#trust me I don’t think anyone love Daniel as much as the rest of us making fun of him

[rickybaby]

Counterpoint: him being your “baby girl” doesn’t mean it isn’t rude as shit to make fun of someone’s appearance (especially when it’s literally just him aging naturally)

Chill it’s just some lighthearted fun

We’re all clearly happy to see Daniel happy and looking like he’s having the rest he deserves after the tough time he’s had. And we’re all so starved of Daniel content that when we do see him we don’t know how to act

[pucksandpower]

Mine

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos wants everyone to know you’re his and he knows exactly how to make that happen

Warnings: 18+ content heavily implied, manipulation, tampering with birth control, pregnancy

“Who was that?”

You glance up to find Carlos’ gaze fixed on the rearview mirror of his sleek Ferrari, eyebrows furrowed. His usually cheerful brown eyes are clouded with something you can’t quite place.

“Who?” You ask, feigning ignorance though you know he’s referring to the tall, blond man who had lingered just a bit too long by your side during the after-race party.

“The cabrón in the blue suit,” he grinds his teeth. “Never seen him around before.”

“Ah,” you laugh, reaching out to playfully flick at the bridge of his nose, “just someone from the event planning team. Harmless.”

Carlos doesn’t smile back. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and the set of his jaw becomes more pronounced. “He touched your arm.”

“He was just being friendly,” you reason but a hint of defensiveness creeps into your voice.

There’s a pause as Carlos winds the car through the foreign streets. You can feel his frustration.

“You’re being naive,” he finally says. “It’s not just him. Everywhere we go, I see them looking at you. The way Daniel winks at you, how Lewis always finds an excuse to chat, even the staff and the fans. Don’t you see it?”

It’s not like you can deny that. Ever since the two of you went public with your relationship, attention has been inevitable. You’re the envy of many and the object of desire for countless others. But Carlos’ brooding possessiveness is new and you’re not sure how to address it.

“They’re just our friends,” you murmur. “And fans are fans. They’re excited to see you and by extension me too. That’s all.”

He exhales heavily. “It’s not just about them being friends or fans. It’s the entitlement, the audacity they have, thinking they can just ... approach you like that. Like they have any shot with you.”

You roll your eyes even though he won’t see it while focused on the road. “I can handle myself. Besides, I chose you. They’re nothing to me.”

The car pulls up to the entrance of a crowded nightclub, its entrance flashing with neon lights. Carlos stops in front of the valet, swiveling in his seat to face you.

You’re taken aback by the intensity in his eyes.

“Yes,” he says in a husky whisper, “you chose me. And I chose you. But I can’t stand by and watch these pretenders think they have a shot with you.”

You swallow hard, shocked by the raw emotion in his voice. “You can’t control who talks to me or looks at me. I love you and that’s all that matters.”

He leans in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know,” his lips brush your skin. “But I also know how men think and I won’t stand for them disrespecting you or our relationship.”

“We’re in the public eye. This is something we will always have to deal with. Trust me, trust us.”

His gaze searches yours, dark eyes imploring. “I trust you,” he says. “It’s them I don’t trust.”

You wrap your fingers around his much bigger ones. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

Carlos sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I just … I can’t bear the thought of anyone else ever having you.”

Your heart swells. “Mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. The ring on my finger is there because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He pulls you across the console, setting you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you while ignoring the valet waiting right outside the car. “I know. I just ... I need to make sure that everyone else knows too.”

***

Carlos finds himself in a dimly lit pharmacy aisle, heart racing. The overhead fluorescent lights throw ghostly shadows between the narrow rows. He can hear the soft hum of a distant conversation, punctuated by the rustling of paper bags and the occasional beep of the cash register.

But for Carlos, everything feels distant, like he’s viewing the world through a thick veil.

He stops in front of a shelf, his gaze locking onto the birth control pills. Rows upon rows of them, each promising freedom … autonomy.

His mind rushes back to the countless conversations he’s had with you.

“I want to finish school first,” you would always say earnestly. “Kids are a big responsibility. We have all the time in the world for them later.”

But Carlos doesn’t feel like he has time. He has fought with this internal battle for months. The thought of marking you as his, of the world knowing through the unmistakable swell of your belly, appeals to his most primal instincts.

“Can I help you?” A voice interrupts his thoughts.

He turns to see the pharmacist looking at him with a tentative smile. He tries to gather his thoughts, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “I, um, need some pills. Sugar pills.”

The pharmacist frowns. “For a placebo effect?”

Carlos nods, trying to seem nonchalant. “Yeah, something like that. My little cousin needs them for her science fair project.”

She hesitates for a moment then reaches behind the counter, pulling out a small box. “We have these. They’re usually used for clinical trials but they should do the trick.”

He pays for the pills and quickly hides them in his pocket. He thinks about how you would react if you ever found out. But the thought of you carrying his child, the undeniable mark of his claim clear for all to see, is too much to resist.

The next morning starts as it always does. You stretch and make your way to the bathroom, your daily routine staring with the familiar sound of the pill package being opened.

Carlos stands at the doorway, watching as you take your daily birth control. He knows he should feel guilty but instead he is consumed by a heady mix of anticipation and possessiveness.

He imagines your body changing, growing round.

“Morning,” you smile up at him.

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Morning. How did you sleep?”

You lean into his embrace, enjoying the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “Like a baby. Must have been the post-race celebrations.”

Carlos chuckles but there’s a tension to it, an undercurrent of something more. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins.

You pull back slightly to look up into his eyes, “Mmmh. About?”

“Us. Our future.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What about it?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “I want to start a family with you,” the words come tumbling out in a rush. “I know you want to wait but the thought of you carrying my child … our child ... I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I love you," you choose your words carefully. "So much. But I’ve told you how I feel. I’m not ready.”

He lets out a heavy breath, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. “I know. I just can’t help how I feel.”

“We’ll get there when the time is right,” you press a kiss to his bare chest. “I promise.”

***

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, feeling his eyes linger on you as you change out of your dress. The dimly lit bedroom is filled with the ambient sounds of Mallorca nightlife. From the open balcony door, you can hear the soft crash of waves and distant murmurs of evening revelers.

Carlos chuckles lowly. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning something,” you eye him suspiciously but your voice is playful

He stands, taking a few purposeful steps towards you. “Maybe I am,” he corners you against the wall. The heat of his body warms your own, even through the layers of clothing.

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Planning what?”

He leans down, lips grazing the curve of your ear. “To remind you,” he whispers, “that you’re mine.”

You shiver at his words, the dominant tone sending a thrill down your spine. “Is that so?” You challenge, arching a brow.

His hands slide down your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “Very much so,” he replies, sealing his words with a searing kiss.

As the two of you move to the bed, there’s an urgency, a raw need that wasn’t there before.

Every touch, every kiss, every caress feels even more intense than usual.

“Why are you so ... insistent tonight?” You gasp out through the overwhelming rush of sensations.

Carlos halts momentarily, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. “I want to make sure you never forget,” his voice is rough. “Forget what we have. Forget how deep this goes.”

“I could never forget,” your fingers move with a mind of their own to tangle in his hair.

His lips find yours again. “Promise?”

You nod, getting lost deeper and deeper in the moment. “Promise.”

Hours pass in a blur of passion and whispered confessions. The intensity of Carlos’ actions betrays an underlying need and desperation that are hard for you to place.

As the sun rises above the horizon outside, you find yourself curled up against Carlos’ chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“You were different tonight,” you murmur as your eyes slowly lose their battle against sleep.

Carlos tenses momentarily. “I just wanted to make sure you know," he says lowly. “Know how much I need you. How much I want you.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow, studying his face. “I know,” you brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “But what brought this on?”

Carlos hesitates, searching for the right words. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to try to come between us,” he admits. “And I need to make sure that never happens.”

Your heart aches at his words and the vulnerability in his eyes. “Nothing is going to come between us,” you lean over to capture his lips tenderly. “We’re much stronger than that.”

Carlos smiles and flips himself on top of you once more. “I’ll make sure of it.”

***

“Ouch!” You exclaim, pulling away as Carlos’ hands brush against your chest. The sudden sensitivity catches you off guard.

Carlos raises an eyebrow, eyes darkening with a mix of concern and something else — something unreadable. “Mi corazón? What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the unexpected pain. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of ... off lately.”

He moves closer, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “How so?”

You shrug, “Just more sensitive, I guess. And tired. And don’t even get me started on how my clothes have decided to stop fitting properly.”

Carlos smirks, a hint of smugness playing on his lips. “Maybe you’ve just been enjoying Spanish cuisine a little too much.”

You roll your eyes, swatting him playfully. “Funny. But seriously, it’s weird. I’ve been doing my workouts, eating right, and still ...”

He pulls you close, fingers tracing the smooth curve of your waist. “I like the changes,” his voice is muffled as he presses a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver, torn between the pleasure of his touch and the lingering feeling that something just isn’t right. “It doesn’t feel like me,” you try to shake off the unease.

Carlos tightens his grip, gaze intensely locked on yours. “Maybe it’s just ... natural changes. You know, as we get older.”

You frown, pulling away slightly. “But I’m in my twenties. I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, bodies change. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You’re not convinced but you nod, pushing the uneasy feeling to the back of your mind. “Maybe.”

Carlos watches you closely, the smugness returning to his features. “Besides,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I kind of like the changes. You look ... fuller.”

You blush. “Thanks, I guess.”

He laughs, pulling you close again. “Always so modest,” he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You melt completely against him, the warmth and familiarity of his touch pushing away the unease, at least for the moment.

But as the days pass, the changes become more pronounced, the nagging feeling that something is wrong growing stronger.

Carlos, on the other hand, seems happier than ever, his possessiveness reaching new heights. He is constantly by your side, his touch lingering, his gaze intense.

“You’re glowing,” he comments one day, eyes tracing your body.

You roll your eyes but hide a smile. “I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

“I’m serious. There’s something … different about you. I like it.”

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. “Different how?”

He thinks for a moment, searching for the right words. “You just seem more radiant. More alive.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “I think you’re seeing things.”

Carlos smirks. “Maybe,” his hands slip under the material of your shirt, caressing your slightly bloated belly. “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

***

“I’m what?” Your voice wavers as you clutch the edge of the doctor’s desk in shock, the coolness of the surface grounding you.

The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, looks between you and Carlos. “You’re pregnant,” she repeats gently, handing over the sonogram.

Carlos breaks into a wide grin. “That’s incredible!” He pulls you into a tight embrace, placing kisses all over your face.

But as the news sinks in, panic sets in. Your future plans — graduating with your degree, establishing a career — all seem to crash around you.

You gently extricate yourself from his hold, taking a deep breath. “How is this possible? I’m on birth control! We’re always so careful.”

The doctor tilts her head, looking through her notes. “No birth control method is 100% foolproof,” she says. “It’s rare but it can happen.”

Carlos’ fingers lace through yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

Tears well up in your eyes, the overwhelming emotions threatening to drown you. “I still have a year of school left. I wanted to be established in my own career … this wasn’t part of the plan.”

Carlos cups your face. “Hey,” he murmurs, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. You have me.”

You blink. “Carlos, I want to work. I want a career. I don’t want to be dependent on you.”

He smiles. "You won’t be dependent. You’ll be cared for. Isn’t that what you want?”

You take a step back. “I want to be my own person. I want to make my own choices.”

Carlos’ gaze darkens, the dominant edge returning. “You will be. But you’ll also be mine. That’s what is important now.”

***

You’ve quickly come to love the sensation of your growing belly, cherishing each gentle flutter and kick from the perfect being within, knowing that it’s a bond that only you and Carlos share.

“Good morning, little bean,” you whisper, rubbing the gentle swell of your belly. Every morning, this small act helps you bond with the life growing steadily inside of you.

Carlos enters the room, his hair still tousled from sleep. The morning sunlight casts a warm glow on his chiseled features. “Frijolito is lucky to have a such a beautiful mama,” he murmurs, sidling up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. His hand finds its place on your belly, fingers splayed and feeling for any hint of movement.

“I am huge,” you complain with a mock pout.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss then pulling back to tilt your chin up. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“You have to say that,” you tease. “I’m carrying your baby.”

“Partly,” he admits, sliding his hand up to cup your face, “but mostly because it’s true. You would put Helen of Troy to shame.”

Weeks pass and your body continues to transform.

There’s a softness, a roundness, that wasn’t there before, and it’s something that Carlos revels in. His hand is constantly on your belly, possessive and protective. Every time another man’s gaze lingers a little too long on you, Carlos’ lips curve into a smirk, silently declaring his ownership.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You ask one evening as the two of you settle into bed.

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Enjoying what?”

“Having every man that looks at me know that I’m yours,” you poke him playfully on the chest.

“Maybe,” his hand slides down your body. “Is that a problem?”

You sigh, nestling closer to him. “No,” you admit. “It’s kind of nice, actually.”

Carlos grins, pressing a kiss to your belly. “That’s my girl.”

The months fly by and soon the reality of your impending motherhood sets in. There are nursery preparations, birthing classes, and endless discussions about baby names. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, excitement never wavering.

“Can you believe we’re going to be parents?” You marvel one day, looking around the nursery.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Carlos says. “You and our frijolito are my everything.”

Happy tears well up in your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest.

Carlos tightens his grip, resting his chin on top of your head. “Yo también te amo.”

The next race day arrives and as always, Carlos calm and collected. But recently there has been a different kind of energy to him, an intensity that was never there before.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” you clutch his hand.

Carlos smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips and then another on your belly. “I promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “I have too much to come home to ever do otherwise.”

***

“It’s time,” you gasp, clutching the bedsheets as another contraction hits.

Carlos lets you grip his hand impossibly tight. “Breathe, mi corazón,” he urges, wiping the sweat off your forehead.

Hours pass in a blur of pain and anticipation. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, his touch both comforting and grounding.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a small cry pierces the air. Tears stream down your face as you catch your first glimpse of your son, his tiny face scrunched up in protest.

“He’s absolutely perfect,” Carlos says thickly, tears gathering as he kisses you gently.

You smile weakly, the exhaustion of a long labour weighing you down. “Our little bean,” you whisper, cradling your son close.

Carlos wipes away an escaped tear. “Our frijolito,” his gaze never leaves your son’s face.

As you start feeding your son for the first time, Carlos’ face softens and his eyes fill with awe. “I can’t believe we made something so amazing,” he traces a finger over your son’s tiny hand.

You smile, heart swelling with love. “He’s perfect,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

Carlos leans down to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead and then another to yours. “You did incredible. Thank you for giving me everything I could ever ask for.”

You smile. “We did this together.”

Carlos nods, his gaze locked onto your son’s face. “I promise you that I will always take care of you both. You will never have to worry about a thing.”

“I know," you whisper as you let contentment and tiredness drift you off to sleep.

As the days pass, Carlos becomes even more possessive and protective, his love for you and your son deepening with each passing moment. He is constantly by your side, reluctant to leave either of you for even a second.

One evening, as the two of you sit on the balcony, watching the sunset while your son dozes away, Carlos turns to you. “I want to give you more.”

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “More what?”

Carlos smirks and pulls you close. “More children,” he murmurs, pecking your lips. “I want to fill you with my babies.”

You laugh, “One is enough for now.”

Carlos chuckles but his face is serious. “We’ll see.”

Carlos knows that he will ensure it happens just like he did before.

He’ll keep you bound to him forever.

[anyaispunk]

The Last Time We Met

Pt. 2 (Last Part)

Word Count: 2,7k

“Me and Hellen are going to get married next month.” he said excitedly, holding back his tears.

You know, when someone’s get hurt, they express it by either crying, screaming, fighting, leaving, or even as simple as saying ‘ouch’. But what do dead people do when they get hurt? Nothing. They’re simply dead.

That was what exactly happened.

I didn’t cry, talk, nor move for an inch.

I just stood there.

The smile that was starting to form on my lips, stayed.

My grip on the box, stayed.

My dark eyes fixed on his bright brown eyes, stayed.

Because that’s what dead people do best.

They stayed still.

And he just killed me with his 10 words.

It all hit me.

It was like remembering a scene from a movie.

Except this time, rather than seeing me and him as the main characters.

It was her.

Hellen is the one he was seeing through the crowds. She was the one that take my phone to talk to Daniel’s parents after I talked to them.

She is the one he searches for a hug after bad days. Even though I’m the one he spent the night with to let out his frustrations in the form of words.

She is the one that gets all of the good news first. And I was the one who’s rushing to him no matter where I am whenever I hear a single sigh the second I picked up his call.

Now I realized that being on the top list was never enough.

