hour long bad film when the champagne keeps magically topping itself up, as do the canapes and popcorn?

Hell yeah it is. Cheapest Saturday night out ever.

During a particularly dull lull in the film, you whisper to the girls that you're taking a bathroom break. You look straight ahead of you as you go up the stairs, but you feel his eyes on you anyway.

It's quiet outside, and no one is around when you exit the bathroom. Dieter is waiting for you at a doorway shielded by heavy velvet curtains, and you let him drag you impatiently into the dark space by your waist.

Once the curtains swish shut, the thick fabric brushing your bare back, you yank him in by the lapels of his smart suit and press a hard kiss to his lips, drawing a sound of surprise from him.

'Are there cameras in here?' you ask, pulling back. Dieter walks you further into the cloakroom, palming your ass, past racks of thick coats until he finds an unoccupied wall to push you up against.

'No, I checked,' he replies into the hollow of your neck and grabs your thigh, hooking it around his waist and grinds. He chokes on an inhale. ‘I’m so fucking hard for you, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip to stop yourself from groaning at the sweet pressure against your clit. You tease, ‘Why don’t you ask your little girlfriend to give you a handy in the dark while you watch her dreadful acting? Sounds like some weird kink you'd be into.’

His chuckle breaks off unsteadily as you reach down to run a finger along the outline of his already straining erection. ‘Shit, I like it when you’re jealous.’

You huff. ‘I wish I was. I would love to actually feel something during this awful movie.’

‘Please let me fuck you, baby. Can’t sit through another hour of the fucking film with you just there two rows away,’ begs Dieter as he rocks into your hand, his fingers finding their way underneath your dress now.

You grab his wandering hands and shake your head sternly. ‘Can’t. I borrowed this dress from the movie. Can’t get anything on it.’

Dieter whines into your ear, his breath hot on your skin. ‘I’ll pay for it. Please sweetheart, I’m gonna come in my fucking pants.’

‘Shhhh,’ you press your index finger to his lips, his desperation turning you on more than you care to admit. Dieter sucks on your digit, the cavern of his mouth molten hot. Grabbing him by his tie, you spin him round so he’s the one leaning on the wall, and you hold his gaze while your other hand finds his belt buckle.

His pupils are blown as you extract your finger from between his lips with a pop. The heels make it tricky, but you manage to get down on your knees as gracefully as you could, undoing his belt and unzipping his fly as you go.

You’ve been sleeping together for a good three weeks now, and you haven’t had the chance to do this just yet. He always beats you to it, burying his face between your thighs more often than not as soon as he gets you in his room - or your room, or on a couple of occasions, Supplies Closet 306 - and always thrusting into you while your cunt is still clenching from orgasm, as if he just can't hold back.

Releasing his hard cock from his boxers, you wrap your palm around him and stroke him firmly, smiling when he gasps. You tell him, ‘You'll have be quick about this, or people will notice we’re gone, ok?’

He nods wordlessly, his whole forehead wrinkling as if in great pain. He tucks his chin in to watch you close your lips over the tip of his cock, and his jaw goes slack as you let his length sink into your wet mouth.

Dieter groans low into the darkness, fingers weaving into your hair and his rings catching on stray strands as you go as far down as you can, filling your mouth so completely full with his thick cock.

It’s been a while since you’ve done this, the hinge of your jaw already aches from the pressure and you savour the sensation. He must have showered just before, the sweetness of soap clings to your tongue as you forego any teasing and instead, work up a brisk rhythm. One of your hands is braced on his strong thigh, flexing underneath your fingers as he twitches and jerks, and your other is fisting what you can’t fit into your mouth.

Dieter is mumbling incoherently above you, broken words between panting breaths seeping into your consciousness - fuck, sweetheart - that’s it - so fucking good - look at me, look at me while you take my cock -

When you do, he looks so far gone that you moan around him and a violent shudder rattles his entire body. He thrusts forward without warning, which makes you choke and spit floods your mouth.

‘Sweetheart, you’re gonna make me come,’ he blurts out, his head rolling back and hitting the wall with a loud thump.

You can’t quite tell if it’s a warning or a plea. So you open your mouth just a bit wider, and tears sting the corner of your eyes as he begins to fuck your mouth - shallowly, experimentally at first. Then deeper, harder, until you're whimpering around him.

You’re absolutely certain that no man has ever fucked your throat as deep as he is right now, and your cunt clenches on nothing when he loses it, his hold on your hair now bordering on painful, his body pulled completely taut.

This time, it’s definitely a warning as he chokes, the rhythm of his hips wavering. ‘I’m gonna come in your mouth if you don’t stop, sweetheart.’

You try to smile around him, but you can’t, his cock is so fucking big that there is no room for manoeuvre. So instead, you reach down and firmly cup his heavy sac. His hips jerk, the tip of his head nearly hitting the back of your throat, and with a broken growl, his cum fills your mouth with each erratic thrust. You swallow thickly - once, twice - before he stills and crumples against the wall.

His grip in your hair finally lets up, and reaching down for your hands, he pulls you up on shaky knees, his lips crashing onto your swollen ones, a moan caught deep in his throat.

Then he pulls back and sighs, soft eyes on you while he wipes the glossy spit off your bottom lip. ‘Thank you.’

'And that’s how it’s done,' you reply a bit too smugly. The thinly veiled dig at the Sundance incidence doesn't go over his head.

He pulls up his trousers and gives you a lopsided grin, before pulling you in for another kiss, his rough palms splayed on your lower back. 'There's that smart fucking mouth.'

Hands on his chest, you try to push him off, but he doesn't let you, easily overpowering you. Instead, he traces the outline of your jaw with his nose until his breathing evens out.

You protest, ‘We have to get back, we've been gone too long. You're lucky if your date hasn't sent out a search party.'

Ignoring you, Dieter pulls out a key card from his back pocket. 'Come back to mine tonight.'

'I can’t. We’re going partying after this, it'll be too late to do anything,' you argue.

He shrugs carelessly. 'I don't give a fuck. Come after the party.'

You don't give him an answer. Instead, you tease, 'But are you sure you haven’t been pimped out for the whole night?'

With a grumble, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside that makes you squeak indignantly, and he presses the card into your palm before pushing you towards the exit. 'Off you go, sweetheart. I'll wait up for you.'

It's past 3am. You really shouldn't. You don't even have a spare change of clothes or makeup remover wipes. There’s nothing but a very embarrassing walk of shame and a hangover awaiting you a few hours down the line.

But somehow, you still key in his hotel address when you call your Uber.

And somehow, you're in the hotel elevator going all the way up to the penthouse.

You've been to his room enough to know your way around in the relative darkness. It's easily five times as big as yours, with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city lights, now veiled by sheer curtains drawn closed.

The only source of light in the room is the bedside lamp on the nightstand, messy as usual, covered with his rings, reading glasses, scripts and a tall glass of water. One thing you've learned about him these past weeks is that he’s a stickler for hydrating, if not anything else.

Dieter is sleeping on his stomach, elbows bent and both hands buried underneath his pillow. His bare back rises and falls with his breathing, and he's snoring gently.

He's usually a heavy sleeper, but tonight, he wakes up when you crawl in on the other side of the king-sized bed.

'What time is it?' he yawns and pulls back the duvet for you to shuffle into the cocoon.

'Almost four,' you answer, settling onto your back, and you sigh when your head sinks into the plush pillows. They are so much more comfortable than the ones in your room. You might actually steal a couple for yourself.

Dieter shifts so he's on his side to wrap one arm around your waist, nuzzling the underside of your neck as he breathes out through his nose. 'Did you have fun with the girls?'

'Who said there were any girls there?'

A giggle escapes you when he bites out a grunt at your insolence and pulls you tight against him, his breath fanning your ear. Neither of you makes any excuses about fucking the next morning - you don't remember when you stopped, or who stopped first, to be honest.

Dieter reaches behind him to switch off the lamp. He presses a kiss to where your jawbone meets your ear and worms one arm under you, so that you can snuggle right up against him, resting your cheek on his chest.

Your eyes take a while to adjust to the darkness. You blink until you see the outline of his arm, slung over you. You stare at the black triangle tattoo near the crease of his elbow for a while as your mind buzzes with something that has been weighing on you. Something which, after too many glasses of free champagne followed by overpriced cocktails, can no longer be put off.

You find yourself whispering into the stillness. 'My ex proposed to me at Sundance, four years ago. Then he broke up with me a year later. Also at Sundance.'

You're probably half-hoping he's asleep, so that you can get it off your chest without him ever knowing it. You don't owe him an explanation, and he never asked. You hear silence as he holds his breath.

The arm under you curls you closer into him, and he asks, lips brushing your temple and beard tickling your ear. 'Want me to ruin his career? Or break his legs?'

You close your eyes and smile. 'I think he's already done the career ruining on his own.'

He waits a beat, then clarifies, 'So… just break his legs then?'

Your whole body shakes with laughter, and you feel him grin against the side of your neck, his arms anchoring you to his warmth as you fall into a deep sleep.

Dieter’s used to you waking up on the furthest opposite side of the bed. Your sleeping habits seem to imitate your constant need keep him at arm’s length in real life.

Which is why he’s confused that you’re spooning him, your arms tied loosely around his middle, a semi-dried patch of drool on his shoulder.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the little spoon. Especially with your soft, naked tits pressed up against his back. His cock twitches when you shift in your sleep, your nipples drawing patterns on his skin.

The room is awash with late-morning sun. He brings your hand up and presses a kiss to your knuckles. ‘Morning, sweetheart.’

You grumble sleepily, burying your face into his shoulder. ‘Oh god, I can't open my eyes. The mascara's stuck them together.’

Dieter rolls over and catches a glimpse of black smudges on your eyes when you're too slow to hide behind your hands. He grins, ‘For what it's worth, I think you look sexy.’

‘Shut up,’ you whine and bury your face into the pillow. ‘I look like a panda.’

He chuckles and jokes. ‘I can work with that. I’ll just have to fuck you from behind then.’

He doesn’t expect you to moan at that. It goes straight to his cock.

Pressing a half-kiss to your shoulder, his voice drops an octave when he asks, ‘I didn’t quite catch that, sweetheart. Did you want something?’

You still refuse to look at him, if anything, you burrow deeper into the pillow, but your needy whimper is unmistakable. Dieter unwraps you slowly, finding you completely naked under the duvet.

You thrum with tension when he runs a calloused hand down the dip of your back, and he climbs over you, holding his weight while he laves your neck with his tongue.

His hands squeeze your ass cheeks together as he slides his erection between the plump flesh. He croons in your ear, ‘You want me to bend you over and pound that pussy from behind?’

You make a choking noise and roll your hips backwards against him. ‘Fuck, yes please.’

'Since you asked so nicely,' he hums and nudges your thighs slightly apart to ease a finger into you. His chest reverberates with a deep sound at what he finds. ‘So wet already, sweetheart.’

You writhe shamelessly under him while he fingers you, the slick sounds of your pussy stretching around his one thick finger, and then two, getting you wetter each time he pumps into you right up to the knuckle.

He takes his sweet time, nipping and licking every part of you he can reach until you gripe at him. ‘Dieter.’

You gasp when he smacks you on your ass, and his cock lurches at the slippery gush around his fingers. He purrs by your ear, ‘Be a good girl and get a condom from the top drawer for me.'

You don’t move for a long moment. So long that he hesitates and is about to pull back, before he hears your tentative question. ‘Did you - did you pass that STD test?’

He only realises he’s stopped moving when you moan and move against him, searching for friction.

Dieter swallows, but his answer still comes out in a mangled stutter. ‘Yeah - yeah I did, sweetheart.’

You look back at him over your shoulder, all smeared eyeliner and mascara, biting your plump bottom lip. ‘I've been tested too if you want to - you know.’

Before his brain can catch up, he’s already flipped you on your back, his hands tight around your wrists. He rasps against your lips. ‘If I want to - what?’

You worry your bottom lip prettily. He's getting fucking light headed with you looking up at him like this. ‘We don't have to use a condom. I’m on the pill too - ’

You’ve barely gotten your last word out before Dieter lunges at you with a bruising kiss, draping his whole body atop yours until you feel his cock nudge against your cunt.

‘Don’t hold it against me if I don’t last,’ he moans into your collar bone, biting down sharply as he pushes your right thigh up and back against the bed, opening you up for him.

Impatiently, you reach down to wrap your hand around him and guide his head right against your sopping entrance. ‘I don't care. Just fuck me, Bravo.’

The scrape of your back against the mattress burns as Dieter sheathes himself inside you in one hard thrust, shoving you up the bed. The burn in your cunt is something else - the stretch is perfect and he feels completely different - fucking amazing - with nothing in between.

He looks down at you with stormy eyes, brows knitted tightly together, braced on his elbows on either side of your head as you watch him, your lips parted in a silent O.

