#yes you will notice a ring earlier but if you wear something for someone maybe there’s more meaning in it if it’s hidden

[appreciatingtokrev]

wearing a ring for you’re close to is cool, so is wearing a necklace for them. but have you ever considered bracelets?? (okay tbf i am pretty sure this has to do with the intrusive thoughts i keep getting abt me bleeding to death bc of my main artery on my wrist somehow bursting when touched, especially with force, hence i am only comfortable with getting touched there if i initiate it. but still) idk my wrists are just something... vulnerable about my body imo. i dislike my inner wrists being touched if i don’t initiate it, and even if i do, it feels pretty weird at first. so wearing a bracelet isn’t something i just do every day, and wearing one dedicated to someone means i really do love them. also, whenever i take off a bracelet after wearing it for a day, my wrist feels oddly empty for a good hour, and while i do have that with rings and necklaces/chokers to some extent to, the lasting effect things have on my wrist is way bigger.

what i’m trying to say is that wearing a bracelet dedicated to someone, especially if it’s self-made (by them or by you) is a great act of love for me. a far bigger one than wearing a ring or a necklace.

[eletricheart]

All's well when it ends up with you

(Mother Miranda x Reader)

*pic creds to owner, got it from pinterest

Word count: 1061

I thought of the song Margaret by Lana Del Rey feat Bleachers and then i just found out it's Valentine's Day somewhere in the world so yh

When you know, you know

ps: fluff🥰

ps2: song at the end

ps3: not proofread pls lmk any mistakes

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

The first time you saw each other was at a Conference in Switzerland, you thought she was the smartest person in the room.

The second time was only a few months later during an University presentation in London, you went only to accompany your friend. She noticed.

The third time she went after you, she didn't know why she was so interested in you, maybe you’d make a good experiment. Therefore, she “ran” into you at your daily coffee run.

The scientist was quick to stop you on the street. “Hi, I’m sorry you’re just so familiar. Have we met?”

You stared at her wide eyed, recognizing her from the conferences. “Hi! I-yes. I saw you at the lecture in London. Though, I don't think we talked.”

She gave you a smile and nodded. “I’m Miranda.” The woman said, offering her hand.

You were quick to introduce yourself and shake her hand.

It started slow, Miranda would bump into you in the street until you knew each other enough to exchange numbers. If questioned she would say it was to make the experiment easier, that it was necessary to fully know you for research.

𓄿

For the first time in decades the scientist was nervous to talk to someone. You were sharing a glass of wine on your balcony, sitting in comfortable silence.

Miranda was playing with her rings, lost in thought of your possible reactions to her proposal.

You were quick to notice, turning your head to look at her and holding her hand to stop her fidgeting. You gave her a gentle smile. “What’s on your mind?”

She took a deep breath. “What do you think about moving to Romania with me?”

𓄿

You were sitting in your living room trying to process everything the now priestess explained to you regarding the village.

Miranda was in front of you, watching the gears turn in your head. She tried to reason with herself that if you rejected she could always force you to go, but it wouldn't be the same, you wouldn’t be the same.

The scientist was surprised when all you did was nod and say “wild”.

𓄿

Miranda realized she was in love with you a few days after arriving. She was watching you lazily set up your room, you’d stop everytime you found something interesting to either dress it or tell it’s entire story.

You were wearing a cowboy hat while telling the exact concert you bought it for.

You noticed her staring at you with a small smile. Momentarily stopping the story. “You okay?”

Miranda furrowed her brows and nodded. “Yeah, I’m great.”

𓄿

You noticed you were falling for the priestess way earlier than her. It was around the second time she hung out at your place, the woman insisted on cooking for you, so you sat on the counter watching her master your kitchen.

You would try to crack some jokes and she would look at you in disapproval.

You were laughing at your latest one while she stared in confusion. “Come on, you gotta admit this one was funny.”

The priestess slowly shook her head. “You’re insane.”

You smiled widely. “Clinically proven, baby, nothing new.”

She rolled her eyes with an almost unnoticeable smile.

But it was enough for you to notice so you spend the rest of the night trying to make her smile again.

𓄿

It was not only your first year at the Village but also Valentine’s day. The townsfolk had already decorated when you were walking by to buy some groceries. You weren't sure how Miranda felt about the day, but you couldn't resist buying a few flowers.

And that's how you ended up behind her at the lab holding a small vase with a red tulip. You gently touched her shoulder after hiding the flowers behind your back. “Heyy, the town seems very passionate about Valentine’s day. Did you know that?”

Miranda turned to look at you and tilted her head. “I don’t really…care…about what they do.”

You chuckled. “Well…I got you a flower, in a vase, because it’d feel like a murderer if it was in a bouquet.”

Your hands trembled slightly when presenting the tulip to Miranda.

She carefully took it from your hands and nodded, awkwardly looking at you.

You felt like your heart was about to explode with how fast it was beating. “So, I-um-I’m gonna go, bye.” You said before almost sprinting out of the room.

Miranda was confused, extremely confused. Maybe you got the wrong flowers, maybe you didn't mean “love” and it was all a silly mistake.

You couldn't love her, not after all she's done, after all you've seen. Why would you feel even the slightest affection for her.

The more she stared at the flower the more she’d want you to love like her. She regretted not saying anything, what if you thought she didn't care for you.

So she did what she does best, she researched all she could on Valentine’s day, it was mostly useless but knowledge nonetheless.

Once she deemed her findings worth it, she went after you with a stack of papers and the flower.

You were reading in your room when she got inside looking like a woman on a mission. You confusingly stared at her when she sat in front of you. You were about to speak when she cut you off.

“The flower means love and according to my research you’re supposed to gift flowers or chocolate to your partner on this date. Those are facts.” She looked at you for confirmation.

You nodded and started to nervously pick on your nails. “You-you don’t have to feel it back, really, we don't even need to talk about it.” You said, with an equally nervous laugh.

Miranda nodded with a serious face and got out of the room a few moments, later returning with a flower made of silverware.

She presented it to you. “It’s shiny and a flower.” The priestess took a deep breath before speaking again. “I don't like to admit when I don't know something. But I don't know how this works or why you like me. Although I am absolutely sure this isn't going to end well. So…think before you accept this.”

You smiled, quickly accepting her flower. “I’m willing to try for you.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Good.”

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

requests are open: masterlist

[lanitalay]

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 3

A/n: Chapter 3 yay. Ngl i got feels towards the end. This is a sweet one. I kind of love the Band of exiles dynamic.

Other chapters

“Great, Cassian will pick you up in the morning”.

“Ok” you say between bites. “I have to get some things done before morning, but try to sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow” she stands and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Ok so maybe this Rhysand can help. Hopefully.  If they are really worried about an unguarded portal then maybe they’ll hurry to send me back and close it up. The thought brings you a bit of peace. Finishing the stew you get up from the bed and place the bowl on the dresser. You look in the mirror and decide that you can’t wear the dress tomorrow,it’s far too long and, honestly, riding side-saddle was terrible, so you resolve to dig up your leggings and sports bra. Now that they have fully dried, the mud and sweat created a layer of crust and the smell… Ew. You bring them to the bathing room and scrub them until  they have returned to their normal color. Hopefully they’ll be dry by morning. An idea pops up. You take the damp clothes down the stairs and place them near the crackling hearth. I’m so smart. Then remember the bowl left on the dresser, groaning to yourself as you walk back up the stairs, pick the bowl up and return it to the kitchen. 

Jurian is sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a book. He looks quaint, much different then the rough looking man you’ve seen the last day. He looks up, sensing someone in the room and his eyes land on the bowl in your hands. “Beef stew is my specialty,” he says with a sly smile. “It was delicious, thank you” walking over to the basin, you wash the bowl and set it to dry with the rest of the dishes. “Tea?” He asks and motions to the pot on the wood stove. “That would be great, actually” you pour yourself a cup and sit down next to him. The tea is mint and there is another flavor that has hints of lavender. You breathe the scent in and try to ground yourself. Finding that if you are not doing something or talking you spiral and begin to think about home. Home. It's been more than 24 hours now. They probably think I’m lost in the woods. You shake your head and ask Jurian “are you human?” He looks up from the book and says nothing. You open your mouth and close it and then say “sorry, I just noticed that you have round ears and Lucien has pointed ears and also Vassa has round ears and the man from earlier had round ears but he had wings and… well in my world all humans have round ears so I'm guessing you’re human and if this is an offensive question I’m sorry. I'm rambling now. I’ll shut up” you look away and sip your tea. Maybe solo travel completely stunted my social skills. Oh god kill me now. Jurian chuckles “it’s fine, yes I’m human, Vassa is also human but she’s been cursed to be a firebird by day, Lucien is High fae and Cassian is Ilyrian. Any other questions?” About a million. “Vassa is a firebird by day?” That seemed like the most important detail. “Yes, it’s a long story though, and it’s also not mine so if you want more details ask her” fair enough. “Ok… how old are you?” He looked like he could be in his mid thirties but something about him felt off. “About 500” you choke on nothing and look at him wide eyed. He chuckles “I’m sensing a follow up question so I’ll elaborate. Yes I’m human, yes I’ve been alive for 500 years. How is that possible? Well 500 years ago there was this war that was fought by humans against the fae and I did some… bad things that got me dismembered and kept conscious in the ring and necklace of this truly awful female. Anyways, there was another war recently where a very powerful king found the cauldron and harnessed its power to resurrect me. Well, to put me back together and now here I am” he motions to himself and smiles bright. Jesus. “And I thought my life was hard, why did they resurrect you?” He sighs “The king was unhappy with the result of the last war and wanted me to help him invade the human lands and enslave the humans.” You put down the cup and ask “So there is no war happening currently?” “No, not right now but Koschei,he’s another powerful king, is up to something. Not sure what it is though”. “I see” you fiddle with your thumbs and ask another question “Vassa said that I’m supposed to go to the Night Court? Is it far?” He nods “ah, that’s right. Rhysand wants to question you. I suppose you have no idea where anything is. Come with me” he stands and walks out of the kitchen and crosses the house until he reaches two double doors. 

When you walk in you see shelves and shelves of books. Oh my god it’s a library. Sick. “Here we are” Jurian says as he pulls out a large book titled “Geography of Prythian and its Surroundings” he opens up and gestures to the bottom of the page. “We are here, these are the mortal lands, pretty self explanatory. You showed up around here” he points “that is the Spring Court, there are seven, as you can see. The Night Court is all the way up here” he points to the north of the map. “Wait, so how am I going to get there tomorrow? That’s at least a few days by horse” he hums. “I’m pretty sure it's only a few hours by flight”. Oh no. There’s no way. “What?” “You’ll be flying, hope you’re not afraid of heights” he smirks, sensing your fear. “And if I refuse?” “Well, they are your best chance of getting back home. If you think I’m old just wait till you meet some of the people at Rhysand's court. They should know something about portals”. “That’s great” you say in a monotone voice. “Listen, I’m going to call it a night but feel free to stay here if you want”. You nod as he walks out of the library. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight. You resolve to stay and read the book. Gleaning as much information about this world as you can and not taking note of the time. You doze off on the chair and wake up to the sound of the book hitting the ground. Taking a deep breath and putting the book away, you make your way to your room and fall into a deep dreamless sleep. 

The next morning breakfast is the same: warm bread, cheese and tea. Lucien sits in front of you as you scarf down the meal, having woken up very hungry. “Do they have food where you’re from?” You swallow and scowl at him, “of course we do. We have bread and cheese and tea and chocolate and coffee”. I miss coffee so much and it’s only been two days. “Well you’re eating like a woman starved” you sip your tea and roll your eyes. “Why are you so grumpy? And if you must know I think I’m stress eating. It’s a normal reaction for someone in my situation. Is pie a thing here? I could really go for some pie right now” he seems unimpressed. “I’m not grumpy and yes pie is a thing here. I’ll see what I can do to find some, we are a bit secluded from the nearest village” you beam. “Really? You’d get me pie?” he nods “oh thank you!” You can’t help yourself as you get up from your chair and throw your arms around him in a hug. “I haven’t gotten you anything yet” you straighten up “but it’s the thought that counts”. 

“When is this Cassian guy supposed to get here?” you ask Lucien as you pack your bag for the trip. You suppose it’s only a day and you’ll be back by nightfall but you want to have your things with you just in case and having a water bottle and snacks is always handy. “Soon” you groan “but when-” before you can say anything else a knock comes from the front door. Lucien goes to open it and reveals Cassian waiting on the other side. “Sorry I’m late, the morning got away from me. If you’re ready we can leave now” he finishes looking at you. You get up and put the bag on “I’m ready”. 

“Ok so how does this work?” you ask Cassian. “Well I’ll carry you in my arms and then I’ll take off. It’s a little scary at first but I’m not gonna drop you. Promise” He flashes you a grin and you let out a shaky breath “Listen, I am terrified of heights so please, no sudden movements” he nods curtly and holds out his arms for you. You step closer and hear Lucien snicker at your visible discomfort. “Stop it, Lucien!” you whine as Cassian grabs you and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. “Ok, I’m ready” you scream as he takes off. “It’s ok, the take off is the bumpiest part” you try to speak but nothing comes out as you see how high you’ve gotten in a matter of seconds. You press your eyes shut, refusing to look down and try to steady your breath. I am at home watching tv. I just fell asleep. This is just a very long and convoluted lucid dream. “So tell me, how’s life with the band of exiles?” Cassian attempts to make conversation “Uhm… it’s fine, ah! They have been very nice and accommodating. Whoa!” you hold on even tighter as he dodges some rain. This is all the rain’s fault. Stupid rain. “Sorry and I’m sorry for offending you yesterday, it was not my intention” you gulp “it’s ok, I’ve been on edge recently, ha ha” you shut your eyes again “how much longer do we have left?” Cassian looks at you and you don’t see the pity in his eyes as he answers “about an hour” kill me now “oh god”. 

When Cassian finally puts you down you nearly collapse in relief. “Come on, the meeting is through here” you follow him inside the mountain building and try your best to keep up but his legs are probably twice as long as yours and you’re also still a bit dizzy from the flight. “We’re here!” he says as he walks into a dining room full of the prettiest people, or fae, you’ve ever seen. The male with night black hair and purple eyes says “yes the guest of honor, please sit” you nod and sit next to Cassian. The group all introduce themselves and then the female you now know as Feyre asks you “y/n please tell us, with as many details as you can recall, how you got here” and so you tell them. Trying your best to remember all of it. The rain, the wind, the rocks, the mushrooms. Rhysand then says “can you show me?” you look confused so he elaborates “I can access your mind and see everything you have seen, I would only be accessing that memory though” you nod “do i just sit here?” “Yes, it won’t hurt and it will only be a second” you look around and feel a gentle scrape within your mind and then you’re back in Scotland showing Rhysand what you saw. When he’s done you sag a bit, having to relive your last moments on Earth had been unsettling to say the least and watching yourself in a third person point of view made you want to scream at your past self to just stay on the path. I should’ve just kept walking. Rhysand showed Feyre and Amren and then Mor and then Azriel. “I’ll see what I have about portals, but I’ll warn you that I have never heard of traveling to a whole different realm. Other worlds, yes, maybe. A portal from point A to point B within the same world, of course. But this… this has bigger implications than anything I've seen before” Amren says matter of factly. Your eyes sting and your breathing becomes shallow. She can’t be right. “I’ll tell Nesta to get a group of priestesses to help research” Feyre says and then Cassian adds “I think we should add a patrol to the clearing, the weakened Spring Court borders and the portal business seems like a great opportunity in the wrong hands”. Rhysand and Feyre nod “I can send a few of my spies down there tomorrow” Azriel. “Y/n, you’re free to stay wherever you'd like. But we have a few rooms here if you want to help with the research. I’m sure Lucien, Jurian and Vassa have been very hospitable but they are pretty isolated and I’d feel better if you stayed here”. You try to take it all in but the despair… the sorrow is taking over you and you feel numb. They’re going to think I’m dead. A few tears fall and you nod, “I can stay, but I’d like to get some things I left at the house” . You were mainly thinking of the only change of clothes you had and saying goodbye to the exiles that had offered you shelter when you needed it the most. 