Because there’s someone on top of that list.

And it’s her.

I’m not enough. I never was.

“Hey… Are you okay? It surprised you that much? You think I’m too wild to be married, huh?” Daniel joked, just like what he always does.

I wanted to take my eyes off of him.

I look at him and it feels like life is mocking me. As if life is telling me that this is the eyes that’ll never see you as something more. These are the eyes you can never have.

“Dan?….” I said with a cracked voice, surprised by my own ability to talk.

He was starting to get worried.

“Yes? Is there something wrong?”

“Have you ever thought about me?”

“What?… What do you mean?”

“Have I ever crossed your mind when you’re searching for what you’ve been longing for? or when you wanted to call someone the second after you finished the meeting of your another successful deal?” my voice was like a whisper but firm.

He was about to answer but I cut him off,

“Am I just a place for some of your ups and all of your downs? Is that what I am to you? An Alfred to your Batman?” I said harshly.

This time I’m not holding back.

I know what I said was not fair. Daniel always shares his good news with me, he never left me out, but after I already heard it from anyone else but him.

“You think it was easy to accept the fact that every single time you talked about your good news I have to act like I heard it for the first time when I already knew it from someone else? How small I feel whenever I come running to you just to hear your anger and telling me I’m the only person you told. I’m thankful that you trust me that much to share something what other people don’t know. But I want more…

I need more.” That was it. I admitted my desire to the both of us.

I can see anger in his eyes. He didn’t expect me to be this honest and blunt. He felt somehow betrayed. He knows that I know it’s hard for him to talk about his feelings other than happiness.

Happiness is something Daniel shares with everyone. But everything else inside him? It’s only me to knows.

When Daniel finally had the chance to talk, he said,

“Wow…. just… wow.”

Shame can be clearly seen on my face. I stepped too far.

Too far to be fixed but not enough to be together.

“Just forget about it. I can’t do this now. I’m sorry.” I said while heading to the door.

I felt his hand on my shoulder, preventing me from walking further.

“Let me go, Dan”

Don’t.

Pull me to your arms.

Let me feel your warmth and tell me I’m gonna have this for the rest of my life.

Love me,

more than you love her.

He did.

He let me go.

—————————————————————

I watched as the clock turned to 00:00.

I blinked.

00:01

Blinked.

00:02

I have to sleep.

“Hey? You up?”

Turning my head to the side, Charlotte greeted me with a smile.

“Is today’s my birthday? Why are you awake this early?”

Charlotte never left my side since that day. Not because I ask her to, but because she’s afraid of the things that I’m capable of doing when I’m alone with the memories of him.

“First, the sun is already shining for hours now. Second, you haven’t eaten anything since last night so you must get up now and eat. In the meantime, I’ll prepare myself and your stuff. We’ll be leaving at 4.” Charlotte said like I’m her kid.

I glanced back at the clock.

14:03

“You’re not my mom, so stop telling me what to do.” I protested.

She rolled her eyes,

“Not that you listen to your mother either.”

Ignoring her comment, I stood up and walked past her. Maybe food wasn’t so bad. Finding a full English breakfast was not making my stomach go quieter.

“It really is my birthday, isn’t it?” lifting the fork that was already placed beside the plate and starting to dig in.

Charlotte stood across the table with her arms crossed. “Are you going to act all excited and strong throughout the entire day? If you want to do that bullshit at least don’t do it in front of me.”

With my furrowed eyebrows and slightly agape mouth, she slowly brings her hands down to her sides. “You actually forgot, don’t you?”

My brain was trying so hard to connect all the dots. But I just couldn’t remember what she was talking about.

Taking a seat beside me, Charlotte looked at me deeply in the eyes. It scares me. Her face was full of concern and sympathy, but her eyes told me more. Enough to throw me back to this hell hole I called life.

It was the day.

With all honesty, Charlotte expected me to ran and slammed the door. Crying my eyes out until I can’t, like I used to.

But no. I didn’t. I’ve done enough.

I wouldn’t let her suffer twice today.

I walked slowly to my room, lifting the box that was still beautifully tied and placed it on top of my bed.

I was standing even though I knew I didn't have the energy left to even stand perfectly still. I opened it up.

Slowly untying the white bow with mixed feelings. Wondering what was sitting on this box all this time.

‘Open it.’

His voice rang in my head.

Daniel tried to call me for the first 3 weeks after our last encounter. He even stopped by a couple of times.

I didn’t have the courage to see or hear him.

I’m trying to stop the sounds of his voice following me through every step.

I’m trying to forget the lines on his face every time he laughed.

I put the bow to the side.

What is this, Dan?

‘Can’t you just open the box and stop asking?’

A white dress.

It was a white dress on a white box with a white bow.

This box supposedly belonged to a…

bride.

I lose it. I can’t control the tears streaming down my checks.

Charlotte walked in seeing me standing in total shock.

I looked to the side and said,

“He gave me a white dress.”

Never once in one’s life has one heard broken and hurt spoken so loud in someone’s voice. When she said those words, whether you know her or not, you can feel your heart broke into a million pieces. Imagine how broken she is when you’re in so much pain just by hearing her 6 words.

Charlotte didn’t even realize she was crying herself.

•

Tears are falling as Daniel danced lovingly with his new bride. But there was just one tear that didn't resemble a happy tear, and it was mine.

My mind slowly drifted off, imagining what if things turned out differently. But the answer was clear as a cristal now.

Song after song played, everyone else already left the table for the dance floor.

I glanced around and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

No matter how miserable I’ve been these last couple of hours, seeing these people having one of the best times of their lives eased me a little bit.

They’re my friends after all.

Then I saw him. I followed his every movement, watching as he took his blazer down his shoulder and draped it over the back of his chair. I felt every crack in my heart deepen as the newlyweds smiled at each other, dancing to their heart’s content, and suddenly, I realized how misplaced I was. Ever since the day these two had met, there was no longer space in Daniel’s heart for me.

Drown to my memory lane, I failed to realize who’s approaching me.

“You know, I could feel something was missing and I couldn’t find you at the dance floor. Odd, because you dance all the time.”

It was Daniel.

He was standing in front of me, sending me his sweet smile.

I couldn’t help but returned the smile.

Like a sign of relief, he was smiling more widely. Secretly thanking God for giving him a chance to talk to me again.

“I seriously don’t know how you managed to sit still while dirty dancing was playing.”

I let out a little laugh. Shaking my head to prevent myself from laughing more.

He kneeled down,

“I miss that sound.”

Even though his face’s only a few inches away from mine, I can’t bring myself to look at him.

I hurriedly replied, “I don’t have anyone to dance with,” not wanting him to know that I couldn’t bear the idea of dancing with anyone beside him.

He tried to muffled his laugh.

I was so close to tell him to not ever hold his laugh when he’s with me. His laugh was better than anything the DJ played at the moment. His laugh was the only thing that could make my heart skipped a beat.

But the butterflies in my stomach didn’t stayed longer than his laugh.

That sound didn’t belong to me, it belonged to her.

All of him.

His smile,

his laugh,

his memories to come,

they all belonged to the woman who had taken his last name just hours ago.

He held his hand out for me to take,

“Dance with me. Like you always do.”

Hesitant to take his hand, I finally gave in to myself. Knowing what a single touch could do to my entire being. I can feel his gentle touch heavily on mine, as if he’s scared that I could break if he hold me too strong. He let go of my hand after we arrived at the dance floor.

The warmth of his hand still lingering on my skin.

The soft strum of a guitar filled the room, Kodaline’s “All I Want” beginning to play. For a second, I wondered why such a sad song was playing. I gave Daniel a questioned look. Why on earth he had requested a song that was more about heartbreak than anything else. Taking my hand again while wrapping his free arm around my waist, he began to sway to the melody, leaving my question unanswered momentarily.

“You said you like this song.” He whispered, lips right beside my ear. The sensation of his warm breath caused shivers to roll down my spine.

If the guests are not looking at my face or talking to the actual bride, I’ll be totally mistaken as his bride.

The white dress was perfectly fit to my figure, making it more difficult for Charlotte to zipped the dress back home because I was sobbing too hard.

As the song continued, I closed my eyes.

When you said you last goodbye

I died a little bit inside

I lay in tears in bed all night

Alone without you by my side

This feeling, this moment, this man was something I couldn’t dare let go of. Yet, everything Daniel was doing was in order for me to let him go.

But if you loved me,

Why did you leave me?

The words are pierced to my heart. Setting fire to my emotions with no beginning and no end.

When would I be ready to let go?

I exhaled a breath that I had been holding for far too long. A breath that had taken years to let out.

I took a step back from him. Retreating my head that was previously placed on his shoulder.

Daniel’s heart stung after he saw my face. My eyes and cheeks were glossed over with tears,

“Why did you give me a white dress?”

How can you have the heart to make me suffer this much?

Imprinted false hope to my soul.

Letting yourself run through every bit of my body. Leaving hunger that can be only fed by you.

He just smiled sadly.

It was a look I never wanted to see, but I knew I had to see it. The saddest smile graced his near perfect features.

Daniel’s lips brushed my forehead, planting a gentle kiss to it. The sensation was one you would never forget. His words were quiet as he spoke, “I love you.”

A hand landed on Dan’s shoulder, turning him to look at a young bridesmaid with an all too happy smile on her face. She giddily grabbed Dan’s hand, dragging him along with her as she informed him of the bouquet toss that was about to take place.

I find my way back to the table to grab my things. The music was once again blaring as I walked towards Daniel’s mother who was sitting with some of her other relatives. She spotted me walking towards her, a gentle smile on her face as I pulled her into a farewell hug.

“Are you leaving already, darling?” His mother asked.

“Unfortunately, yes, I have a lot of things to do tomorrow.” My excuse made me shudder. I hated lying, especially to one of the most wonderful women I had ever met.

“Please send my regards to the newlyweds, I’d hate to interrupt.”

Daniel’s mother nodded, saying one last farewell as I made my way. Each step was a jab in the heart, and when I had reached outside, the tears truly began to spill. My hand covered my mouth, attempting to silence the heart wrenching sobs that would not stop coming.

“Wait!,” a voice called out.

I turned to see Daniel running towards me at full speed. When his eyes found mine, he opened his mouth to speak. No words came out, he had nothing to say. There was nothing in this world that he could say that would heal the hurt I was going through.

His arms wrapped around my waist as he pulled my body towards his. His hand stroked my hair as I cried, his own tears threatening to spill over. He brushed the tears from beneath my eyes as he furrowed his brows in concentration, searching for the hurt I had been hiding all these years.

Charlotte pulled up as I smiled gently at the man I loved but would never have.

I look at his face.

Carving his eyes, his nose, his lips, every curve and every line of his face in my memory.

This will be the last time.

Not because he wouldn’t be here anymore.

But because I can’t.

“Goodbye, Dan.”

If I studied his face a little bit longer, I would have seen the sadness that overtook him as his chest tightened from my words.

He didn’t get to respond as I already walked towards the car. I knew I wouldn’t make it if I spent a second longer near him.

I turned my head back to him, whispering as loud as he needed to vividly hear,

“I love you too.”

And that was the last time we met.

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 8- Above the Cyclone (Polaris POV)

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Reader, background sort of Sam x Danny

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: little over 1.6 k

Warnings: Sam’s a bit of an asshole at first, mentions of blood and wounds, descriptions of torture (not too explicit)

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

Your head throbs as you open your eyes, squinting at the light from the singular lantern on the wall outside the bars of your cell. Your hand instinctively reaches for your belt, only to find your dagger and sword gone. Noticing the shackles on your wrists, you begin trying to squeeze your hands out of them, the metal cutting into your skin.

“Already tried that.”

You look over to see Samuel hunched in the corner next to you as he holds his arms up, his wrists raw and worn as lines of blood trail up his forearms, staining the white of his sleeves.

“What do we do now, Samuel?” you whisper.

He shrugs, his eyes tired and bruised, having already accepted his fate. “Pray they kill us quickly.”

“You’ve already given up? The others will surely try to rescue us.”

“Of course I’ve given up.” He snaps. “It’s Lady Helena, she’s not exactly known for her hospitality to her prisoners. And I know the others will try, but we’ll be long dead before they even get close to finding wherever we are.”

You say nothing, fearing that he was right.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” He scoffs. “She finally manages to capture one of us, and I’m stuck in a cell with you.”

Again, you stay quiet, and he is more than willing to fill the silence with his own voice.

“We could have killed you, but we were foolish enough to take you in. We’ve given you food, shelter, kindness, and this whole time she has been your sister.”

You laugh humorlessly at his words, and he scowls at you before you speak.

“You have given me nothing, Samuel. Rosanna gave me food. So did Jake and Danny. It was Danny that offered to show me back to the house, gave me a bed to sleep in. I have known no kindness from you or Joshua over the last day or two of my life.”

This time, it’s Samuel who says nothing, allowing you to collect your thoughts before continuing.

“And do you really think I would be in this cell with you if I had any semblance of a positive relationship with Helena? If we were allies?”

“She could have locked you in here with me to trick us, to make us think you shared no loyalty.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look away from him, eventually leaning back to rest your head against the wall.

“I always have to be the fucking bad guy to you and Joshua, don’t I? Do you even hear yourself? Who is there to trick, Samuel? You already said it, she’s going to kill us, by the time the others reach us we’ll be dead.”

He sighs, considering your reasoning. “I know. I’m- I’m sorry. Maybe we have been too hard on you.”

His apology causes you to look at him, his expression sincere as he looks back.

“Thank you- I understand why you distrust me even before finding out Helena is my sister, after what happened to your father.”

“Daniel told you, didn’t he?”

“Yes… he also told me about his parents. About how you helped him get through that.”

Samuel laughs lightly. “Yeah, of course he told you about that. That man is an open book to anyone he trusts.”

He says nothing as he thinks of his friend.

“Maybe we should have trusted you more. Daniel has an annoyingly amazing judge of character, even to people he’s just met. Again, I’m sorry.”

You offer him a small smile. “It’s alright.”

The light catches on his tears as they begin streaming down his face.

“I would never- never admit this to anyone but I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

He pauses, and you wait patiently for him to continue.

“I never got the chance to tell him- to tell him that I love him.”

His voice breaks as he brings a hand up to his mouth, drawing his knees into his body as he begins to sob.

“I don’t- I don’t know how much he told you about us but, we’ve done things together. I always gave the excuse that I was just lonely being at sea for so long. I never got to tell him how much those nights together meant to me. How my heart would break each morning as he left my quarters without saying a word. I was too scared that he didn’t feel the same, so I never told him. Now I never will.”

You scoot closer to him, close enough to reach out and lightly place your hand on his knee.

“You- you still could.”

He laughs through his tears, once again humorless as he gestures to your surroundings.

“Alright, and say we survive, they save us. I would rather die than live knowing he didn’t feel the same.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider whether it is your place to share what you knew with him. As you began to accept your fate, you decide to tell him, reasoning that it was the least you could do to comfort him before you died.

“He does. He told me, he- he feels the same, Samuel. He always has.”

He pauses for a moment, disbelief passing over his face as he shakes his head.

“I don’t know if I should feel relief or regret. All these years together, we could have- we could have had so much more.”

“You still could.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “While I still think your hope is foolish, it is comforting somehow.”

“It’s not over until we meet The Master.”

You squeeze his knee gently before removing your hand, wrapping your arms around yourself as you begin to shiver, the coldness of the room piercing through the air and off the stone both below and behind you. Samuel raises his arm slightly.

“Come here.”

Confusion paints your features at this sudden show of kindness. “What?”

“I said, come here. You’re obviously cold, so hurry up before I change my mind.”

You make your way back to him quickly, tucking your body into his side as he lowers his arm. Heat radiates from his body, causing you to scoot even closer as you warm your hands on his stomach.

“You’re like a fucking human fire, Jesus.”

Samuel laughs, “Yeah, I’ve been told that before.”

You rest your head against his shoulder as you close your eyes, exhaustion overtaking you as you fall into a restless sleep.

~

You awake to a sharp pain in your side, your eyes flying open as you squint at the harsh afternoon light filtering in through the small window, only to see Helena grinning down at you as she prods the tip of her sword into your side. She pulls the blade away when she sees you awake, beginning to shake Samuel as he slept next to you. He too awakens quickly before he shoots back, trying to move further into the corner to increase the distance between him and Helena.

“Nice to see you two finally getting along. Almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do.”

She bends down to a crouch in front of you both, looking between you and Samuel hungrily. She points at you.

“Eenie.”

“Meenie” She points to Samuel next.