‘Goddamn, you feel - ’ he breaks off in a feral growl when you lift your hips to slide him in just a bit deeper. ‘ - Fuck!’

And that’s all it takes to break Dieter Bravo.

He doesn’t hear your throaty cries as he fucks deep into you, or the wet slap of skin on skin as your bodies collide. There's no finesse to his movements, only a sloppy, raw heat building between you two.

He’s never been a multi-tasker. It’s one of the reasons he’s a great actor - when he’s in the moment, he’s in it. And right now, the one thing he can focus on is the incredible wet grip of your cunt on his naked cock. He’s struggling to do anything other fucking you. One stroke at a time.

His body is playing catch up with his mind. His eyes fixate on your lips, but it takes him two beats before he leans in to smear a messy kiss on you. He catches sight of your tits, but he only reaches out to grab one clumsily after watching them bounce back and forth for what seems like long minutes.

Then he props himself up higher and drops his gaze to watch your cunt stretch and swallow his cock. It’s completely covered in your slick when he pulls out almost all the way, before shoving it back inside you so hard that he actually hears you shriek this time.

As if propelled into action, he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, eyes sliding up to your face. Your hair is stuck to beads of sweat on your forehead and neck, eyes glazed over, and he knows that in this moment, your body is completely his.

‘I’m gonna come,’ you pant, sheets twisting under your fingers as you desperately try to hold on to something as you spiral. ‘Dieter, I’m gonna come - ’

He pushes into you harder as your cunt begins to clench and squeeze around him. He bares his teeth and literally digs his heels in. ‘Yeah, sweetheart? Go on then, come around my cock. Show me how good I make you feel, baby.’

You thrash under him - there is no other way to describe it - and with a wail you break apart under him, your pussy squelching around him in a stranglehold as he continues to drive into you.

‘So fucking beautiful,’ he snarls. He doesn't know where to look - the curve of your neck as you tilt your head back to gasp for breath, or the glaze of your cum running down your thighs, or the expanse of your soft, heated skin in between. ‘This pussy is all for me. Isn’t it?’

You nod frantically at his demand and he exhales raggedly, pushing himself up to sit back on his haunches. Hands on your upper thighs, he holds you obscenely wide to watch his thick cock disappear between the lips of your cunt. Slowly, almost carefully, before he picks up the pace again until he has you arching your back and keening at the depth that he’s hitting. He groans and his eyes clench shut, hips stuttering as he reaches the end of his tether.

He looks up at you, jaw hanging open and asks, ‘Where do you want me, sweetheart?’

‘Inside,’ you plead, with no hesitation. ‘Fill me up, please.’

‘I’ll fucking fill you up. I'll fuck your tight little pussy full of my cum,’ he rants and pins your knees all the way back to your shoulders, driving your hips forward so he can plough into you. ‘Take all of it, take all of me -’

You feel him before you hear him. His cock seems to swell impossibly inside you before he roars, head thrown back and the vein in his neck throbbing as he fills your cunt with thrust after thrust of hot cum, his rings biting into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he empties himself into you.

Bonelessly, he falls onto you, his weight crushing you to the mattress. He buries his face in your chest, almost wheezing as he struggles to catch his breath. You feel his softening cock slide out of you, cum leaking messily down your inner thighs, making you shudder. You don't mind though, and you absent-mindedly run your fingers through his thick curls.

Dieter slowly comes back to himself. He sluggishly nuzzles your tits, tasting the salt in between them. Rubbing his sweaty forehead against your neck, he feels the sticky peel of flesh as he moves off of you, only to pull you flush against him, back to his front, sweat sealing your skin together while he presses kisses to your shoulder as the high passes, and a deep calm settles into his bones.

His confession is whispered against your ear. ‘I haven't done that in years.’

You tangle your fingers in his and hold his hand against your stomach, relishing in the solid weight of him around your ravaged body. You don't hesitate when you reply, ‘Me neither.’

Dieter lets your two-worded, almost offhand admittance wash over him, and his chest swells with possessive pride. For the first time since this started three weeks ago - seven since that day in Supplies Closet 306 - you lower your hackles just long enough for him to take a peek in, twice. After a night of hard drinking and sleep deprivation, but still.

He'll take it. He'll take whatever you deign to throw at his feet.

Chin on your shoulder, he watches your thumb draw circles on his knuckles, your me neither ringing in his ears. He can't help but wonder if your moronic ex-fiancé was the last man to have been granted the privilege, and he holds you just a bit tighter.

Your pliant weight goes slack in his arms as you nod off. He gets comfortable behind you - he doesn't need to be anywhere today and he can do with a bit more shuteye, especially with you around.

He's pressing a closed-mouth kiss to your temple, his eyes tracing the contours of your face under heavy lids, when the realisation rudely sets in.

He's in so much fucking trouble.

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 6: Confute >> }

Note: So... this chapter turned out far fluffier than I ever intended any part of this series to be when I first started Consent. Probably the fluffiest anything I've ever written... and I kinda... liked it?? 🤷🏻‍♀️ Please be gentle with me, I'm feeling vulnerable after this little break away from writing - I really hope this part didn't disappoint. Reblogs and comments would be very appreciated as always!

As much as I hate admitting it - we are nearing the end of the series, or at least, this particular series in this universe 🥺 I have a rough outline drafted, but I will be taking my time and make sure Consent gets the conclusion it deserves!

Thank you my wonderful readers for sticking with me throughout this break, and for patiently enduring my many random Dieter posts over the past weeks. I'm so happy to be back in my writing headspace with Dieter 😘

[bellofthemeadow]

The Road ahead - ch 4 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: A long overdue confrontation takes place where you have to face Frankie's lies.

Notes: Hello again everyone! Oh my God, I am so excited about this brand-new, shiny chapter!! That entire interaction was what brought me to imagine this fic in the first place. I hope you all like as much as I had fun writing it (I am a big slut for angst so beware). Thank you again for the support and let me know what you all think <3 <3 <3

Letting Go

Letter #1

August 19th, 2008

To the prettiest girl at the bar,

Hey there... So, before I go any further, I need to apologize for making my getaway from your place that morning in such a rush. I had to be on base at 0530, and I didn't want to disturb your sleep. Seriously, you looked so peaceful in that cozy bed of yours. If I had any type of artistic talent, I would've painted a masterpiece to capture that moment. I mean, I'm no Picasso or anything, but just imagine the most breathtaking sight you can ever imagine and that's exactly how you looked that morning.

I really hope I'm not coming across as strange or anything by reaching out to you like this. You see, as I was making my exit, I happened to glimpse your address on one of those letters sitting on your kitchen counter. And one of the perks of being an army pilot (aside from flying, of course), is that I tend to have a decent memory and your address stuck with me long enough to scribble it down later at base. Please, please don't get the wrong idea here! I know it might sound a bit, um, stalker-ish, but I promise you, that's not what's going on in the slightest.

I got to admit, I'm feeling a little shy about writing this letter. Swear to you, I've never done anything like this before! It isn’t some cheesy move that army dudes pull to charm the ladies (well, maybe some do), but I promise you, that isn’t my intention at all! I'm afraid I might be rambling here, and the more I go on, the more I feel like I'm messing this up!

To be honest, I didn't know what to do with your address. But it kept catching my eye every morning when I rolled out of bed and right before I hit the hay. The time we spent together just kept playing on a loop in my mind. And you? You've been sticking to my thoughts like glue.

That night we had; it was like sparks ignited in my head. I couldn't let it slip away without taking a shot, without letting you know how I’ve been feeling these past two weeks since that night.

I guess it's kind of unconventional, reaching out to you like this with a letter. But something inside me just wants to explore if there's something even more special that could sprout between us. I can't get your smile out of my head, or the perfect way we connected. It’s never happened to me before. It's like fate brought us together that night. Like our souls were destined to weave together. You’re always on my mind, and I'm aching to learn more about the beautiful soul that's stolen my heart.

So here I am at 3 am in my bunk, writing this letter while holding my breath and hoping you're open to taking a leap with me.

I'll be here, waiting for your reply. But please, know this: if what I felt, that connection I think we shared, doesn't resonate with you, there's no need to feel bad. I don't want you to feel obligated or burdened by any expectations.

Our time together was a precious moment, one that I hold dear and will hold dear forever. And if our hearts don't align in the same way, I understand. We all navigate our own paths, and sometimes they lead us in different directions.

Please, don't feel guilty if you choose not to respond. Our connection, albeit short, was a gift. I cherish the memories we created, and I will hold onto the possibility of what could have been with a grateful heart.

Wishing you nothing but happiness and fulfillment,

The terrible wingman from the bar,

(Francisco Morales)

Letter # 2

September 2nd, 2008.

Dear Francisco,

Your letter was a real shock, to say the least. I woke up the morning you left feeling so empty without you there. I combed through the entire house hoping to find a clue, maybe you had scribbled down your number somewhere. I must have deep-cleaned my apartment twice in the hope of finding a scrap of paper with your name on it. At some point, I thought it might have been a dream, that I had imagined that amazing, gorgeous, and generous man with whom I spent the night. I was sure I was crazy and then, out of nowhere, your letter came. It made me question whether you enjoy giving ladies emotional scares. I’ve barely known you for a full day and it already feels like being on a rollercoaster ride. Is this what life is for you Francisco? The helicopter pilot, always seeking a new high?

I want you to know that there's no need for you to worry. The connection we experienced that night has also stayed with me, occupying my thoughts ever since. It's as if the memory of our time together has become an integral part of myself, refusing to fade away. Your letter touched me in a way that no one else ever has. It was the most romantic and adorable gesture anyone has ever done for me.

I must confess, I feel deeply flattered by the lengths you've gone to express your feelings for me. It's not something you encounter every day—a man putting so much effort into writing a letter to a girl he spent just one night with. And while I cannot deny that such attention could have easily ventured into the realm of being slightly creepy, there is something inexplicable about your gestures that managed to bypass any unease within me.

I can't help but wonder what that means for you and me. Maybe, just as you said, it was fate that brought us together that night.

Francisco, now that you've opened the door to your world, I don’t intend to shut it close. My desire to know you better has blossomed into something more profound. I yearn to uncover the layers of your being and to understand the depths of your passions, dreams, and weaknesses.

Every time I close my eyes, the memory of your hands caressing my skin resurfaces, leaving an indelible mark on my senses. It's as if your touch awakened a dormant part of me, igniting a fire that I never knew existed. I find myself longing for the warmth of your embrace, the tenderness in your eyes, and the sound of your laughter that brought music to my ears.

But, Francisco, I also want to be honest with you. Your sudden disappearance left me confused and uncertain. I need reassurance that you are equally invested in seeing where this might go. I need to know that you won't disappear again without a trace. My parents fought constantly when I was a child. So for me, communication is essential, and I believe that openness and honesty are paramount to laying strong foundations for whatever this might become.

If those terms are agreeable, I will wait for your letter impatiently. In the meanwhile, please take care and make sure to prioritize your safety and try to avoid taking unnecessary risks for me. I can't help but worry about you, and I want nothing more than for you to stay out of harm's way as much as possible.

Warmly

The girl from the bar

Letter # 17

April 19, 2009.

Hola preciosa,

Once again, last night you appeared in my dreams, as you so often do. But this time, it felt unbelievably real, like a distant yet familiar memory that I couldn't quite grasp. We were together at your place, surrounded by warmth and coziness while raindrops fell outside. It was just the two of us, lost in our own little world, wrapped in the comfort of each other's presence. Although the exact details escape me, I vividly remember the way you touched me, as if your fingers left an indelible mark on my skin. If given the chance, I would choose to spend my last moments in your arms, savouring the most beautiful thing of all—your love.

Those mere four days we spent together back in January were nothing short of a cruel tease. It's as if every time I lay my eyes on you, my love for you sprouts like an overenthusiastic weed, making it increasingly excruciating to bid you farewell each time. I'm still amazed at how I managed to be only fifteen minutes late for base that day. Let's just say those extra rounds of push-ups were a small sacrifice in exchange for the extra pleasure of your company.

As I write this, Benny has decided it's the perfect time to hover behind me, boasting about his self-proclaimed status as the brilliant mastermind behind us. Can you believe him? As if his presence that night we met magically transformed him into a love guru. Anyway, Benny says hello, as do Will and Santi, although you haven't met them yet. I truly hope that the next time we all have time off from base, you'll have the chance to meet them. Those guys are like brothers to me, and I really want you to get to know them. I'm certain they'll like you as much as I cherish you.

 I know that until now, we've kept our personal lives somewhat separate, with your work at the library, your family, and your friends, and the same goes for me. But now, I want you to be an integral part of my life, a constant presence. Even when I'm away, I want to know that I am yours and you are mine. You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking since January (Yes it happens often before you say anything), and I've come to realize that I can no longer imagine my life without you by my side. When I think about the future, I see you right there beside me. But if I try to imagine a life without you, it feels incredibly dark, and I feel like everything would lose its meaning.