[le-trash-prince]

adding another ask into our rotating collection sorry.

so I had a dream last night where [a person I love] was tenderly doing my nails and it got me thinking, because everything I think of these days is pit babe and because Kim (well Benz but you understand) has SUCH nice nails: one of his boys doing his nails. filing, shaping, smoothing, painting. maybe a little hand massage.

the act of service makes me think Kenta (he'd be so gentle and careful about it) but also Dean wears rings in a way that makes me think he understands the importance of nice hands. plus the opportunity for praise: doing a neat and tidy job, when he picks a nice colour. maybe he learns how to do cool designs?

(the only part of the process winner is interested in is the scratches that can be left with said nails)

idk it's just Very Important to me that Kim is well-cared for 🥺

🥺🥺🥺 Please don’t apologize for blessing me with this ask. This got me choked up because YES, Kim deserves to have his boys taking care of his hands??? Taking care of him???? And good god yeah his nails are so pretty wtf

I can see the little crease between Kenta’s eyebrows from concentrating so hard on doing a good job 🥹 But oh yes, Dean strikes me as someone who could really get into doing nails! He’d do it with a smile on his face because it’s something he finds fun (and yes praise kink), and he’d think about Kim when he’s out at the store and sees a color that matches Kim’s jacket. And nail art yes! Little black and white checkered racing nails 🏁🥺

Honestly I can see him and Kim doing each other’s nails on a regular basis, but if I think too much about how competent Kim would be at doing someone else’s nails and him touching Dean’s hands I might swoon AGDHFJJF (Inserting this clip of Benz here for the domestic visuals BECAUSE JUST LOOK)

which of the four do you think has the most sensitive hands asking for reasons

(can you blame Winner honestly. Im thinking about how he probably loves being marked up and im yelling)

Yeah Kim deserves to be pampered like royalty! 🥺 Why else would they always be kneeling at his feet. What a lovely dream and a lovely thought!!

I know exactly what you mean about associating everything to Pit Babe 😩 I was at the store earlier and I saw a dartboard and IMMEDIATELY envisioned Winner and Kenta smoking and playing darts at the bar!! Kim and Dean join in sometimes (and those are the loudest and most entertaining games), but it’s usually just the two of them and it becomes a little bonding ritual of theirs.

Winner doesn’t really stand a chance against Kenta’s precision, but he enjoys trying anyways. One game, he starts catching up, and he’s all ready to start trash talking until he notices that Kenta’s aim has been drifting—and when he looks over, he sees the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of Kenta’s mouth, which has Winner swearing at him (he’s still smiling though) coz he knows Kenta did it just to get on his nerves, because Kenta can go easy on him and still win. (And if Kenta shakes in silent laughter, will Winner’s poor heart even survive)

Anyways it just makes Winner decide to show Kenta how he really likes to win—sabotage (feeling Kenta up while he tries to stay focused).

[thenhlteaissuperhot]

I dont know if you keep tabs on her but i think something’s going on with Provy and Madison (his girlfriend). Yes, there was a lot going on with him not wearing the Pride jersey and her using their dogs account to talk about how she supports all people (and she took Provy out of the dog account bio after it happened. She also apparently had a pro-Trump picture in her vsco back in the day but took it down at some point too).

The reason why I think something’s going on is because back in April, Madison posted in Miami for her birthday and also saw her friends who moved there and her mom and brother flew out for to celebrate with her. I was really confused when I saw her stories because Provy wasn’t there at all (she still posted about him, even when everything was going down) and this had happened before he was traded. Granted, the week before, he was with her in Nashville but she didn’t even acknowledge that he wouldn’t be there for her birthday in Miami or celebrating her birthday, like how other couples would do.

The next big thing I noticed is that she went on vacation with Provy to Hawaii earlier this month and in one of the pictures on her insta story, you could see a bit of her engagement ring. Then a few days later, she had posted pictures of them together, almost confirming the engagement because the ring was more noticeable (but she didn’t say in the caption that she was engaged and she got a bunch of comments congratulating her engagement). She also posted more pictures of her in Hawaii later on this month and then today, all of those pictures from Hawaii were gone. She still has pictures of her and Provy together from earlier this year and the past. I’m a bit confused as to why she would take the Hawaii stuff down. Do you think he gave her a promise ring instead of an engagement ring and she got upset about it? Is this a quiet signal of trouble in paradise or am I reading too much into it?

The other thing that kinda throws me off a little about their relationship is the timing. She interned with the Flyers in 2018 and by All-Star Break 2019, she and Provy were on vacation together. I know it’s not a workplace violation or fireable offense for that to happen but who knows if she had secretly been messing around with him during her internship.

Frankly, I don't know anything about him beyond his religious statements, so I am solely relying on the information you have just given me here - feel free to correct me if I mess some of the facts up.

Some WAGs tend to take a bunch of their photos down every once in a while - whether it is because they don't suit their account's current aesthetic, because they no longer think they look good in them, I have no idea, but it certainly isn't an odd occasion. In this case, it seems like it might not have been an engagement ring and they didn't want any rumors about their alleged engagement to spread on the internet, or maybe she posted them without his knowledge and when he found out he told her that he doesn't want their engagement to be this public. I really don't have any other reasonable scenarios that would explain why she deleted them so suddenly.

They probably were messing around with each other already during her internship since it was the place they met and interacted first (I seriously don't believe someone, let alone an NHL player, would be willing to wait with f*cking someone just to refrain from breaking job regulations) - once again, this is a normal thing to happen basically everywhere.

Personally, I don't see that much weird stuff in this. The same stuff and even significantly worse one (ask Lauren Kyle about the McDavid cheating video or Svetlana about the entire Nichushkin and dr*gged girl scandal) happens to every other NHL couple.

[pennywaltzy]

Ghost Fare

And here’s a little story about a hitchhiker and a cab driver, written for day 2 of @mollyappreciationweek!

Ghost Fare - Sebastian picks up an unusual hitchhiker outside of the village of Bray.

READ @ AO3

Sebastian Moran had never believed in ghosts. There were supposed to be ghosts all up and down his chosen stomping grounds for cab fares, but he never encountered any.

Until that Halloween night.

Until her.

He could tell something was different by the sheer amount of fog that had crept up around him as he saw her flag him from the side of the road, looking like she was hitching a ride. It got cold, too. She looked injured, but otherwise perfectly normal if a little pale. “Where can I take you?”

“Where am I?” she asked.

“Village of Bray, 40 minutes outside of London.” He wouldn’t have been out in Bray, except he got some fare to go to a hoity-toity restaurant he would never eat at. He’d been on his way back to London when he picked her up. The fact she didn’t know where she was had made him initially think she’d been drugged and ditched. Either way, he couldn’t leave her in the cold. “Get in. I’m headed to London.”

“Thank you.” She was wearing a short black leather jacket and matching leather skirt with a white button-up fancy blouse, and some tights that looked black. She was holding her arm to her side like it was broken or at least bruised. Her hair was in a ponytail and she had on some tasteful though dark makeup. All in all, pretty girl.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Molly. My friends call me that. My mum calls me...Margaret.”

“Can I take you to your mum’s?”

She looked surprised. “Yes. She’s in London. You can take me to her.”

He noticed she had a silver locket that she fiddled with using her good arm. “I can take you to the hospital, get someone to look at your arm,” he said as he put the car into gear and began to drive to London.

“No. My mum will take care of me.”

“Where does your mum live?”

“A bungalow near Wellington Way. Right by the Bow Road station. She has flowers in the front. Roses.”

“I hate to sound crass, but can you pay? I’ll still take you if you can’t, but it might not hurt to call your mum and ask her for some fare if you can’t.”

“Call her?”

He fished out his mobile. “On the mobile.”

“I could try.” She took his mobile and after a few minutes of trying to figure it out made a call. There was a bunch of static that even he could hear, and she handed the phone back to him. “Sorry. Bad reception?”

“Maybe.” They lapsed into silence then for the most part, with him asking questions every once in a while. Once they got into London he concentrated on avoiding the drunks. As he pulled up to Wellington Way he noticed she looked...surprised. Like she couldn’t believe they were there. She fiddled even more with her necklace the last time he looked at her before finding the bungalow her mother lived at.

When he turned to tell her they were there, she was gone, but her necklace was on the seat. That was when he realized he’d delivered her back home, but it wasn’t all done. Until her mum got the necklace, it wouldn’t be done.

He knew he was going to need some pretty stiff drinks later, but for now, he picked up his mobile and looked at the number she had dialed. It looked like a legitimate phone number so he dialed it. After a few rings and no static, a woman picked up. “Hello?”

“Hello, ma’am. I’m a cab driver, came out of Bray earlier this evening. Picked up a girl named Molly. She said her mum called her Margaret. She left a necklace in my car when she...disappeared. I know it sounds like a hoax, and with it being Halloween and all, I don’t want you to think I’m pulling your leg, but I’m right outside. Can I give you the necklace?”

“Is it a silver locket?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.” There was a pause. “I’ll come to you. Just wait there and I’ll be right out.”

“Alright.”

Seb hung up and waited. Soon a short, frail-looking woman came out to his cab. He scooped up the necklace from the rear seat before she got to him and he stood outside, ready to give it to her. When she got to him, he handed her the necklace. “We never found her,” the woman said. “Her boyfriend was taking her to Bray for dinner at a fancy restaurant twenty-five years ago, on Halloween night. They got into an argument and he left her by the side of the road. No one ever saw her again, but I’ve heard stories.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Of a woman hitching a ride every Halloween. But no one ever picked her up." She looked at the necklace and opened it, showing him the pictures inside. "This was Margaret and her father. He died when she was young. She never took this necklace off unless she was going in the water. Thank you for returning it to me.” She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out some money. “Please, let me pay you.”

“It’s all right,” he said, gently pushing the money back to her. “I did a good deed. That’s payment enough.” He tipped his hat, got back in his cab, and drove back to his flat in London proper. He poured himself a stiff drink, then made a call to the police line to have someone look for a missing body near the outskirts of Bray. Then he had his drink and went to sleep, still calm about the whole thing, or as calm as he could be.

But he definitely believed in ghosts now.

[castle-dominion]

5x10 significent others. oh no. the thumbnail has meredith in it.

Love it. Music, shots of ny. Low view of a car. A nice note. Who got into her car? Oh the killer

Yucky. RC: Well, it’s called the kissing disease for a reason. I assume you and Max were – I’m going to stop right there. Fumigated!?

You know what that's actually kind of sweet... How would she take care of alexis if she was not in the house? You know what? maybe shifts. I take the night shift so you can regain your strength for the day shift

Ooh I love kate's coat She's right everyone was looking at her girls. Also castle's coat. Or just castle? *castle looks sad* Oh I thought it was a knife not a pick Lanie says ryan's name almost angry sounding

his hair REALLY IS like mine! It kind of goes in different directions & is longer than it was in the earlier

yeah big money big egos

in NEW YORK??? ain't nobody afford a house like that JE: Screw the house. It’s always been a dream of mine to come home to a woman like that KR: Right. Until, of course, things got serious, which is when you’d dump her and start looking for your next dream woman. Wow gives out his first name. KR: (to ESPOSITO) Hear that? Husband. (whispered) And suspect.

forensic accountant! Interesting!

KB: (she sees CASTLE walk in) Yeah, men are known to do stupid things when it comes to their ex-wives. RC: *starts walking backwards away from her*

Lanie is right but maybe SHE wants to have sex with HIM Maybe y'all should have a three-way. But u'r too insecure. Ooh nice button. It would take a LOT of force to have it cut someone, even tho it seems sharp. also that's a LOT of blood

nice grid lol, too nice ryan looks,, interesting. Esposito looks interesting but I think it's good

Herman: Yeah! She did!

it tells the name of the person above every text message...?

Why not just make a phone call? huh it goes negative before the intro. What the heck.?

She is...... well... Rick you could say "well we actually did talk about it & at first it was ok but then we got to talking & we ARE uncomfy" but she'd probs interrupt him

RC: KB: RC: KB: Well?? Ryan's lips are so pink

yes it IS ms peterman Castle's face when she wrecked it... Also can't she be charged with destruction of property? Which is not hers anymore? Like a cat y'all should arrest her or smth... & the music is INCREDIBLE & his outfit is also great

cut to them both in jail Yeah a little TOO amicable. ((considering she is your publisher & you also got back with her & you always have ex sex with your babymomma)) Rysposito: ?? RC: & changes the subject back to the case KB: *leaves* JE: Spit it out! KR: Tell us! TELL ME YOU SAID NO *whistles going down*

also I just noticed esposito has his badge on his belt not on his neck today *KR whistles while walking away* KB: ??

You know I might quote the transcript there or possibly even clip it

again his hair is SO like mine

I've been thinking about that hotel offer! Overrun with redheads lol Heck yeah! Use this opportinuty to enjoy yourselves while alexis is sick BUT you don't need to care for her bc of other ppl!

Didn't we talk to him earlier?? How did we lose him???

RC: No, wait. Um … he was wearing a ring. Class ring. College ring. New York something. KB: Uh yeah. It was uh … red, with a cathedral imprinted on it. KR: The University of New York. JE: It might be part of his cover identity. RC: *laughs.* University of New York? C’mon. If you were going to pick a cover identity wouldn’t you pick a better school than U… looks at esposito who looks mildly sad … University of New York? JE: *nods like “yeah you’re actually right”* RC: *grimaces at himself.*

Yeah valid, don't go out tonight, it's late

Yeah uh... nothing he had never seen before, she was not going out... but still...

Do adults actually say "big girl"? No rick, this is what women can be like *30yo in a highschool yearbook*

ryan looking pretty af This man chatting abt his food I really really love him kindly go screw yourseles

for months??? I love the word indeed have her killed OR the evidence destroyed

lmao michelle whoey I'm not the victim, I'm just not the bad guy Ew & you're the one who said marriage was sacred...

I like their wall of mugs btw, nice storage

The boys stopping & turning to watch as they hear the call..... (weird how she talks through the phone call out loud, almost like it is for the benefit of those around her, which I mean it is for us & also how would the boys have this convo if she didn't speak like that?) threesome? All their faces XD Why is castle asking esposito if it is as bad as it seems when castle has been the one married twice already? For sure thought rick would say "your'e right it is that bad" *grabs his arm* *Castle looks hurt* Boom. *almost hitting the other det* Def going to quote the transcript

Not real physical notes...