“Miney.” You.

“Moe.” Samuel.

She grins, once again pointing her sword at you.

“Get off him. You, get up.”

Samuel doesn’t move, earning him a slash to his forearm from her sword. He hisses, bringing his hand to the gash as it begins to bleed.

“I said, up.”

He reluctantly stands, and you are joined by two other pirates in the cell. One of them draws his sword, focusing his attention on you to ensure you wouldn’t try to make an escape. The other unlocks the shackle keeping Samuel tethered to the wall, taking the chain between his wrists in his hand as he drags him forward, Helenas blade pointed at his throat the entire time. The four of them leave your cell, locking the door quickly as they lead Samuel away.

With the threat of the blade gone you stand, running towards the door as far as your chains will allow you.

“Samuel!” You yell after him.

He offers you one last look, pained and fearful as they drag him away.

“It’s ok, Polaris. I’ll be back. It’s- it’s going to be ok.”

He disappears from your sight, and you slump to the floor once more as tears spill from your eyes. You steady your breaths, practically holding it as you listen for any sound of Samuels fate.

Minutes pass. You hear nothing. You continue to wait silently. Your ears perk up as you hear chains scraping against metal.

A whip cracks loudly, and Samuels screams of pain follow it.

“SAMUEL!” Your own screams rip at your vocal cords as you begin to sob.

Another crack, another scream.

You yell for Samuel once more, hearing no response.

Another crack. Another scream.

“No no no no no stop stop STOP!”

You bring your hands to your ears, covering them as you curl into a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth.

You drift in and out of consciousness, and you feel each crack from the whip each time it rings against the stone. Eventually you no longer hear anything after each crack, causing fear to grip your heart as you can do nothing but wait.

Chains against metal. Footsteps. You stand abruptly as two men enter the room again, dragging Samuel’s limp body by his arms. One of them unlocks the cell door, the other entering the cell and throwing Samuel at your feet. He lands face down as they re-lock the cell door, his shirt shredded and stained a deep red, his back split and bloody.

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

A/N: the title, of course, is taken from the lyrics to The Indigo Streak

[merv606]

Mercy’s Chapter 20

“I was only doing as you asked… I listened to you.”

Please. You stomped off like a child, pissed off, and already planning his destruction.

“I’m sorry if you felt negelcted…Your true nature…”

Ugh, this man is so twisted, and he twists everything.

This man’s name may be Silver but he is GOLD in Olympic Mental Gymnastics.

Trust me, my dude, it’s not neglect Daniel feels.

“There’s no such thing as a fair fight.”

Baby, don’t fall into his crazy! Maybe there are no fair fights, that don’t mean you can’t level the playing field — guys like Terry Silver find out just how good they’re NOT when you level the field.

That’s why he’s not playing fair - he knows Daniel would never choose him if it were truly his choice.

“Not quite the words he would use but he lets it go — the way you have to in situations like these.”

He made a very wise choice in not arguing with Terry’s delusion. It’s the first rule of any psychologist/therapist - never argue with the patient’s delusion. You will not win. Maybe THAT’S what he should be saying while he’s escaping, “Don’t worry, babe - just need some fresh air. Oh this crowbar? Security guard knocked himself out with it, I’ll hold on to it, make sure he doesn’t do it again. I *promise* I’ll be back as soon as I’m done shopping for our anniversary gift!…. Hello, police?”

But, no restraint, the bathroom door, AND a reduction in medication? … be very very careful, Daniel.

God this makes me cry - makes me think of those lyrics in Girls Just Wanna Fun - “Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her away from the rest of the world. Well not me, I wanna be the one in the sun.” This captures Daniel perfectly right now.

Ok, question - will Daniel get a personal “bodyguard” aka handler to help keep him in line? Or is Terry too paranoid/jealous to ever let anyone else near Daniel?

Be super funny if it turned out to be a busted-out Kreese.

“He was going to kill me!!!”

“But, sweetheart, I know for a fact he has no inappropriate feelings towards you, and he knows what will happen to him if he so much as scratches you.”

Segue Q: How would Kreese feel about Terry being in love with Daniel? I imagine this would inspire a special kind of rage, knowing Daniel’s stolen Johnny AND Terry’s loyalties.

That’s a good question - I think he would want someone who maybe does keep an eye on Daniel when he goes out, even for safety reasons - he’s a paranoid man when it comes to his boy BUT Terry would probably make sure it was the straightest man to ever straight or the gayest women to ever gay lol

I don’t know if he would trust Kreese around Daniel - in terms of his safety - TBH.

Probably for the reason you mentioned above although, I don’t think Kreese really cares for anyone / he just keeps people around based on their use to him.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Video Killed the Radio Star chp 2

Here it is on ao3 or read it below

Armand slips into the bedroom to find Louis sprawled over the bed.  He’s reading The Ethical Slut  and seems completely absorbed in it.   Armand crosses the space to the bed and climbs up to swing a leg over Louis’ lap.  Louis glances over top of the book.  “Something you want?”

He’s smiling, so Armand thinks he probably has an idea what he wants.

Armand plucks the book from his hand and skims the pages.  “Fighting is the ultimate act of intimacy,” he reads aloud.  Considering the fights he’s had with Daniel, Armand can understand the train of thought.  There’s something violently intimate about a person knowing precisely what to say to destroy you.

“It makes sense in context,” Louis says and rests his hands on Armand’s waist.  Armand carefully marks Louis’ place and sets the book on the nightstand.  He dips down and begins sucking kisses along the edge of Louis’ jaw.  Louis hums contentedly and threads fingers through Armand’s hair.  “What’s got you all worked up?”

Armand nips behind his ear, then soothes over it with his tongue.  “I was watching our old videos to decide which one to send Daniel.”

“You mean our sex tapes.”  Armand had gone through a phase where he liked recording himself.  Louis had obliged him.  They have actual physical tapes from the 70s somewhere, though Armand has digitized his favorites.  

“Mm,” Armand says, and gets distracted for a minute by Louis’ neck.  It’s a nice neck.  He mouths kisses over it and just lets his fangs scrape along the flesh.  “I chose the one we made for Daniel for his birthday one year.  Do you remember?”

He had ate Louis out until he came, then fucked him until he was hard again, then sucked him off.  He’d told Daniel if he could watch the whole thing without touching himself, he’d do the same to him.  

Louis hands slide under his shirt and along his sides and his head tilts back invitingly.  “Why don’t you remind me?”

/

Daniel doesn’t download the attachment in the email.  He doesn’t trust it.  

“...you can stay here indefinitely until you finish the story.”

He glances over at Lestat who’s sitting across from him.  He’s immaculately dressed and in person Daniel can admit he has a sort of magnetism that could draw someone in.  He still doesn’t like him much though.  “Yeah, no.”

He’s not staying in the same house as Armand any longer than he has to.  

“Louis likes having you here,” Lestat says.  Daniel can’t tell what he’s thinking.  

“He needs enrichment in his enclosure,” Daniel says dryly.  The penthouse here feels a lot like Night Island.  A gilded cage.  It has everything Louis could want, everything he could need.  Why would he ever have to leave?  Armand’s there to take care of everything.  

It feels sickeningly familiar.  

These vampires keep mistaking codependency for love.  Well, Daniel wants no part in it.  

“He needs an interior designer,” Lestat says, then turns a blinding smile towards Daniel.  “Surely this is not how the imp decorated with you?”

It isn’t exactly a smooth segue into prodding into his relationship with Armand.  

“He had a new style for every apartment,” Daniel says, waving a hand around.  “Minimalism is probably his latest thing.” 

Lestat casts his eyes around the living room with distaste.  “You can help him redecorate when I take Louis from this place.”

There it is.

“You think my being with Armand would leave Louis open for you,” Daniel says.  “You should ask Louis about us.  I won’t be the reason he leaves.”

Lestat pulls a face.  “Yes, yes, you were their pet.”

“I wasn’t anyone’s pet!”

Lestat slides to the edge of the seat and meets Daniel’s glare with twinkling eyes.  His hand comes up to rest his fingers on the outside of Daniel’s knee, stroking ever so gently.  “But what a fine pet you’d make, Daniel.  Louis wants to keep you, you know.”

Daniel’s about to say something scathing when Lestat’s voice enters his mind “Would you like to make Armand very angry?”

“Almost always.”

“Then play along, pet.”

Then a cool hand is cupping his face and tilting his head just so and Lestat is kissing him.

[allisonreader]

The Hidden Royals

I’ve recently had a bit of a revelation about this story as I’ve been wanting to work on it again. At the moment I want to use the first piece of writing I wrote for it as a prologue, potentially. This might change as I get further. But at the moment, it gives me a good jumping off point to get started again. The tone afterwards would be different for a bit, but would later merge again.

Daniel

Beckinsdale Castle

Beckinsdale, Windsmere

Day, month, year

He stirred the fire just enough to make it easier to see what he was doing. The king wanted his rings and crest polished for the next day and he was retrieving them so that he could do so the next morning before the king woke up. He was also to polish the crowns.

With Roland still in the castle the king wanted everything to be as immaculate as possible to show his power. He might not have taken the crown prince's worries seriously, but he did at least know to put on a bit of a show for Roland.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

The doors burst open with a stream of people.

He backed into a dark corner out of the way, holding onto the bag of rings, tokens and other items he was to polish.

The king and queen darted up in bed sleepily in confusion.

There must have been about 10 people who came into the room.

"What-? What are you all doing in here? Get out!" Ordered the king.

"I don’t think so your majesties."

"Roland? What are you doing?"

"I have a question for you King Edgar. A proposition, for you so to speak."

"What is that?"

"You abdicate the throne and name me as your heir."

"Never."

"Ah, ah, ah, my dear King Edgar." Roland motioned to his people. Two of the put their swords underneath the king and queen's chins, resting against their throats. "You haven’t heard my entire proposal yet. You abdicate and I let you and your family live. You don’t and I take throne by force. Killing you and your entire family. Starting with your lovely Queen Pricilla, followed by your own throat."

"How can I trust your word that you would let us live if I gave up the throne, when you’ve ambushed us in our sleep? You’re a coward and surely a tyrant trying to rule a kingdom that isn’t yours to rule. If you want a fight, do so like a man and give me a sword instead of cutting me down in bed, because I will never give you the throne. Not as long as I live and not even after my death will the throne ever truly be yours."

"Kill them. Make sure Edgar watches Pricilla die first. Then we go to kill the rest of the family."

The servants exit was close enough that he could sneak away unseen as long as he was quiet. A side step, a side step, push open the door behind the curtains, eyes watering as the queen's throat was slit.

"Scour the rooms to make sure no servants were around. Kill anyone who tries to fight back. After tonight the kingdom will be ours and the churches will burn."

As he slowly closed the door he watched the king be run through before his throat too was slit.

He had no time to mourn. The worst had happened.

He had much to do and getting to the crown prince and his wife was part of it.

As soon as he was sure he wouldn’t be heard, he ran to the kitchen.

"Wake up, come on, we have stuff to do." He woke all who slept near the kitchen. "You, pack these. Rosa, go get some of the other Crown Jewels, the king and queen are dead. We must protect our prince and princess. They need to be away from here as soon as possible. Mark, go prepare two horses. Mary pack some food, wine and water, anything that travels well. Luke, pack a couple of blankets for their majesties, they’re going to need them. Once everything is packed take it to Mark to finish getting the horses ready. Take them to the clearing on the edge of the forest once they are ready. Jewels in the bottom packs, closest to the horses so that they’re hidden. I will go and retrieve the royal couple."

He grabbed a couple of the thickest longest hooded cloaks for the couple before cautiously racing through the back corridors to reach them. Hopefully he’d still be in time.

Every so often he’d hear fighting the royal guard doing their best to hold the attackers off.

"Wake up!" He shook the couple awake. "Quickly m'lord and lady." He started pulling out their hunting outfits of the plainest and warmest styles. "Forgive my informality, but you must get moving."

"What’s happening Daniel?" The crown prince, should be king asked "Get dressed m'lord, help your wife. You both must leave. The sooner the better." He grabbed out a couple of satchels for both of them and started filling them. Giving them each one. "You need to fill those with anything that is important to you or might identify you. We have horses waiting for you."

"Daniel, what’s going on?"

"A siege upon the castle... much like you feared sire. I’ve taken the liberty to pack some things of importance for you. I’m afraid that both your mother and father have been killed.... in their bed. I witnessed it with my own eyes. I’m afraid it won’t stop there. We’re trying to get everyone out as much as possible, but you are our first concern your majesties. You both must leave within the hour if you are both to live. Have you gotten everything?"

"As much as I can think of... Elizabeth?"

"I- I believe so..."

"You’ll be needing your sword sire. Anyone one who fights back is to be killed... anyone loyal, cut down, but we are fighting for you. The fate of the kingdom depends on on your safety. There’s no time to waste. Put these cloaks on. When we leave this room we must remain as silent as possible and move as quickly as we can. Hoods up, heads down, follow me. We’re leaving through the servants entrance on the far side from here."

"Let’s go."

He lead them nearly running. Checking over his shoulder every so often to see if they were still there.

This would all be for naught if they were caught or he lost them in the halls.

Every so often he could still make out sounds of fighting. They had to slow down by one of the doors, trying to avoid a pool of blood that had seeped from under the door. He knew whose door that was. Another member of the royal family was sure to be dead.

As they finally came up to the door leading outside, he didn’t bother to grab or light a lantern. That would only give their position away. Thankfully there was no snow yet, though the ground was hard. That would help them greatly in getting away. He stopped and put one of their hands on each of his shoulders to lead them to the clearing.

He was relieved to see the horses waiting for them with Mark still there, hiding in the shadows.

"This is where I must leave you your majesties. You cannot leave port from here. You must avoid all of the main roads and avoid towns as much as possible. They will search for you once they realize that you’ve escaped. You must leave Windsmere. There won’t be anywhere safe here. You must go to Diredale in Shadowfen. The royal family there has always had close ties and strong alliances with us. Ask for refuge and asylum. Don’t try to come back until you are able to get some type of plan that won’t get you killed. Tell no one but King George and Queen Margaret who you are. Anyone else should be considered a threat to your safety. I have to go back to the castle. I still have much that I can do."

He took their hands and bowed down before them on one knee, kissing the backs of their hands.

"You are my true king and queen. Godspeed and may the Lord be with you in your journeys. Long live the true king and queen."

"Thank you Daniel."

"Go sire, m'lady. You must travel as far as you can tonight."

Theodore helped his wife onto her horse and with one last longing look from both of them they rode off.

He went over to Mark.

"Go release all the horses, throw around the saddles, release the dogs, create chaos to help hide the fact that we sent their majesties off."

"Yes sir... What are you going to do?"

"Likely more than a few things that will have me killed by this time tomorrow. We all may be joining the late king and his family. Don’t fight back, if it might spare your life. Submit if you have to. Just don’t give away what we have done for our right and proper king and queen. If you live through the next few days, leave with your family, take news of all of what has happened here to Shadowfen and pray that this has not all been in vain."

He received a nod before they both went on their way. The castle was sure to bring death, but he must face it head on like the old king had.

He caused as much chaos as he could. Hid as many items he didn’t want Roland or his ilk to get their hands on. Never had he been so grateful to have been such a trusted member of the king's household. One of the many things that he tried to do was to get as many people safely out of the castle as he could. Or to at least try to convince people to surrender so that they weren’t killed. Actions that were certainly treasonous to Roland, though not the couple he just sent away. He’d remain loyal to those two for as long as he lived. However short that now might be.

[danielxricciardo]

Hi girl!! I love everything you’ve wrote! Couldn’t say how much I enjoyed reading one shots of F1 drivers! I have to ask if you could do one for Carlos? He and reader are expecting but keeping it secret, Carlos won the race! And he ask if he could hear her through radio, though with some glitch, all other drivers and teams hear Carlos’ radio, he tells her how he’s so happy with the win but more than anything about their little one on the way and now everyone knows the secret of pregnancy because he suddenly slipped it while talking to her on radio👶🏻 I can’t imagine how will other drivers will congratulate him (like Daniel, Max, Landooooo! Seb! And even Kimi!🤣) I think Lando will be overjoyed and will be presenting to be Godfather already Hahahaha!

Summary: Having a baby and everybody finding out

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1.5k

You realized that you were pregnant after a series of fortunate events that, individually, you did not take as alarm signals.