I know this might sound completely insane. I know people would say that we haven't been seeing each other long enough for these kinds of declarations. But Hermosa, when you know, you know.

When I return from base, all I want is to hold you in my arms until they fall off. I want to be able to hold your hand as we stroll through town, and I want to shout from rooftops that you are mine! Even now, when I look at the picture you gave me, it fills me with a warm feeling that envelops my entire body, and I can't help but proudly show your picture to everyone, telling them how lucky I am that a girl like you would even remotely look at someone like me. You inspire me to be a better person, my lovely one. Everything feels worthwhile with you. I can't imagine a world where we're not together, and I want to think about you every single day for the rest of my life.

My dearest love, you are the sky that stretches above me. Just as the sun illuminates the world on bright days, you radiate warmth and light, filling my heart with boundless joy. When clouds gather and cast their shadows, it is you who transforms the room, turning even the gloomiest moments into something serene and comforting. I know that together we can weather any storms that may come our way.

My love, until Uncle Sam lets us be together again, I will keep on finding my comfort in those four days we shared in January. Those precious moments have woven themselves deep into my heart, and they hold a special place that no distance could ever diminish. I cannot wait to be home with you and create new memories to intertwine with them.

Please take care and know that I love you a little bit more every day.

Yours forever,

Frankie

Letter # 18

April 25th 2009

My sweet Frankie,

Your letter moved me to tears when I first read it. After I put it down, I picked it up again and found myself crying even more. I was afraid that I was the only one experiencing such intense emotions. I worried that perhaps you were more interested in a casual connection and that we might not be fully aligned in our desires for each other and our relationship. However, I'm relieved to discover that I'm not alone in feeling this deeply. Thoughts of you consume my mind constantly, and those days we spent together in January remain some of the most incredible moments of my entire life.

Frankie, I believe you complete me. You fill that void within me that I've always sensed, like finding the perfect missing puzzle piece to finish a picture. You are that missing piece, and since meeting you, my life has finally felt whole.

I couldn't care less about what others may say or think about us, Frankie. You are everything to me, and I want to shout it from my windows so that the whole world can hear. And if anyone wants to say that it's moving too quickly, then to hell with all of them! Every day, I find myself yearning for your presence beside me. I come across little things that remind me of you, and it makes me wish you were here with me. For instance, just yesterday at work, I was going through the donation bin and I stumbled on a children's book about helicopters. It instantly painted a picture in my mind of a little Frankie flipping through the colourful pages, and it filled me with so much warmth and affection.

Frankie, I also really want our lives to blend together. Meeting your friends would be amazing, and I hope you'll get to know mine too. I already had a great time with Benny, so I'm sure your other friends are just as awesome. Since I know how important they are to you, I'm genuinely excited about building bridges with them. I know it's uncertain when you'll be allowed off base or if there's a chance you might be sent far away from me. But maybe, just maybe, the next time you have some leave, we could start building this life together. Waiting any longer feels unbearable to me.

Until we can be together again, my dearest love, you will remain in my heart and appear in my dreams, bringing me some moments of respite while I wait for you. Despite the distance that separates us, my passion for you burns brightly and the flame of my love will keep burning ever bright regardless of the physical divide. With each passing day, I find myself yearning for the next time I will see you, but in the meantime, I will treasure the memories we have started to weave together. And I will find comfort in their warmth and hold onto the hope that our love will grow even stronger with every beat of our hearts.

Yours forever,

Letter # Too many to keep track of

June 12th, 2011

Mi cielo,

Do you remember that summer two years ago? Because I do. I had a two-week leave, and we went to the Miller's for a BBQ. You were wearing a beautiful blue dress that made you look like the sky on a clear summer day. God, you were so beautiful. We were having a great time when Benny told a stupid story that made you laugh so hard that your drink came out of your nose. I remember how embarrassed you got. But then you turned to me, and the embarrassment seemed to melt from your shoulder, and you couldn't stop laughing, your eyes were twinkling like the stars. It was such a beautiful sight and that's when I knew deep down that one day, I would marry you. You would be my wife, someone I would always hold, protect, and cherish until the end of time.

And today, my love, that day has arrived. You know how I struggle in front of a crowd, mi cielo. My words tend to stumble, and I find it challenging to maintain my voice. It's as if all the words jumble up in my throat, eager to escape all at once, resulting in a tangled mess of sentences. That's why I've chosen to write my vows to you in a letter, just like we've been exchanging since the day we first met. You once told me that you could see the truest version of me when I write to you, and I hope that on this special day, through this letter, I can make the side of me that can truly convey the depth of my love for you appear. Better than my spoken words ever could.

My beloved, from this day forward, I make you this lifelong promise. I promise to hold you close, to always offer comfort and support whenever you need it. You can count on me to be there, I will aim to be a steadfast presence in your life, like a rock you can always lean on. I will protect you and care for you for as long as live like a shield guarding against any storms that may come our way. No matter what challenges we face, I will be yours, never doubt that.

But mi cielo, my love for you goes beyond the grand moments that I hope will mark some of our journeys together. I vow to cherish you in the simple gestures also, where I think our love shines the brightest. Its with the gentle touch of our intertwined fingers, the way our laughter always seems to harmonize and in the unspoken understanding that always passes between us without the need for words.

As we walk side by side through the tapestry of life, I promise to be your faithful lover, always by your side, supporting you in every step you take. I will celebrate your victories with joy and stand with you during the challenges we encounter along the way. Together, we will continue to create a beautiful life that I cannot wait to keep on building with you

My beloved, today I pour forth these vows from the depths of my heart. They are not fleeting words but an enduring pledge, a testament to my unwavering love and devotion. As the days unfurl, my affection for you shall only deepen, like roots reaching ever further into the soil. I am filled with gratitude and blessed to call you my partner, my confidant, and my dearest friend.

Today I will say yes to forever with you and I know it will be the sweetest promise of all.

Te amaré siempre

Your Francisco

______________________________________________________________

"I want you to explain whatever the hell this is, Frankie. And no lies this time."

Frankie freezes. He cannot tear his eyes away from the 3 little baggies neatly placed in a row in front of you. Words get stuck in his throat as he tries to find something, anything to say to you.

"You've got nothing to say? Well, let me fill in the blanks for you, Frankie. I found one of these tucked away in your old boots, and the other one in your work drawer. I must admit, I'm still completely fucking baffled. How could you? How could you bring that into our home, Frankie? Especially when you're well aware of how absolutely unacceptable it is, especially with the baby."

Frankie looks around frantically, searching for an explanation. "How did you..."

"How did I find those? Well, I'm so glad you asked, Frankie." A surge of anger fuels your words as you take a step closer, your finger pointing accusatorily towards the door. "Let me shed some light on the precise moment when your little plan crumbled, right there in the car. The fucking car!!!" Your voice slices through the air, causing Frankie to wince.

"I had to learn from Benny and Will how you got back on cocaine! They slapped me in the face with the truth about your lies, how you’ve been deceiving me from the moment the plane touched the ground! How could you not tell me, Frankie? I thought we were doing well; you promised you would talk to me if things were getting hard!"

You take a deep breath, attempting to sort through the jumble of words clamouring to escape all at once. Emotions, accusations, fears, and disappointments vie to be hurled at Frankie.

"Well, let me tell you, hearing about how much your husband loves lying to you from Will and Benny was utter and complete shit! So, I thought I could let myself have a cigarette to help swallow that bitter pill. I knew you stashed some in the dashboard. But what did I find there? Not fucking cigarettes, Frankie! COKE? In the dashboard, really?! You've already had your damn piloting license revoked. Do you want to end up in jail on top of everything? Have you any clue what the cops would do if they caught you with this shit? Goddamn it, Frankie, how could you do this to me? How could you do this to Ella?"

Your voice quivers as you struggle to catch your breath. Years of bottled-up frustration and the pain of Frankie's betrayal finally overflow. Yet Frankie remains silent, avoiding your gaze and looking down at his own shoes in shame.

“FUCKING SAY SOMETHING” You roar as tears of anger start to fall down your face “You can’t just lie to me for weeks and hide cocaine in our home and not say anything!”

"Mi ciel..." Frankie softly starts, but you snap back, "Don't call me that, Frankie! You don’t have any right to call me that, especially not now!" The weight of your words hits Frankie, and his face fills with anguish.

"Please, you have to believe that I'm so damn sorry. I never meant for any of this. I wasn't going to take any of it, I fucking swear..." You scoff, cutting him off, "Oh, you swear? You've got cocaine in your goddamn boots, and you expect me to believe you weren't going to take any? Fuck, do you even have some on you now?" Swearing more than you’ve ever in your life, you realize you've unleashed a torrent of profanity that you can't seem to control. It's as if a dam has burst within you, and you're either unable or unwilling to stop it.

Frankie's silence hangs heavily in the air, his right-hand trembling with restless anxiety. A wave of numbing unease washes over you, and in a voice barely above a whisper, you manage to muster the words, "Frankie, do you have cocaine on you right now?" Frankie's hand, consumed by nerves, instinctively dives into his breast pocket, retrieving a small baggie. The tension in the room intensifies as he places it alongside the others on the table, its size and contents mirroring the rest.

Silence echoes in the room.

"Get out," you say with a stern voice.

"Wait, wait! I'm so damn sorry. I swear, I wasn't planning on touching any of it. It's just... knowing it's there, somehow it eases the pain that I can’t seem to get out of? But I promise you, I had no real intentions of actually using it. Please, please believe me!" Frankie pleads desperately, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anguish.

"Are you even hearing the words coming out of your own mouth? Maybe you can fool yourself, but you can't fool me. Not anymore. If it was just me, maybe I could brush it off, but I won't let Estrella be exposed to that" you say unwaveringly, though deep inside, the pain of seeing Frankie's face twisted with anguish and devastation pierces your heart. "And let me be crystal clear, Frankie. I don't owe you a damn thing! You're the one who lied, the one who got lost in that haze, the one who chose drugs over your own damn family. Not me. Well, guess what Frankie? I've hit my breaking point."

"Hermosa, please, I'm begging you from the depths of my soul. I promise to change, to become a better person. I'll go to therapy, find a sponsor—whatever it takes to make things right. Please, don't do this to us," Frankie pleads desperately, his voice filled with pain and heartache as if every word is a cry for salvation. “I can’t bear the thought of a life without you, of losing the love that has defined everything for so long. Please hermosa” Frankie’s voice cracks and almost makes you flinch in your resolve. But you steel yourself.

"Don't put the blame on me, Frankie. I've already given you all the support I could. I've respected your silence, comforted you through your nightmares, and endured being pushed away. I've watched you withdraw into yourself, and nothing I did or said seemed to make a difference! I thought that if you didn't want to talk to me, it would be better if you spoke with a professional. I've made efforts to get you into therapy, rescheduling appointments when you didn't like the therapist, and even searched for support groups for veterans in the city, despite knowing well that you've never attended any of them. I've been working double shifts since before Ella was born because you've been grounded. I've held this family together with every ounce of my strength. I've pushed and pushed, but now, Frankie, I'm exhausted. I can't push anymore. What I need from you now is to leave and help yourself," you explain, your voice laden with exhaustion.

"What about Ella? Are you going to deny me the chance to see my own daughter?" Frankie's voice quivers with a mixture of anguish and frustration, as he feels himself losing control. In his desperation, he resorts to lashing out, aware of the vulnerabilities he can exploit, quite like the skilled military man he is, used to exploiting weaknesses in an opponent's defences.

"I can't believe you would even ask me that," you reply, feeling hurt. Frankie avoids your eyes, his own filled with shame for his hurtful words. "I'm not a monster. Of course, you can see Ella. But deep down, we both know it would be better for her if her father were to take care of himself," you continue in a softer tone. "I've tried to heal for you, Frankie, but now I realize this isn't healthy. This is a step you need to take on your own. I'm tired, and I can't do this anymore."

"What the hell happened to 'for better or for worse'? You promised me we'd face any storm together, but the moment things get tough, you fucking disappear," Frankie's voice loudly fills the air.

Raising your gaze, you respond defensively "That's just not fair, and you know it." Letting out a heavy sigh, you gather the strength to continue, "Frankie, I've done everything I can to support you, but it's becoming painfully clear that my love and help have only pushed you deeper into whatever hell you are in right now. Damn it, maybe my mom was onto something. Maybe I am broken or completely unlovable. Maybe there's something wrong with me if my own husband can't trust his wife and turns to drugs instead." Tears well up as you wrap your arms around yourself, the weight of sobs stuck in your throat. The raw emotions in your voice make it clear that this pain cuts deep.