JE: University of new york *smile leaves* RC: *whispered* sorry about that

HOLY CRAP I CAN'T EVEN SPEAK-- I'mma clip that right NOW

Who's bill? I like how the ends of the days are explicit this episode.

castle pacing lol Cough cough She's just playing with him RC: I’m the man that you thought you knew. I’m the man you know. I thought you – I’m that – you think – I know you. I’m him.

Nono you SHOULD say it just in case

Is that a real photo?

Walter, the ex-husband of the woman who was trashing his stuff

Ooh nice nice nice! Esposito went in with beckett earlier, now ryan is in with beckett! This is fun!

Nice shirt Oh! It's yours!

strangers on a train & also that other case y'all worked JE: The woman of my dreams slightly different chin oh bc it IS a different chin Poor esposito he also got called in

coffee cup... Well you can get scars that adjust your fingerprints but they don't change enough

walter was helping YOU,, escape,, fake ur death but why didn't you leave the country or at least the city? Oh that's why

I see why she did what she did but she should not have killed anyone (for real)

move in with her for a bit then just like what I said we want you to go we ALL do XD lol the music they are saying "je t'aime" as in I love you She's realizing that she doesn't know enough about him, what if it turns out rick is an evil agent?

Ooh the music LMAO THEY BROUGHT BACK THE SMORELETT!

Alright I'm making good time. I have to finish this season in like,, today. I'm two whole disks in & I think I've maybe only been watching since yesterday so I can manage to get a disc a day then I have what like five days? but I watch a bit more than one dvd per day so I shouldn't take too long on the last dvd, I should be done in 4 days. Except I have work on thursday & friday. I should try to get it all done by wednesday. monday = 6 eps, tues = 6 eps, wed = 6 eps, that's 18 I only have 5 more so that's 2.5 on thurs & 2.5 on fri, IF it is not due until the end of the week oh crud...

[p-antomime]

just so fine.

— minors don’t interact

— wc: 4,7K

content + warnings: 18+, including: dilf!toji, manhandle, spitting, daddy kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of school girl!reader maybe, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, age gap, a bit of size kink, thigh riding

pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

— note: this is a bit inspired by: Love Without Tragedy by Rihanna. — jjk masterlist.

Red lipstick and a broken heart trying to be concerted by the petals of your conscience and your friends who said that "he didn't deserve you anyway". And honestly, you didn't know where exactly you were getting the strength from to get out of bed that Monday and go take a shower before heading painfully to your first class in the morning.

He used to be the boy you loved with every cell of your body and soul, he stole the best years of your freshman life at the university, and now you were a senior who had neither the animation nor the patience to welcome the incoming freshmen that year. Despite having Kugisaki and Megumi fervently cheering you on while Itadori was too busy still dealing with the problem of sending documents to the college, your heart was still fatally wounded and your dignity no longer existed as your tears had wiped it off the face of the earth during that morning shower and you couldn't help but be tempted to put on makeup good enough to mask your dark circles under your eyes and downcast face.

"Are you coming today?", Nobara asked excitedly on the other end of the line as you were already leaving the house and taking the long way to college.

— Do I have the option of not going?

"No, of course not.", Nobara replied with a slight laugh that was well intended to cheer you up a bit, "We can have a movie night tonight, to cheer you up."

— At whose house? At mine that won't be, it's a mess. — You grumbled.

"At Megumi's or Itadori's, of course. During lunch I'll buy soda and food with Yuuji and you convince Megumi to let us break into his house today.”

— Why do I have to convince Megumi? You came up with the idea.

"Because I'll be busy, simple. And Fushiguro doesn't take me seriously.", and then you sighed heavily, already noticing that you were less than a block away from entering the college grounds.

— Okay, I see what I can do.

Kugisaki told you that she was waiting for you in the classroom, and you replied that you were already there. And then something distinctive caught your attention. It was strangely easy to spot something different in the landscape of the university entrance because usually it was always the same: university students rushing to settle personal matters or to classes they are late for, or also students who came to see what the college was like before the university application period.

But today was different. There was a tall man fully dressed in black and gray leaning against a motorcycle that looked as if it had been taken from an action movie because it was so well equipped and large. He looked relaxed, and yet he still possessed an aura that could kill you with a single punch. Attractive and devilishly dangerous with that leather jacket highlighting his strong arms and broad shoulders. Forcing your eyes a little, you could notice a scar close to one of the corners of his lips.

— What's the matter, little girl? — His deep voice reaches your ears, but your mind whispers to you that he probably wasn't talking to you at the same time that your heart starts to beat out of control and your head turns from side to side trying to check if there is someone behind you. — Yeah, I'm talking to you. — He smiled sideways.

— Uh... hmm... none, sorry. — Your cheeks started to heat up and you wanted to punch yourself in the stomach because usually a simple man couldn't disconcert you like that, and then your eyes fell on his collarbones, well marked by the black shirt he wore under his jacket, and your mouth suddenly felt too dry.

— What exactly are you apologizing for? — The man asked as he placed one of the helmets on the motorcycle seat, if there were two helmets maybe he brought some college girl? — For eating me with your eyes or staring at me? — And then you choked on your saliva and coughed desperately for air trying not to drop the folders in your hands and he seemed amused by your reaction.

— I-I... — Your fingers squeezed the folders and you had to look away to think straight. — I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn't mean to.

— I am not, it's great to be lusted after by younger girls. — He replied, but before he had a chance to continue his onslaught someone approached from the diagonal.

— Dad! — And then you choked again seeing that the one who was referring to the man in front of you as "dad" was Megumi. — Oh, Y/N? — He looked confused looking from you to his own father. — Anyway, they didn't have what you wanted at the pharmacy, next time you'll buy it yourself. — The young Fushiguro spoke to the older man, but seconds later, noticing the mortifying silence that settled over the place as you stared at his father, he spoke up: — And we are almost late already, let’s go, Y/N. — Megumi took one of your arms and started to guide you away from the motorcycle and closer to the interior of the college.

— You never told me you were interested in girls. — His father shouted more to embarrass his son than you, but the effect was the opposite, since you were the one with the burning cheeks.

— Shut up, Toji. — Megumi shouted back as he continued walking. — Did he say shit to you? — He asked you when the two of you were already walking down the halls to your classroom for the first class of the morning.

— Not really, no. He seems... fine. — You tried to talk as if you didn't have dirty thoughts running through your mind especially after remembering the older man's collarbones and scar, and still Megumi gave you an accusing look.

— Don't try to fuck my father, that's disgusting. - Your eyes widened.

— I wasn't thinking that, you idiot. — And then Megumi let out a loud laugh.

— I know, I was just trying to amuse you. — He shrugged and left you standing in front of the door. — See you at lunch?

— Yes, of course. — You answered, and then suddenly remembered Nobara's request on the phone earlier. Your hand held one of his arms so that he wouldn't walk away without listening to you. — Megumi, can we have a movie night at your place tonight? Nobara came up with the idea of doing this to cheer me up a bit. — He seemed to become suddenly tense.

— I'll have to at least let Toji know that there will be people coming home today. — Megumi answered vaguely and shrugged. — I'll send a message to Kugisaki and let her know if it's on or off.

Nodding your head positively, you gave your friend a slight smile, and then for the rest of the day your mind concentrated on paying attention to your classes, your scheduled seminars and the pile of work you still had to do. There was no time for your heart to pound with grief over the loss of your now ex-boyfriend, but there were several minutes when you had to chase away persistent thoughts of Megumi's dad. But looking at him wasn't enough, your hands wanted to explore his body and leave marks everywhere, that's what you thought until you felt ashamed, pushed the thoughts away for a few brief minutes and then thought about it again. In a vicious loop.

When you were having lunch with Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki, your head tried to focus on their conversation as much as possible, but looking at the man with black hair and beautiful eyelashes reminded you of Toji and your hands started to break into a cold sweat. It had been a frustrating, tiring day, but secretly you were a little excited to see your friend's father again.

— Don't take too long, okay? — Nobara spoke after dropping you off and leaning against the hallway wall, and you nodded positively before going to your room to pack a backpack with some pajamas and an outfit in case you and the other two friends ended up falling asleep while you were at Megumi's house.

It didn't take long before you two were ringing the doorbell of the Fushiguro’s house and from the loud sound from inside the house you both could tell Yuuji had already arrived. Suddenly, Y/N felt nervous not knowing who would answer the door. Would it be Toji? "Damn", you thought as you saw exactly him calmly opening the door. This time he wasn't wearing very dark clothes, it was just gray sweatpants and a white v-neck shirt that still highlighted his beautiful collarbones.

— Is that them? — Itadori shouted from another room in the house.

— Yes. — Megumi, who was looking at the two girls standing in the doorway over Toji's shoulder, answered. — You may come in.

Toji moved to the side letting you two into the house and, using the personal excuse of being embarrassed, Y/N walked in with her head down. And partly, in fact, it was true that you were embarrassed, but your mind knew that your eyes wanted to take a good look at the older Fushiguro's thighs and cock. It was impossible not to look at those parts of his body, especially with that kind of pants.

But then Toji gave himself the right to go up the stairs to the upper floor of the house and out of your field of vision when Megumi asked you and Nobara which movie you wanted to watch and she answered that a drama movie. And then the four of you started to watch the movie comfortably, until you started to feel the straps of your own bra start to press painfully against the skin of your shoulders.

— Can I go to the bathroom? — Y/N asked Megumi, who pointed to the steps of the staircase diagonally across from the sofa.

— First door on the left. — You nodded and walked up the stairs carrying your backpack, intending to get rid of your bra and also put on the comfortable pajama top that had been brought.

From the hallway you could hear the low sound of another TV escaping through the gap in a tall door. It was probably Toji's room, such a thought raced through your mind, and you shrugged as you entered the bathroom, leaned against the door, and began to remove your bra and change into your shirt. It was inevitable to sigh in relief as you felt your shoulders less tense and sore and your hands groped your breasts just for the personal pleasure of feeling them free now.

— Hmm, may I come in? — A muffled voice was heard behind the door and instinctively you quickly removed your hands from your breasts.

— Just a minute. — Y/N answered, shoving the previously worn blouse into her backpack and almost running toward the door, slowly opening it.

You looked forward and found yourself facing a bare hard chest as you waited to see a long hallway with four different doors. Toji was now shirtless in front of you and your cheeks burned a little, which got a little worse when your brain short-circuited, your hand rested two fingers against the warm, somewhat soft skin of his chest, and you pulled away slightly so that you could look him in the eye.

— I'm sorry. — Your hand finished opening the door and there was again a sideways smile on Toji's lips

— Are you going to sleep here? — He asked, sliding his gaze over her shoulders, breasts and abdomen freely, without any embarrassment.

— No, actually. I just changed my shirt to be more comfortable.

— Got it. — Toji looked you straight in the eyes again, but yours were already gliding across his face until you found the scar close to his lips.

— How did you get this scar? — You felt the need to prolong the conversation just to get a better record of his face.

— You're pretty curious for someone apparently shy. — He remarked, his eyes sparkling with a gleam that you couldn't quite identify what it was. — When I was younger, we could say I wasn't the friendliest person in the whole world, so I got into a few fights. — Toji shrugged, as if this was not relevant information

How old are you? — A mischievous smile slowly drew on his lips.

— Old enough to be your dad.

"Then maybe I can call you Daddy", was the first thing you thought, but there wasn't enough courage in you to flirt shamelessly, especially with Megumi or the other two able to eavesdrop from downstairs.

— I think I've been here with you long enough. — Y/N answered, putting the backpack on her back and walking past Toji, but just as her feet were about to start down the steps, the older Fushiguro called her out.

— I think you forgot something, little girl. — You turned back in confusion, and in his hands was your bra. Toji threw the piece of clothing toward you through the air without much force to fall gently onto your palms that had opened toward him. — The next time you forget something like that inside my house, I'll keep it for myself. — You frowned, assuming that he was implying that there was possibly something between you and his son.

— Me and Megumi, we don't... — Your shoulders shook without your mouth finishing the sentence.

— I wasn't talking about him exactly, you're very naive, not that that's a problem for me. — He went into the bathroom and eventually you were alone again.

Feeling more embarrassed than the first time you had seen Toji earlier at the university entrance, you joined your friends again in the middle of the movie and were grateful that none of them had bothered to ask if anything had happened in the bathroom because of your delay. Eventually Nobara fell asleep on your shoulder after eating two pieces of the pizza Megumi had asked his father to buy, and Yuuji began to yawn almost pushing the son of the owner of the house off the couch.

— I knew they would both end up sleeping. — Megumi grumbled, pushing Itadori aside and getting up from the sofa. — There are two guest bedrooms upstairs, you and Nobara can use both of them and Yuuji sleeps with me, or one of you can sleep with me and the other and Itadori in the other bedrooms.

— I think it's better that Yuuji better sleep with you. — Y/N replied looking at Kugisaki, who was starting to fall off her shoulder.

And then Fushiguro woke the almost sleeping Itadori to go upstairs while he carried Nobara up the stairs and you accompanied him carrying both your and your friend's backpack. After tidying Kugisaki up in bed and getting Yuuji changed, Megumi spoke to you before leaving you alone in the guest room:

— If you feel hungry, you can go in the kitchen and get something to eat during the night. And, well, you already know where the bathroom is, and so does my room. If anything happens during the night, you can call me or him. — Megumi pointed to the door of Toji's bedroom, and you nodded positively.

And then you laid lazily on the slightly uncomfortable bed in the room and tried to relax. Almost, almost, sleep caught up with you, but your evil brain began to make you think about the fact that Toji was only a few miserable doors away, and the anxiety began to corrupt you rapidly, like a corrosive acid. But even though you wanted to go knock on his door, you forced yourself to sleep, especially since the day had been exhausting.

The next day, just like the rest of the week, Y/N didn't get to see Megumi's dad, and he didn't make much of a point of talking about his father either, after all, why would his friends be interested in him, right? All the other days of the week, her mind focused more on trying not to think about her ex-boyfriend and also not to think about Toji, just college business.... And then came the next Thursday of the successive week.

And there was Toji Fushiguro, leaning against his big motorcycle, but this time with only one helmet and different clothes. Honestly? You didn't know if you should go talk to him or not, if you should just walk right by or not. But, in the end, your mind tricked you into choosing the second option, and your feet awkwardly made their way to the college with your eyes struggling not to check the man's reactions.

— Can I have your number, little girl? — Toji asked in a tone loud enough for you to hear.

— What? — You looked away, wringing your hands nervously.

— I asked if I could have your number. — One of his hands swung his cell phone toward you.

The first thought that crossed your mind was, "What if someone sees us together and tells Megumi?", but honestly, Megumi probably wouldn't be interested in your sex or love life, even if it was with his father.

— Maybe, if you take me for a motorcycle ride today.

— You're wearing a skirt, are you sure you'd want to do that? — Toji suppressed a playful laugh. — You could have a ride somewhere more comfortable than my motorcycle today.

You narrowed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, realizing that you were entering dangerous territory in a game of seduction that Toji knew and played better than you.

— Will Megumi be at home?

— He has an internship today. — Toji replied, drumming his fingers on his helmet.

— Wait for me after four o'clock then. — You replied and walked back toward the college as you felt his eyes fixed on your ass.