One evening, Carlos decided to spare you from cooking dinner and ordered your favorite food from your favorite restaurant. You were very excited to eat it, but when the food arrived you were on the verge of throwing up because of the smell. You told Carlos you couldn't eat, so you just ate an apple and went to bed. The next day, after Carlos left for the gym, you couldn't get away from the toilet because if you took a few steps you would feel like throwing up. However, when your boyfriend came home, you didn't feel so sick anymore, but you didn't tell him what happened to you because you didn't want to worry him.

You had a vague idea that you could be pregnant but you wanted to wait until Carlos leaves for France for the Grand Prix.

The day he left you went to the pharmacy and bought two pregnancy tests.

Positive.

You just sat down and cried. You stared at the positive test for several minutes. Honestly, you were so hormonal and conflicted about the timing that you bawled your eyes out. You were both happy and worried. Carlos was busy with his Formula 1 career, you didn't know if it was appropriate to add a child to the dynamics of your life.

But you recovered immediately. You are talking about Carlos, of course, he will be happy to have a child with you. You've been together for four years, you knew you would be together for the rest of your life.

The next day you did another pregnancy test, just in case. Positive, obviously. You went to the pharmacy again, and you took four more tests, to do one every day until Carlos came home.

"Hey, honey. I missed you," says Carlos entering the house.

You didn't even let him take off his shoes. You handed him a gift box in which you put the six pregnancy tests you took.

"Amor, did I forget an anniversary?"

You nod.

"Open it."

You see him take the lid off the box and take out a pregnancy test. Then another one, and another one, until he took them all out. You could see it on his face, he was scared and overwhelmed.

"Seriously?" he asks.

You nod and bite your lip, a few tears run down your face.

"Amor, that's wonderful! Ay Dios Mio! Are we going to be parents?"

You laugh and kiss him long.

"Yes, we will be parents."

You have scheduled an appointment for the next day to confirm the pregnancy and determine how many weeks you are pregnant. It looks like you're 10 weeks pregnant, so that means month 3 of your pregnancy. You couldn't believe that for almost 3 months you didn't realize you were pregnant, but you always had an irregular cycle, so it's not really incomprehensible.

You and Carlos have decided not to announce publicly that you will have a child just yet. For now, you were happy to share the news with your families, wanting to plan a nice way to tell your friends as well.

You know that feeling you get at certain times of the month when you want to cry at every cheesy commercial or could explode with anger at the drop of a hat? Pregnancy is like that sometimes, except 10 times more intense. With your new hormones raging, and more stress in your life than ever before, what with getting a nursery together and preparing to welcome the precious baby into the world and all, emotions are high. Tempers are bound to flare.

That is how you felt sitting in the paddock with Carlos who was preparing for the race. He was starting from P3 so he was pretty excited and nervous for the race. He saw your state, he knew you too well.

"Ay, mi Amor, come here," he said and hugged you to calm your nerves. "Don't worry, ok? It's an easy race, I'm gonna win it for you and the little bean, ok?"

You giggle at the sound of Carlos's nickname for the baby. You kiss him and smile.

"You know I don't really care about winning. Just come back to us. Safe." you say, your voice barely a whisper, not wanting anyone around you to hear your discussion.

"Si, pequeña. Always."

Sure, you were always concerned when he was racing. But especially now when your hormones were driving you insane and you were growing another person in your body. But you trusted him. With all of your heart. If he said he will come back to you, he will.

It took you a few moments to understand what was happening. Carlos Oñoro was hugging you, yelling 'He won!' and you looked at the screens in front of you. He did. Carlos Sainz was the winner in Monza! He kept his word, he won for you and your child.

"Hey, Y/N!" you hear your name being called by Riccardo Adami, the race engineer of Carlos. "The winner wants to talk to you."

You giggle and go to him. 'The winner'... Has a nice ring to it.

"Hey, baby! Congratulations!" you say excitedly over the radio.

"Si, mi amor! I told you I'm gonna win for our baby! I love you both so much!"

What you didn't know was that there was a glitch over the radio and every driver heard Carlos talking about 'your baby'.

"Aaa, guys? Why am I hearing Carlos over the radio talking about a baby?" Charles asked his race engineer.

"There's a glitch. Come to the garage."

"A baby?!" Lando yells into the radio, making his race engineer flinch. "Was that Carlos saying he is going to have a baby? Oh my God!"

You were waiting for Carlos to come out of his car, being absolutely clueless about the hysteria you two just caused. Carlos was just about to get his helmet out when all the drivers came to you two, yelling congratulations to you both. You looked at Carlos. Did he tell someone about your pregnancy? Did you give it away?

"Uh, thank you but how did you find out?" Carlos asked, clueless as you.

"We heard it over the radio," Kimi responds giving you a genuine smile.

"This is not how I wanted you guys to find out," Carlos said and put an arm over your shoulders, kissing your head. "But, yeah, it is true, we are having a baby."

"Mate, you're having a baby! That is so crazy! You are basically a baby!" Daniel says and hugged you both.

"And who is the godfather?" Lando asked and everyone laughed.

"We just found out two weeks ago, there are still five months to think about it," you say and bit your lip and Lando pouts. "You'll be considered, Lando."

After three months you decided to have a gender reveal for your family and friends. You could have had it a lot sooner but you wanted to be at an appropriate time for everyone. All the drivers came, as well as your family and Carlos's too. You made everyone wear a piece of clothing according to the gender they think your baby is. You were surprised to see the majority of the people being team boy, but as Lewis said 'They just want to make sure the third generations of Sainz is coming in Formula 1' and you know he was right.

"Look, listen to me, I have three kids, ok? I know, for a fact, by the way you are carrying that it is a girl!" Sebastian said and you laughed. He was wearing his pink T-shirt with pride, being 100% sure he is right.

He was.

You were having a girl and you could swear that Carlos cried a little when he saw the pink confetti. He hugged you for a few minutes, being still in shock.

"Una niña pequeña..." he whispered in your ear. "I am not ready."

You laughed and kissed him.

"You are gonna be the best dad ever, don't worry."

"No, I know that. I am not ready for her to date! And she'll go to university, no..."

"Carlos, she is not even been born yet! You have plenty of time to spend with her."

"Hi, guys, sorry to interrupt!" Lando appears near the two of you, making you break apart from your hug. "Did you think about the godfather or... or this is not a good time to ask?"

Everyone heard him and started laughing.

"Mate, remember the bag I gave you when you arrived?" Carlos asked him and Lando nodded. "You can look inside the bag now."

Lando got the bag and inside was a white romper saying 'Will you be my godfather?'

Lando looked at the romper with tears in his eyes.

"Well, if you insist..."

[f1united]

Secret - DR3 Imagine

Part 4 to Zoo!

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3

Daniel Ricciardo Imagine

Summary: You share your pregnancy with his family

This contains mentions of pregnancy so please do not read if this is something you may find triggering!

Ever since you and Daniel had taken the digital test, he hadn’t left your side. The confirmation that you were growing a mini Ricciardo inside of you made him smile more than he ever had before, something that you thought was borderline impossible. He had booked a trip for the two of you to spend some time together before he was thrown back into the busy f1 season. It was as though you had just met for the first time, staying up late talking and not being able to keeps your hands off each other wherever you went. When you’d flown back to Australia nothing changed and you felt yourself falling in love with him all over again.

Daniel laid beside you in bed, one arm around your shoulders and the other holding up the precious scan photo of your little baby that had been taken yesterday. Ever since you’d been given it neither one of you could seem to stop looking at it in complete awe. Truth be told there wasn’t too much to see, you weren’t too far along but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Have you thought about how to tell your family today?” you asked, diverting you eyes from the picture to his. Today was the last day Daniel would see his family before you both headed back to Europe to finish preparing for the first race in just two weeks’ time. The annual barbeque had become a tradition and was always a lovely way to say goodbye.

You hadn’t told anyone about your pregnancy yet. You were somewhat scared that if people knew your little secret it would burst this bubble that the two of you had found yourself in. However, you knew that he probably wanted to tell his parents in person, and it was uncertain the next time that would be.

“Not really I just think I’ll know when the times right, they’re going to be so excited” you knew he was right. They would be so excited, and you didn’t have to even doubt for a second that they wouldn’t support the both of you.

“We should probably get up, they’ll be here soon” you didn’t want to move, you could’ve laid like this forever, but you did need to get ready and start the food prep. You slowly lifted yourself up, placing a kiss on Daniel’s forehead as he unwrapped himself from you. It wasn’t until you were on your feet that you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and let out a small gasp.

“Daniel look” his eyes snapped towards you and watched intently as you carefully touched the small bump. You hadn’t started showing much and you were sure that this was just being you hadn’t been to the toilet yet this morning but none the less it all started to feel a bit more real.

“Oh my god” Daniel climbed out of bed and stood behind you, placing his arms and hands over yours to hold the little baby too.

“I suppose I should go and pick out a floaty dress for the day” you smiled. It didn’t take long for everyone to arrive. You had let them all in while Daniel stayed in the garden with his barbeque and his beer. They never came empty handed and you gave them a hand carrying the food through to the dining table outside. His nephew was the first one to greet Daniel, shortly followed by everyone else.

“What does everyone want to drink?” you asked as everyone began to sit down. You figured this way you could pour yourself a soft drink without anyone noticing you weren’t on the alcohol too.

“Another one of these please” Daniel waved his beer can towards you and you nodded in acknowledgement.

“I’ll have a glass of white wine if you’ve got one please” His mum asked, shortly followed with an agreement of his sister while her husband followed suit.

You turned your attention towards his dad.

“I’ll come in and give you a hand” he replied to which you gratefully accepted.

“Isaac what about you?”

“What have you got” he asked as he ran around the garden.

“Oooooo where do I start, fizzy drinks, fruit shoots”

“Why don’t you go with Auntie Y/N and have a look” His mum suggested to which he nodded his head and ran towards the kitchen while you and Joe followed behind.

You opened the fridge stacked with drinks as Isaac held his hands up for up to lift him up. You placed him on your hip as you went through the different options with him until he decided on some lemonade.

“Now can I trust you to give Uncle Daniel his beer without drinking it before you get there?” you asked. “And then I’ll bring out your drink with mine?” The little boy nodded furiously as you handed him the can and put him down on the floor before watching him run off. You grabbed the lemonade and wine from the fridge and placed it next to the glasses Joe had just got out the cupboard. You felt your chest get warm at the site of Isaac passing Daniel the beer and giving him a hug in response.

“How have you been” Joe asked, snapping you out of your little daydream.

“Good actually” you replied, “Really good”.

“I can tell” he laughed slightly at how smiley you were. “I take it you won’t be having one of these” he nodded towards the wine he has cracked open and started distributing between the glasses. Your evident shock made him laugh once more. “Don’t worry, I got you a wine glass for your lemonade, no one needs to know” he gave you a small wink.

“Is it really that obvious?” You asked him as you finished pouring yours and Isaacs drinks.

“Not at all you just have this unmistakable pregnancy glow, Grace had the same thing when she was pregnant with Daniel. I don’t think anyone else has picked up on it” you breathed a sigh of relief at his honesty.

“We were planning on telling you all today” you admitted

“I knew as soon as he sent us those pictures of you away on holiday, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy. Grace insisted you’d secretly got engaged or eloped” you couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. You were so grateful for the relationship you had with Joe, and so was Daniel.

“I hadn’t even thought about that if I’m honest. We had the first scan yesterday” You pulled open the drawer to the left of you and placed it on the side. You knew you would have needed it close by to show the others at some point this afternoon, you just didn’t realise it would be so soon. His eyes filled up with tears slightly as he brought you in for a hug.

“Oh Y/N, I’m so happy for the both of you”

“I can’t wait to see him become a dad” you admitted as you buried your head in his shoulder in an attempt to reduce the tears.

“What am I missing out on here?” Daniel voice shocked the both of you as you let go of Joe and looked at the Australian walking through the kitchen towards you.

“We were just talking about how great of a dad you’re going to be” Joe smiled at his son as Daniel looked between the two of you slightly confused. “Oh come on she didn’t tell me I can just tell, I don’t know how your mother can’t. It just takes one look at the two of you to know there’s something going on. Plus, the last few times we’ve seen you, you haven’t been able to keep your hands off her belly. Usually they’re on her arse”. You let out a laugh at his comment as he gave Daniel a hug.

“Now lets go and eat, Dan can you carry some of these out?” Joe asked as you watched Dan slide the scan photo into his back pocket.

It wasn’t long before you all tucked into the food and spent the afternoon chatting about old memories and making new ones. A badminton tournament had broken out at one point, then Isaac had decided he wanted to go swimming so hopped into he pool with Daniel for a while.

It wasn’t until the sun started to set that you remembered you had dessert in the fridge.

“Ill come and grab them with you” Daniel stated as he got up from the table and held your hand as you both walked into the kitchen. The second you were out of sight from the others he pulled you in for a kiss. You giggled slightly at the taste of beer on his lips.

“What was the for Ricciardo?” you asked him as he hugged you tightly.

“What I’m not allowed to kiss my girlfriend anymore? The mother of my child?”

“Keep your voice down” you reminded him as he trailed a few kisses down your neck and collar bone. “Seriously what had gotten into you?” You giggled as he looked up to meet your eye, you could see the tipsiness dancing around them. “Your mum brought over some champagne for a toast to you leaving, I was thinking we could open it with dessert and tell them then?” Daniel nodded in front of you, almost immediately appearing to have sobered up as he planted his hands on your belly.

“I love you so much” he told you as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you more” you told him as you shared a kiss once more.

Joe began to fill up the champagne glasses once you’d both returned to the table as you began to cut everyone a slice of the cake you’d brought and it wasn’t long until Grace stood up with her glass in hand.

“I just wanted to raise a toast, to appreciating the time we’ve had with Daniel and to wish him all the best in the new season” Before everyone could cheers, Daniel stood up to and you felt your body become nervous with excitement as he held onto your hand tightly.

“Before we leave we just wanted to say how much we’re going to miss you so we have a picture that we want you to keep while we’re away” Daniel dug into his pocket and handed the image to Isaac first who was sat next to you.

“What is it?” he asked. You point at the small shape in the middle of the image.

“That right there is a picture of Baby Ricciardo” you moved your hands to your stomach and rubbed it slightly. “Who right now is sat in here” Gasps were heard all around the table as Isaac passed the picture to his mum.

“So it’s your baby?” He asked

“Mine and Daniel’s yes, it’s your little cousin” you told him.

“Oh my!” you looked over to Grace who was making her way towards you both with her arms wide open as you got up from your chair to embrace her.

“I’m going to be a nanny again” she cried as the rest of the table got up to congratulate you. “Joe get up your sons going to be a dad”

“Oh I know, she’s been on the lemonade all day” He chuckled. After the evening had come to an end and everyone had said their goodbyes you climbed into bed with Daniel and you both just smiled at one another as you realised that nothing was going to stop the love you both shared and that your baby might just be the most loved person in the entire world.

[writingcryptid]

                           Hitman’s Guide To Retirement

“So that’s it? You’re not even going to try and fight?” “I have fought,” Knox slams his fist on the table, startling nearby diners, he continues in a hushed, acidic hiss, “God dammit, I’ve been fighting my whole life.”

working title: how to retire from killing for hire. genre: urban fiction / coming of age category: adult POV: 3rd person, unreliable narrators with potential POV shifts status: outlining / organizing / first draft* spotify playlist(s): general vibes.      *nothing is a permanent choice yet, still feeling things out.

themes, not limited to: grief, found family, older coming of age, healing from trauma, lost love, single fatherhood, morally gray characters, mental illness, cPTSD, trans/queer main cast.

content warnings: violence, familial abuse, blood, death/murder, use of guns/knives/fists, substance abuse, gratuitous swearing. will add more as i think of them.

vibes: a daytime thunderstorm that makes the sky look so dark it feels like night’s come early, the acrid feeling of whiskey hitting an empty stomach, knowing you don’t have much time left but wanting to make the most of it, except no one’s ever taught you how to do that quite right; nowhere feels quite like home, but the sound of the motorcycle engine and the empty highway ahead of you are as close to comfort as anything you’ve ever known. you feel calm in chaos, but you know you’re missing something vital in your life, and you want to find it — even if it means changing everything.

synopsis: Knox is tired. After spending most of his life working for Noah, a powerful man who didn’t want to get his own hands dirty, Knox has nothing in his life except insurmountable loss, and a bounty on his head. Rory, the surviving son of Noah, has made it his singular mission to see Knox killed, and he has just won the city’s seat as Mayor. Knowing he will no longer be able to stay safe in the city, Knox attempts escape only to be stopped by a small, sobbing girl tugging at his shirt. What follows is the story of a man who just wants to do what’s right with the rest of his time on earth, however he possibly can and a young girl who teaches him more about family than anyone else ever could.

main cast, so far...:

Knox. Thirty-two. Bisexual Trans Man. He/Him.