"No, no, no, Mi cielo, don't say that. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean any of it, fuck, I didn't mean any of it. I know you tried; I know you've been trying for so long. You are not unlovable; you are the most amazing woman in the world. I am the one who doesn’t deserve you, I am the one who has never deserved you. Fuck I can’t believe I would say that to you, how could I make you feel like that." Frankie's voice loses its strength.

"None of this is your fault; it's all on me. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll go and seek help, and I promise you, I'll become the man that both you and Ella deserve," Frankie's voice quivers with remorse as he slowly approaches you, his arms outstretched, seeking to bring you into a comforting embrace.

But you are unable to bear your husband’s touch just yet and so you raise one trembling hand while keeping the other tightly wrapped around yourself, motioning for him to halt. "No, please... I can't handle your touch right now. I... I know I'll flinch, and it's not what you need, what Ella needs," you express with a quiver in your voice, a delicate blend of vulnerability and unwavering determination. "I'll be at work tomorrow, from 8 am to 6 pm, and Mrs. Hu will be taking care of Ella. You can come and collect anything you need during that time."

Frankie's sobs grip him overwhelmingly, tears cascading down his face like a torrent, but he manages to muster a nod of acceptance before slowly making his way toward the door. Just as his trembling hand reaches for the doorknob, he pauses, his gaze locked with yours, his voice barely a whisper choked with emotion.

"I'm really, really sorry, Mi cielo. The pain I've caused you is too much, and I carry the weight of my mistakes like a heavy burden. I want you to know that I take full responsibility for hurting our relationship and our family. It's all my fault, and I can't even find the words to express how deeply I regret everything."

His voice trembles, revealing the desperation in his heart as he goes on, “But please, trust me when I tell you that I won't give up. I won't let cocaine define who I can be. I'll find a way, no matter how tough the road ahead, to mend the broken parts of myself. I'll seek the help and guidance I need to heal, to become the husband and father that both you and Ella deserve."

And with that, he gathers the strength to turn away. His footsteps gradually fade as he leaves the room, leaving behind the lingering echoes of what you hope is Frankie’s sincere promise.

As the door closes, you crumble to the ground, consumed by doubt, pain, and anxiety. The weight of your actions bears down heavily, suffocating any shred of certainty. Questions flood your mind: Have you betrayed the sacred promises of your marriage? The thought gnaws at your conscience, tormenting you relentlessly. Perhaps, if you had been more understanding, more accommodating, this heart-wrenching situation could have been prevented. The self-blame intensifies, distorting your sense of self-worth into a hollow mockery.

Frankie has barely been gone for a few seconds, and yet your heart screams to chase after him. The urge to fix what's broken, to salvage the crumbling remnants of your relationship, grips you with an iron fist. But amidst the chaos of emotions, a flicker of clarity emerges. This painful separation, as agonizing as it feels, is something you need. It's a painful necessity for your own well-being, for the sake of Ella, and for the survival of your fractured family.

Trembling with uncertainty, you repeat to yourself like a desperate mantra, "You need this. You need this." Each word echoes with a haunting mix of determination, fear, and hope, reminding you of the bitter truth that sometimes, the most agonizing path is the only way forward.

You find yourself repeating the words over and over again, the echoes resounding through the shattered fragments of your soul. It becomes a desperate mantra, a chant that reverberates within the hollow chambers of your being: "You can't flinch. You mustn't flinch. You can't flinch. You mustn't flinch." Each repetition, like a plea to yourself, carries the weight of your determination to stay strong, to withstand the emotional turmoil that engulfs you.

Exhaustion eventually overtakes you, guiding your weary steps towards yours and Frankie's bedroom – now yours alone for the foreseeable future. As you reach the edge of your bed, a profound emptiness permeates your soul, accentuating the hollow void within. A sight catches your attention: the green duvet carelessly tossed on the floor, a remnant of the hasty morning departure.

 With a heavy sigh, you pick up the comforter, its fabric still carrying traces of Frankie's presence. Bringing it close to your face, you inhale deeply, drawing in his lingering scent, a bittersweet reminder of the love that once thrived in this room. Wrapping yourself in the duvet, you cocoon your fragile frame, seeking solace in its familiar itchy warmth. The world around you fades away as you surrender to a dreamless slumber, where you hope to find some respite from the relentless ache in your heart.

Next Chapter

[ayoharuko]

Yooooo! Saw your post about Yu Yu Hakusho and was wondering you would write a hiei x fem reader? Maybe since he's obvs a shy angsty boi could you amke some there where the reader is obvious about their affection towards him and hiei is like super angst and annoyed but really he's like super embarrassed and shy and mclovin the nicknames the reader gives him???

Hellooo anon!, I know its been at least 2 months and I'm very sorry for answering this super late! I was on hiatus and basically was on a break from social media....I'm really sorry.

I hope this makes up for it tho, and I hope you enjoy reading this :)

Reader gender here isn't specific :)

REMINDER: This character does not belong to me but belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi. This is all fictional work so please try not to take this too seriously :)

This will be a in a form of a min oneshot btw~

''I hate you, yet love you''

Hiei hates you.

He finds you annoying and he thinks you're a pest.

You were also human which made the so called 'hate' even worse.

Yet he always finds his way to you....

Whenever his hurt he goes to you, whenever his nightmares gets the best of him he always seeks your comfort and affection.

Hiei didn't understand what he was feeling...so he asked a certain fox about it.

''Hmm...I believe what you are feeling is something humans call 'love'...'' Kurama responded to his friends question.

Love? What a foolish emotion to feel.

What an odd human emotion to feel.

Hiei didn't want to believe it...he was not inlove with a human. Someone who was clearly weaker then him, someone who was bound to hurt him...

In truth Hiei was afraid of this foreign feeling he was feeling....

He was scared

He was scared of getting hurt again.....

He was scared of letting anyone in....

But as you gave him affection and these nicknames that were meant for him, his nonexistent heart seems to beat for you.

His nonexistent heart seems to yearn for you

The way you easily make him blush with every affection and every nickname makes him fall even harder for you....

He wanted you by his side at all times, he wanted to protect you and he wanted to hold hands with you and do all those cringe human couple things they would do.....

But the question was.....

Was he willing to accept love in his life?

Was he willing to accept the risk that he might get hurt?

And the answer was.....

Yes...he was willing to take the risk with you...

He knows his hard to love...

He knows he has a lot to learn...

But he'll learn for you...

To everyone it was obvious that Hiei loved you alot, by the way he looks at you, by the way he protects you from danger and from the way he lets you hug and cling to him.

They all knew that you were Hiei's weakness.

And they were right.....you were Hiei's weakness....

You were his mate till you get tired of him...he was yours to love or mess with....

A dragon mates for life

He was yours and you were his

You were his precious jewel while he was your protector

Protecting you from the shadows and by your side

He hates you, but he loves you too.

The only reason he hated you was all because he was just afraid.

But now his not afraid, his no longer afraid of loving....

With you by his side, he'll continue wanting this life filled with happiness he hasn't felt before.

''Be my mate, and know that I'm not taking no as an answer''

I hope you enjoyed this anon-chan! I'm ver sorry for taking a long time finishing this....but I really hope this makes up for it :)

Reblogs and Feedback/Comments are always appreciated! :3

(Note: Please don't copy and paste my works anywhere, and if you do see them on other platforms please inform me.)

[spookyserenades]

The way I already suspected when they were at the club… The way I already knew when you said there was gonna be angst… The way I definitely knew with him glued to his phone… And I still managed to have this face 👁️👄👁️ reading the ending. (I kinda want to punch him not gonna lie lmao) But seriously the way I screamed “Oh, COME ON!” *insert Jim Carrey gif with the water* at the end I sfhkgddhk. I honestly thought it was gonna be Hobi to have this storyline (if you say it’s ALSO gonna be him I’m gonna Geronimo out of my window🥲). I feel like Tae is gonna give her attitude on this and to be honest, my anger issues could never.

Amazing chapter as usual my dear! I was in a puddle with Joon in protective mode🥰 And between him, Jimin and Hobi i was like “wait is he gonna confess?!!??!! what’s going on asdfhjkkl” (especially with Jimin ‘cause I believe he’s gonna be the last one to get with the program, too fixated on being proper with her and whatnot) Loved y/n going all Bella Swan with the shields to protect her boys ✨u go girl✨ and the part with Jin 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 *ahem* yes. Yoongi being perfect as usual and deserving of the name Angel in every single way possible makes absolute sense.

also, to get distracted by nipple piercings no matter the situation is very real (it’s one of weaknesses) 🥵

All jokes aside, you are truly talented and I love the little community you created with your story 💕 thank you for sharing this with us.

Kisses from Italy

Oh yeah there were definitely some breadcrumbs left to imply that Taehyung was "talking" to someone on his phone, especially after the club for Hoseok's birthday. Additionally, he hasn't been clinging to Y/N like glue :( NO JKDLAFJDS NOT THE JIM CAREY GIF THATS MY EXACT REACTION TOO 💀 I diddddd tease you all with the possibility of Hoseok and Alice being a thing. However, with Alice and her new workplace crush (AND the fact that she now knows Y/N loves Hoseok!!! GIRL CODE!!!) and the fact that Hoseok seems more interested in flirting rather than seriously pursuing a relationship, it was really just a distraction to surprise people later on with Tae...

AH but thank you so so much I'm thrilled you enjoyed it 🥺💕💕💕 plsss Protective Joon is everything to me, it's really fun to see how much he has opened up towards Y/N, and I think it has something to do with her resolute trust in him.

BELLA SWANNN what a queen!!! That's pretty much exactly what Y/N was doing, now that I think of it 💀 I have Twilight brain rot still even after all these years!!! And don't get me starteddd on Seokjin I am sO down bad for that man 🥵 Angel Yoongi... perfect petname for him, he's just a bundle of love, romance, and yearning (and loves to take care of people he cares abt!)

HELL YEAH PIERCED TATTED JEONGGUK AGENDA HAS BEEN MY THING SINCE DAY ONE! IDK if I'm trying to recreate the kinda guy I'd fall in love with when I was a high school emo, but he is certainly resurrecting long-buried traits I'm attracted to 💀

AH thank you my love, I am so so grateful, lucky, and happy to have our community where we get to chat and bond over our boys together all the time. I love you all endlessly and your support means everything 😭💜💕🥺

Kisses to you in Italy, one of my fave countries ever! 💕

[i-remember-yyou]

That bondage(?) Deep Night scene was something 👀

Urh, um. I have a lot to say about... whatever this was, lol.

This probably does not deserve a whole essay-long post, but here it is anyway.

I can't be the only one that thought this was laughably ridiculous. I don't know what it was trying to be... sexy? Mysterious? Risqué? The different girl? But it failed.

There was just too much and too little at the same time if that even makes sense. These actors are all amazing, for sure, so I don't fault them at all. Truly, the entire time I was just hoping they were paid enough for this, lol.

I mean, okay, alright, I'm not particularly versed in the sexy things of the night, lmao (what is censored on Tumblr these days?), but this scene was just plain comedy to me. I literally choked.

It just felt odd and forced. And it was weird because their other ~sexy~ scenes are, to me, really well done -- intense, chemistry-filled, angst, etc., etc. -- but this just felt like a random insert that added no value to anything, lol. With BLs, maybe especially Thai ones I feel, you go in mostly not knowing how far they will go with their couples, and you usually don't know until it--whatever it is--happens. And this, let me tell you, I was not ready for, lol.

Despite being apprehensive that the host club meets acrobatics storyline would be another too out-of-pocket Thai BL concept for me, I actually started to really enjoy it, until this scene made me fear the future of this series.

The chemistry between Wela and Khem is just so, so good. I love it. And circa episode 2, their steamy shower scene really had the angst, yearning, and build-up to make it the level of sexy that the random bondage bed scene failed to have.

Wela was fine in the bondage scene, but Khem was giving too much for what was actually going on, which to me looked like hot yoga and a tooth exam. 😂

Seriously, it was like he had a piece of spinach stuck in his mouth and was just constantly trying to get it out. And meanwhile my homeboy Wela, bless his heart, was trying to do some sort of oral exam on Khem. Khem's good to go until his next cleaning in 6 months, LMAO.

And the issue for me, too, is that there was no build-up or hints or whatever that these two would be into bondage, BDSM, or however you'd/they'd label it. BDSM is all good and well, but here it felt so random. It'd made more sense and probably have had more impact if they put in little hints here and there that one or both of them were into some sort of bondage situation.

It'd have been even better if it were Wela, because of his dynamic with Khem. Khem comes off as this confident, carefree rich kid, while Wela has a softer, sweeter personality. He's a good student who just wants to do well for his family. If he were the one to suddenly spring on or suggest BDSM to Khem, now that would have been interesting.

I mean, all and all, props to the actors for taking this sort of scene seriously and trying their best.