Throughout the day you felt uncomfortably nervous and Nobara even asked you if everything was okay several times at different times. The only answer your mind formulated was a simple positive head movement, because honestly you felt embarrassed to be interested in a friend's dod, even though this father was extremely attractive and did not reject your shy and restrained advances. He was just so nice, fine.

Fine enough to make you press your thighs together to try to relieve the sexual tension as your legs walked towards the Fushiguro house. And when you got there, it didn't take long to see Toji opening the door wearing only black sweatpants. You went inside and closed the door, nervously watching the older man, who sat comfortably on the sofa in the living room and called out to you with his index finger. As you stopped in front of him, one hand patted his lap and the other was placed on your thigh covered by your skirt. Slowly, Y/N took her seat sitting on his covered cock.

— Why do you look so tense, hm? — Toji asked, squeezing your thigh without too much force and you moved slightly against his hip. — Are you a virgin by any chance? — Your cheeks heated up.

— N-No, you just make me nervous. — Y/N replied, shrugging slightly.

— Do I? — He pretended to be surprised as he slid his hand up her skirt and pushed his fingertips against her covered pussy. — Do I make you get your panties wet too? — Toji pressed his hips against hers and her hands rested on his shoulders for a few brief seconds.

— Fuck, yes. — You groaned, taking your fingers to the buttons of your shirt to undo them. — I've been thinking about you more than I should, I've been thinking about everything about you.

— So, why don't you show me how much you've been thinking about me, huh? — Fushiguro pulled her panties aside and stroked her pussy in slow circular motions while he brought his other hand to her face and pulled her closer to his. — Show me how much you want me and cum on my fingers like the dirty slut I know you can be. — His thumb slowly brushed over your lips and you opened them, your mouth filled by long fingers.

You grabbed his wrist close to your intimacy and guided two of his digits into your interior. And, fuck, they filled you so well. Toji's fingers were thicker and longer than yours, so the times he repeatedly curved them inside your cunt, their tips easily brushed and pressed that spot that made you roll your eyes having your body spasm with pleasure. "What a beautiful vision", the man would be thinking as he watched his beautiful college girl choking on his fingers while being fucked by the others.

However, he didn't move his hand against you much, meaning that he let you choose the pace and intensity, until you whimpered against his neck in a silent request for his fingers to move against you:

— Please, Toji, move your fingers. — Y/N said as she pulled away from Toji's digits that were preventing her from speaking and forced her hips against his hand.

— Can't you cum on your own? — He asked squeezing your chin to make you keep your mouth open. — Pathetic. — Toji spat on your tongue and closed your mouth to force you to swallow. — Pathetic slut. — And then he began to finger you in a relentless rhythm.

If Fushiguro wanted to make you cum in his hand, that's exactly what he got, and he even got a great view of your trembling body, your breasts rising and falling rapidly because of your rapid breathing and your head falling back in an intense pleasure you didn't know your body could achieve. While you were still clouded by ecstasy, his fingers snuck up to finish removing your panties and getting rid of your clothes covering your upper body. He wanted you only in your skirt.

— Look at my pet slut with her beautiful cunt leaking. — His fingers spread the folds of your pussy to see you twitching around just at his obscene words. — Just so nice. — Toji pressed the thumb against your sensitive clit and gave you a smirk before he sat you down on one of his thighs, began to move you there and also slowly stimulated your clit.

His body leaned down and his lips latched onto your breasts, sucking and licking them more intensely as your hips moved faster against his thigh. And occasionally Fushiguro would pull up her skirt and slap her ass hard enough to leave several finger marks across her skin; and it was on one of his slaps that a short, gasping, "Daddy" sneaked out from between your lips and hit Toji's mind as a twinge of intense pleasure coursed through his entire body.

— Say that again. — He ordered, grabbing her neck with the hand that had been slapping her ass before.

— Daddy... — Y/N groaned breathlessly as she continued to move her hips against Toji's thigh in a desperate attempt to cum again.

— Keep calling me that, be a good little whore for me. — His other hand continued to stimulate your clit, now at a more intense pace that managed to push you straight into the abyss of a orgasmic pleasure that you so desperately needed.

After that, Fushiguro held you still in place as he continued to press his fingers against your clit. He definitely wanted to bring you close to the level of almost passing out from so much lust running freely through your body, and so your legs instinctively closed around his hand. At the same time that you desperately needed to breathe because you felt like your lungs were burning from your intense panting, every fiber of your body was still clamoring for the stimulation that only Toji could give you at the moment, so it wasn't hard for him to force your legs open again with a sly smile on his lips:

— Come on, my pretty girl, give me everything you've got. — He made scissor-like movements against her walls and her hips automatically forced themselves against Toji's palm, even though her intimacy was already quite sensitive.

— Daddy, please... please, more, daddy... — Y/N sank her face into the curve of Toji's neck trying to stifle her own moans.

— What a great fuck toy you are. — His fingers curved and you gasped, feeling again that same pressure as before against your bottom that indicated that your third orgasm was approaching. — No matter how much I make you cum you keep asking for more.

And the more he moved his fingers frantically against your pussy, the more you felt your thoughts disappear completely and all that was left was only Toji Fushiguro, and his fingers, and the cocky smile he had no matter what the situation was. Those same fingers that made you squirt for the first time against his abdomen in a third, overwhelming orgasm and your cheeks heat up violently, especially after seeing Toji bring them to his lips looking more than just satisfied with his work with you. Fuck, you could fuck him several times, you could pass out from pleasure, and you still wouldn't ask him to stop or slow down with you.

— Think you can handle one more, pretty girl? — He asked, his hands reaching for his pants and underwear.

— Yes, Daddy. — Y/N tried to speak as firmly as possible with her heavy breathing.

Toji put one hand on your waist and the other on your chin and took the opportunity to pull you in for a kiss as he entered you slowly, which made you lose some focus on the kiss and moan against his mouth as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. He didn't let you get too used to the recent intrusion and started thrusting himself against you hard.

After leaving yours, his mouth slid down your neck and shoulders to leave sucking and biting the area before placing the hand that was on your chin on your neck. Eventually yours moans went from simple gasps and sighs to little "Daddy" that made Fushiguro's dick twitch against yours insides several times and grunts escape his lips.

— I will breed you like the desperate little whore that you are. — Toji stroked hard against you while squeezing your neck a little harder. — I bet you're going to love this, aren't you?

— Y-Yes, daddy, breed me, please. — Y/N moved her hips against his while maintaining eye contact with the older man's predatory eyes. — Fill me up completely, until I'm leaking.

Toji squeezed your waist tightly, tilted your body slightly until your hips arched a bit, and started a rhythm of thrusts against you that as a result made your mind go blank and your nails leave scratches on his shoulders. And your fourth orgasm didn't even take long to hit you almost as hard as the third because your whole body had been extremely sensitive for a long time; after fucking that man incessantly you would definitely be addicted to him, to his touch, to his dick, to his lips. Everything about him was addictive.

After making you cum for the fourth time, Fushiguro kept thrusting inside you until his cock forcefully contracted against you and filled you full of cum. By that point you had definitely become just a bunch of holes for him to fuck, and if your body wasn't already so sensitive you might want him to actually fill every possible place in your body with cum. When he withdrew his dick from inside your pussy, Toji pulled your hips up to watch the white liquid escape your entrance and used his fingers to push it into you again.

— Come here. — He patted his chest lightly, and you leaned your sweaty body against his as you lifted your head to look at him. His hands caressed your body and soon you found yourself being carried up the stairs. — I'm going to give you a long shower, and then I'll take you home. — Toji left a gentle kiss against your forehead, and you felt more comfortable than you really should have in his arms.

— Thank you, daddy. — You replied, and he couldn't suppress a satisfied smile.

And maybe from then on you continued to take advantage of the times when Megumi wasn't home or you weren't so busy with college to spend hours together.

[majesticarlette]

Can I request a luka couffaine x reader soulmate au? Either the red string au or the seeing only the color of your soulmate's eyes till you meet them. They meet at either a rehearsal or a show for kitty section and it's really fluffy and cute?

Cyan Macaron

Luka Couffaine x Reader | ONE SHOT 🌷

"(Y/n), are you alright?" You snap back to reality when your mom spoke to you. "Yes mom, I'm okay." You were fantasizing about scenarios on how you'll meet your soulmate someday. You can't help it, almost all of your friends met their soulmates, and you? No luck. "Can you please fetch the macarons I ordered from Sabine after school?" Your mom asked. "Okay, mom, I'll get going." You picked up your things and headed out. "Take care!" Your mom yelled.

You were currently crossing the street, you're pretty early today. No running happening like some of school days. You texted Marinette that you'll drop by at their house for the both of you to walk together to school but she's not replying. 'She must be still sleeping' you started running to buy you some time before school starts because you know for sure you'll be late if you kept walking; knowing Marinette, she'll just get ready once you wake her up.

"Marinette! (Y/n) is here!" Ms. Sabine spoke up while you were waiting for her downstairs. After a few minutes, Marinette came down. "Let's go." "You're still in your pajamas." You giggled. "Oh- I'm sorry! Wait a minute!" She hurried upstairs and came down again after a few more minutes.

"So, have you met your soulmate yet?" You asked her. "No! I haven't yet." She lied. "Aww, I wanna know who's the perfect person for Ms. Clumsy-feet." You joked and the both of you chuckled. Little did you know, Marinette already met her soulmate but she's keeping their relationship from the public for safety. "I hope you'll meet your soulmate soon too." She responded to you and you just smiled at her. "I wonder what your eye color is, Mari." "You're going to find out next time. So, go get your significant other!" She patted your back.

"Hey, guys!" Alya waved her hands. "Hi, Alya." you and Marinette chimed. "I thought the both of you are gonna be late again today." Alya spoke, you noticed Marinette waved at Adrien and he smiled at her. "Hey, still can't get over your crush, huh?" You nudged her and she just rubbed the back of her neck. "I'll see you guys after school." You went to your classroom, Ms. Mendeleiev's class. Just like an another day at school, you did seat works and listened to lectures.

After the last lesson, you stretched your arms and rested your head on your desk. Someone spoke and touched your arm, you quickly looked at the person hoping for something. "Oh, it was just you, Jean. Can I help you?" "Yeah, about Ms. Mendeleiev's lecture earlier, did you write notes?" You handed your notes to him immediately. "Give it to me tomorrow, okay?"

"(Y/n)! Let's go." You spotted Mari and Alya at the doorway. You waved Jean good bye and joined your friends. "Let's go to Juleka's today." Mari invited you. "Why?" "Kitty Section is going to rehearse." "Kitty Section? The one who performed on TV?" you asked. "Yeah!" "You should come and see them, you still haven't seen them up close, right?" You nodded and then you remembered that you have to pick up your mother's macarons from Marinette's bakery. "You guys go ahead." "Hello, you don't know where they live." Alya spoke with her arms akimbo. "Liberty, right?" you checked. "Yeah." "Catch ya later!" You flee the scene and ran towards Marinette's. "(Y/n)!" Alya shouted but you were already far away. They shook their heads and chuckled.

There was quite the line at the bakery even though it's already afternoon. You waited until your turn, "Hi, Ms. Sabine, my mother's macarons, please." She handed you your mother's order and paid her. When you turned around you caught a glance of the person behind you, your eyes widened when you saw his eye color. His eyes has a luminous vivid cyan color. After seeing him you were astonished, you shifted your gaze and you could also see the other customers' eye color 'Wow.' He also looked at you and you could also see he was surprised. You came back to your senses and you were about to leave when he grabbed your arm. "Wait." He motioned at Sabine signaling her that he'll be back soon, Sabine caught on what was going on and smiled at the two of you.

The both of you went outside, he was about to say something but you spoke. "Wow, your eyes... They look like this cyan macaron." You held up a macaron compared them which made him chuckle. "I-I'm sorry, I was just so surprised." You apologized, embarrassed from what you said. "It's okay, you're quite adorable." You could feel your face heating up and you were flustered by his sudden compliment. "I'm Luka, and you?" "I-I'm (Y-Y/n)." You're quite nervous. "Nice to meet you, (Y-Y/n)." The both of you chuckled, you then remembered what you're going to do. "Oh no! I have to go, I'll see you next time." You ran heading home. "Wait! I haven't asked for your number yet..." Luka's tone of voice lowering as he realized you're getting far away.

"Where were you?" Your mom asked. "Come on, mom. I was just minutes later than usual." You placed the box of macarons on the table. You approached your mother's figure and asked her permission to go to Liberty. "Mari and the others invited me to watch a rehearsal of Kitty Section. Can I go?" Your mom faced you with her poker face then crossed her arms. "No." "Mommm." You whined with a giggle, you know your mom's messing with you. "I'm just kidding, of course you can go." "Thank you." You hugged her and went on your way.

While walking, you facepalmed. 'Nice going, (Y/n).' You realized that you just ran away and left your soulmate at the bakery earlier. You didn't even get his number, maybe you'll just meet him again from luck? Bummed out, you continued walking ignoring notifications on your phone. But it still continued ringing and all, you finally checked what it was.

Marinette's been messaging you about where you are, the rehearsal already started. (I'll be there.) you texted and ran. You spotted the lights from the ship and you knew you're at your destination. You ran and entered the ship. Nino patted an available seat for you and you sat on it. The band are wearing their costume, masks and all. Must be for the show. While sitting there the for the entire song, you didn't noticed Luka the whole time but there he was staring at you.

The band finished their song and all of you clapped, you're about to approach Juleka and the others when the person in cyan attire spoke on the mic. "I dedicate this song to... the person who's my soulmate." He looked at you and you noticed those cyan eyes. "Luka?" you uttered a loud. The gang caught on what was happening and chant their own cheers and squeals to the both of you. Luka started singing and playing his acoustic. You never imagined that this is how your soulmate meeting was gonna be, well... You met at a bakery but still didn't expect a song about you.

You were smiling the entire time. "What's my eye color, (Y/n)?" Marinette asked. "Bluebell. They're beautiful." "Yours are beautiful too." she accidentally uttered. "What?!" you whisper-shouted, she laughs nervously. "I'll get back to you later." You squinted your eyes at her. "This is my moment for now." You pretended to be angry and you guys just laughed at yourselves.

Luka finished his song and approached you. He lifted his mask and looked at you, he offered his hand and you took it then stood. He kissed the back of your palm, 'I can die now.' you thought. He kissed your cheek and offered himself for you to embrace him which you gladly accepted, no questions asked. The crowd cheer at the both you.

"You're now a song in my head that I'll never forget."

[donutloverxo]

NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

[bluejayblueskies]

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

.