Homeless and orphaned by age nine, Knox spent some of his youth with kind souls who took pity on him only to disappear on them without warning. A man, Daniel, was trying to get out from under his boss, Noah Ritter, and thought training Knox to do what he did would be the trick to do it. He bought Knox’s trust with food, he trained Knox like a soldier, to kill without trace, and to feel no remorse for it. Except Knox could never quite get the “no remorse” part right. Now he is just trying to stay under the radar, and survive.

Rory Ritter. Thirty-Seven. Cis Het Man. He/Him.

The only son of Noah Ritter, Rory followed his father’s real estate mogul footsteps and took over the family business when Noah was killed. Rory has always been cold and ambitious, the pride of his father, he knew he was destined for greatness from a young age. He began running for office as soon as he was old enough to, and found easy success as he is charming when public facing. Privately, Rory is quick to anger and often cruel and unusual when lashing out.

Kimi. (pronounced Key-me) Eight. She/Her.

Kimi was given to her grandmother when she was just six months old, her young parents decided to elope without her, siting that the responsibility of parenthood was too great. Her grandmother loved her deeply, and instilled her with strong beliefs from a young age. Selectively mute, Kimi communicates mostly through writing and sign language. Though she’s young, she is generally very intuitive and knows who/what to avoid when exploring the city. She is never without a matted stuffed Peter Rabbit that was once her mother’s.

Samuel Highland. Thirty-Five. Gay Cis Man. He/Him.

A detective with some skeletons in his closet, Sam is about true justice. He despises Rory, and the Ritters, but is not popular with his chief or coworkers because of it. Though he doesn’t remember much, Sam knew Knox when they were young when his mother gave child Knox a place to stay. As an adult, Knox sought Sam out when he “retired” as an attempt to form amnesty over collectively taking the Ritters down. Sam is good natured but rough around the edges from a life of having to prove himself worthy constantly. He has a strong moral compass and cannot stand to see innocent people get harmed for greed.

Alicia Geldcrest. Forty-Two. Lesbian Trans Woman. She/Her.

Former personal assistant to Noah Ritter, Alicia is headstrong and extremely intelligent. After Noah’s death, Alicia decided to take the people loyal to her and create a sort of counter crew to fight Rory’s power. Alicia is the type to help anyone she thinks deserves it if she can.

taglist under cut, feel free to send an ask to be added!

taglist: @willowiswriting send an ask to be added/removed!

[dp-marvel94]

Dan Redemption with a twist

So I'm still geeking out over my ask that @stillebesat answered a few days ago, the one where about an upcoming fic. I've been playing around with a really similar idea, with a redeemed Dan fusing with a clone of Danny, for months now.

Here's my idea:

First of all, my preferred version of Dan is basically Danny but evil. He less fused with Plasmius and more consumed his powers so Dan doesn't have any of Vlad's memories. Next, I'm a big fan of the idea that Dan deeply regrets killing his human half and is, for lack of a better word, haunted by the action. It was the first death of his reign of terror, his final chance to turn back from the dark path he was on and...it was his suicide.

Now, Dan doesn't realize any of this for what feels like centuries. He's trapped in the Fenton thermos in Clockwork's lair, alone with only his thoughts. And the knowledge starts creeping in, all that he'd lost, all that he'd done. He realizes that he misses his friends and family and to his surprise, he hopes his younger self saved them. But then he realized that he tried to kill them. And the guilt starts creeping in. The regret follows and he remembers all the rest of his crimes. He doesn't have enough humanity, enough emotional capacity to be wrecked but he's no longer a rage fueled destructive monster.

Then to Dan's shook, Clockwork releases him without a word. The master of time dumps him in the new timeline, maybe a few months after the events of TUE. To his dim relief, Dan finds that his friends and family are all still alive. He watches them for a while, trying to process where he is and what happened. But then he runs into Danny. And things don't go well. It's a rocky start. Danny does not trust Dan at all. He doesn't trust that the older ghost has no intention of hurting his loved ones. Danny is ready and willing to fight and recapture him. The younger's opinion doesn't change until Dan saves him and Jazz during a ghost attack. The two ghosts, at Jazz's insistence, come to an uneasy impasse. Danny will leave Dan alone if the older ghost leaves him and his family alone. Dan isn't really happy about this arrangement but it's better than being trapped in the thermos again and he does have no intention of hurting his younger counterpart or his loved ones.

So Dan concedes. He stays out of Danny's way. He watches. He catches glimpses of his former friends and family from a distance. And it hurts. Dan feels out of place, disconnected. This isn't his time, isn't his place. He's stuck on the outside looking in... and this timeline already has a Danny, one who didn't make the aggresous mistakes he did. And those mistakes... the guilt's still there but like all other emotions, it's dim and distant. That's how it's been since his death, with every emotion but rage. But still, Dan does not like being on the outside looking in. He needs to do something else with himself, find some place he can belong.

Then Dan remembers Vlad. He had gone to the older half ghost after losing everything. And... Vlad had tried to help him. Separating the then halfa at his request had been a horrible idea but Vlad had been trying. Vlad did care about him. And.... the man must be so lonely now. Lonely like Dan himself is.

It's something of a wim but Dan goes to the older halfa. And at first, it's a surprise to Vlad and then seemingly a dream come true. Here in front of him is a version of Daniel who wants to stay by his side willingly. This Dan is more powerful and experienced than his younger counterpart, though not as experienced as Vlad. The young man is willing to be taught and all he seemingly wants is companionship. Yes, it would be a dream come true except...

Dan will not tolerate any of Vlad's shit. He will not be used to hurt anyone ever again. He will not take part in any of Vlad's schemes against the Fentons. It's a high price to pay but the older man backs off. Vlad is content to not be alone and have a chance to convince Dan to work with him.

So Dan stays with Vlad. With the older man busy with work, Dan has free reign of the mansion for most of the day. In some ways, it's nice. Away from Amity Park, there's no temptation to check on his former loved ones. His longing for a life he can no longer have is diminished. Vlad's mansion provides ample distraction, in the library, the game room, the gardens. But... the days are long and often lonely and the nights... they're even worse. The large building, empty and quiet, it's too much like a time Dan wishes he could forget. The memories are stronger now. After the fiery explosion...weeks of weeping in his room. Somber diners with Vlad where he couldn't force himself to eat. Waking up from another nightmare.

Without his humanity, the grief isn't as soul wrenching as it should be. But it's ever present, the memories on repeat. And there is little to break them up. As a ghost, Dan cannot sleep. He cannot eat. He can't truly feel the sun on his face or the comforting chill of the water on the pool. All physical sensations are dimmed.

And Dan starts to realize, it's excruciating. He feels incomplete, like there's a gapping whole in his chest. The memories of his own death, seen from the outside, return. His own icy blue eyes wide with fear and pain. Red blood spattered on his face. It's horrifying. Or it should be. If Dan could muster up more than the dimmest shadow of the emotion. But he can't, because the part of him that could died 10 years ago. And... this is wrong. He is wrong.

He should have died completely as himself, as Danny Fenton. He shouldn't have watched his death from the outside by his own hands. He shouldn't be this half being that couldn't even be bothered to die properly.

Dan stews, a forgotten anger growing as he longs for something he'd once wanted rid of. His human self, his Fenton, his humanity... he wants it. He wants to be truly, completely himself again. He wants to be whole enough to fade, to move on.

But that is the problem with ghosts, especially one like him. They do not change. They do not move on. As much as Dan acts like he is older, like he is different, he is not. He's the same angry, broken teen that he was ten years ago. And he will never be anything else.

Dan rages, trashing Vlad's training room. Soon enough, his anger is spent and the young man comes back to his senses. Dan huffs in frustration and annoyance at himself. He'd rather enjoyed Vlad's training room and now the man himself will likely be cross with him. Dan does his best to put the room back in order and find something else to do.

But the pain, regret, and longing linger. At some level, Dan thinks he's being ridiculous. All his former loved ones are alive. Dan isn't alone. He has Vlad and the ability to determine his own future. This world wasn't ravaged by his hand. His mistakes have been erased. He should be free. Except...

No, his mistakes are not all erased. His own death returns to his mind over and over. He shouldn't think about, he shouldn't dwell on it but...

One day, Dan goes down to Vlad's secret lab. He knows he shouldn't. This is such a breach of Vlad's trust but... this is were it happened. The young man stares at the metal table. If he was capable of feelings cold, he would shiver. There, where he was pulled out of his body. That wall, he cornered his human half there, the boy cowering in fear. There, that control panel was spattered with his own blood.

Dan wishes he could cry but he's not human enough for that. He's not human at all. But he wishes he was.

Startled by the thought, the full ghost turns away. He shouldn't wish for things he can't have but... no. Dan's eyes flicker around the room, looking for small differences from his memories. Some of the equipment is laid out differently. There are different samples on the shelf and... that door wasn't there before.

Dan walks through and finds... metal and glass chambers in different degrees of construction. A few are filled with ectoplasm and there in the back... if Dan had a heart, it would stop. There in a clear pod with a breathing mask over his face is...Danny Fenton. No, that's not right. This isn't... this isn't his timeline. And his younger counterpart is in Amity Park so....

Dan frantically searches Vlad's computer, his notes for answers. Clones. Vlad had been trying to clone his younger half ghost counterpart. In the tube... clone 3. Fully human. Suffered mental decline from 2 weeks gestation and eventually brain death a month later. Body kept alive by machines since... the week Dan arrived.

Dan wishes he could feel shock. He wishes he could feel relief. From the data, this was the first attempt that even resembled something human. The others were by all measures animals, in no way sentient. And it appears Vlad hasn't continued working since Dan came to live with him. But still...

Dan confronts Vlad, asking about the experiments, about the clone kept on life support.

"I could not bear to pull the plug." Vlad answers, surprisingly sober. "I'd hoped his condition would improve." There is a far away look in his eyes, a longing. "I tried everything I could think of to stop the degradation but..." The older half ghost shook his head. "I'm continuing to monitor 3's status." There was a pain in Vlad voice. "I fear he won't live to see the outside of his chamber."

Vlad was in denial, Dan thinkd. This clone is gone, like his own human half. The heart still beats, the lungs still breath but...

He shock his head. "Before you approach me, I consider...if I could create a viable, ghostly clone and coax the spirit to hybridize with the body..."

The idea was ridiculous and he should be disgusted, hearing all Vlad had done, what he had planned but...

"That is all in the past now." Vlad finished sadly.

All in the past like the loss of his own human half. He shouldn't wish for things that he couldn't have but...

"I'm a viable ghost..." Dan could barely believe the words coming out his mouth. "Not a clone but... I am without a human side."

Vlad is staring at him like he has another head, something which Dan was sure he did not currently have. "Daniel...are you suggesting... what I think you are suggesting?"

Was he? It was ridiculous, impossible. He could not replace his human side by... possessing an animated corpse.

"No. I am not." Dan denied. "Forget I said anything."

Vlad gave a nod, dropping the conversation. But Dan did not forget. This idea... it was wrong. It was impossible. He couldn't be made a half ghost again. But...

The temptation. If anyone could get it to work, it would be Vlad. And if it did...the ghost floats to what had been his bedroom and laid down. If it worked, he could sleep. He could eat. He could go out in public with human. It would necessarily be a replacement for what he'd lost but...

No... this was wrong. This was basically a clone of himself whose body he wanted to steal. But... was it really? This was an empty body, no mind, no soul. It was mad science but... Dan was already the product of mad science.

And if it worked, not as an overshadowing but a hybrization... he could truly age, he could grow passed what happened. And he could feel more than the pale shadows he could now.

The next day, Dan asks Vlad for what he wants.

"Are you sure?" The man asked. "This could have unknown consequences on your body or your mind. You could even destabilize."

That gave Dan pause. This might not work. He might end up in unknown pain or even fade but... "this is worth the risk."

The pair work together, planning and experimenting. They give the body transfusions of Dan's ectoplasm. The younger ghost practices envisioning himself as a halfa again. He prepares himself.

"I will need to reduce you down to your core." Vlafd says solemnly.

Dan places his existence in Vlad's hands. After blowing off seemingly endless amounts of energy in a desolate portion of the Ghost Zone, the older halfa repeatedly shocks him with the Plasmius Maximus. Dan's body pops out of existence, leaving his core exposed.

As just a core, there is no sensation. No input. No output. It's terrifyingly like being in the thermos again. Dan knows he is being moved. Vlad is doing something to him but... there is nothing and too much at the same time.

Dan can not process. He is cradled. There is something beside him, something around him reaching out. Something is changing. He is changing. It is too much. Dan loses consciousness for the first time in ten years. It is not sleep. There is no dream. He can think one moment, separated from the world. And the next...

He is under water. Something is beeping. He feels light but heavy. Cold but warm. His center is fluttering, something straining and pounding. An emotion. Something that might be panic or fear suddenly rises in him, crashing over him as a wave. An equally panicked voice comes from in front of him. Then there's a sting in his neck. Sting? Pain? Pain, it's been so long since he felt pain. And... his neck? He has a neck again. Dan blacks out again.

The young man comes to again. There is still something beeping near his head. He's not under water now but laying on something soft. Soft and warm. Warm....Dan can feel that. His breath hitches. Breath... he feels lungs move on his chest. And...he feel heavy and warm. Something... something happened. He can't remember what...

Dan's eyes flutter open, falling on... Vlad.

The man's eyes met his, relief flashing across them. "Daniel." He sighs. "How do you feel?"

"Feel?" Dan crocks. Is that... is that his voice? "What...what happened?" The ghost (?) thinks he might know. "Did it work?" He whispered.

Dan's voice... his voice is high, like when he was a younger teen. It should feel strange but...

"Take a look." Vlad says, offering him a mirror.

Dan reaches forward with a shaking hand. His hand... it's not gloved, neither is it blue. It's.... he stares. It's a pale peach color like... his hands are smaller and thinner....

"Daniel." Vlad interrupts. "It's alright." He holds the mirror up and...

Dan meets blue eyes. His own blue eyes. Eyes he never thought he'd see again except on someone else. His eyes water as he reaches towards the mirror. "It worked."

His new heart is aching, a thousand emotions hitting him. Joy, happiness, relief, grief, guilt, regret. All of them are bigger, nearer, more real and soul-aching than it's been in years. He should be upset. He looks and sounds like a kid again. But... "I'm alive."

He is alive. And it is a joy. A gift. A promise. He will not waste this second chance.

The newly remade halfa is crying and...it's never felt so good.

[uncleasad]

“We all grieve in different ways”

That—or whatever the actual quote was—would have made a much better episode title for 4x06 than “You're a Long Way From Home,” because our Trio was doing a lot of grieving.

Hope, in the almost-most Mikaelson way possible—leaving a trail of destruction (but no blood/bodies!)—and even without humanity, is still grieving the life—lives—she lost in order to defeat Malivore. This Hope inherently makes me nervous, and I was on edge the entire episode, fearing she’d do something she couldn’t come back from (yet she killed no one!) while she had her fun roadtrip with Clarke. (The therapy box really didn’t help, starting us off with…that 😳) I really hope Danielle is having a lot of fun playing this (disturbingly) happy Hope, because “our” Hope has far too little happiness in her life, and it’s got to be a relief for her to be out of that vicious “love, lose, grieve, repeat” cycle.

Lizzie, single-mindedly focusing on her dad, the father she believes has failed her over and over, is still grieving that lost childhood-that-could-have-been and the-father-he-could-have-been. Only another man’s daughter pulls her back from the brink of creating Dark Lizzie.

Josie, doing what she does best, trying to save/help/protect someone she loves, also at the expense of everything else in her life, is grieving the loss of her best friend and her father, both of which happened while she was celebrating with her girlfriend. So, unsurprisingly, she very nearly torpedoed her actual relationship in the process.

(Speaking of Finch, I felt so bad for her this episode; between Hope’s map trolling, Cleo’s “pep talk,” and Josie’s actual talk and actions, the group’s newcomer is back to being a pretty afterthought in Josie’s life. Somewhere over in Belgium, Penelope Park is sending the werewolf a spelled burn book and a bus ticket to a better life! And can we also talk about how Ethan, who’s been a supernatural and a Salvatore student for all of two minutes, but who is white, straight, male, and Lizzie’s boyfriend, is already a full-fledged member of the Super Squad, but Finch, who has been a werewolf for years and a Salvatore student for weeks or months now and all but defeated the pack’s Alpha in a challenge, but who is a woman, of color, who loves other women, and is Josie’s girlfriend, is still only called on when absolutely needed? Or, for that matter, how Cleo had to undergo initiation tests? Yes, there were extenuating circumstances that made sense for Cleo—she was new, and no one knew anything about her—but can we agree the optics look very bad?)