I'ma keeps watching anyways, because there are a lot of fun and interesting things to like about this show. I also definitely want to see what happens to Seiji, aka sheer-shirt-boy, and Khem's innocent uni friend.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Heyo, I’m not sure if anyone else has requested a part two for the Law x Guardian Angel!Reader and I know it’s been a year since you posted it but if it’s okay, can I request a part two for it? I just love angst and i was wondering if it could involve Law feeling regrets afterwards but reader seemed to move on by the time. Thank you (Also love your writing so much)

So nobody has officially requested this. Seriously, I keep telling people, "don't be afraid to send in a request, I'm open." I swear, I'm about as intimidating as a week old kitten! Don't be afraid 😭. Thank you for sending this request, I was seriously in the mood to write angst today, so this was so great.... hope you like pain! I'm glad you like my writing, feel free to drop by my inbox again any time.

Warnings: angst, guardian angel!Reader, Law being sad and heartbroken, heartbreak

Word Count: 1620

     Looking over at the window, Law sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Even after months and months, your chair still sat in front of the window. At first he hadn’t cared about moving it. He was home so rarely that it just didn’t matter, but at some point he found himself unable to move it. It was the place he’d seen you sitting when he’d come home that day, the last place he’d seen you before you pleaded with him to fix what the two of you had. But he hadn’t, like a stupid, heartless bastard, he’d scoffed and turned you away. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to keep a handle on his emotions. He’d been acting pretty… irrationally lately. To the point where more than just his friends noticed. He’d been sleeping less, the dark circles under his eyes getting worse and worse, his coffee intake had skyrocketed, he’d yelled at Bepo for essentially nothing, and had even snapped at more than one of his professors. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin were used to his normally cold exterior, but watching him snap at Bepo had surprised all of them, his poor friend starting to tear up while trying not to cry. His fingers ran over the back of the chair, starting to tremble as he thought of you. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up and now he was paying the price. Part of him knew he deserved it, a large part knew that he deserved it. Deserved the same heartache he’d probably put you through. But he didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to admit what an ass he’d been, burying the thought as best he could in the back of his mind. Not that it worked, the thought coming back every time he yearned for you, every time he desired to have you back in his arms. Placing his hand over his face, he tried desperately to hold back the tears. No, no he couldn’t cry, not over this, not over you. He was Trafalgar Law, he didn’t cry over the loss of a single person. Granted, it was a lie, he knew it was a lie, he’d cried over plenty of people before, but if he cried, if he broke, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull himself back together. No, he had to keep it together, he couldn’t let anyone see just how torn up he was about this. Nobody knew about you aside from Penguin, Bepo and Shachi, nobody would understand how he’d lost the greatest thing to ever happen to him, all they’d do was question him if they saw him in that kind of state. Still, it was becoming harder and harder to keep it together, to keep himself from falling to pieces over you. Shaking, he headed back to his room. Sleep, he just needed sleep, he hadn’t slept well last night. or any other night lately, he just needed sleep, sleep would fix everything. A voice in the back of his head told him it wouldn’t fix anything and he knew it was right, but he was grasping at straws at this point.

It was days later that he found a single ray of hope. Days with only a couple of hours of sleep, days of barely eating because he wasn’t hungry, days of Shachi, Penguin and Bepo checking on him and trying to make sure he was taking at least some care of himself. You’d told him about angels, about how certain things worked, about various things that he’d barely paid attention to at the time. But he remembered this, in the deep recesses of his mind, he’d still heard you, still remembered what you’d said, meaning that the single feather he’d found under his bed while cleaning was his only hope, was his one chance at making this right. Trying to steady his hands, he carefully began the ritual, his heart pounding, fearing that it wouldn’t work and soaring when the feather began to glow gold, a thin, barely noticeable wisp of light emanating from it. Gently picking it up, he was out the door in seconds, following the direction of the wisp, ignoring the looks he got from people as he shoved them aside or as they watched a strange man sprint down the street staring at what they thought was just a plain bird feather with a manic look in his eyes. Skidding to a stop, breath coming out in heavy gasps, he stared forward. You looked just as beautiful as always. Perhaps it was obvious to say, but you looked just as angelic as ever, a beautiful angel, no… no you weren’t an angel anymore, at this moment, you looked like a goddess to him. His heart pounded in his chest, from the running or from seeing you again, he wasn’t sure, all he knew was that it felt like it was about to pound out of his chest. Time and time again, he’d gone over in his head what he’d say to you once he got the chance, gone over what he’d do to get you to come back, what he’d give just to have you in his arms again. But like some stupid cliche movie, now that he was here, he couldn’t find the words, the only thing that came out of his mouth was a whisper, a whisper of your name. Barely audible but one that had your head snapping over to him, a hard look in your eyes. Saying an angel’s name while holding their feather, it was almost as if he was summoning you, as if he were screaming your name into a megaphone, you were going to hear him, no matter how quiet he was. Staring at you, a few things had never been more clear to him, though the one that stood out the most to him was that that look in your eyes didn’t suit you. A beautiful, loving angel; sweet and caring, one who always helped those in need. The look in your eyes was harder now, colder, like his own look. Seeing you look at him was intimidating as he watched you slowly walk over to him, head held high. Despite the fact that you’d always been shorter than him, he’d never felt smaller.

     “Trafalgar D. Water Law. I believe that’s mine.” you stated, gesturing to the feather in his hands. Despite the statement and the obvious implication that you wanted it back, he continued to hold the feather tightly in his hands, as if it were his lifeline. After waiting for him to say something, you sighed irritably.

     “Why are you here? You never come to this side of town.” you said, giving him a hard look. The fact that he never came out this way was exactly why you’d chosen it. You didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to deal with that pain. A million thoughts ran through his head as he stared at you, his voice stuck in his throat as his heart pounded faster than ever.

     “Come back to me!” he blurted out finally, his eyes wild and desperate. You looked at him in shock. In all your time of knowing Law, he’d never looked this disheveled, this distressed, this… crazed. Your look hardened as you stared at him for a moment. You wouldn’t say it, but his words had your heart aching and pounding as your hands clenched into fists.

     “I believe your health is suffering Trafalgar, you of all people should remember that I told you I wouldn’t be watching over you anymore, I have a new assignment.” you stated, gesturing to your new ward. Law’s heart felt like it was stabbed, you’d always, always called him Law.

     “I… who cares! I… I was wrong! I’m sorry! Please, I… I need you.” Law said, the last words almost a whisper as he pleaded with you. He knew that it wasn’t like him to beg anyone for anything, but at this point he was quickly running out of options. 

     “As I just said, Trafalgar, I have a new assignment. You should know that a guardian angel should never leave their ward unless absolutely necessary. Believe it or not, this is not necessary.” you said. Law felt the knife in his heart dig deeper, a deep crack running through his heart as he felt his body tremble. He was halfway to finally breaking and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

     “Then… Please let me keep this. Just this.” he said, his voice shaking as much as he was as he clung to your feather, holding it close. You were turning him away, you were turning him away and it was breaking him piece by piece. He couldn’t let go of the one last thing he had of you, he couldn’t let go of his last lifeline. You looked at the feather before sighing.

     “Fine, but I expect you to never use it again. If I ever feel you using it again, I will take it back. Now leave, Trafalgar, I’m busy.” you said, turning away from him. Law just nodded, holding your feather close as he walked away, his heart aching. That voice in his head returned, telling him that he deserved this for breaking your heart, for breaking the heart of an angel, let alone one as sweet, caring, and innocent as you. Still, he wouldn’t let go of you, even if you didn’t want him anymore, even if you’d moved on from him, he’d make sure to keep you close to his heart. Keep you close to his heart, keep you in his memories, and pray that one day a miracle might return you to him.

[sareinadale]

please tell us more about this helsa series you are writing 👀💕

nonnieeee!! but it wouldn't be a surprise now, don't you think so?

okay honestly, i wasn't planning on working on a long helsa series, though i did have a similar plan with the 'marriage of convenience' trope as the core of the series.

what started out was really just a series of twitter banters with my friend that expanded into fully fleshed plots, with some spanning over a month or three depending on how far the plot develops.

truthfully, i've been yearning to find a writing partner who could match my writing style and be excited to write SO MUCH about a ship. while helsa initially wasn't my OTP ( yes, i started out as jelsa ), somewhere in 2022, i turned into an ardent helsa shipper thanks to my other friend.

ANYWAY, back to the series ( me and my big mouth can't hold it back anymore ):

the entire premise of the story takes place after the events of Frozen 1, but not until Frozen 2. her magic is still there, just not at the forefront as it did in the first movie. and oh, yeah, it's in the mid-1800s! there's also inspiration drawn from ( majorly ) the frozen musical, a frozen heart and a little bit of dangerous secrets.

others may have written something similar like mine, but this is really an extensive series of ‘what-ifs’ that mainly focuses on the aftermath of her coronation, her struggles of trying to be a good queen for arendelle and all the times she shouldn’t hang out with hans, who showed up on arendelle after serving his prison sentence for two years ( roughly ) – which led to her falling for his pretense like anna.

of course, there's a few original characters that we made for this series! besides that, i personally have a pinterest board dedicated to hans and elsa, alongside a spotify playlist that follows their entire journey :D

there’s also an element of hans’s morally grey side, which, as santino fontana said, hans isn't what he seems to be ( meaning he has personal motivations like any other people ) and my lovely friend who writes as hans has the most detailed lore on him and everything, and i honestly couldn't be luckier and so SO grateful to know them and write together ❤️

obviously, when we started plotting, we realized that their story's going to be LONG, and we've decided to break it down into three major acts. the second act is arguably going to be the longest and where we are currently.

so, the theme of the story is the title of the series itself: 'in hindsight'.

in hindsight is basically a sequel to a prequel titled 'shattering ice'. in this one, the story explicitly deals with her first visit to the isles and meeting the star-studded cast of the westergaards whom, again, my friend here has built – completely tragic, awful, and all things negative that shows who they are as a family.

also the prequel will serve as the starting point of their relationship because we don't want to jump on that chemistry building with haste.

right now, we're mostly focusing on in hindsight and pretty much pausing shattering ice. also, because the former became a full blown series, i had to upgrade my g-drive storage hahaha so all of their past plots and current ones are safely stored in there.

all in all, this series is arguably the most special endeavor i've ever done. it's got a TON of emotional realism in there, soft moments in the form of jane austen-esque longing touches kinda way, gut-wrenching angst and a bittersweet ending ( i'm not ready for the last part, but we've planned on how the series will end ).

even in spite of our busy schedules, we found time to keep writing out the replies, info-dumping personal headcanons of our characters and hyping each other whenever the ship had their fluff / angst moment. i seriously could not thank my friend enough, and i really appreciate her for all the helsa brainrots ❤️

and finally, the reason i've not put it up on AO3 is because i didn't want that invisible pressure of needing to update it. i mean, yes, it's still ongoing, but imagine if i just upload the complete series and voila? basically giving a delight to potential readers that the series is done hahaha.

i don't foresee we'll finish it by end of this year, even though we started out since june last year. but who knows, it could end well until the following year?

okay nonnie, there you go 🤓

[angelizs]

Question for you!!,do you perchance have any fic recs youd like to share or writers to recommend:0?

HII ANON!!! of course I do!! you can find some fic recs on my paint the roses tag (amidst some fanart), I promise they're all worth a read!!

I'm not sure if you have any specific characters you'd like to read about, so I'll mention some of my favorite writers!!

alright so. first things first. if you haven't read I've become the villain's lover! yet I urge you to do so because it's so good. genuinely I think about it constantly. the manhwa tropes for each dorm leader fit so well and are delightfully cliche to read about, definetly one of my faves!! Liya is super sweet too and her writing deserves all the love!!

if you'd like some good soulmates au with Jade then check A human myth of red out! even if soulmates aus are not your cup of tea (as they aren't much of mine either) I still reccomend it, Aqua's writing is wonderful and all of the inner reflections and break of expectations accompany Jade's character so well!

DREW'S WRITING OMG. this Cater roommates au is AMAZING. GIVE IT A READ!!! Cater is soooo in character and it's so funny too! also, this fake dating with Jade fic. literally life changing. one of my faves ever ever ever. my mind lives there I'm always thinking about how good it is! got me kicking my feet and giggling!!!

idk how long you've been in the fandom, but I think you might have stumbled upon Laurie's writing before, all her scenarios are so nice to read, she's very creative! I personally really like this Reader turns into a siren (with Jade), as you call feel all the allure from reader and Jade's yearning!

KIMIKO IS SOOO FUNNY, seriously you'll be laughing out loud at your phone when reading her works! one of my all time faves of hers is this living with the housewardens as it's so domestic... I love domesticity... but fr give her masterlist a look, it's super worth it!!