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

[yourtamaki]

history doesn’t repeat, it rhymes

sakusa x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, elements of depersonalization, non-explicit mentions of sex

dedicated to: @onyxoverride (thank you for beta reading) & @saintdabi

you can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection.

it wasn’t deliberate, the way you turned your back to the full length mirror in your closet every morning when you got dressed, how you usually dodged your reflection coming out of the shower like you did just now. at least, not at first. not until you realized how much better you felt now that you didn’t have to come face to face with a stranger everyday. that was the only word to describe whatever lived in the mirror. a stranger. any recognizable part of you had rotted away long ago. all that remained now was an empty husk with dead eyes and a selfish heart. the same selfish heart that set you on this path in the first place. 

was it worth it? you wanted to ask your past self. was his love worth what you did to yourself?

the very first night you met sakusa set the tone for the rest of your relationship. you’re still not entirely sure why you accepted your roommate, hinata’s, invitation to his team’s party to celebrate their record win streak. it probably had something to do with the puppy dog eyes he threw you. regardless, you went, wearing an outfit you were losing confidence in by the second and leaning against a wall as far from the drunk crowd as you could get. you never liked parties like this. too many people, too loud. but for your best friend, you were willing to grit your teeth and bare it. 

a part of you, larger than you would ever admit, wishes you never looked to your left that day. wishes that you never spotted the curly haired man looking so sullen despite half his face being covered with a mask, that you didn’t notice the way his eyes flickered from his empty red cup to where you knew the kitchen to be, how he wearily eyed the crowd of people that separated him from it. 

“i was about to grab a drink. i can bring something back for you if you’d like?” the first thing you ever said to the love of your life was a lie. you were planning on staying tucked in your corner all night, safe from the dancing drunks who had no concept of personal space until hinata was ready to leave. and yet the words were almost ripped out of you the moment your eyes landed on him, a fierce need to help the man flaring up from nowhere. you could only assume he had separated himself from the party for the same reason you had and it pulled on your heartstrings. no one ever noticed when you needed help so why not extend that courtesy to him instead? he blinked at you as though he had to process your offer before he nodded. 

“yes, please i’d appreciate it.” his voice was different than you expected it to be. slow and calm despite the way his fist clenched and unclenched.  “just water. a closed bottle if you can find it.” 

his brows furrowed for a moment when you held out your hand before letting out a quiet ah and handing you his empty cup. it was endearing how he placed it in your hand, balancing it carefully on your palm. 

“be right back.” you shot him a smile and started to make your way across the floor, getting pushed and jostled the entire way there. you made quick work of tossing the garbage into the overflowing trash bag and dug out two water bottles from behind a rack of beer cans in the fridge. the trip back was no easier and you breathed a sigh of relief when you were once again in your small private bubble with the man. the discomfort you endured, the skin crawling sensation of all those bodies too close to you was worth the way his eyes lit up when he saw you’d returned. 

he accepted the cool bottle with a murmured thanks, pulling his mask down and tucking it under his chin. handsome was your first thought and his name was your second. the two distinct moles on his brow should’ve given it away that you were talking to sakusa kiyoomi. you’d seen enough of hinata’s games, heard enough stories to put a name to the face. he held your stare as you placed him in your mind, taking a sip from the bottle as he did. an urge to say something, anything to keep those eyes on you bubbled up hot and fast and you said the first thing that came to mind. 

“my roommate’s your teammate.” 

“is he? which one?” 

“hinata. shoyo.” you added as though there was another hinata on the msby roster.

“ah. my condolences.” the corner of his lips quirked up when you snorted. “i’ve seen how he leaves a locker room. i don’t want to imagine what his room looks like.” 

“it’s not pretty, that’s for sure.” you said, leaning your shoulder against the wall and taking a moment to regard him. “can i ask why you’re here? shoyo told me you don’t like crowds so a party must be hard on you.” 

“would you believe me if i said contractual obligations?” 

“nope cause i helped shoyo go through his contract and i don’t remember ragers being a part of the deal.” a small burst of pride bloomed in your chest when he laughed, a quick huff from his nose and amused eyes as though he didn’t expect it. 

“you got me.” you waited for him to explain and deflated a bit when he remained silent. that is, until you followed where his eyes had wandered. it was easy to spot hinata from across the party. he sat high above the rest of the crowd on bokuto’s shoulders, leaning back occasionally to test bokuto’s reaction time and giggling every time he was caught at the last moment. meian was trying in vain to pull the ginger down while atsumu seemed to be on facetime with someone recording the whole thing, his loud laughter ringing out clearly over the music. 

“you’re here for them?” you said just as the realization dawned on you. sakusa twitched, so small you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been watching him so closely. 

“spending time with your teammates promotes better gameplay on the court.” 

“i’m sure it does. but wanting to hang out with your friends isn’t a crime.” 

“we are hanging out. i’m here, aren’t i? if they wanted to talk to me, they know where to find me.” the bitterness in his tone wasn’t enough to mask the acceptance behind his words, of being resigned to his fate as the forgotten one. 

“well, i found you.” he looked over at you, something unreadable swimming behind his eyes before they softened.

“yeah. you did. you know, you’ve talked a lot about shoyo but i don’t know anything about you. i don’t even know your name.” he said. heat raced to your cheeks, flustered that he seemed to be paying as much attention to you that you were to him.

“i didn’t even notice, sorry.” you said before offering your name. he repeated it back, once, twice, rolling it around on his tongue and you watched his mouth, mesmerized by how it curled around a word you’ve heard your whole life until it sounded new again. he spoke your name in a soft, hushed whisper and you wondered if his lips would feel just as soft. half-lidded, his gaze flickered downwards like he was wondering the same thing.

the rest of the night was a blur in your mind. all you could recall was that you chatted with sakusa until the others found you and you drove a passed-out hinata home with a new contact saved to your phone.  

the reminiscing left you drained, clutching your phone in your hands, the screen frozen on that same contact as you collapsed into bed and yet you couldn’t stop the rest of the memories from flooding through your mind, the truth you’ve been holding off for too long. you’ve picked at a festering wound that was best left alone. if you didn’t think too hard about it, if you ignored how it grew and ate away at you, it wouldn’t hurt as much. right? but it was too late. you’ve pulled the string and now you’re left to deal with your own unraveling. 

you scrolled through your texts for what feels like a lifetime, the entirety of your relationship flashing by and disappearing in an instant until you could scroll no higher. of course you sent the first text. a formal message that didn’t look anything like how you actually text with one too many exclamation points in your desperation to come across friendly. 

your fingers moved across the screen and when your mind caught up, your thumb was hovering over the button to delete the entire conversation. you never wanted to see evidence of who you used to be ever again. you didn’t want to be reminded of the person you cut and broke and killed until they fit into sakusa’s neat life. but sentimentality stilled your hand, the phone dropping from your limp fingers and crashing to the floor. you didn’t bother reaching for it.

the accursed memories refuse to let you be, another bobbing up to the surface from the murky depths and pulling you under before you could stop it. one that showed what little agency you had in your own life.

it started the way it always did. you noticed him. noticed how tired he was every time you spoke. how you went from going out on dates to always staying in to maybe being lucky enough to say good night over the phone before he crashed for the day. and sure, you were lonely. so starved for him it ached. but that was overshadowed by your worry for him. you would lay awake wondering if he’d remember to eat that day, if he had the energy to clean his apartment and if he didn’t, how much was that adding to his stress? 

so you swung by his place the next morning after he had left for practice, spent the day cleaning, restocked his fridge and were nearly done making dinner when he returned. his exhaustion was truly hammered home when he walked straight past the kitchen on autopilot before doubling back, tilting his head at you in confusion. 

“what are you doing here, darling?” 

“helping out.” you turned back to the stove and busied yourself with mindless stirring, afraid that you’d been too eager and overstepped. “you seemed pretty tired these days so i wanted to do something for you but you’re back earlier than i expected so i can just go if you want to be alone just let me-” 

your rambling was cut off when a force barrelled into you and sakusa hugged you tight from behind, head buried in the crook of your shoulder. all at once, whatever anxiety had been growing fled you and you relaxed into his touch. 

“thank you.” it wasn’t the words that made your heart leap to your throat. it was the sincerity, the slight crack at the end that told you he had more he wanted to say but didn’t know how. 

you fell into a routine of going over to his apartment, looking after things, kissing him when he returned and staying over at night. at first, it was once a week. then over the weekend, then every other day. 

“you should move in.” even though you half expected your relationship to take this next step, it still took you by surprise the casual way sakusa brought it up. you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to move in with him just yet. you built a home with hinata and that apartment meant everything to you, all your happiest memories were made there and oh no sakusa was still waiting for an answer.  

“i should?”

“yeah.” 

and that was the end of it. you were packed and out of hinata’s apartment (because it was his now. his and atsumu’s. not yours, it’ll never be yours again) by the end of the month. most of your things didn’t come with you but that was fine, right? so what if you still felt like a guest in your home even to this day with none of yourself being reflected in the apartment? you got to wake up to see the love of your life every day and that made everything worth it. 

until you started waking up alone.  

extra training, he said. the team drafted new players and he had to get used to their play style, he said. and you believed him, trusted that he’d be home with you if he could. so you took the crushing loneliness and swallowed it down like a bitter pill. you smiled wide when he came home late with only the moon to light your bedroom and let him use your body to rid the stress of the day.

the dead of night was the only time you’d have him all to yourself. you could be greedy for his attention when he was buried inside you. it was easy to pretend you clawed up and down his back because you were caught up in the moment and not because you were desperate to keep him close to you. easy to pretend the tears in your eyes were from pleasure and not from how much you missed his voice. 

and when he was empty and spent, you would stroke his hair until he fell asleep and then, only then, would you whisper all the things you couldn’t tell him during the day. small, meaningless anecdotes that you knew would earn you a wry smile if he was awake to hear them, the one he used when he didn’t want to let on how close he was to laughing. the stolen moments were a salve on your fractured heart but it was never enough to heal it. in the end, when you were once again alone in your too-wide bed, it only served to remind you just how deep the cracks were. 

maybe that’s where you went wrong. you gave away your heart to someone and got nothing in return, nothing to plug up the all-consuming void in your chest. there was nothing left of you. no, that wasn’t quite true. there was nothing good left of you. you gave him your best parts and all you had now was pure resentment that burned hot and fierce in your core, so acidic it ate everything in its path. it burned away the dredges of your soul until all you could do was allow it to climb up and scorch your throat in a silent scream. 

another memory. it’s strange what your brain chose to latch onto as you spiralled. on the surface, you remember this to be a happier time. but as it overtook you, you’re reminded almost violently that the edges of this memory are stained with the early decay of your identity. 

before the early mornings and late nights, before you got into the habit of staring at your ceiling and wondering how you got to that point, you and sakusa had a tradition. you’d both find something, a story, a movie, that you think the other doesn’t know and share it with them. that day sakusa came to you with the myth of orpheus and eurydice. 

he told you the story of a man so in love with his wife he journeys to the underworld after she dies to find her, how hades tells him he can guide her to the land of the living but orpheus must trust that eurydice is following him. if he turns around, eurydice’s fate is sealed. sakusa explained how in every version of the myth, orpheus turned around at the very end out of an uncontrollable, unfiltered love for his wife. whether it was because he was excited to see the end of the tunnel and wanted to share his joy with her or because he feared she got lost, either one stems from the love he has for her. the love that sent him to find her is the same love that doomed her in the end. but the more sakusa spoke about orpheus, the more you wondered about the other protagonist of the story. 

“why didn’t eurydice try to let orpheus know she was there? she could’ve held his hand or touched his back or something.” you asked. you were laying your head on sakusa’s chest, letting the low rumble wash over you as he read you the tale. the question had been bugging you as the story came to its conclusion though you couldn’t place your finger as to why.

“she was a spirit. she would pass right through him.” 

“yeah but…” you searched for the words to explain your confusion. “she didn’t even try.” 

“it wouldn’t have mattered either way.” 

you opened your mouth to press the issue further, too stubborn to let it go just yet when you heard sakusa sigh out of his nose. it was enough for any question to die on your tongue and all that came out was a quiet, “i guess so.” 

it was a nothing memory. an empty thing to remind you of better times that you’ve had no need to look back on. so why did that moment swirl around your head now, as you crumbled in your lowest moments? scattered pieces start to form together in the recesses of your mind but before you could call them forth to make a full image, the bedroom door swung open and sakusa walked in. 

for once, you don’t slip on your well worn porcelain mask. you don’t school your expression and force it to mold into something that couldn’t quite be called happy. instead, you sat up straight in bed, held his gaze and did nothing to hide the maelstrom of hurt that raged inside you. a sick satisfaction shot through your veins when his steps faltered at the force of your stare. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked. 

what isn’t? you thought but instead said, “nothing. i was just thinking. about us.” 

“oh.” his eyes are already sliding away from you, a quiet detachment in his voice that made you grind your teeth in frustration. 

“remember that greek story you told me about?” 

“mhmm.” 

“tell me again why eurydice didn’t reach out.” there it is again. a short, sharp exhale from his nose. he opened his mouth but you spoke before he could. “humour me.”

“she was dead, darling. she couldn’t touch him, he couldn’t hear her so there was no point.” 

“no point? there was no point in trying to tell orpheus that she was behind him? he climbed into the underworld for her and she couldn’t try?” 

“could you--?” he cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s late. i’m exhausted and really not in the mood so can we go to bed?” 

“doesn’t that sound familiar?” you continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “one person bending heaven and hell for the person they love while the other can’t even meet them halfway. remind you of anything?” 

now you had his full attention. his brows scrunched together and you’re not sure if he’s trying to figure out the meaning behind your words or the reason for your hostile tone. you don’t feel like helping him out either and instead watched the gears turn in his head with something akin to glee. it’s his turn to be paranoid, to overthink, to pick apart every moment of your relationship and dissect it piece by rotted piece. 

“please don’t be vague. if you’re upset with me, tell me.” it was the most emotion you’ve heard from him in so long, you were taken aback for a moment. 

“i’m a bit past ‘upset’, omi.”

“i’m sorry.”

you scoffed. “you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” 

“you’re hurt and it’s my fault. that's enough for me to say sorry.” 

“you don’t understand.” he crossed the room in three large strides, sitting on the edge of the bed to leave space between you. 

“then help me understand.” 

you floundered for the right words to explain the mountain of revelations you’ve uncovered and settled for, “how do i take my coffee, kiyoomi?” 

he took your use of his full name in stride. “black. one sugar.” 

“no that’s how you take your coffee. that’s the only way you ever make coffee. i had to learn to like it.” 

“what, you’re mad i don’t know how you like your coffee?” you know he didn’t mean anything by it, that’s he's always been more blunt that he means to be but it doesn’t stop you from feeling patronized and the hurt loosened your tongue. 

“it’s not about the coffee! it’s not about the fact that eurydice was a ghost. it’s the effort, omi. you haven’t put an ounce of effort into this relationship. i’m the one who has to bend. i’m the one that has to change, it’s never you.” 

“i never asked you to.” the truth of the statement knocked the air out of your lungs. because that's the worst part, isn’t it? you have no one to blame your misery on but yourself. 

“i don’t know how to love you without sacrificing pieces of myself. and i’m empty, kiyoomi, i've given you all of me. and it feels like you’ve given me nothing in return.”  

his head was bowed while he listened but from how tight he laced his fingers together, you know he was fighting to stay calm. “you know i love you, right?”

“do you? do you love me or love that i’m convenient? love that i clean your place and make you food and have a hole you can--” 

“stop.” you didn’t know it was possible for so much heartbreak to be packed into a single word. it sobered you of your venom and in its place, shame came rushing in. 

“i’m sorry. i'm pissed at myself for letting it get this far and i’m taking it out on you. i don’t regret loving you. but it feels like that’s the only thing living inside me. like i’m not even a person anymore.”