Kaleb was grieving his loss of trust among his friends, as well as his mentor, and, a bit predictably, tried to make things right and then shared Dr S’s bourbon with Jed before lying and going off all on his own rather than telling the squad what he’d learned. (Question: did Clarke call on Hope’s request, to lure the students away from the school—either into a trap, or so she could return to the school while it was Squad-less—or did he truly want to make sure the Argus was contained?)

Even Ted gets in on the action, grieving his poor life choices that have stranded him in Limbo without a coin for Charon. The fact he didn’t steal Oscar’s coin or renege on his promise to Landon shows his redemption truly is complete. Rest in Peace, Ted.

I’m torn about Alaric; on the one hand, I’d really like this death to stick, but at the same time, I don’t think the Trio can come back from Hope causing his death—as friends or otherwise, no matter how much Josie’s once-and-maybe-present love for Hope colors her view. Worse, I am afraid that, by having Alaric show up with Ted and Landon as they’re ready to go to Peace, the writers are going to have that arrival spark I’ve-accepted-my-fate Landon to transform into grand-gesture-nonconsensual-kiss Landon to go “save” Hope once again 🤢 (And…did anyone else get Malivore/Malidon vibes from Aria rather than Landon vibes? He seemed far harsher to Ted than I expected Landon to be, despite The Necromancer’s betrayal in the ice cream shop—but exactly how I’d expect Malivore to be in response to The Necromancer’s numerous betrayals of Malivore. Please, tell me Malivore is actually dead and that we’re moving on!?)

I feel like this show is constantly hamstrung by actor availability; for instance, Freya promised to be present for the birth of the world’s first tribrid, but instead she left the school as soon as she put Hope to sleep-death!?

That’s the other problem with Alaric dying; if Caroline can’t come back from her Merge quest—even for a blink-and-you-miss-it glance once her daughters’ father has died, nevermind as he lay there dying—who can run the school while leaving Caroline a convincing excuse to be gone? Alaric’s protégé, Dorian, despite his dislike for the supernatural (maybe with Emma? whose voice sounded suspiciously similar to the Triad lady on the phone with Hope at the end of 4x05 😳)? Alaric’s BFF, Damon? His wife has a job in town, so he’s presumably around, and he knows something about being a supernatural. Or Aunt Bonnie? Bonnie and Damon? Freya is another logical choice—if we can get past the anti-Mikaelson ethos of the school/Alaric—though hamstrung by actor availability; is she going to uproot Keelin and Nik? Or leave them? And somehow not have the rest of her family ever visit? (Kol and Davina, Bex and Marcel, and Vincent all have that same problem.) I’d honestly be happy with any of the above, if they can do them well and not require us constantly to suspend disbelief.

I mused in the comments of someone’s post last week that because Hope was a tribrid, and assuming the Klaus/hybrid rule applies (which it should, since Hope is ⅔ alive), she’d not only be able to have children, but because she was a tribrid, all of her descendants would also be immortal tribrids! She’d live to see her 200th-great granddaughter some day—except that it seemed too much, and nature would surely create a loophole to compensate. Me and my big mouth 😂

I never expected Cleo’s vision-tree to be the life/promise tree Hope and the twins planted before Hope turned 😳 What a punch to the gut. And after everything that happened, the worst moment of the episode for me was watching Hope cascade into ash and disintegrate when Cleo stabbed her 😭 Tear out my own heart and let it crumble into nothingness….

(The best moment…Josie’s midriff 😂 …and maybe the lightning. I know everyone loved the Hosie twirl—in matching red leather jackets, no less—but I can’t separate that from the heartless, brutal massacre of which it was a part.)

[ironmandeficiency]

idioms and idiots

pairing: jack daniels / reader

word count: 3531

summary: it takes a night of being each other’s (shitty) bisexual wingmen and a stranger to acknowledge why exactly you were both such shitty bisexual wingmen.

a/n: i just wanted an excuse to use one of the best insults i’ve ever heard in all my years enjoy whatever this mess became bc idk. thank you @ohnopoe for being hella awesome motivation for this fic and letting me scream at you abt it for literally ever

warning: mild cursing, hints at statesman frankie which is one of my newest comfort au’s

“are you serious? her? not even if she was the last woman on earth.” jack just pointed to literally one of the worst people in this bar that he could have pointed out to you. everything about her told you that the moment you walked up to her she would spit in your face for having the audacity to even go near her, much less talk to her. how was that who he wanted to spend the rest of his night with?

jack scoffed at the offense you took on his behalf. “alright, if you think my choice is so terrible, who’re you eyein’?” part of him wanted to guess right just to see the face you’d pull, but tonight he was honest to heaven stumped. none of the patrons of this bar seemed like the kind you’d be

smart to give your time to and to be completely honest, he couldn’t see you leaving with any of them.

he snapped out of his thoughts just in time to see you nod your head in the direction of a jean-clad man nursing a budweiser at the bar. there was something off-putting about him but jack couldn’t tell what until the man rose from his seat and walked towards the restroom; the answer was that to jack, he was just ugly.

he sighed and shook his head at your pick, grabbing your hand like a friend about to give bad news. “darlin’ i gotta tell ya this because i’m your friend and i respect you: for the love of god above don’t even try.”

you squinted and tilted your head at his harsh no against your pick, wondering why he seems so put off by him. “what is that supposed to mean, jack? am i not worth his time?” you raised an eyebrow in question.

your friend almost choked on his beer at your words. “that’s the clear opposite of what i was tryin’ to say. that man is so ugly his mama had to borrow a baby to take to church on sunday mornin’s.” how you could even momentarily insinuate that the stranger was better than you in any way at all was above him. you were the best agent he’s ever worked with, a wonderful friend that was always willing to lend a hand to anyone who needed it (even and especially strangers), not to mention raise-the-dead gorgeous and—

no. he was not going there. you are a fellow agent (and occasional partner) for fuck’s sake, any relationship the two of you maintained had to remain platonic for the sake of your jobs and jack’s heart. champ would have your asses hanging on his wall for pulling anything even vaguely resembling a serious relationship if it wasn’t for the sake of a cover. and if jack messed up and hurt you, he didn’t think he could handle losing his best friend to his own terrible ways.

your laughter drew him out of his rabbit hole of depressive thoughts. it seemed for a moment that you’d be okay and soon continue the conversation but he was quickly proved wrong. you laughed and laughed until you snorted, and that only brought on more laughter from you and jack both. there were a few stares from other patrons at the laughing cowboy and his friend that were paid no mind by you and jack.

things calmed down after that. the two of you drank some more and commenced with a little more people watching. to be honest, you had given up on going home with somebody tonight and really just wanted to spend the rest of your evening with jack. he was someone you trusted with your life and held some of your most protected secrets. jack’s observant nature and his deep care for his friends meant he could read you like an open book, and sometimes it surprised you how easy it was for him to do so. when it came down to it, you were shocked that you used to choose a one-and-done over your closest friend.

“hey darlin’, look over there.” jack nudges you with his elbow and cricks his head towards a guy who you’re somewhat reluctant to admit looks pretty damn close to your type. he’s wearing a worn trucker hat and a heather grey t-shirt. something about his posture tells you he gives bomb ass hugs, which is an odd observation but an immensely important one nonetheless.

the stranger’s eyes caught yours and you smile at him, slightly embarrassed that he caught you looking. almost immediately your eyes are fixed on the bottom of your drink, hoping that there’s some way that jack won’t say anything about the guy across the bar.

jack sees the reluctance but isn’t going to let you pass up the opportunity. even if he goes home alone, he’s not going to let your night be wasted. “you should go talk to him honey, won’t do no harm.”

“nah, i don’t think-”

“if you don’t talk to him then i will, simple as that. the worst and dumbest thing he can say is no, and then you’ll be home free.”

you know firsthand that jack isn’t the type to let sleeping dogs lie, so you pull up your metaphorical bootstraps and make your way to the bar. your usual back corner booth with gum under the table and cracked pleather seats never sounded so appealing as it did while you were pushing through the crowd. the bar is in view but you aren’t paying mind to which section you’ve found yourself in front of. it isn’t until a hand on your back keeps you from getting toppled that you realize the mystery man is right there and it’s his hand on your back.

“you alright, honey?” when he says the endearment, it just doesn’t sound right. maybe it doesn’t seem quite natural with his accent, maybe it’s a forced drawl. hell, maybe it’s too polite, whatever that means. the oft times jack would call you honey, there was always some sort of mischief lingering in his tone. like he was up to something but no one (especially him) knew what that something was just yet.

you’re somehow miraculously pulled by your ankles from your rabbit hole of thoughts just in time to not make a fool out of yourself. “yeah, just a little clumsy is all. thanks for your help…” you leave the sentence open and he takes the hint, introducing himself as frankie. “well frankie, want another drink?” he nodded and invited you to sit on the stool next to his.

the conversation flowed alright for a little bit. nothing too bold or boring, just an average conversation between two newly acquaintanced strangers. you told him you worked as an executive assistant in a brewery and he told you about his piloting. said he’s only up here for a couple days, needed some sort of refresher training at the nearby air station. jack took you there once to watch the planes fly by, his bronco parked just outside the fences and you and him lounging like fat cats across the hood. he brought picnic food and a bottle of his moniker’s beverage to be drunk out of coffee mugs because the absurdity made you smile.

fuck, why do you keep thinking about jack when frankie’s right there?! he’s been nothing but a gentleman and you aren’t even giving him the attention he deserves! you just hope he hasn’t picked up on your distracted state.

“this isn’t working, is it?”

‘well fuck me gently with a chainsaw.’

“it has nothing to do with you i swear,” you let out a dry chuckle at how cliche it sounds. why not enlighten him to your dilemma? it isn’t like he’ll be around much longer.

“see the cowboy over there? ten gallon hat, burt reynolds ‘stache?” you crick your neck in jack’s direction and wait for frankie to nod his confirmation before you continue. “that’s my best friend, and i don’t know when it started, but feelings happened and now i can’t stop comparing everyone to him.”

frankie appraises your words for a moment, seeming to let them marinate before giving his opinion. “i mean, anyone who doesn’t insult you when you snort while laughing is a keeper in my book, and judging by earlier — ow! what was that for?” you jokingly swatted frankie’s shoulder at the playful jab before letting him continue. “i saw y’all earlier and honestly thought you were already together. the chemistry, the feelings, it’s all there. i say just go for it. the worst he could say is no, after all.”

what is it with that phrase tonight?

maybe it was mere coincidence. it is a common term of encouragement after all. on the other hand… maybe not. coming from frankie, it could be the final push you need to finally get the nerve to confess everything you felt to your longtime best friend. “alright frankie, what’s the gameplan?”

jack watched you walk away towards the bar and if he could have done so without drawing unwanted attention, he would shoot himself in both feet. how could he just send you off like that? to a guy who looked like a human equivalent of an absolute teddy bear, no less? this other guy probably gave great hugs too, and jack knew how much you appreciated the healing properties of a good hug. if brains were leather, jack figured he couldn’t saddle a junebug.

there you were, laughing it up with this other guy like no one’s business while unbeknownst to you, jack’s world was beginning to crumble. he couldn’t go on like this, watching you smile and be so carefree when it’s because of someone that wasn’t him. something had to be done if jack didn’t want to watch himself become a sideline character in your life.

before he can even begin the bare bones of a plan, you’re back in front of him. you’re nervous but giddy, conflicted yet determined. ‘what was going through that head of yours? just go with it, pretend nothing’s wrong. “fake it till you make it,” that’s what you say to him.

“now what’s got you back so soon?” his voice is level and playful and not at all hinting at the fact that he’s losing his shit on the inside.

your eyes shift from his to a point slightly behind him; it’s frankie, shooting you a thumbs up and an encouraging nod. frankie told you to tell the truth; easier said than done. having a planned script or general idea of what lie needed to be used for a mission was easy peasy. telling jack the truth now is somehow harder despite knowing every detail.

‘oh shit, he looks worried about you! say something before he asks you what’s wrong!’

well, here goes nothing.

“he was nice and everything, but he wasn’t you, and the thought of leaving with someone that wasn’t you didn’t sit right with me.” did that even make sense? would he even take it the way you meant it to be?

as his eyebrows raise and one of his trademark smirks crosses his lips (but less genuine this time, you note), you realize that no, he didn’t get your point. jack reaches for his glass and downs whatever was left, his free hand reaching for yours. the comforting squeeze he gives you is a catalyst for you; you have to get this off your chest no matter what the outcome will be. “you don’t need to worry about me honeysuckle, i’m sure i’ll find someone-“

“that’s the problem, jack! i don’t want you to find someone else just like i don’t want to go home with anyone else!”

maybe he doesn’t feel the same. maybe he’s just trying to skirt around understanding what you mean to spare your feelings and keep from ruining your friendship with your stupid idea of confessing your feelings. oh no, what if he understands and decides to distance himself from you to avoid future awkward encounters?! you don’t think you can handle that outcome.

his silence brings tears to your eyes. just play it off, pretend that it was nothing, that you didn’t just pour your heart out to him to be met with complete and deafening silence.

jack wishes he could say something but nothing is coming out. his heart is beating a thousand miles a minute and liable to rip itself out of his chest. the glass in his hand almost slips out from his shock at your words. was this a nightmare? his own subconscious dangling the one he wants most in front of him like a carrot on a stick, making him think that you want him the way he’s wanted you for far too long.

he doesn’t realize you’re starting to move away from him until your hand is pulled from his. “darlin’, now hold on a minute-“ he tries to call you back, hoping you would give him a moment to get his ass into gear, but you were already gone.

if jack thought he was stupid before, it doesn’t bring a torch to how he felt now. all he had the strength to do right now was to hang his head and try not to cry (he failed).

“he just sat there and looked at me! didn’t even say a thing!” you were sitting next to frankie once again, wondering why this near stranger was being so kind to you.

he rubbed a gentle hand across your back consolingly. “did you give him time to say anything? that’s a pretty big bombshell to drop and he’s probably as shocked as you are about it.”

you sniffled as you processed his words, realizing that you only gave him seconds to comprehend what has taken you months. “no,” you groaned, “i fucked it up didn’t i?”

frankie looks to where jack is sitting. his hat is sitting on the table beside him, head in his hands. the other man’s shoulders are nearly sunk into him with how slumped they are. jack is the epitome of sadness. “let me go talk to him.”

immediately you try to convince him not to, that he doesn’t need to do anything more than he already has. frankie, as you woefully expected, does not heed your words and goes up to jack anyway. you watch from afar and hope nothing goes further left. whoever lands this guy will be one of the luckiest people on the planet, you’re sure of it.

frankie clears his throat when he arrives at jack’s crumpled form. “hey there, mind if i sit for a moment?” he knows to be cautious and not invade the space of a desperate man. he waits until jack gives a slight nod and clears his throat. jack runs a hand across his face to try and wipe away some of the evidence of his despair but frankie sees it all. “i know you don’t know me, but you’ll want to hear what i have to say, my friend.”

“now what could you possibly say that i would benefit from hearing?” jack isn’t sure what this guy thinks he’s doing but is willing to listen to where it goes; it isn’t like he has something better to do than wallow in his own pity. if all goes to shit, it isn’t like jack can’t punch him in the face.

frankie knows that a man with nothing left to lose is a man to tread carefully with. state facts but don’t be callous or flippant with them. have tact; be conscious of the tumultuous state he’s in and have some basic human decency. don’t go poking the bear and be unprepared for when it bows up —instead, be bigger than the bear when it turns its focus and bring it to calm rationality.

“they love you, and anyone in this room can see that you love them back. otherwise you wouldn’t be boo-hooing into perfectly good booze at the idea of fucking things up.” jack looks at the table and finally noticed the fresh glass of whiskey in front of him. the bartender must have thought he needed it and damn did he. his hand reached for it but before his fingertips grazed the glass, frankie snatched it up. “this is exactly how you fuck things up worse. you gotta be sober to process these things correctly, man. trust me, i know from experience.”

jack raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the man that he just realizes is the one jack had pushed you towards several minutes before. why was he trying to give him advice about you? jack was supposed to be the wingman, the one who helped you not be alone in the dark of night. he doesn’t even know the man’s name!

the glass was set down in front of where you were previously sitting, just out of jack’s reach. frankie’s eyes locked onto jack’s and held the other man’s gaze with startling intensity. “look: do you love them?” frankie liked you a lot from what little you talked, and while most men would have stopped talking once they realized they weren’t getting any, he actually did want to be friends. friends looked out for each other and he figured this not-quite-a-couple couple’s therapy was a great place to start.