I also really like Aurora's househusband series, since, as I said, domesticity is very apealling to me. take this Househusband Azul as an example and if you like it, do check out the event masterlist!

Moray's butler Jade is so nice too, I really like the dynamic as he is a bit of a butler type character!

Pando's writing is also super nice to read! I've really liked her recent Rook event prompt, even if you don't like Rook that much I garantee this will make you fall a bit for him, the imagery is just soooo good!

Mob's dorm leaders turn into cats series seems to be so cute too! I'll admit I still have to read it, but I'm sure it's very good (I promise I'll read it once I get enough time to do so!!)

Rui's Diasomnia freetime is so cute and funny, definetly a light hearted read to lift up your mood! their works make me smile a lot!

now. hear me out. it's time I go absolutely insane over them. if you haven't checked out their writing yet then WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? PLS PLS DO!!

MAL IS SO FUNNY, all her smau posts are wonderful, I really like the Kalim idol series! all the characters interactions are so funny fr she got me giggling at my phone with every update! the ignoring them series was the first of their works that I've read and it still has got a special place in my heart <3 how about your good dose of first years roommates? and if you're feeling up to some angst how about this Diasomnia royal au?

AMORA'S WRITING IS LOVELY, all of the imagery and metaphors are truly breathtaking, I never get tired of reading her works <33 it's a MUST to read this amazing Jamil fic, literally so canon, I love the dynamic between reader and Jamil soooo much! Amora's Jamil is god tier, you'll fall in love with her writing too! also, take this Jamil love languages, it'll warm up your heart <3

I don't even know where to start with Cherry's writing. the way she elaborates headcanons is very captivating and how she inserts little references for their disney movies is so endearing! I've been thinking a lot about this Silver fic lately, the whole atmosphere is so reminiscent of The Sleeping Beauty! honestly? here, just take her whole masterlist and have fun, you'll be there for hours, so enjoy to your hearts content <3

obviously there are many other writers and fics I could reccomend, but these are the first ones that come to mind! twst fandom has a lot of wonderful people that are willing to share their works with us and I'm very grateful for that! I hope you can check these fics out and give them some love, anon, I promise you'll have a great time with them!

[atherix]

ATHERIX I WILL TEMPT YOU SO HARD- If you see a stick with this au tied to it, no you don't <33 that's just inspiration <33 why don't you go take a look <33 maybe take some notes <33 there's so alterior alterior motive I promise <33 I take my job as your mildly annoying au temptress very seriously ok

Also what pirate au that you will not yet speak of... I already have theories. Those theories mainly consist of the word gay written over and over in bold, all triple underlined. They're very good theories I think

ALSO STOP MAKING ME FEEL THINGS, ITS LATEEEE- "even if Scar thinks he himself is less than a commoner jkfsdkl" NO. I mean yes for angst purposes, but NO. LET HIM HAVE LOVE AND HUGS AND CUDDLES AND FEELINGS OF WORTH PLEASE <33 Them all wanting the same thing, eachother but not being able to have it... or thinking they're not allowed to want it... or are even worthy of it... just AHSGHSJ

But please do what you need to do first, I will happily refrain from au teasing untill you're more open time wise 😂 these aus can sit on the backburner while the stuff you need to get done gets done :) good luck with everything else, you got this!! ✨

-🍂autumn anon🍂

KEEP TEMPTING ME I LOVE IT I WILL CHASE THAT CARROT ON THE STICK-

You are indeed right, it is gay from the start and somehow manages to get gayer by the finish. It starts with established Redscape and Mumscarian comes later :) But yes. Pirates. Pirates with an Elven twist in the form of a delightful captain who absconded with an Elven ship :)

I WILL NEVER STOP MAKING YOU FEEL THINGS, THE TEARS OF MY READERS ARE WHAT FUEL ME <3 The angst.... the emotion.... the yearning and the aching....... I need it JKFHSKJFHJSLK ALSO SELF ESTEEM WHO, NEVER HEARD OF HER <3

hjdfsjkfdksfdk okay yes but I also love talking about my ideas so |D I LOVE brainstorming and brainrotting about my ideas even while I write, I say as I look at the document of Midnight Meeting pulled up that was last edited 2 hours ago- Thank yoouu~~ :D

[neutron-stars-collision]

W 2022 roku na moim blogu pojawiły się 4983 posty

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4406 moich postów w 2022 miało tagi

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Longest Tag: 138 characters

#let’s yearn and long for the impossible all the while devouring pages upon pages of hellcheer fics to maintain the illusion that it’s fine

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Nr 5

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 3 - Denial

Masterlist; Chapter 1; Chapter 2 Summary: Dealing with the ending of the stakeout isn't easy. Especially when the tension between you and Bruce doesn't seem to wane with time... Warnings: Swearing, some angst. Author's Notes: 5.3k and an update sooner than expected. This one is a little slower (aka a filler, but we don't use that word), but it also helps to develop the dynamics and sure as hell these two did surprise me. Hope you will enjoy this and feedback is always welcome ✨ Taglist: @thecraziestcrayon @kookiewastolen @imimsy @tuskens-mando

It took another jarring noise in the distance to make you flinch and remember where you were. And what was going on. God knows how long you had been stood like this, gazing into the eyes of Bruce fucking Wayne, of all people. Perhaps that shock was stronger than expected.

Unable to focus on anything, you took a step back, away from Bruce. His hand fell from your cheek as he stared, equally stunned by everything that happened. It was time to go.

“I… I want to go home” frowning at the hoarseness of your voice, you chose to stare at the pavement cracks.

It was hard to think, let alone face him again. Because you were not sure what had just happened and whether it was important. A headache began building in the back of your head, shadowing every thought with discomfort and tiredness. The last half hour felt like a nightmare, as though it could not have been real. But it was.

“Of course, I’ll… I can take you there, on the motorcycle” the proposition and hesitancy in Bruce’s tone made you glance at him, “If you want,” the blue irises had never left your face, eyes wandering over the features as though he was searching for something.

You did not dare what that could be. The concern you could see in his gaze was enough. Because Bruce Wayne should not care for you. And yet. Brushing off the warmth in your chest at the idea, you waved your hand and tried to put on the most convincing smile:

“There’s no need. I’ll be fine” even to your ears, it sounded like a terrible lie, but you pressed on, upon seeing doubt in his eyes, “Seriously,”

Only because coming back with Bruce sounded like something that could lead to a mistake. Because, now of all times, you did not trust your judgements or self-control. But, upon seeing the determination on his face, you knew that fight was nearing its finale.

“It’s better you’re not wandering alone at night. I told you it’s dangerous” the moment you noticed a hint of condescension in his voice, it was easy to tell what his tactic was.

And, a more terrifying thought, that he had seen right through you already and knew that it would work. Unwilling to ponder either option, you only cracked a small smile and replied under your breath:

“And, for once, I guess you were right, Wayne” tinge of bitterness made the corners of your eyes burn as you squeezed them shut.

You could not break down in front of him. It would not do. Even though he was right. And perhaps that’s why it hurt.

You could feel Bruce’s steady gaze, trying to read you like a book. Choosing to cut short his attempts, you allowed your eyes to meet his. For a second time this evening, there was no mask. No restraint in place, only the emotions you wanted him to see. Uncertainty, shame, shock, vulnerability were all there. In return, you received another long, searching look, followed by a simple question:

“What?” it was that husky, soft voice again, making it so much more difficult to defy him.

You knew he heard you. The confirmation was there, in the telling pause proceeding the question and in the unusual openness of his expression. As though. for once, Bruce wanted you to see him as he really was. The idea alone made the breath catch in your throat as the answer became glaringly obvious.

“Nothing. Alright, take me home” letting out a long breath, you tried to level the heartrate.

Bruce gave you one final searching look and started leading you through the darkened streets with purpose. Determined not to break down or let the shock consume you whole, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, focusing your mind on counting the steps. Because anything was better than tearing apart what happened and trying to see whether you could have foreseen it. Because number one rule was not to let anyone see the weaknesses underneath. Or else it would be all lost.

Before you knew how long you had been walking, you felt a pat on your shoulder, making you stop in your tracks and look up. Bruce was standing next to his black motorcycle, eyeing you closely as though worried you still had not made up your mind. In an unconvincing reassurance, you smiled at him and filled in the address unprompted:

“Forrest street, do you know where that is?” glancing at the man, you stepped closer to the machine.

There was always that little bit of residual shame when forced to reveal your address. Because the area was known for its cheap housing and occasional drug busts. Because it was nothing like the Wayne Tower or the whole of the Diamond District. Judgement was to be expected. Only, looking up to meet Bruce’s gaze again, you did not find it. Instead, he gave you a curt nod and replied:

“Yeah, got it” the tone was as neutral as it could get as he hopped on the bike and started up the engine, “C’mon,” Bruce held out an additional helmet.

There was nowhere else to run. Ignoring the sudden onset of panic and unease, you climbed onto the motorcycle behind him and wound your arms around his waist. It felt strange, like something that should not be unexpected yet is, and there is nothing to be done about it. Upon the simple, necessary action, you felt Bruce tense, prompting a question to appear on the tip of your tongue:

“Is this alright?” there was no need to elaborate as you pressed your hands against the fabric of his jacket.

Feeling the material underneath your fingertips, increasingly aware of the consequences and the clamour in your mind. You were already taking it too far.

“Yes” before you could let the anxiety reign free, Bruce gave another simple answer and kicked up the stand.

The motorcycle came to life with a roar and a shudder, making you hug him tighter and press your cheek to his back as you made a U-turn in the darkened alley and drove onto the main street. The glow of the lamps soon became hazy as Bruce accelerated the speed and started winding through the maze of the city. At this hour, main roads and junctions were nearly empty. The city lights shone on the horizon as you zoomed past the bars and clubs, delving deeper into the crumbling urbanism of the cheaper districts.

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196 notek (opublikowanych w 17 kwietnia 2022)

Nr 4

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 2 - In the Shadows

Masterlist; Chapter 1

Summary: The tentative cooperation with Bruce begins, much to his chagrin. With ambition and curiosity in the way, you try to make the best out of the circumstances. Only... it's not that easy when Mr Wayne is concerned.

Warnings: slight mention of non-con (as in the character is in danger, nothing happens, yet the implications are there and some nasty words too); swearing.

Author's Notes: Here it is, finally. 7.9k words of... something. As I plan to follow the film's plot later on, these two needed some bonding. So this is it. This dynamic is fun even though the Reader's actions are sometimes beyond me. She's a feisty one, I'll tell you that. Anyways...

I hope you'll enjoy this update and all feedback is very much appreciated!

Some things were difficult to forget and nearly impossible to ignore. Like that traumatic event from your childhood that no one ever mentioned again. Like that day you first realised you are entirely on your own. Like those damned blue eyes and matching cold reception, you could not shake off even after a few days.

So, you did what had to be done, slipping out of the office early or staying after hours to ask whoever could know anything interesting about the docks’ case. Because you knew that next time you set foot in the Wayne Tower, you must come bearing gifts. Or, perhaps, bearing knowledge. You wrote down every bit of information he could need. The type of weapon used by the murderer, where it could have been acquired. The various theories as towards the motifs, the strands of police’s inquiry and which belongs to which detective. Back in your apartment, you spent the evenings compiling the intel into a comprehensive file so Mr Wayne could use it however he needed. It was either that or scouting the internet for information on the man himself. An obsession? Nope, a case to crack, thank you very much.

Deciding when to come back to the Tower was a throw of a dice, more or less. One morning you woke up to find the window covered in raindrops, and it was done. And no, a dream featuring someone’s blue eyes did not influence it whatsoever. The adrenaline, which had kept you going for days, only did run out before you could press the doorbell, haunted by the golden plaque again. Because it made no fucking sense, burning through the walls of logic you tried to apply to stay sane. Still, it was happening. Ignoring the multiplying doubts, you forced your hand to press the button, again frowning at the piercing sound.

“Hello, my dear” Dory’s smile felt like a balm for the sore heart and ragged nerves.

And so did the recognition in her eyes, making you blurt out without a filter:

“I’d love to lie and say he’s expecting me-” the but got stuck on your tongue as she placed her hand on your shoulder, motioning for you to cross the threshold.

“Mr Wayne told me you’d be back. Come on. It’s dreadful outside” she threw a look full of despise towards the weather on the streets of Gotham and slammed the door shut behind her.

Now that was unexpected.

“Did he now?” you glanced at the maid with unhidden curiosity before muttering under your breath, “Interesting,”

While helpful, it was not what you had expected to happen nor prepared for. The knot in your stomach tightened during the journey up in the elevator, making you grateful to be left to your own devices this time. For a moment, you did wonder whether there would ever come a time when visiting Bruce Wayne would not feel like the worst mistake. There was no answer and lots of doubts, but there was no time to ponder them, for as soon as the cabin came to a standstill with a jerk, you stepped into the study. The confident smile already present on your face, acting as a mask.