“i should’ve noticed. it shouldn’t have taken you snapping for me to realize what was going on.” 

“maybe.” 

silence, suffocating silence, stretched and morphed time until it felt like you’ve aged a decade in a moment. and then sakusa spoke.

“you’ll help a stranger just because they look like they might need it and ask for nothing in return. you’ll make someone food just so you can be sure they ate that day. you’ll tell me about your day while i fall asleep and i don’t think i could sleep without hearing your voice. you’re kind and too selfless for your own good and the best person i’ve ever met. it kills me that i’ve been the cause of your pain.”

it was strange hearing those traits spun in a good light when you’ve thought of them negatively for so long. strange knowing where you saw faults he saw things worth admiring. “you hear me at night?” 

“and you like focusing on minor details. yes, darling. every night.” 

“oh.” 

“i understand if you need… space, if you want to spend some time apart. but give me a chance. please. give me a chance to prove how important you are to me. i’m sorry that i’ve failed you. i’m sorry i've been taking you for granted. but that ends now. never again. 

“and i can help you, too. i can remind you of all the parts you say you’ve lost. i’ll tell you all about the person i fell in love with everyday if you need it. i’d never run out of things to say. please. you found me once, let me return the favour and help you find yourself. if-if you’ll have me.” 

his small speech wasn’t the reason tears stung the back of your eyes. as he finished speaking, sakusa reached out across the space between you and offered you his hand. a lifeline that you took, the lump in your throat to keeping everything you wanted to say stuck inside you. thankfully, you needed no words for sakusa to understand you. he brought your joined fingers to his lips and let out a shaky breath against them. the two of you stayed like that for a small eternity, drifted apart yet holding together with a bridge to link you. you’ve been fueled by resentment and anger for so long, you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to let them go. but you did know that you didn’t want to try without him by your side. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 1) - The Nanny

Summary: The reader interviews for a new live-in nanny position with Jensen and quickly gets the job but she starts to slowly see that her new employer is going to be different than any other she’s had before...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Slow Burn

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Please enjoy the first part of this series! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

If someone had said you’d be celebrating your 30th birthday by accepting an interview to be a live in nanny when you were a kid, you would have told them they were nuts. Beyond nuts. Beyond help for that matter.

But there you were. Thirty. Single. Childless. Taking care of other people’s families and not doing much else with your life. You weren’t sure if your mom would have been on you about the no kids thing or the no boyfriend thing more to be honest.

But the pay was normally good and sometimes great and it gave you a taste of family, even if you were just the help to the adults most of the time.

You buzzed the button by the gate at the end of the driveway, a brief moment passing before it opened. It was probably on a timer like most of the people you’d worked for before, an alarm system kicking on at some point in the evening that required a buzz in, the code or a car sensor. You drove down the driveway and parked a little behind a black SUV. The house was a little modern, a little grand, a little overwhelming. A fence and lots of trees surrounded the property. The yard appeared large but you could see houses on either side. Private but suburban. 

The cadillac wasn’t a shocker. Most everyone in these neighborhoods had Escalades. You walked past an open garage on the way up, a muscle car and a more modest smaller SUV parked inside. You went up the very short path and stepped up, ringing the doorbell and fixing your shirt. You were in jeans and a plain gray shirt. It was your normal wear for chasing small children around all day and you weren’t a fan of uniforms.

“Hi,” said a very tired, very handsome man as he opened the door. “You must be from Nanny Core.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N from Home Pair,” you said with a smile. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the door. 

“The last girl was from Nanny Core,” he said. He blinked them open and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. Yes, Y/N. You’re the one that’s a consultant, not firmly associated with Home Pair, right?”

“Correct,” you said as he opened the door more and you stepped inside.

“Can I ask what the distinction is?”

“Mostly it has to do with benefits,” you said. “Consultants pay out of pocket for their own or negotiate with their client for those to be covered.”

“Gotcha,” he yawned. You looked ahead and he wiped his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I must seem like an ass.”

“You seem tired is all Mr. Ackles. Not a crime,” you said with a smile. He nodded and he returned it, no fake cheesiness to it. 

“Mind if we do the interview in the kitchen over a cup of coffee?” he asked.

“Wherever you like, sir,” you said. You took off your shoes when you noticed he didn’t wear any inside and he chuckled as you walked back farther into the house.

“Uh, for the record, call me Jensen. None of that sir stuff. They must teach that at nanny school or something huh?” he said, motioning to a table. “I noticed all of you do it.”

“Something like that,” you said. You took a seat and watched him go to a coffee machine, fumbling with it before he spilled some ground coffee on the counter. He shut his eyes and gripped the counter’s edge, taking a deep breath to himself. “How about I make the coffee and you take a seat, hm?”

“I’m okay,” he said as he opened his eyes. 

“Well making you coffee is probably going to come up in my job quite a bit so consider this part of the interview. It’s alright, really,” you said. He glanced over to you and you smiled. 

“Thank you,” he said. You swapped places with him and got him a cup going, taking a mug off the counter and waiting a beat before liquid started pouring out. “I’m gonna ask you the same question I’ve asked all seven other women I’ve talked to today.”

“Yes?”

“Why should I trust you to watch my children?”

“Honestly?” you asked as he nodded. You smiled and carried the cup over to him, Jensen taking a long sip. “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t. That seems counterproductive.”

“I wouldn’t trust any stranger with my child. Trust is earned, not given. I think the real question is do you believe I’m capable of earning that trust with you and that’s something intrinsically only you know.”

“How so?”

“You meet a lot of different kinds of people with this job. My gut reaction to you is stressed, overwhelmed, sleep-deprived father who doesn’t really want any nanny at all but is forced into this situation. It’s going to be impossible for you to trust any of the seven woman from earlier or me off the bat, Jensen. You should be thinking of who will you come to trust. Who can you count on.”

“This is why my wife should have been the one doing this,” he said, smiling to himself as he drunk down most of the hot liquid.

“We could always re-schedule for when she’s available.”

“Oh, we’d have to wait a very long time for that,” he chuckled. He sat the mug down and glanced down briefly, smiling as he looked up. “She passed away unexpectedly six months ago. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said. He nodded and made a face like he wanted to make a comment. “My mom died kinda unexpectedly. I know it’s...harder.”

“You’re young. How old?”

“Turned thirty today,” you said. He laughed and you heard the life behind it, Jensen shaking his head.

“Well Happy Birthday. I meant with your mother though. If that’s okay with you I mean.”

“It’s fine. I was sixteen,” you said. 

“That...fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So does losing your wife,” you said. 

“Yes it does. I’ve grieved. We all have. The kids are small. They’ll be okay.”

“Is dad okay?” you asked.

“Yes. Ready to start moving on with life again,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re kind. Not in a I’m trying to get this job kind of way. Just kind.”

“Well being cruel doesn’t sound like very much fun,” you said.

“You’re not trying to impress me.”

“The first rule of nannying, Jensen. You think you’re interviewing us when in reality we’re interviewing you too.”

“How am I doing so far?”

“Nice coffee choice,” you said with a smile that he nodded at. “You respect people. You’ll employ me but won’t treat me like I’m second class. You’re checking the boxes so far.”

“What if I don’t check all the boxes?”

“You don’t get to know the luxury of knowing the answer yet, Mr. Ackles,” you said. “Interview isn’t over.”

“You got fucked over by somebody, didn’t you.”

“Also perceptive,” you said. “Like I said, I don’t tolerate being treated unkindly anymore. It’s why I left my last position.”

“I have one more question,” he said. “Would you treat my children like they’re your own?”

“Again, asking the wrong question,” you said. He sat back and crossed his arms, smirking at you.

“What exactly should I be asking?”

“Will you treat my children kindly and with respect but take charge when required?”

“What’s the difference?”

“One is me doing my job and the other is me doing yours.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“Thirty today.”

“Right. Well I think I know where I stand. Do you have anything for me?”

“Can you show me a picture of your kids?” you asked. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “You answered my question.”

“I didn’t show you anything yet.”

“You’d be surprised how many fathers I’ve met don’t carry pictures of their children in their wallets. That one is just a me thing.”

“Your dad do that?” he asked as he tucked it away.

“Maybe,” you said with a shrug. He was polite enough to not go down that route though and this was already getting more personal than you anticipated. “I think I know where I stand as well.”

“I’d like to hire you,” he said.

“Assuming our negotiations go well, I accept,” you said. He held out his hand over the table and you shook it.

“I did come up with what I thought was fair for salary and benefits. Let me go grab the paperwork and hopefully settle on something,” he said. He excused himself and you looked around the house, already trying to familiarize yourself with things. He was more relaxed when he returned with some papers and a notebook, handing you a few sheets. “If I’m missing anything let me know. I-”

“This is my weekly rate?” you asked when you saw the number at the top of the page.

“Oh no. That’s your daily,” he said as he took a seat. “So I think that’s-”

“Jensen,” you said, pushing the paper back. “I have to ask, things like insurance, are those coming out of your pocket or mine?”

“I’ll cover the expenses of your health, dental, all of that. You just choose and I’ll subsize it as part of your paycheck,” he said. 

“This is for a live in position. Um...can you just...explain what makes up that daily rate number?” you asked.

“It’s simply your base pay. Obviously I pay for housing, utilities, gas obviously. I will get you a credit card to make purchases with for the kids and all of that so it’s simple to keep track of. You’re free to any of the food in the kitchen. I’m guessing the salary is the sticking point here.”

“Jensen,” you said as you scratched your head. 

“I can go up fifty more dollars a day.”

“Jensen. This is way, way too much money. Way too much,” you said. “The average rate around here is about twenty five an hour or two hundred a day. Jensen this is double that. Are you factoring in like time and a half for additional nights and weekends?”

“No. That’d be on top of that. I thought that was a fair value based on the fact you are going to be taking care of the most valuable things in my life. It’s gonna get taxed too so it’s not like you see all of it.”

“You’re sweet, Jensen,” you said, writing down a number at the top of the page. “The average in Austin is twenty five an hour. I would be very happy with that.”

“You have to literally be the first person in existence to negotiate their salary down from the offer,” he said.

“Are you rejecting my offer?” you asked. He took the paper and crossed your number out, jotting down his own and spinning it back. “Jensen.”

“Y/N,” he said, crossing his arms. “I came down. Now it’s your turn. Do you accept?”

You knew thirty five was still way overpriced for the job, especially considering everything else he was paying for.

“I will accept on the condition that you get four hours of what we’d call evening or weekend at the normal rate ever week.”

“I can agree to that,” he said with a smile, writing that down. “So medical plan. Single, plus one, family?”

“Single for all that,” you said. 

“I should mention that there is an in-law suite off to the other side of the garage where you’ll be staying. It’s just down the hall but it has its own small living area and kitchenette. There is a separate entrance to it. If you have guests over I just ask you keep them to your area of the house,” he said.

“Absolutely. I don’t tend to bring people over much anyways while I’m on the job,” you said. He let you read over the rest of the benefits, a good amount of sick and vacation time too. Technically you were free evenings and weekends but he could ask you to work longer if he needed you and you were available. Overall everything seemed in order. “Alright. Everything looks good to me.”

“Awesome. Are you available to start Monday?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. “It gives me plenty of time to move in things tomorrow so I can jump into the kids routine first thing Monday.”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll show you around. We can start with your side of the house.” You got up and followed him over to near the front door and down a long hallway, past a set of doors. There was a frosted glass one to your left just before he pushed open a wide white one.

Behind it was a living area and kitchen. Not huge, about the size of a small apartment. There was a TV and sectional, a table tucked against the wall and a kitchenette like he’d mentioned with full size appliances. 

“Like I said, I know it’s small. Please like, seriously watch TV out in the family room at night if you want or hang out wherever or the yard or pool. This is just your own space when you want to be away from us.” You hummed and he showed you a closet and then a bedroom and bathroom. It was simple but decorated nicely and looked relaxing. “If there’s something obvious I’m missing please let me know. A cleaning service does come by every two weeks on Tuesdays at around ten in the morning. They’ll do in here too. Otherwise you can keep after yourself. Cleaning stuff is in the laundry room. Oh yeah. Um, this is probably the last time I’ll like, ever come in here unless you need help moving things in since this will be your space.”

“Thanks. I don’t have too much. I do have one request before we sign all the paperwork.”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to meet the kids if that’s alright. There’s not much point in hiring me if they hate me.”

“Fair point. We’ll get ‘em over here and then get you all squared away.”

Monday Morning

“Good morning,” you said, a cup of coffee in your hand already as Jensen yawned. 

“Morning,” he mumbled. His hair was a mess and he was in only a pair of boxer briefs before he paused and looked down. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” you said as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” he said, graciously taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” you said with a smile. “Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” he said. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” you said. You snuck a look at your schedule you’d printed out again, knowing the twins would get need to get picked up around noon. You started to work on their lunches and snacks for the day while he took out the carton of eggs from the fridge. He cracked one into a pan and turned the heat on, yawning again as he got out some bread and threw it on a plate. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” he said.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” you said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” he chuckled. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” you said.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” he asked as he got out a spatula.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

“So when do you take a break?” he asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can,” you said.

“No, no. Just…” he trailed off. “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” you said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too,”

“Yeah,” he said, taking his fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. He made a sandwich and took a big bite, looking out the back window. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” you hummed, dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” he asked with a soft smile.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” you said, Jensen cocking his head. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” he chuckled. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” you said. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” he said, smiling again. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” you said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” he said.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.”

“Y/N.”

“...I like red velvet,” you said. He smiled and chuckled. 

“That was my wife’s favorite,” he said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” you said as he took another bite.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” you said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” he said as you nodded. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” you said with a smile. 

“Misery loves company,” he said as you both heard a few feet above you running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” you asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

Later That Evening

“Y/N?” said Jensen, knocking on the door to your room. You got up from the couch and answered it, Jensen standing there with a smile. “The kids and I were wondering if you’d like your birthday cake for dessert.”

“You actually got me a cake?”

“I did indeed,” he said. You followed him down the hall and back into the living space, Arrow running up to you.

“Y/N! Are you sleeping over?” she asked as she gave you a hug.

“I live just down the hall now, cutie,” you said.

“Daddy, can we have ice cream too?” asked Zeppelin as he climbed up into his chair at the table.

“Sure thing bud. Girls, would you like some too?” he asked. Both the little ones said yes as he looked back at you.

“I really shouldn’t,” you said.

“We eat ice cream in this house,” he said.

“You don’t have to twist my arm over it,” you said. He got out the container and set it down on the table by the cake, lighting the match on the candle on top. “Oh please don’t-”

He started to sing though and the kids joined in, Jensen having a really good voice actually. You blew out the candle when they were through and he dished up some dessert for everyone.

“Y/N, can you read me a bedtime story later?” asked Zeppelin and you glanced at his father, Jensen making a face.

“Well Y/N’s not at work right now so she doesn’t have to unless she wants to,” said Jensen. “We’re already cutting into her-”

“I would love to, Zepp,” you said, his little face lighting up. “Maybe you guys want to join us?”

“JJ’s a little big to get read to at night I’ve been told,” said Jensen.

“Am not,” she said. “I can get a story too, right?”

“Of course,” you said. You took a bite of the cake and hummed. “This is really good.”

“I bought it myself,” said Jensen. 