“more than anything on this earth.” the conviction in his voice is clear to frankie and based on how you talked about jack, he seemed like he was worth your time. after all, it wasn’t like he couldn’t do anything about the man if he did hurt his new friend (he knows how to make weapons untraceable and plenty of ways to bloody a son of a bitch).

frankie grins softly as he drinks the whiskey, confident in the wisdom he’s about to bestow onto the cowboy. if it really can be considered wisdom, that is. “then get your shit together, man! go tell them that you love them. tell them why, and for the love of god give them a first kiss they’ll never forget.”

the man was right, he did need to get his shit together. jack stood from his chair with such haste he nearly knocked it to the floor. but hold on a minute — what was this guy’s name? better yet, how could he ask for his name this late into the conversation without seeming rude?

when jack hesitated, frankie raised an eyebrow at him in question. there was a weird moment of confused eye contact between them, neither man having any idea what to do right then. it took jack beginning to thank him with an exaggerated pause and a hand extended for frankie to realize what he meant. “the name’s francisco, but friends call me frankie.”

“well frankie,” jack shook his new friend’s hand with a smile, clasping frankie’s hand between his briefly. “you’ve done us a great service. if you ever want a tour of the brewery, let us know.” before he leaves to find you, jack fishes a card out of his wallet and hands it to frankie. “that’s got my office number & my cell on it, but between you and me, the office number is for people i don’t particularly care for.” he finishes with a wink at the end for good measure.

frankie stuffs the card in his pocket then shoos jack away. his friend has a mission to complete, after all. he stayed and watched though, hoping to see this through.

“hey honeysuckle, can ya look at me?” jack’s smooth voice and his hand on your shoulder snap you out of your spiraling thoughts. you look up at him and he appears to be just as distraught as you are. “i know i spooked ya by not sayin’ anything earlier, and i’m sorry. i just didn’t know how to say that i felt the same way, that i don’t wanna watch you go home with anyone else that isn’t me.” he drags a hand along his mouth and jaw, a nervous tick you noticed very early into your friendship with jack.

it takes you a few moments to process the fact he feels the same. when you did though, there was nothing in this world that could keep you from kissing your cowboy with everything you had. his hands are quick to find purchase on your waist as yours hold his face gently. he tasted like his moniker and the butterscotch discs he always kept in his pockets, and it was everything you hoped it would be.

nearby, frankie watches the two of you come to your senses and is relieved that everything went so smoothly.

he didn’t intend on running into two of his future coworkers at the bar when he arrived in town, it just happened. halfway through talking to you, he recognized you both as mule and whiskey, two statesman agents he had yet to meet. when he tells ginger about this in the morning she’s going to die of either shock or laughter. who knew that frankie’s first days as agent hops would be like this?

agent whiskey taglist: @obirain @catsnkooks @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @the-studious-porg @captainrexstan @darthadeline @majorshiraharu @getdookuedon @lv7867 @evyiione @darnitdraco @themarcusmoreno @max--phillips @jedi-mando @darklingveracruz @purelypascal @whovianwar @princess76179 @pedropasscals @greeneyedblondie44 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @qhbr2013 @justanotherblonde23 @janebby @its--fandom--darling @andysficrecs @solemnlyswearss @my-blink-romance

[peachtree-dish]

A Te Che Sei Il Mío Grande Amore

Chapter 3: Senza che tu mi dica niente tutto si fa chiaro

Luglio 01, 1969

Luca’s birthday rolled around faster than anyone expected, the day arriving with clear skies and high temperatures. Luca awoke to his mother’s voice echoing through their home as she prepared breakfast. Stretching, the fifteen-year-old shook his nonna as gently as he could to wake her. She grumbled at his attempts and swatted at his claws.

“Nonna,” he sighed, shrugging with a smile and swimming into the kitchen to greet his parents. During his time in Porto Rosso, Luca enjoyed every moment he could swimming and spending as much time in the water since he couldn’t do as much in Genoa. He, along with Giulia and Signora Mia, had snuck to the shoreline in the early hours of the morning every few weeks or so just so Luca could refresh his scales and get the nutrients he needed. It was especially necessary when the temperature had become too cold and made him lethargic and ill. Luca shook his head softly, sending bubbles rippling above him in search of the surface. Signora Mia had been just as kind as Massimo, and just as headstrong in a lot of ways. He made a silent promise to call her with Giulia to make sure she was doing well, even if he were sure nothing could fell the infamous Mia Berni.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Daniella kissed Luca’s cheek and handed him a plate full of seaweed and fish flank on his way to the table. Returning the sentiment, the youth sat beside his father and informed his parents that grandma had decided to sleep in a little longer.

“Ugh, she does this every time. MA!” Daniella shouted in frustration, only to be startled by her own mother swimming around the corner.

“You’re being dramatic, dear. I only do it when I think it will annoy you.” The elderly sea monster smiled toothily at her disgruntled daughter who muttered, “Which is every day,” and finished setting the table.

“So, how does it feel to be another year older, son?” Lorenzo floated a piece of fish to his mouth and chewed animatedly, his gaze never leaving Luca’s. Luca shrugged in response and picked at the seafood drifting across the coral table.

“Not any different than last year, honestly. I still feel like I’m fourteen, so nothing special.” He slurped the seaweed into his mouth, much to his mother’s chagrin, and instantly missed the taste of pasta.

“Fifteen is a pretty big deal, though, you’re becoming a young man and that means changes and more responsibility.”

“I hardly think now is the time to discuss any of that at the table.” Luca’s grandmother scoffed before he could reply.

“What, it’s just the basics; Longer tail and fins, not to mention attracting the pretty lady gills, eh?” Lorenzo nudged Luca in the side who nearly choked on his food and spluttered white bubbles over the table, his scales flushing darkly.

“Lorenzo!” Danielle cried, her claws slapping the table in mortification.

“What? We were around his age when we met. If I remember correctly, you thought I was quite the catch.” He batted his eyes at her, pursing his lips teasingly.

“I was young and silly; I didn’t know any better.” Try as she might, Daniella couldn’t stop the smile that threatened to break her scowl. She busied herself by shredding the fish flank and wrapping it in seaweed. Undeterred, Lorenzo lifted from his chair and leaned in closer, trying to further fluster his wife.

“Yeah, maybe, but you still accepted my courting pearl after the Spring Swim Festival.” Lorenzo pulled a reluctant Daniella out of her chair and began to lead her around the room in spins and pivots, grinning madly as she shrieked with laughter. Luca watched with a mixture of amusement and confusion, his discomfort fading as he pushed the idea of ‘lady gills’ far from his mind. When he peered at his grandma, she appeared nonplussed and continued munching on her food although a genuine smile lifted her aging scales.

“You were skinnier and more handsome then, of course, she fell for you.” Lorenzo pouted at his mother-in-law and led both he and Daniella back to the table.

“I simply grew into my man body,” He emphasized his point by sticking his gut out even farther and patted it proudly. The table burst into laughter and Luca quickly finished eating after, his stomach nearly as full as his heart.

After he finished, he turned to his mother and asked, “Is it ok if I go visit Alberto and Giulia for the afternoon?”

Daniella conceded with a content nod, “Just don’t forget about our dinner tonight at Massimo’s, we don’t want you kids to be late.” Luca agreed cheerfully and kissed each family member on the cheek before swimming out the entrance.

“Hey!” Luca turned mid swim to see Daniella at the entrance. “I love you.”

“I love you too, ma!” Grinning, Luca took off, the water gliding past him as he made his way to the surface and his friends. As he leaped through the blue waves, he imagined he was like the superhero from the newspaper comics that Giulia and Mia both read. Pointing both fists forwards, Luca broke the surface with a whoop, water streaming behind him like a cape.

When he arrived at the Marcovaldo residence, the only beings there to greet them were Machiavelli and a few of his kits, each of whom wanted his attention and brief affection. Finding some of his spare clothes in the drawers of Alberto and Giulia's shared room, Luca quickly left the house and wandered the streets, eager to find his friends. Judging from the sun, he knew the morning fishing trip had come to an end not too long before which should mean Giulia, and Alberto was out delivering. Walking through the town square, Luca waved to a few of the patrons he recognized, mentally wincing as he remembered his first attempts at greeting Porto Rosso’s patrons. If anyone had been the stupidi, it had been them.

Chuckling as he went up the city’s hill, Luca caught sight of two familiar heads of curls along with two faces he was not expecting. Tensing at the sight of Guido and Ciccio, Luca prepared himself for a fight and made to run the rest of the way before he heard laughter. Guido was laughing at something Alberto had said and lightly touched his shoulder. Somehow, the movement was worse than if he had punched Alberto instead. A dark and ugly feeling reared its head within Luca’s belly, causing his face to burn and his hands to clench. Clenching his teeth, the young sea monster marched up the cobblestone pathways, intent on not showing his discomfort.

“Ciao,” he muttered shortly, arriving beside Alberto, and instantly causing Guido to lift his hand from Alberto’s shoulder. Giulia nodded hello from her seat on the bike as Alberto wrapped an arm around Luca’s shoulder.

“Oh, hey Luca,” Alberto cheered even more so upon seeing Luca. “You remember Guido and Ciccio, vero? I helped their families in the off-season while you were away.” Luca looked at the two teens who stood abashedly in front of him and offered his hand after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s good to see you both again,” Not, he thought as he shook the brunette’s hand. Ciccio spoke up, his round features coloring.

“We realize we never officially apologized to you before you left, si? We’re really sorry about last summer, Luca.”

“Si, Ciccio, and I were very foolish and ignoranti, we hope you can forgive us, and we can start again.” Guido smiled warmly, his gaze sincere. Taking a deep breath, Luca felt his earlier feeling of… whatever it was, fading away. If Alberto and Giulia both felt they could trust these boys again, then he could follow their lead.

“Lo apprezzo. I know being around Ercole wasn’t the easiest either, it’s all water under the bridge now anyway.” He smiled genuinely this time, heartened when the two ex-henchmen immediately relaxed.

“Bah, no lie, I’m so happy to be rid of that jerk,” Guido nodded at Ciccio who nodded and twisted his hands anxiously.

“He ate so much of my family’s bread,” Ciccio whispered horrified, his gaze wide. Giulia shared a weirded-out expression with Alberto who only shook his head.

“I didn’t know your family baked,” Luca interceded, ignoring his friends’ lack of subtlety Snapping back to the present, Ciccio grinned widely showing his perfectly white teeth.

“Oh, si, Pasticcini al sale Marino is the pride and joy of Porto Rosso and my family. Our baked goods bring customers from miles around; you should see the line of people who want to buy my mother’s Sfogliatella.” He leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “My siblings and I have been helping since we were little, so only we know the recipe.” He puffed his round chest out proudly, only to be poked by both Alberto and Guido.

“Knowing a recipe and following it correctly are two different things, Ciccio. Your batter was not very good the last time you tried to make Bombolini.” Guido teased and Alberto nodded knowingly.

“I still don’t know how you mixed up salt and sugar,” the older sea monster screwed his face in disgust, remembering how the supposedly sweet treats and mistakenly been made with copious amounts of salt. “Seriously, Ciccio, even the ocean’s not as salty as those things were.” Ciccio pouted good-naturedly as the group laughed.

“It’s still not as bad as the time Guido set the auto garage on fire,” the blond argued mildly to which said boy grimaced.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again; I thought my papa was going to skin me alive.”

The teens chatted a bit more and Luca began to warm up to the two boys who had hurt him so much the past year. Perhaps, he reasoned, they had been good all along and had simply needed the chance to prove themselves.

Bidding Guido and Ciccio farewell, Luca joined Alberto and Giulia as they made the rounds. Luca asked a question that had been on his mind since arriving in Porto Rosso.

“So, whatever happened to Ercole? I haven’t seen him since we’ve been in town.” Alberto placed the cash from his previous sale into the leather pouch of the cart before answering.

“Honestly, the guy kind of disappeared after the race. I think he was embarrassed enough to keep his head low for a while, but other than that, I’m not sure. Maybe he left?” Giulia thought for a moment, her gaze focused on the road ahead.

“Maybe, I don’t think he went away to university, but he could have. His family is really wealthy, so they could afford it no matter the grades he got.”

Luca kicked a pebble, his thoughts skipping back to that one word: university.

“What’s the point of grades anyway, doesn’t that, like, stress you out more?” Alberto mused.

“It certainly does for me,” Giulia huffed. She bid Buongiorno to a young mother who bought the last of their fish and both Luca and Alberto filled the empty space as they headed back down the hill.

“I think it’s mostly competition, to see who really wants to be an academico or no,” she contemplated. “Sometimes if you have really good grades, the universities will pay you to study in their schools. That happened to mama when she moved to Genoa.” Alberto winced slightly at the mention of Giulia’s mother, the story of her separation from Massimo fresh in his memory.

“I wonder if I was good enough, they’d do that for me?” Luca hummed, his eyes following the drains that spread across each building they passed.

“Well, duh, they’d be stupid not to; you’re better than good enough right now,” Alberto bumped his shoulder with a smile. Luca blushed and tossed his friend a grin.

“Hey, happy birthday by the way. It’s about time you got to my age,” the older boy winked and wrapped his arm around Luca again, causing Luca’s skin to hum with energy.

“Oh, yeah! Are you excited for tonight?” Giulia asked over her shoulder.

“Thanks, you guys, really,” Luca felt warmer with Alberto’s arm around him, and he was sure it had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. He wondered briefly if said boy could feel how hard his heart was pounding. “Should I be excited, I thought we were just having dinner?” Luca asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He twisted around to face Giulia as she pulled into the plaza and made her way towards the small coastal home. Alberto lifted his arm when Luca turned away, causing him to feel its loss.

Giulia glanced at him and grinned excitedly. “Papa saved some fireworks from the Festa Della Repubblica since we were in Genoa, and he wants to set them off for tonight.” Luca gasped and jumped in his seat.

“Santa mozzarella! Are you serious?!” He shared an animated glance with Alberto who smiled as he hopped off the cart.

“Of course! I mentioned to him how much you had enjoyed the fireworks during Vigilia di Capodanno last December. He decided that would be his gift to you this year.” Giulia locked the bike and carried their bag of earnings inside, the two boys following after her.

Inside they found Massimo at his stove, his presence filling up the majority of the room. He turned to greet them as they entered, placing a kiss upon Giulia’s curly head.

“Buon cumpleanno, Luca. May you live to see many more,” Massimo rumbled fondly, patting Luca on his checkered shoulder. Luca returned the sentiment and wrapped a short hug around the large man, his arms too small to wrap fully around him.

“Grazie, Massimo. For your wishes and for your surprise gift,” Luca pulled away while Massimo smiled happily, his eyes disappearing behind his bushy eyebrows.

“Giulia,” Massimo chided lightly, turning to his daughter who was counting out money, “I thought we agreed to keep it a secret until after dinner?” Giulia smiled apologetically.

“Scusa, papa, we were just too excited,” She and Alberto began counting the coins on the table while Massimo ushered Luca over to the stove.

“Come, Luca, you will help me prepare dinner,” Massimo handed him a bag of clams and ordered him to wash them thoroughly in the sink. Luca would be the first to admit he was not a cook, but Massimo was gentle in his orders and easily guided Luca in making a perfect pasta dinner.

Once the Paguro family arrived along with Ciccio and Guido, once again to Luca’s surprise, the night was filled with much laughter and filling food. The linguine pasta alle vongole was instantly a hit and paired nicely with the red wine Ciccio had brought on behalf of his family. To the teens’ disappointment, the adults were adamant that they were still too young for alcohol. At one moment, Lorenzo laughed so hard, he inhaled his pasta and sent part of it into his nose much to the delight of the children. After dinner, the group trouped outside with fireworks and dessert in hand. While Massimo and Lorenzo set up the fireworks near the edge of the waterline, Daniella, Giulia, and Ciccio helped serve gelato and watermelon.

With a happy sigh, Alberto nestled himself into the sand alongside Luca, happily chewing on the red-fleshed fruit. Luca’s eyelids were drooping as his body felt full and warm, accompanied by his own friend’s radiating heat. His gaze lingered as Alberto licked gelato from his lips, the cream dripping from the corner of his mouth. Forcing his eyes to look anywhere else, Luca shifted closer to Alberto. Instead, his gaze landed on his father asking animatedly about the fireworks in Massimo’s hand, the larger man looking both confused and entertained by Lorenzo’s energy.