The gothic interior once more made you gape as you scanned the horizon for the owner, spotting him hunched over a massive desk in the corner. With his back turned, you could stare a little longer then, taking note of the change in apparel. This time, he was wearing a hoodie, hiding the details of his posture in oversized clothing. The act of looking alone began to feel like a crime, so you took another step into the room and spoke up:

“Did you miss me?” the sweet tint to the vowels was not difficult to find when called for.

Bruce turned in the seat in a flash, eyeing you sharply:

“Of course, it’s you” the annoyance in his voice was already familiar, “What do you want?” so much that you did not blink twice when Bruce looked at you with disdain and stood up from the chair.

Despite yourself, you noticed a tiny change to the usual harsh treatment. This time, he immediately breached the space to address you without too many obstacles. As though he was a little curious about what you could offer. The spark warming up your chest was difficult to stifle. Using the bout of encouragement, you offered another smile and took the folder out of your bag to use it as bait:

“I’ve got some info you could use” as an unintended yawn interrupted your thought, you added, “And coffee, ideally,”

Bruce frowned as though you were a nuisance he did not want to deal with. But before either of you could make the next move, the door opened and closed, followed by a question:

“Bruce, who’s-” you turned towards the voice just as an older man entered the room, looking at you questioningly.

“This is the journalist I mentioned” you never had the chance to introduce yourself, for Bruce had cut right in, an unidentifiable emotion underneath the simple answer.

It was that mysterious feeling that made you show the stranger a bright grin and raise your hand in a half-wave:

“Hi, I’m the annoyance he has to deal with” why did it feel so exhilarating to say?; you crossed the space and offered the man a handshake, observing him closely, “Nice to meet you, sir,”

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261 notek (opublikowanych w 9 kwietnia 2022)

Nr 3

Rebel Yell?

Neil x Reader - One Shot

Masterlist

Summary: Neil needs to dye his hair once again. It proves to be harder than it may seem...

Warnings: Swearing, a whole deal of chaos.

Author's Notes: I don't even know. The shoot in question inspired me, because of course it did, and I tried to shut up the mean brain through writing. In result, this came to exist within 24h and is literally the shortest of drabbles. Hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Sat on the sofa, you minded your own business, utterly lost in the newest Ikea catalogue that just showed in the post box. Not that you had been planning any refurbishments. But who could ever say no to a peaceful afternoon spent scanning pages with the photos of perfectly white kitchen cabinets and minimalistic Scandinavian style bedrooms? Not you, that’s who.

With Niki sharing the space on the sofa and his head propped on your folded knees, it was almost too blissful.

So far that when you heard the first louder bang coming from the bathroom, you did not even bat an eyelid. But when that noise was followed by a bunch of louder ones and an impressive cursing, you glanced at the dog with concern and called out:

“You alright there?” a look in the direction of the bathroom gave you nothing.

It was one of those ‘roots dyeing’ days. And those could mean chaos, as you came to understand. You did not have to wait long for a response:

“Remember when you said I need more bleach to be like Billy Idol? Well… you just might’ve gotten yourself a discount version” the resignation in Neil’s voice was the driving force behind standing up from the sofa.

With a grin splitting your face, you marched towards the bathroom, curiosity piqued.

“Surely it can’t be that bad…” it was more of an assurance to yourself.

In haste, your foot slipped on the wood panels, and you managed to steady yourself by getting hold of the door handle last minute. Letting out an adrenaline-filled gasp, you opened the bathroom door wide, just as Neil muttered:

“Well…” he shot you a concerned look, reflected by the mirror he was facing.

It took you an additional second to register what was wrong with his hair. And then another to understand that it was no trick of the light. Up until the hairline, everything was fine. The same lean body with just the right amount of musculature and handsome face, now frowning into his reflection. But instead of the familiar dirty blonde, the damp strands were now platinum blonde. Quite like Idol’s back in the ‘80s. Your eyes widened as the jarring image created a harsh dissonance with your reality. Finally, after what felt like minutes, you managed to gasp out three words:

“Jesus fucking christ,” the dam opened as you folded in laughter with the tears streaming down your face, “Fucking hell, I can’t-” unable to breathe, you took in greedy inhales and tried to calm down.

It took another few minutes of standing with your back against the shower door. Neil, however, did not seem to share your joy. He had not moved since you came in, still transfixed on the image in the mirror.

“I know, it’s a disaster” the brooding voice acted like a wake-up call.

You needed one more look at his sombre expression to step forward and run your hand up his back, propping your chin on his shoulder:

“I’ve seen worse” sending him a reassuring smile you placed a quick kiss on the nape of Neil’s neck.

Precisely on the beauty spot. Leaning back, you caught the uncertainty in his gaze.

“Did you?” the scepticism dripped from the words as he glanced at you sideways.

Restless fingers combing through the strands with revulsion visible in every move. That would not do.

“Mm…” you nodded and embraced him, pressing your body against his back “You’re still bloody gorgeous, so there’s that” a wink as your hands trailed over his chest, taking pleasure in the way he trembled slightly “Even when you’re pouting like a starving Lab,” the addition said just to make Neil crack a smile.

Once he did, you placed another kiss on his shoulder and let your eyes roam over his reflection. Even though wildly ridiculous, the hair took nothing from his beauty, helping the blue of his eyes stand out more.

“Careful, or he’ll hear you” Neil threw a cautious glance towards the corridor and then back at you, frown still present on the beautiful face, “No, but seriously, what do I do now? I can’t look like this” he made a vague hand gesture at the knotted strands with despair in the voice.

Yet it was clear that the initial crisis was averted, for Neil placed his free hand on yours, returning the embrace and acknowledging the tenderness. You could work with that sort of attitude. Reaching out to tangle your fingers in his hair, you leaned in to take a closer look. Obviously, you will help him. For better or worse, considering the lack of experience. After the initial study, you met Neil’s gaze reflected in the mirror and answered the unasked question:

“I’ll pop to the shop tomorrow and buy some darker blonde developer, and it… should be fine” you tried to mask the missing confidence with a grin.

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280 notek (opublikowanych w 13 lutego 2022)

Nr 2

I'm still screaming about the fact that during the Forest Scene™️ we saw a glimpse into Eddie that we never got after that. The way he was acting around Chrissy, the perceptiveness, the charm and nervousness masked with goofiness and softness. He wasn't behaving like that around anybody else. And that means something.

I mean, what was that???

422 notki (opublikowane w 27 października 2022)

Mój post nr 1 w 2022

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 1 - Nocturnal Animals

Masterlist; Chapter 2

Summary: Desperate for a scoop (and a pay rise), you scout Gotham for anything of interest. When you cross paths with the mysterious Drifter, you decide to use the chance to spark up a fruitful cooperation.

Warnings: Swearing.

Author's Notes: ... Hi *waves*. Yes, that's a new series because it seems like Rob's characters tend to make themselves at home in my head. I wanted to develop Bruce a little more and this idea came to exist quite quickly. Reader is a journalist in need of a topic, Bruce is out on the streets... and the rest is history :))) Slow burn as always since that's my specialty (apparently).

I hope you'll enjoy this introduction and I'll greatly appreciate feedback!

The only pretty thing in Gotham during the fall was the way neon lights reflected in the puddles of the alleyways and street corners. The myriad of colours and slogans tinted the darkness with a sense of something bigger than the wet tarmac and slippery pavement slabs. Only, that light did not get everywhere, creating niches in the city’s fabric, where no ray of hope could ever permeate. That is where the crime skyrocketed, no matter the season. That is where scoop and intel were found. Conveniently.

Adjusting your hood for the umpteenth time, you frowned as another cold drop of rain slid inside your coat. In October, even waterproofing hardly did its job; especially one four years old and long past its prime. But it did not matter. Your eyes restlessly scanned the surroundings, mindful of anything that could be of interest. Because while murders in Gotham were hardly the breaking news type novelties, a serial killer on the loose, seemingly connected to the city’s elites, was quite the concept. A case to crack and the potential of a pay rise. Something you could not deny yourself, considering the tightness of the pockets and emptiness of the bank account. In short, you needed to find something worth writing about. Something worth covering by the GC1. Or else… No.

There was no time for that. Having made it to the docks, you stopped, hiding underneath the roof of an abandoned warehouse. The last victim had been found here, stabbed multiple times with an unidentified weapon. Potentially – a meat hook. Which did sound lovely, you had to admit. Having left the apartment that evening, you were led with the idea that maybe back at the crime scene, you could discover crucial evidence everyone had missed. Now, drenched, tired and disheartened, you realised how wrong you were. There was nothing left aside from the rain, the murky water by the docks and the foul stench of trash and urine. The police had cleared everything.

With a resigned sigh, you took a quick round of the area, taking photos with your phone. Apart from a few unidentified objects lying on the ground and rusty spots you could hope was the residual blood, there was nothing.

“Fuck,” a soft curse escaped your pursed lips, ringing out in the quiet alleyway.

Finding absolutely nothing meant another stressful debrief in the morning. And you have had enough of those already. With the mind half-focused on the idea of heading back home and drowning the sorrows in a glass of cheap red wine, the unmistakable roar of the chopper pierced the ambience and made you look up.

At the sky first, using the instinct whole of Gotham had acquired throughout the last few months. Because once the signal had been lit no one could rest easy, watching the shadows with anticipation of what came next. But tonight, the light was off. The masked vigilante, the Bat-Man, Vengeance… there’s been many names and even more theories about his identity. No one knew when he appeared or when he left the scene. Having heard rumours, you held your breath until the black motorcycle appeared on the horizon. It was not him. Or at least it did not look like it was.

Your target parked the vehicle on the opposite end of the warehouse spaces. You observed, hidden in the shadows, as the man took off the black helmet and stood up, quickly pulling up a black hood over the head. He was moving with purpose, throwing a non-descript backpack over his shoulder and heading towards the abandoned building. With curiosity, you watched as he kicked open the chained door and disappeared inside with the clank of metal. Now that was a way of investigating you had not thought of yet…

For a moment, you wanted to follow him, to satisfy the curiosity as fast as possible and (hopefully) get some answers. But then reason kicked in, with yet another sigh, you backed into the shadows, waiting for the stranger to return. After all, no one sane would leave a motorcycle like that unattended for too long. Once he appeared fifteen minutes later, you were ready. Keeping away from the light, you skirted around the area and approached him without making a sound. A handy chat-up line on the tip of your tongue:

“Visiting the crime scene, are we?” once the man looked up at you with surprise evident in the abruptness of his reaction, you grinned.

Even with the flickering streetlights, it was hard to make out his features. You could see sharp edges of the jawline, slightly crooked nose and wide eyes, their intense stare intriguing.

“Who are you?” his voice was hoarse as though he was not used to speaking.

The sharp edge to the vowels told you the stranger was not easily intimidated. Yet your appearance was unexpected. His lips were pursed as he stiffened, clearly bracing himself against what would come next.

Perhaps he was the case you could crack…

“I could ask the same question, Mr…?” leaving out the opening, you waited for a beat before adding in a faux disappointed tone, “I see. Well, I can’t blame you for snooping around this case is quite the sensation” making sure to drop the bait, you watched him closely.

There was no apparent reaction. The man threw a nervous look towards the alley’s exit and then glanced back at you. As your eyes adjusted to the half-light, you could see more of his face. The chiselled features and fascinating eyes drew you in despite caution. Yet you still did not know who it could be. He did not look like your usual thug or a drophead, and you would bet he was not one of the Falcone’s. So… who?

“What do you mean?” your internal ruminations got cut short with a simple question.

The enticement worked. Pasting on a mysterious half-smile, you stepped closer to the stranger and lowered your tone to a confidential whisper:

“The usual… Corruption, Gotham’s finest… perhaps some revenge to trigger it all and… boom” with pleasure you noticed that the man seemed transfixed on your story “Here we are. I wonder who’s next” it was a simple deal, two people wanting something out of the conversation.

A game you were willing to play. Even if to understand more about the case and the mysterious drifter. Something shifted in his eyes, acceptance replacing the previous uncertainty. An agreement had been reached without either of you laying out the terms. Feeling an inexplicable rush of adrenaline, you awaited the question as the man thought hard. Once he looked up again, you allowed yourself to stare at him intently as he asked:

“Do you think the killer is after the people in power?” the innocence in his voice made you throw a cheeky grin to the mix.