“Well you have good taste,” you said. “In fact, I’m gonna have another slice.”

“Good,” he said as Zeppelin grabbed the ice cream container. “Alright, alright. You can have a bit more, bud.”

“Night, JJ,” you said, getting a hug from her as you put her back to bed an hour later. JJ smiled from her bed and you flicked off the light, pulling the door shut after you turned on her night light.

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” said Jensen as you headed downstairs with him.

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” you said. You helped him pick up the plates at the table and wash them off, Jensen grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a tall cabinet as you covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” he asked.

“A small one,” you said. He poured a single into a whiskey glass and slid it over to you, smirking when you took a sip. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” he said, drinking from his own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?”

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” you said.

“Your mom ever...try again with someone else?”

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” he chuckled.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” you said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.”

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” you said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all,” he said.

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” he said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” he chuckled.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.”

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” you said.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” he asked. 

“I do find them more...attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “No offense to your friend but...I mean if he’s 42...I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old...I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about,” he said.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.”

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said as you slid off your seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

________

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[whosjunglejim4322]

Dom!mark lee w breeding kink for @nakamotocore I am v excited this is nasty aha devil emoji, est. relationship, uhm spitting, hand/finger kink, overindulgence of the word baby, fingering, creampie, bathroom sex, fucking in front of a mirror, mark has a nasty mouth, he's a sweetie who is acc very in love w u, toothrotting fluff at the end

It really wasn't your fault. You are pro comfort above all else, in fact, it's even advised by certified healthcare professionals, to not wear underwear occasionally - who are you to risk not giving yourself the care you need and or deserve?

Sure, maybe you should've worn something a bit less conspicuous than a dress, but it's not like you aren't careful. Of course you are! Especially since you and Mark are visiting Jaehyun and Johnny at their new home payed by Jae's onlyfans money - but silly you, had still accidentally managed to expose yourself - luckily, with only your boyfriend there to see.

You'd been rummaging in J number one and two's fridge, eager to find something behind the rows of beer that stacked the shelves, organized neatly as if they'd actually taken their time on making at least twenty five cans of bud light look presentable.

Mark had followed, having promised to bring a couple of the beverages back to the living room, just as you spotted the non alcoholic juice cocktail nestled all the way in the back of the bottom row - your fingers suddenly prickling with newfound determination.

"You're really.....fuck," Mark groaned from somewhere behind you and all at once the breeze against your bare center had you shivering. You've been caught. "come here."

It was a silent, steady command that rang with regained composure and as you stood up straight, Marks hands gripped your hips with ferocity, spinning you around to face him.

If the flaring of his nostrils and the glossy, lost glare in his doe eyes were anything to go by, you'd ticked something inside of him that began raging like a bull behind his ribcage; dick swelling in his sweats at a rapid rate, while he pulled you closer to his body by the swell of your ass.

Your gasp was a puff against his cheek, pupils blown wide when you felt the warmth of his palm against your sex from behind, the prod of his middle finger. You could still hear Jaehyun and Johnny in the living room just around the corner, furthering the mixture of thrill and embarrassment.

"You did this on purpose, huh?" He growled it against your ear, the vibration trilling down your spine and flooding your pelvis with heat. Within the second you were being tugged along, out of the kitchen and through the hall that led to an intersection of doors; the one straight ahead being the bathroom, the others bedrooms.

You had to grip onto the back of his shirt to keep up with him, despite the fact that your wrist was firmly entrapped by his slim fingers. You entered the middle door and that's what led to your current situation; your ass perched on his friends' bathroom counter with your dress being hiked up around your thighs.

"M-Markie, right now? W-what if they come looking for - ohhhh, for us?" You sputter as the pad of his middle and forefinger rub your clit in circles, his bottom lip caught between his two front teeth. He chuckles darkly, in a way that makes you leak, and suddenly you're far too worked up to think straight anymore.

"Don't Markie me, you really came here in this pretty little dress," he tugs the ensemble up higher, until it's resting around your hips and your naked center is in full view. "with your pussy right underneath, completely bare."

He kisses you sloppily, as if he's as drunk on the adrenaline as you are, but with clear purpose. You grind against his fingers and then he's pulling away, grin lopsided and fever inducing, the way it always is when he's in these moods.

"That's not-" he cuts you off, slowing his circles and your clit throbs in protest.

"What? Not fair?" He scoffs, pulling you closer by the back of your knees, nestling his narrow hips in between your parted thighs while his mouth presses soft kisses to your cheek, down your jaw.

"You know what's really not fair, baby?" Your wetness is loud even as he glides his digits through the silk of your folds, using the lightest of touches to trace the ring of your slit.

"You knew I'd notice, eventually," his tongue flicks across your throat, over to your carotid artery until he's kissing the patch of skin just under your ear. "and you wanted my dick to get hard in front of my friends - fuck - wanted me to have to drag you to the bathroom and rub your little pussy just like this - you were staring at my hands all day, hmm?"

You're already trembling in his hold, and you have to fight back the near irrepressible urge to whimper when he slides those fingers into your sopping heat - your walls sucking him in greedily, contracting around the digits.

"Fuuuck baby, so fucking wet." he groans, curling his fingers when he feels you squeezing around them. You blame it on him- it's hard not to notice the bulge that has formed underneath his shorts, and your neediness grows with each sound that passes his pretty lips.

Of course, this is Mark, though. He feeds off of the fact that you're so fucked out so fast, knows that you'll act completely innocent until he fucks the truth about your mischievous plans out of you - even so, you whine just a bit too loudly when your hole feels sudden emptiness.

"Please, Mark," you're begging already, pouting until he brings the soaked digits to your mouth. Without missing a beat you're parting your lips and suckling your juices off of him, his dick twitching the minute he feels the slick of your tongue.

"Is that what you're gonna call me, while you're trying to get your way?" He cups your cheek, pulling his spit soaked fingers from your mouth before wiping them on the inside of your thigh.

"No, no sir I'm sorry," he smiles proudly, cock leaking and desire saturating his senses as you stare up at him through the thick of your lashes, clinging onto the front of his shirt in an effort to pull him closer than what he already is.

This proves to showcase your real desperation and then he's kissing you again, roughly at first but then he's rhythmic while he takes his time suckling your bottom lip, then your top, and alternating between the two.

You're so distracted by the feel of his tongue against the roof of your mouth, that you don't even realize he's shoved his shorts down, until the bulbous tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit.

"Fuck me, please Mar-sir? Want you s-so bad." You mewl, gasping when you're suddenly pulled off of the counter by your waist, turned around and met with your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror. You bend yourself over with no hesitation, eyes drawn forward and belly tightening with arousal from the sight before you; from the way Mark's entire expression has darkened, gaze low and focused on the glistening between your legs.

"Yeah? Wanna be fucked full of my cum, hmm baby?" He's fucked out, hazy from the ache in the pit of his belly, in his chest. He's gripping the thick shaft of his length, rubbing the plum hued head up an down your slit as if it's his tongue lapping at your pussy instead.

"Mm, yes, yes please stuff me full, sir."

You push back against him and he chuckles at the way you're trembling, though he honestly doesn't think he can last much longer to tease you about it, balls tightening with the urge to release. Plus, how could he say no to you?

It always takes him by surprise, every single time he pushes himself into you. It's a further reminder that you're his, made for him in every way and it makes his desire even headier.

He bottoms out and you're gripping onto the edge of the sink for dear life, eyes holding themselves open just so you can watch Marks soft features contort into that of someone else completely. His dark eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, petal lips parted.

He drags his length out of you and you're the only thing he sees as he thrusts himself back into the warmth of your sex, his hands snug around your hips as a form of leverage for the pace he sets; hard and precise.

Johnny and Jaehyun are long but forgotten now, in fact when you're with Mark, it seems as though everything else disappears completely. That's not an understatement, especially not when he's able to fuck you like this, pretty groans leaving his throat, his manhood buried deep inside of you.

You're a whimpering mess and he doesn't have the heart to tell you to quiet down, you're too beautiful like this and you're - "So fuckin' wet for me baby, shit."

You're completely coating his cock in your milky essence, it's smearing the front of his thighs and dripping down his balls. You feel the warmth of mouth against the side of your cheek and realize he's lent over, arms wrapped fiercely around your middle as he rolls his agile hips into you from behind.

"M-Maaark, mmmph." You feel so full, too full and you're not sure what to do with yourself - bouncing back on his length, the back of your thighs meeting the front of his.

"You like being fucked like this baby?" He uses one arm to reach down in between your thighs where the two of you are connected, rubbing circles over your bud as he did earlier. "You want me to have you leaking between your legs with my cum?"

He's filthy, and each word that is spoken through a growl has your belly filling with an unbearable pressure, body lurching with each sharp, sloppy thrust of his hips.

"Y-Yes Markie, make a mess o-oohhhh, out of me."

You've forgotten about the formalities but he's okay with it, in fact the nickname sounds so pretty coming from you, that it makes the drive to fill you with his seed that much more powerful.

"Gonna - fuck, gonna put a baby in you, mmm," he curls his hips and hits a spot inside of you that has your body involuntarily jerking, legs wobbly. "gonna make sure everyone knows who got you all big and swollen."

Even the thought has you barely holding it together, his possessiveness stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you that seem to be building by the second. He stands uo to his full stature and returns to his previous position in an effort to hold you up, sensing that his mouth has you worked up beyond belief.

"You like that baby? Can feel you squeezing around me."

It's sadistic, really. Your eyes aren't even all the way open, the balloon of pressure in your belly swelling and swelling, spreading licks of fire through your nerve endings, causing you to drip onto the bathroom floor with each drag of his cock from your heat.

"Ple-ease don't s-stop, oh fuck, Mark please." You're not making any sense but he understands perfectly, as he always has and always will. Hes not fairing much better, if he's honest, and so he's truly grateful that you're so close to falling apart as he knows he won't be long either.

"Awe, look at you," his voice isn't steady but it's still strong, teasing in its lilt. "you're gonna cum all over my dick aren't you? That's what you wanted all along, couldn't even wait."

You mewl as a reply and he twitches, the end dangerously close with each stroke. He's never felt someone so soft, so warm and wet for him and only him and now you're panting his name, over and iver again as if it's the only word you've ever known.

"Markmarkmark, oh fuck, I'm c-cumming."

A hand clamps over your mouth while you drown in the liquid heat that pulsates through you in rigorous, violent waves; tears brimming in your eyes and knees practically giving out.

Mark manages to keep you steady, to fuck you through your orgasm while your muffled cries seep into his skin like they're made of medicine; and in reality it's probably only seconds after, with you throbbing around his cock, that he feels his orgasm rip through him as viciously as yours rips through you.

You know the signs enough by now to sense it in his body, and despite the fact that you're still loopy, you manage to pull your eyes open just enough to watch him lose it - his body bowing and chest pressing against your front as he pumps himself into you with sloppy thrusts.

His bottom lip almost bleeds with how hard his teeth dig into it, tremors wracking through him while the warmth of his cum fills you from the inside out, and it has an aftershock of orgasmic pleasure moving through the marrow of your bones.

It's not even a moment later when you feel the softness of his kisses against any expanse of skin he can reach, soft smooch sounds accompanied by the flurry of gentle pecks. You feel like you're floating, despite still not being able to move properly.

"My baby, my darling," he sings against your skin and you giggle at the giddiness that radiates from the doe eyed boy, your Mark. He pulls himself out of you and you try not to whine, but ultimately fail, too used to the feeling of him inside of you. "don't pout, gotta clean you up."

Your eyes are closed and the sound of running water pulls you from your momentary reverie, even more so as you feel the warmth of a cloth against your sensitive center; a flush of heat leaving you dangling in the realization of what you two have just done in Johnny and Jaehyun's bathroom.

"Oh fuck." You attempt to bury your face in your arms but Mark stops you, chuckling as if he hasn't got a care in the world while he adjusts your dress to drape over your hips again, pulling you into his chest.

"Shh, it's okay it's okay. We made the place more...more homey - you know?" He teases with a warm chuckle that threatens to tear any worries from your mind, and you bury your face against the crook of his neck, smiling.

"I swear to fuck if they used even one of my brand new wash cloths I'm never inviting them over again." Jaehyun seethes.

[darling-i-read-it]

Ghost

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, death, execution, blugering heads in, smut (not to detailed)

Author’s Note: I really ended up liking this one! I hope you enjoy it as well love. I too would simply haunt the hell out of this village.

Requested: by anon, hiii!!! could u possibly do a 2 part karl heisenberg x fem!reader where Y/N used to be the young bride to be yet soon had made the rounds of having an illicit affair with the older and sarcastic bastard that was heisenberg. after being caught, she was executed and now haunts the village and heisenberg is the only one that manages to truly see her when she's haunting and there could be an explicit part but yea! thanks

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Many Years Before 2021

You didn’t really want to get married. You had been raised to believe that it was something you did so that you could live and if you didn’t you would be poor and die soon. It wasn’t the best philosophy but hey, it was what you had.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, touching your collarbones lightly as your gaze followed the dress.

“You look wonderful,” Celeste, your best friend whispered. She had been married a couple of years before you. She didn’t enjoy it. She didn’t like her husband. You imagined you wouldn’t like yours. You had met the groom to be a couple of times and he was decent enough to be a husband but you didn’t love him, that was for sure. There were so few options in the village.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked, brushing your dress down.

“No, no. You look amazing.”

You nodded a bit and had to look away from yourself. You couldn’t see yourself as a bride. You didn’t want to be a bride. Well maybe one day. But not to him.

David walked into the room and looked at you. He didn’t have a reaction. He just smiled a bit, kind of annoyingly, and moved to grab a book from behind you.

“Doesn’t she look amazing David?” Celeste asked, gesturing to you. You felt kind of awkward standing there as he looked you up and down. You didn’t know what to do with your hands.

“She looks nice,” he said. You deflated a little bit but tried not to show it on your face. Celeste made it very obvious though that that was not what you tell your future wife to be. “I’ll be back for dinner at 5.” He turned and left.

You sat down on the bed, putting your head in your hands.

“I need to go for a walk,” you muttered. “Get me out of this dress Celeste.” ====

You had to make dinner but for the moment you were ignoring your responsibilities. The village, though small, still always had something new to find. You walked on the outskirts, ignoring the people as they went past and just looking around.

You walked past the castle, trying not to look up at it. For some reason you were convinced that someone would come and snatch you away if you looked too hard. You walked past it and ended up at the outer edges of town, on one of the trails.

It started to rain and you hadn’t brought a jacket. Yet you didn’t turn back. You stayed on the path that you were on, never having gone this far before. Maybe part of you was hoping it would lead you out of town completely.

“What are you doing all the way out here kitten?” A voice spoke, making you jump. You looked around, searching for the alluring playful male voice. From behind a tree a man emerged. He was wearing a long coat and hat, his hair stringy. He took off the glasses he was wearing to see you better.

“Who are you? I don’t recognize you,” you said, not sure what else to say at first. You knew everyone in town. Everyone knew everyone.

He put his hand out.

“Karl Heisenberg. Who are you? A local yeah?”

“Yes.” You shook his hand. “Y/N.” He let go of your hand and his touch trailed up to your ear, where he felt the pearl earrings you had tried on for the wedding earlier. He looked down at the ring on your finger.