“I know I already said it, but happy birthday,” Luca dragged his eyes back to the tanned boy next to him and smiled. He jumped slightly at the first explosion, watching in delight as the light of the fireworks made his friend’s skin glisten with multicolored hues.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” He replied easily. Neither made comment as their arms brushed or as their hands splayed out behind them with barely any space between. Up above the merry group, bright color after bright color bloomed across a starlit sky, the stars twinkling their own delight.

[blazedgraysons]

virgin reader giving grayson a bj

a/n: i promise i’m working on requests, my life has just been incredibly busy along with me working on the no nut fic and some other exciting things for y’all!! anyways thank you for the request angel, hope you like it🤍🤍

warnings: first-time bj’s, lack of communication between these two, and grayson having a bit of innocence kink if you squint

this is a continuation of this request. you don’t have to read it to understand what’s going on here (but you should read it anyways bc it’s kinda good lmao)

---

If you were to list your worst moments when it came to love and dating, your first blowjob had to be near the top.

It was high school, junior year with some football player named Chad Daniels. You both were at a party, and honestly, the whole experience was less than extraordinary.  It only took two seconds before Chad immediately tried facefucking you. All you could remember is the pain you felt from gagging and choking and almost instantly pushing him off of you.

Needless to say, it wasn't your favorite activity nor something you were that desperate to try again. Until Grayson.

It wasn't like you were dumb; you knew how much guys love getting their dick sucked. And with Grayson doing everything he can to please you, you wanted to return the favor.

You had planned to wake him up with morning head after that first time he ate you out, something cute, intimate, and if you're honest, probably very ambitious for your first time.  

However, any worries you may have had were proven to be completely unnecessary when you woke up to Grayson licking into you. You jerk roughly awake, legs only staying in place due to Grayson's firm grip. It doesn't take long before your scream of surprise turns into moans, growing louder when you watch your insanely cocky boyfriend wink at you.

"Grayson, what the- what the fuck?" You softly moan out the last part, shuddering at the way he starts sucking on your clit.

He pops up, a cheeky grin on his face and lips red and shining.

"Morning!" He goes back down and continues working you higher and higher to your orgasm. It doesn't take long, melting under Grayson's touch. He watches your face, his expression star-struck, and just so fucking in love as he sees how he just made your body fall apart.

"You couldn't wait until after breakfast?"

"Angel, that was my breakfast." He kisses you softly, leaving you dazed as he walks to the bathroom.

It started to become a drug for him; Whether he was stressed, happy, or even just bored, Grayson was beginning to find a new home in between your legs. And with him dropping to his knees more and more, it only furthered your desire to do the same.

You started to notice. He would eat you out, make you cum, and then leave to go take care of himself. It was an annoying pattern that was being formed, but no matter what, he wouldn't let you do anything about it.

"Step-by-step, remember? This is about you." was always his answer, and while you appreciated his devotion to your pleasure, you were starting to crave him. Crave the weight of him in your mouth, the heady taste, and most of all, the visual of him cumming from your doing.

If you were ever going to take this any further,  you needed to figure out how to show him that you're not just doing this out of an obligation, but because you absolutely desire to make him feel as good as he does to you.

So you follow his advice and take it slow. You start with light brushes, lingering touches on his chest and thighs, flirty glances. Grayson notices; he makes a few quips about how touchy you've become but ultimately believing it's the result of the two of you taking your relationship further. You move on to suggestive comments, openly making jokes about blowjobs and talking about his dick. If he notices, he doesn't say anything, just laughs and shakes his head, playing it up for the vlogs.

You sit on his lap when the car is too crowded, he moves you so you're not directly on him; you suck a lollipop in front of him, he goes into another room to "finish editing." It was almost as if the roles had reversed, him now being the one to run away. You were starting to feel frustrated, thinking he was getting some twisted joy from seeing you so flustered.

So you decide to approach it head-on, bluntly asking him during lunch,

"Why won't you let me suck your dick?"

He chokes on his sandwich, staring at you, shocked.

"Angel, what?" He dramatically coughs out, and you roll your eyes at the theatrics.

"Why won't you let me suck your dick?" You enunciate, speaking slowly while raising an eyebrow. He just stares back at you, not speaking or moving before going back to his food.

"S'fine, Y/N. I can take care of myself. This is about you." He doesn't look at you when he speaks, more preoccupied with his vegan BLT (which he made so you know it can't be that damn good)

You pout, pushing your food around with your fork. It's the same response he's been giving, and at this point, you're worried you might snap if you don't get a real answer.

"Are you seriously trying to tell me that whatever you're doing with your hand is better than my mouth?" He takes a sharp breath, pushing his plate away from him.

"Enough, Y/N. I don't want to talk about it.".  If you were stupider, you would've dropped it, let him continue with his lunch, and let him go at his own pace. But you were becoming worried, wondering why he would shut you out instead of opening up.

"Gray," You move to sit next to him, playing with one of his hands as you continue. "You told me all you want is for me to be honest with you. Can you please do the same?" He sighs, taking a moment before answering,

"I'm just scared that once we start, I won't be able to stop. It's not that I don't want you to, it's just— I don't want to lose control and ruin anything for you." Whatever you were expecting couldn't have prepared you for that, and honestly, you were a little surprised. Selfishly, your fears were centered around your own insecurities: that Grayson didn't think you were good enough to, that he wasn't attracted to you, etc. As usual though, Grayson shocked you with how his universe seems to entirely revolve around you and your happiness.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. That was stupid." Grayson takes back, scared that your silence is one of fear or disgust. You place a hand on his arm, moving closer.

"Amour, don't apologize." You kiss him lovingly, feeling soft over how sweet your boyfriend can be. You pull away, kissing his cheek before continuing.

"Us taking this slow isn't just for me — it's for you too. And you know that whatever you want to do, I'm obviously down for as well" He smiles stupidly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But believe me, you've been making me feel really good lately." He perks up at that.

"And I really, really, really want to make you feel good too." You take his hand, leading him to the couch. His eyes follow your every move, not wanting to miss a single thing. You kiss him again before pulling away quickly, a thought coming to your head.

"You're gonna have to help me. I haven't done this that much." He nods rapidly, pants growing tighter with every word. He doesn't have exact words to describe it, but there's something so hot about the innocent look on your face, the way you're looking at him wide-doe eyes and waiting for his instruction. Something so pure about the knowledge that you still held onto so many of your first, yet so sinful that he was going to be the man to ruin that. You lightly lick your lips as you put your hair up, and Grayson's mouth goes dry at the movement.

"I'm pretty sure I've dreamt about this before."

"Let's hope I live up to the standards." He groans lowly as you sink to your knees.

"Trust me, you're already pretty close." His heart sinks when you rest both palms above his knees, and he can tell he's working himself up. After going a while without doing anything remotely sexual, the slightest touch sends little shockwaves straight to his dick. If the anticipation meant anything, he would probably cum the second you actually touched where he needed you most.

You unbutton his pants, sliding them down with his help. You stare at how his boxers are already tented, forming a nice bulge. Already you're feeling overwhelmed, not sure where you want to start first while just wanting to show him how much you adore him.

You watch as he slides his boxers down, and your mouth starts watering. Grayson obviously radiates big dick energy, that's no secret to anyone, and you've seen him freeball in grey sweats enough times to at least have an idea of what he's working with. Seeing the real thing, however, has you more turned on than you've been before.

"So big," You whisper, and Grayson's sure he could cum then and there from the awestruck look on your face. You kiss his upper thigh, right next to his medusa tattoo, before tentatively kissing the tip.

"Angel, please." He could cry, finally having you where he wants you, but not doing enough to relieve any of the tension he's feeling. He knows you're not teasing, not even entirely sure of what you're doing to him, and while he's usually not a beggar, he'll do whatever it takes to finally get you on him.

You nod, growing wet at his soft pleas before licking from his base to his tip. You take him into your mouth, sucking the head while watching Grayson's head fall back onto the couch. You lean back a little, spitting before taking him back in your mouth, going further than before. You continue that for a minute, bobbing your head slightly. You moan softly at your boyfriend's blissed-out expression, eyes glazed over as he looks at you sucking him off.

"Your hands, angel —use them. Please," He moans out the last part, having already added your hands the minute he said the word. You stroke up and down the part that can't fit, experimentally twisting them.

You're drooling now, covering both your chin and his dick, and honestly, your jaw is starting to hurt, but the look on Grayson's face is more than enough to keep going.

"Wait, off. Angel, get off." You pull off of him, scared that you've done something wrong. One hand is still lightly jerking him off while the other rests on his upper thigh.

"Gonna —gonna cum. Didn't want to in your mouth." He's breathless, panting to calm himself down from how you've worked him up. You push the hand away that is moving to replace yours and start sucking again.

"You're okay with that?" He questions and you nod as best you can, humming happily. Between the vibrations, how wet your mouth is, and the way your hands are moving, Grayson is done, cumming with a silent moan and eyes closing.

You take every drop, swallowing before pulling away to jerk him slowly. You watch with big eyes as he twitches and slightly jerks in your hand, riding the after waves of his orgasm. Once you feel he's finally done, you move up to sit next to him.

"How was that?" You're genuinely curious, wanting to know if it was as good for him as you thought.  He opens his eyes, pupils blown and breath still a little ragged.

"Perfect." He kisses you deeply, shivering slightly when he tastes himself. "You're fucking perfect." He moves his hand lower, already reaching for your shorts, but you stop him.

You're tired, exhausted really. So you take him to bed, silently suggesting a nap, unaware of Grayson's self-promises to make you feel twice as good when you wake up.

[goldafterglow]

Head canon: MAKING JACK BLUSH. I NEED TO SEE IT. 🥺

Summary: Jack Daniels is a pretty cowboy.

Paring: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x reader

Word Count: 1.3k+

Warnings: soft!Jack, no sins but they are for sure basking in the post-sin afterglow, a lil bit of blushing for our baby boy, this is not beta read bc i’m impatient

Author’s Note: YESDJHGJFD I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF THIS. This is also my first little like drabble, except it’s too long but ig 1.3k is a drabble for me kids this is the standard.

It’s early in the morning. 1:43 am to be exact. But you can’t bring yourself to end the night; he always make it so hard to sleep. In a good way of course; a really good way.

It’s in the afterglow that his feelings begin to melt, glaciers in his mind turning to liquid as the golden amber spills gently from his lips and over your chest so that it will encapsulate you, dry around you and encase you, keeping his words wrapped around your body forever. Embroidered into the soft chenille of your neck and whispered into the lobes of your ears. He speaks to you in a way that you can feel; it’s a pleasure of its own to feel his lips kiss the dips of your clavicles through his words, his voice low and sending wide vibrations through your sternum. It feels sinful, heavenly, like something too good to be right.

It feels nice.

You’re laid by him on your side, face buried into his bare chest as his thick fingers run along the curve of your spine, re-exploring you with a sense of focused clarity that he doesn’t often get when he’s overwhelmed with lust and passion. His fingers are careful, sensitive, picking up on every bump and blemish until he can paint the perfect picture of you under his closed eyelids, even as the meek moonlight bathes your waist and glimmers against the sheets. Perfect.

He’s resolved to a comfortable state of wordlessness, eyes trained on the top of your head as you bask. There truly is something golden about the afterglow he casts onto you; you always seem to feel like you’re floating, like not even gravity could keep you from ascending to the clouds with him. He makes you feel precious.

With an inhale of his musk, you slowly nudge your chin so that you can look up at him, fingers tracing his jaw. You love to let him shower you in his affection like a delicate hummingbird is kissed by tiny drops of rain, but you rarely take the time to take him in. The bump of his nose is highlighted by the window’s rays, his lips still a little blushed and swollen from the night. The side of your palm runs up along the side of his face before finding his hair; it’s been mussed, disheveled by your greedy fingers. Gorgeous.

“What’s going on in that big beautiful mind of yours, angel?” Jack ponders, prodding you tenderly with his words. He can tell when you’re lost in thought, lost in him. Perhaps he can’t tell when you have no desire to be found, when you want to be left to traverse the tall grass of his forest and hug the applewood in his eyes. What a way to go.

“Nothing, Jack,” you assure. It’s a weak excuse, an almost embarrassing attempt at deflecting his question, but maybe it’s because you want him to ask you again, dig a little deeper into you so he can make a home inside you. Never leave.

“Now, darlin’,” he starts, feigning a little sternness in his tone, “I think you know good and well that ol’ Jack can tell when you’re fibbin’. Ain’t no use lyin’ to me, honey. I’ll catch ya every time.” Your heart swells swells a little at his words, because he’s so honest with you. You know he knows you, sometimes better than you know yourself. He’s made you his hobby, learning you like a subject and studying you like a book. He can always read you.

And yeah; he always catches you.

You take a few diamond-adorned seconds to look at him; his mustache rests right on top of his soft smile, there to accent his words and tickle your neck when he’s feeling playful. His eyes are wide like when a two-month old baby can finally look at its mother in awe, utterly mystified and doe-y. His face is sculpted by the gods, chiseled to magnificence in his charcoal features, and yet he uses it to show you he loves you. He loves you.

“You’re so pretty, Jack,” you whisper. The words barely leave your lips as a noise, traveling to his ears as wisps of the breeze you blow onto him.

Jack Daniels is floored.

It’s not a word he’d ever use to describe himself. Cocky, sure. Sexy, absolutely. Brash, confident, competent; he wasn’t too shy to toot his own horn every once in a while. But pretty? Flowers are pretty; butterflies are pretty. When the sleepy sun yawns and breathes a peach glow onto the front-porch flower bed, that’s pretty. When you step outside to dip yourself in the golden afterglow and he walks out into the backyard to find you sitting on the quaint bench he built just for you. When he drags himself into the kitchen in the morning to find you already there, frying up bacon on his stove in nothing but his unbuttoned flannel and last night’s bra; that is fucking pretty.

But Jack Daniels -- is he pretty? He looks down at you carefully. He can tell when you’re fibbin’, after all. 

You don’t look like a dishonest woman to him.

“You’ve already got me in bed with you,” he teases, trying to deflect. He can’t handle the weight of your words, isn’t strong enough to hide what they do to him, and he needs you to take them back before he bursts into a supernova of rouge love. “You don’t need to-”

“I mean it, baby,” you interrupt, tone serious. You can tell he doesn’t want to believe you, doesn’t want to grapple with the intensity of your thoughts. But he needs to know, he has to trust you’re not deceiving him. “You’re beautiful.”

His smirk is gone, his smug, self-assured grin nowhere to be seen. The room is dark; he knows that. But the moonlight hits him just right, at just the right angle that you can see that sweet strawberry syrup tint his cheeks, giving him up. You can’t help but smile a little, like you’ve done something good. He’s good.

Jack’s breathing is a little jagged, his heartbeats a little stuttered. What was it he’d done to deserve you again? Oh right; nothing.

Your hand leaves his hand to cup his red cheek, thumb running right under his big eyes. He leans into it, face turning a little to nuzzle your palm, and the notion makes you giggle. A fierce lion reduced to a whimsical lamb, so gentle under your touch. He is vulnerable when he is with you, especially in these shared moments of solitude, and you wonder if you could look at him like this forever.

Blushing.

“C’mere, pretty boy,” you tease, but you mean it. You mean every word.

You nudge him towards you, his face finding solace in your chest. He shifts down a little, his soft body wrapping around your middle. He can hide in you, feel pretty in your arms. He’s safe in you.

“You think I’m pretty, sugar?” he asks softly. Almost a little timid. He’s embarrassed to need validation like this, ashamed that he’s practically begging you to say those words again, but you make him feel so warm, so secure, and he knows that the last person to leave him for a lapse in strength is you.

You press a kiss to the top of his scalp, his wild hair tickling your nose but you don’t care; you want him close. Closer.

“I know it,” you whisper, throat closing on itself a little because you’re so grateful that you finally get to tell him. That Jack can finally begin to grasp just how much he means to you. There’s so much more you want to say, but you don’t want to overwhelm him with it because you know he loves you with a fury and passion that drowns him without you piling on your love too.

And as Jack closes his eyes, finally ready to let the night end, he thinks he might know it too.

Tags (ik this is a drabble but idk lmao):  @gustavos @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @buckstaposition @the-feckless-wonder @ergotautology (girl you know what to do) 

also im gonna never tag anyone in my headcanons again bc that was embarrassing yikes gjfhdjgd