For whatever reason, you felt like extending the conversation if he was willing. The rain and damp clothes faded into the background as you eyed him closely, thinking on the next move:

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438 notek (opublikowanych w 23 marca 2022)

Zobacz Przegląd roku 2022 już teraz →

[xinnabon]

(you don't have to read this. this is just a silly scenario or so i thought while i'm alone in my room while my phone is charging but seriously the characters in this doesnt have any names or designs or whatsoever. but maybe i'll do so myself when i have a mood to work hard for it. oh and this will be poorly written angst, slight comfort, confession, then bits of fluff?? so, no complaints here lol)

yelling down the halls was completely out of place. losing his mind at the very moment. why does this have to happen now? will she just blame him for snapping at her? the thoughts flooding on his head, midway to almost breaking down. it continued nonstop.

gripping on his hair, won't he just stop? it wouldn't matter either way. the more he yells out and cries out from his aura, what's the point if he keeps talking "nonsense" when the other doesn't listen? highly pathetic.

so many what if's, and maybe's, so many questions that yearns for it's answer to continue on.

his time with her already filled every question to it's answer his head runs through to leave no worry and combust with all overthinking thoughts, swiftly turning to it's worst turn ever yet.

the more he thinks out every decision he predicts from her, madly yells it out in every way possible. no way out, how will this even end?

he doesn't care. he'd rather just run off and have a world where he has himself to be selfish with. he wouldn't be caring about anyone's opinions to what he thinks of and rambles of. no one to argue with him bit by bit with countless logical reasons and possibilities to whatever he wants to ever confront about. he can be careless whenever he wants, as long as no one talks down to him, he'll be fine as he thinks he will be.

legs all weak, losing his mind-- maybe losing himself, quivering, heavy breathing taking in and by the looks of it, he probably is losing himself.

"i should've known you were going at this for far too long. it's my own fault that you decided to kept everything in from the truth. i should've gave you my trust and let you forsee it much more. i acted so carelessly with myself yet here you are, standing right before me with all the drastic features that i laid upon you. i should've known that my actions would affect you."

the fine lady steps forward to the man that looks so out of place, giving him a hug when he was about to say many possibilities that could ever happen to the both of them. possibilities that even the slightest mistake can cause an ending to all of this. pushing everyone away from his sight and get thing dealed off with to and end.

it's this again. this weird... sudden sensation then comes across his mind blank. her soft and frail hands running through his hair, the other going through his back, up... and down. he eventually realized that the more this continues, the more how gentle he becomes with just even a slight giving of physical affection.

thoughts were aside, sniffling, breath shaking, putting his hands to his waist as he buries his face to the soft locks covering her neck, eyes shutting and goes to a pause.

achievements were certainly something he didn't have throughout his life. he's glad that someone recognizes how far he worked hard enough with all his efforts behind through his works that received underrated attention to the fact maybe everyone is competing with him. but no. not everyone.

"did you know that, i never received a certain apology so sincere like that?"

he stays in place as the lady that has been holding him for the past minute fully awakens and prepares her attention to focus on him.

"all my life, whenever i complain about something, i wouldn't really expect the most sincerest apologies that i have ever gotten. i did thought to myself that, 'what if i did manage to get that apology?' and here you are, you actually managed to do just that."

pulling away, down to meet her face with just 4 centimeters between each other.

"there really is something with you [name] that i can't seem to understand of. you always managed to support me even when i clearly am not the best, yet you still go on. as i hold and interlock my fingers with yours, i feel so comfortable-- safe even. my mind tends to go completely blank. my thoughts that had been running on for too long made a deep pause. and after for a while when we were just holding each other, i realized one thing. i never truly was loved by someone. i used to crave on endless nights wondering, 'will my life ever be complete?' , 'will i ever have someone to complete me' , and many other thoughts i kept to myself. what i'm trying to say is that, i want you. i want to be your partner, [name]. but in order to do that, you must promise me to tell the truth, even if its right, wrong, or even something that will take things to the worst out of all things. i don't care if it will be your decision to let us be apart or not. we'll still be together if so, right? no, no. what am i saying? i have all these mixed feelings with you and-- no. i... i love you. whatever it takes, i want you to be supporting me. this is a decision that can be regretted but, i will never regret to be yours."

the lady was too stunned. surely wasn't expecting all of that.

"once i come back to you after my leave, i'd like for us to be together."

the man instantly flew in high spirits inside. he finally accepted the love from someone. not to mention, he's willing to do his best shot to complete himself with her. finally in a world that maybe it can be just the two of them.

"but first, let's use this time to relax and ease up a bit while we still can before my leave."

the two continued and stayed in it's position. enjoying each other's presence.

--

ok me again. i honestly think this is about me now. HALF HALF HALF. NOT FULLY ABOUT THE MALE CHARAC NOT FULLY JUST A FEW-- A LOT EVEN HA BTW IF U R READING THIS RN, GLAD U SURVIVED EVEN THOUGH I CLEARLY DONT KNOW THE CHARACTERS' NAMES OR SOME SORT LOL

[n0tamused]

Hi i'm new and i read and saw a lot of your work and all it's Amazing, i'm Just in love with your work,of i don't bother could i request a kakashi or hashirama or tobirama x self harm Reader,an headcanon or drabble where they found their lover cutting herself, Sorry if i bothered you or if i messd somethings up,cause i don't what Is a drabble but i think it's like a One shot bye

A/n: thank you so much for your kind words, I really do appreciate all of them and I seriously apologize for this being so late. Hope it's to your liking. On a more serious note, hope you all are doing well, take care<3

Warnings: Self harm, mention of knives/blades, blood, angst, sprinkle of fluff, some grammar mistakes maybe.

Characters: Kakashi, Tobirama, Hashirama x reader(separate)

Kakashi Hatake:

Kakashi is no stranger to these urges and strong emotions certain events(or people) might bring to someone, he has felt the same more times than he'd ever like to admit

He still sometimes looks back onto those dark days and recounts how many times he had almost lost his life due to those feelings and his irrational/hasty reaction to the same

During his relationship with his lover, he is certainly very gentle and soft, trying to accomodate them in any way he can to make sure they are alright

Even the thought of him accidentally causing you harm makes him gloomy and guilty

So, imagine his surprise and utter shock when he sees those scars littered across your skin, the skin he dreamt of kissing to show all the love he harbours for you

He had his suspicions from before, yet he never dared to point them out so early, so this truly broke his heart.

"Kakashi-" you try but you're immediately silenced, backed into a proverbial corner as he approached you and gathers your hands and arms in his. Pulling you to your feet he is quick to lead you to the bathroom and sit you on the toilet seat.

His lack of response is a scolding alone, a burn to the open wound in the moment and you can't help but feel guilty and even further horrible. But the moment you notice tears brimming on his lower lashes, do you understand that you misunderstood his actions.

"Y/n.. why did you do this?"

His tone is so shaky, unsure if he should even be speaking, fearful of making you close yourself from him. Internally he begs the heavens you comply and cooperate with him, he hopes he did everything right that you feel safe with opening up to him now

Kakashi had dressed up your cuts, the blood from before swirling down the drain. His fingetips are warm, palms lit with fire that strove to awaken the frozen forest, so careful in doing so.

If you start crying, he'll hold you, he'll caress your back and let you cry it all out. He'll lead you back to bed to get rest or to the kitchen to prepare you tea to warm you back up, a quick meal too if you so request

One thing is for certain and that is that he's going to become even more observant of you, spending even more time around you to ensure you're getting better and not getting any more of those horrible urges.

Kakashi reassures you how good you are, how special you are to him and to your friends, family, students; how much the elders love you and how much little kids yearn to hear your stories. He whispers sweet things into your ear before you fall asleep and even more encouraging words when you stir in his arms in the morning

"Darling, please, if you ever need any help - with anything - do not hesitate to tell me. I'm here for you.. you're not alone. You never were.."

Hashirama Senju:

As a legend of his time, both in war and art of healing, he has been met with the creatures that whispers bad things in one's ear.

Hashirama had that type of fortune that he was born into war, it molded him into the shape it willed and it almost made him yield. Almost.

As a healer, while in a relationship with you, he'd often check you for injuries - unconsciously so too. He had become so met with your body that he knew your immune system was lacking even before you did

Just by placing his hand on you, his chakra flows through you and feels around for any oddities.

"My flower, it's wonderful to see you again. How have you been?" Those words are the start of every conversation after his long days at work. No matter how tired he is, he still finds strength to smile and laugh for you. You are his heart, his sunshine and joy.

"It has been alright, I went to the market today and found some plants from lands afar. I'd like you to see them, perhaps you've seen one of them before"

His hands wrap around you, pulling you into a hug and as he goes to reply, all words suddenly evaporate on his tongue, his movements frozen.

You were hurt.

Hashirama is quick to question you about this, there is no way he is imagining this, he can't be that tired, can he?

Even if you try to shy away or hide this, he will be determined to check, especially when you display such nervousness as you never did before. Your relationship with him was always open, he made sure both of you had enough communication going on to avoid any possible issues

His reaction to wounds and scars you inflicted in yourself were rather too sad.

Hashirama exhales a shaky breath, his fingertips tracing over one particularly bad, red line and a small hue emits from his skin. The flesh beneath pales, stitching itself together with a small, pleasant, ache as it vanishes in the end. The man before you takes the arm he just healed and brings it to his lips, pausing as to reconsider his choices, or perhaps give you an opportunity to pull away- when you don't, he places feather light kisses along the skin.

As chatty and talkative as he is, he can't help but feel at loss for words in that moment, he doesn't know what to say. Images of the family members and close friends that perished float behind his closed eyelids

He vocalizes his thoughts finally, an awkward beginning but as he talks on his tone holds such color and warmth to them that rings true to your ears

He won't be satisfied until you both reach some agreement that would ensure you would stop this; if you don't feel like talking immediately he would understand and postpone this talk until you felt ready

If he wasn't gentle enough with you, he definitely was now. Treating you as softly as he treats the petals of the flowers in his greenhouse. There is no one more special to him, than you.

"Y/n, let us talk this out, I vowed to be with you through calm and storm alike. Don't hide yourself from me, my love.. don't hide your scars- the most beautiful flowers bloom from within trees damaged by storms."

Tobirama Senju:

The silver head, grumpy man never imagined he'd be in such love as he is with you, never imagined himself caring for anyone else so deeply as he cares for his last brother, but yet here he is

His feelings for you are unmatched, as much as he dislikes to put those on display, he does his best to make up for it through acts of service and occasionally a subtle word of encouragement and sometimes even affection

Through this silent language the two of you built, you strengthened your relationship even further with him.

Still, with how busy he gets, it is not rare that the two of you get separated for longer periods of time. Not seeing each other for so long is difficult, but the wait feels regarding nonetheless when he shows up to bring you to a meal, a stroll, anywhere to spend time with you

Tobirama is used to seeing you tired, especially during late nights when he returns from the office, tired himself. It's only normal you're tired this late at night

But one night at his arrival, it felt different. He smelled the signature irony smell too many times before, so when he caught scent of it he almost immediately felt his heart drop

He is a logical, strategic man, brought into the war just like his brother and the survival, warrior instinct that hadn't healed during the time of peace, swiftly set his body and mind into action

He was terrified inside, the worst case scenario question flaring in his mind - was he too late?

Much to his relief and horror simultaneously, he found you alive, but you were hurt, and the damage was done by your own hand

He didn't know how to react, but he called out to you, his gruff voice dropping an octave and going as softly as it could.

He approached you so cautiously, his eyes felt glued to you but they were looking for the towels in the shelf you were close to.

The silver of his hair shines in the golden lamplight as he moves with calculated steps, like in every aspect of his life these moves are also had to be perfect. Now more than any other time. His throat bobs as he swallows, his deft, calloused hands wrapping the bandages around your arms, although he has already healed mentioned wounds.

"Y/n.. I don't want to see this happen again.."

It's tough, what he begins his gentle scolding with, but he has to make sure to fill you in on what you were doing, what you truly did. In your mind, you may think you were giving yourself 'well deserved punishment' or something of that like, you were clearly distressed too.

His words carry the undertones of his own anxiety but he doesn't let his tone shake and weaver unlike his brother. That is not to say he doesn't care, or that he's trying to pressure you further, he just wants you to understand that he(or anyone else) doesn't see you in the same light you see yourself in

Tobirama isn't as showy and touchy, but he makes sure you feel especially loved and cared for that night. He caresses your hand and back, making sure you're tucked under the warm blankets and shielded away from the world as much as he can

In the days following he does have more talks with you, slowly taking steps to ensure you understand and are cooperative to let him help you out

If you agree, he'll also get Hashirama involved. Since Tobirama isn't as bright or bubbly as his brother, he truly believes another, more energetic presence may aid you further into letting the stress and worries go

He leaves notes around the house when he's away, and little snacks and trinkets for you to find, just a small show of his love while he's absent. And when he returns, he makes sure to show you himself too, that you're loved and cared for.

"Today was quite eventful, wasn't it? But today is now gone, and tomorrow is soon upon us.. I have been able to postpone some certain matters ahead to free up this week. From this day on, it will all be eventful too. I'd say it's time we make a schedule, what would you like to do, my dear?"