“Where's your husband?” he questioned.

“I don’t have a husband,” you said, much too harshly. You shook your head a bit. “Not yet anyway.” He nodded, leaning against the tree he had just emerged from.

“It’s dangerous out here, don’t they tell you?”

“Who knows anymore? No one ever leaves,” you said. He nodded, surprised at your candor. “Except you. Or are you not from the village?”

“You have a lot of questions don’t you?” “Can you blame me? You’re the first new person I’ve met in years.” He chuckled a bit and nodded.

“I guess I can understand that.” He gestured to the ring.

“What’s the fiance like?”

“You have a lot of questions about my love life Karl.” You crossed your arms annoyed. Karl nodded a bit again.

“I like you.” The way he said it, drawled out a bit and honestly, made your stomach flutter. You panicked for a second. What was that?

“I don’t like my fiance much. But he has a lot of livestock,” you admitted. “It will help my family.” Your voice sounded ashamed as you said that.

“A girl like you can’t marry for love?”

“There’s no one that I love,” you admitted.

Karl thought about it for a second, looking at you up and down. He had met a couple of people from the village but they were usually too scared of him to stay long, or he killed them for an experiment type thing. But he liked you right off the bat.

“Would you like to see somewhere other than the village?” You thought about it for a moment. He was a strange man who you just met outside of your home. He could hurt you. Or he could help you live your life.

“I would.”

====

Karl took you to his factory. He showed you around, told you a bit about the other Lords but not much. You knew Mother Miranda obviously and he expressed his hatred for her. He was interesting and he made you laugh and feel things.

You snuck away why David went to work and went and saw Karl. He showed you more of his inventions. And he liked to hang out with you. He got lonely, not that he would ever admit it.

You sat with him one afternoon, looking at the village from the factory. It was very very faint but it was there.

“I stole this from my sister,” he said quietly, handing you a lipstick. You took it from him, holding it and twisting it to see the colors.

“For me?”

“No, it’s for me. Yes it’s for you,” he said laughing. You chuckled. You put it on your lips, rubbing it together.

“What do you think?”

“You look great.” He was leaning on the ground, holding himself up with his elbow. You were both looking out a window to nature and the village.

“Thank you very much.” You smiled sheepishly and looked down. Your eyes flashed back to him and he had moved closer to you. You hadn’t even noticed. You leaned down and kissed him.

That.

That was what it was supposed to feel like when you kissed someone.

He sat up, putting his hand on the back of your head and pushing your lips further onto his. You breathed him, you felt him as he put you on his lap.

He liked that the village was in view while he held you to him, as each layer of clothing was shredded. As he felt himself move inside of you, he knew that your fiance was in view no matter how strong. Karl felt your body shake in his hands and knew that he loved you. You loved him, you whispered to him when you were both finished.

He took off your wedding ring with his own fingers. He would make you his own one day, he swore it.

====

“What are you looking at?” Celeste asked. You snapped out of it. Your eyes had wandered in the direction of Karl’s factory, though you couldn’t really see it from there. You looked back at her.

“Lost in thought I suppose.”

“What’s that smile?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“That smile?” You shook your head.

“This is my regular smile, don’t worry about it.” Celeste looked at you for a moment longer, puzzled.

“Are you and David getting along better?” she asked. She glanced down at your bare ring finger. It had been bothering her all day.

“I suppose.”

“Where’s your ring?” The two of you were walking to the market to get some things for the week. You looked down at your finger like you hadn’t noticed it was gone.

“Must have dropped it.”

“You say that like it’s not a big deal!” she whispered, grabbing your arm. “What is going on with you? You’re gone all measures of the afternoon, you lose your ring, you have this dazed look on your face all the time-”

“Nothing is wrong with me Celeste.” You yanked your arm away. “Drop it.” She composed herself, shaking her head.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it. It’s going to get you killed.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

=====

“Look at this one,” Karl said, shoving a fun new invention in your face. You took it from him and laughed a bit.

“What does this one do?” you asked him.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. You laughed, tossing it back to him. Sometimes he just put things together and then found out what they did. It worked for him, that was for sure but someday he was bound to get hurt, you were convinced.

“I have to go back to the village. It’s almost dinner time.” You stood up, brushing your clothes off from the grime of the factory.

“You know you don’t have to go back.”

“Yes I do. Otherwise they’ll think I’ve died.”

“Is that so bad?” he weigned. He grabbed your hand but you didn’t let him hold it. You gestured to the door.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

“Your weddings tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow night. I’ll still see you.” You turned and opened the door. He wanted to call for you to come back but he was too prideful for that. He let you go down the hill with the promise that he would see you tomorrow.

The walk back was as swift as it always was. You were practically bouncing. Your mind wasn’t on your wedding, it seemed so miniscule to you now. When you stepped back into your house the ghost of a smile was still on your face.

At the sight of David at the table, the smile faded very quickly.

“David?”

“Where have you been?” Celeste was standing behind him, her arms crossed, face hard. You looked between the two of them.

“I just went for a walk,” you said but it sounded weak.

“Where have you been?” David asked again.

“You go out up to that factory every single day. You come back...with this,” Celeste said, gesturing to the mark on your neck you hadn't even noticed was there.

“I didn’t give it to you.” David said.

“Hey now,” you said, shaking your head. “I burnt myself, that’s all.”

“Do you know what happens to women who have affairs?” David asked, standing up. He grabbed your arm and held it tightly. “They don’t get married.” He threw your arm down and your eyes went wide.

“No. No no, you can’t....”

====

When you didn’t come back the next day, Karl went down to the village. He just narrowly caught the end of the execution. He didn't even think they did that anymore, let alone to you.

He found your fiance and smashed him with his hammer until David was nothing but dust.

You managed to catch the end of that death.

“Karl! Karl what are you-” You rushed up to him and grabbed his arm, only for it to go straight through him. You gasped, eyes wide. Karl turned around but he was the only one who did.

“Y/N?” He went to grab your cheek and went right through you. He shivered.

“What are you looking at, old man?!” Celeste screamed, kneeling beside David's dead body. Karl turned around and realized quickly that no one else could see you. He wasn’t sure how or why or what had happened but you were dead and he could still see you.

He smashed David's head in once more.

====

2021

“There’s someone in the village,” you said. Karl looked over at you, confused.

“Yeah, there’s always people in the village kitten.” You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed and confused.

“No, everyones been killed or hiding in their houses. There's an outsider out there,” you told him. He took a step to his window and looked down at the village, now torn and broken. You were standing beside him but he hadn’t been able to actually touch you since you had died. You floated around the village, haunting people here and there when they caught a glimpse of you, staying around Karl when he went from place to place. He was the only person to talk to you.

“Ethan Winters?”

“I think so. Granted, I can’t say I’ve ever seen him before. Should you tell Mother Miranda?”

“You’ve known me long enough to know I don’t tell Mother Miranda anything I don’t have to.” You crossed your arm.

“I guess you’re right about that. Want me to go back down and check to see where he is?” you asked. Karl nodded.

“There’s a meeting soon. I imagine it will be about him. Be back soon.”

You nodded and started to go back to the village.

“Don’t go too far,” he called. You waved him away.

“You either.”

[reidgraygubler]

dirty little secret (reid/reader)

Title: dirty little secret

Requested: yes, was a request someone sent to @/imagining-in-the-margins, but I took it off her hands :) (alskdf that was so hot um could you do where the Reader gets spencer a collar and maybe someone accidentally finds it… okay tysm and it’s totally ok if not <3)

Couple: spencer reid/gen-neutral!reader

Category: spicey fluff

Content Warning: D/s dynamic, allusions and mentions to sex, sub!spencer, dom!reader, this does contain some kinda sexual content, no actually nudity or actual sex

Word Count: 1,678

Summary: Reader gets Spencer a super meaningful, and private, gift. All is well… Until a member of the team finds out about it.

A/N: pom posted this in her discord and said if someone had any ideas for this, we could have it. thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{**}

“Wait, wait,” I looked down at Spencer, a smile growing across my lips, “I got you something… I think you’ll want to use it right now,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his. He hummed and followed after me when I pulled away from him. I laughed before pushing him back down on the bed. “Stay there.” I pointed at him.

“What is it,” he asked as he watched me climb out of the bed. I tried to be graceful but failed when the sheet came along with me.

“Well, you see, I was just thinking… And, well,” I stopped speaking and went to a paper bag sitting by my dresser. I could hear the bed shift slightly, alerting me that Spencer had sat up.

“Should I be worried?” He asked, watching as I pulled out a piece of tissue paper. Sitting at the bottom of the bag was a thick black band of leather with an ‘O’ ring right in the middle of it. It was perfect. I think it’d suit Spencer perfectly.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think you should be worried,” I whispered as I held it up to show off what it was. “I figured it was time to get you one,” I explained as he sat up to look at it. A small smile grew across his lips once he realized what exactly it was I held. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? Of course I do!” He reached out to touch the collar. I smiled at him as he carefully took it from my hands. “When were you able to get this?”

“Earlier this week when you stayed late at the office. I told Emily I had to do some errands and well…” My words trailed off as I gestured to the collar he held in his hands. I watched as he looked down at it, his fingers trailed across the leather texture. “I wanted to get you something… And I figured that was the best thing to get,” I whispered as I took it back from him. I stood up from the bed and moved to sit behind him.

“It definitely was the best thing,” Spencer laughed as I put the collar around his neck before fastening it to him.

“How’s that?” I asked in a soft tone. My arms snaked around his body as I rested my head on his shoulder. Spencer hummed as he nodded. “You can breathe just fine?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he whispered and kept nodding. I smiled before moving back around to sit in front of him.

“You’re my good boy, you know that,” I whispered as I lifted my hands to hold his face. The smile that sat on his lips grew as he looked at me. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Spencer replied before moving to press his lips to mine. I hummed happily as I pushed my hands through his hair to hold him closer to me.

{***}{***}{***}

Of course not a week later did we get called out for a case. Whenever there was a case, Spencer and I had to be a little bit sneaky or creative with our… extra-curricular activities. Even if we were dead tired from a full day of work, we still put a little effort into doing something. Although, a scene wouldn’t last too long. We’d get to the point of nudity and then we’d just end up cuddling, which is just as good as the actual sex.

But this… This was not the case. We weren’t on a time crunch for this case. We were allowed to go to the hotel for some rest. Though, rest probably wouldn’t exactly come for me or Spencer...

“You brought it with, correct?” I asked as I kept my voice low as Spencer and I walked side by side down the hall. Spencer glanced at me, an eyebrow raised as if he was saying ‘Yes, ma’am, I did bring it. I’m not an idiot,’. But in turn, I raised my eyebrows. “Good boy,” I cooed before pressing my lips to his cheek.

“I hate you,” he muttered as he pulled the key card out from the paper sleeve.

“Oh, Baby Boy, I don’t think you do.” I smiled as I lifted a hand to ruffle his hair. He glanced at me as he unlocked the door. “I’m going to shower, you get ready for me… Okay,” I whispered once we were both inside.

“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer mumbled before pressing my lips to his. I smiled at him with a knowing glance before stepping into the bathroom.

I should have taken my time to get ready. Instead I rushed. I let my excitement of getting off make me rush. I wondered what things would’ve happened had I taken my time. Damn my excitement...

“I hope you listened to me and you’re all ready,” I spoke as I exited the bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah… Um, about that,” I could hear Spencer’s voice, but what I wished I heard was the moment of regret in his tone. It was too late as I stepped out from behind the door wearing nothing but my underwear. My eyes first went to him, then our apparent guest to our room. “Luke is here…” his eyes dropped to his lap as he spoke. I stared at him for a moment before looking down at what I was wearing.

“Hey.” Luke looked up at my face as he waved. I knew he was trying his hardest to not let his eyes linger on my body. We were all frozen at this very moment. I know I couldn’t move because of how embarrassing this moment was.

“Kinda wish I was dreaming right now… But I know that this wouldn’t be a dream… It’d be a fucking nightmare,” I lifted my finger as I spoke. I could feel my embarrassment mix with anger the longer I stood in the room wearing just my underwear. I bit my lips before taking a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll be right back,” I pointed at Spencer then at Luke. Luke looked over at Spencer, the apparent embarrassment for all of us growing on both their faces. Although the embarrassment Luke showed wasn’t as bad as what Spencer had...

I quickly went back into the bathroom and went for one of the folded robes sitting on the towel rack. When I was covered in something more than my underwear, I stepped back into the room and noticed Spencer wearing a little more than his boxers.

“What do you want, Luke?” I asked, trying to not let my annoyance be known. But it was so incredibly hard. The moment was already ruined. When he stayed silent, I looked over at Spencer with a raised brow before looking at Luke. “Did you need something, or were you justh ere to fuck with Spencer and me? Because you’re free to leave,” I spoke as I gestured towards the door. Luke stood and walked towards me. I silently thanked God that Luke was leaving…

“Right… I’ll see you later, Spencer,” Luke stated as he turned to look at Spencer. His eyes narrowed as he looked over in Spencer’s direction for a moment too long. “Is… Is that a collar?” he asked, pointing at the object sitting on the nightstand. I looked at Spencer, then over at Luke, then, finally, back at Spencer. My eyes were wide and I could feel a blaze grow across my cheeks.

“Uh… I… Uhm…” I pulled my robe tighter around my body as I looked at Luke. I genuinely couldn’t find anything to say at the moment. But, to be fair, I’ve been dreading this exact moment since Spencer and I started doing… this. “It’s mine,” I cringed as I raised an eyebrow. Luke looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, I believe that…” Luke walked up to me. He patted my shoulder a few times before finally actually leaving. “Listen, I know you two were about to… Ya know…” He let his words trail off as he did a set of crude actions. I rolled my eyes as I looked over at him. “But Emily needs us over at the station soon.” His voice was low as he got further away. “But I’ll just let her know you guys are… busy with other-”

“Just go, Luke… Please,” I lifted a hand to rest over my eyes. I let out a deep sigh before turning to look at him.

“Hope you guys have fun,” Luke looked at me with a smile before leaving. I rushed to the door once he was gone and locked the deadbolt and chain lock.

“Moment’s ruined,” I said to the room. Spencer laughed as I walked over to the bed. He stood from the bed before coming up to my side. “It’s gone. Ruined forever,” I said in a dramatic tone.

“It’s not ruined. We can… Try again when we’re allowed to be here for a while. Or, when we’re back home,” he reassured as he lifted a hand to my shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re right… But now all I’ll be able to think about is Luke’s idiot face when I’m fucking you.” I laughed as I looked up at him.

“Oh please, I hope you’d be able to think about me and my-”

“Pretty…”

“Sure, pretty face… Especially when you’re cumming,” he whispered before pressing his lips to mine.

“Of course!” I shouted and stepped away from him. “Even better when I’ll be riding that pretty face of yours,” I hummed before kissing him again. I really, really liked the thought of that. It was something I really needed at the moment, but it wasn’t going to happen at the moment. Emily needed us… So that moment was going to have to wait.

“I agree though. I think next time will be a little awkward… Now that Luke knows what we’re doing,” Spencer anxiously chuckled.

“Maybe next time we’ll just ask him to join us,” I said before leaving his side to get dressed again.

“Wait… Wait… What?”

{***}{***}{***}

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