#I met the first person at least ten years ago

[thekitsunesiren]

hello mind if I drop off a prompt?

Damian let's his family know he is going to hang out with a friend.

a bat bugs Damian to find him hanging out with one Danni Fenton.

adult Danny/Sam/Tucker parenting a 12 year old Danni.

The trio earn Auntie/Uncle/Uncle privileges from Damian.

Oh, this will be fun!

Okay, first things first would be the absolute disbelief from the batfam from Damian's announcement. Because Damian. Damian "Demon Brat" Wayne, had a friend. A friend that they didn't have the knowledge of knowing until just then.

With Damian springing it on them, they didn't have the time to ask any important questions, let alone do a background check on the kid and their family.

From what Damian told them, the kid they were meeting was named Danielle, but she preferred to be called Ellie. She and her parents had moved to Gotham not too long ago. He met her on a pure coincidence. And of course, with how paranoid the Batfam was, that didn't settle well for them. The parents could've sent their child to get close to the Wayne family for the money. Or kidnap Damian!

Tim walked up to Damian and ruffled his hair while teasing the younger Wayne about how he finally made a friend that wasn't an animal. With a scoff and a swat as a way to get rid of the opposing limb, Damian turned and left the manor while slamming the door behind him.

As soon as it closed, Tim raced back to where he left his computer. There was no way he wasn't going to let his little brother go anywhere unknown without at least two trackers on him. And with how the others quickly scrambled behind him to get a look on his computer, the others had the same thought.

------

Damian, however, was excited to visit Dani and her family.

The two had met when he was leaving school and waiting for Alfred to pick him up. And she wasn't that far from him, standing near the road waiting for someone to pick her up as well. At first glance, she looks like she could be someone adopted by father. Black hair tied to a ponytail and shockingly bright blue eyes. Immediately, he saw her as someone that his father would try to adopt just off of appearance alone. With her seeming to be around his age, he could claim that he could have a sibling to interact with more.

Of course, it wasn't long before the stranger took notice of his staring and turned to look him dead on. Her eyes meeting his in a serious stare down where neither of them moved.

When Damian made the move to speak, a car pulled up in front of the girl. The passenger side window rolling down and someone talking to the girl. She responded in turn before opening the passenger side door and getting in. Damian could only stand and watch as the car soon pulled away from the school and drive away into the distance. Not long afterwards, Alfred arrived to pick him up and he rode in silence on the way home while contemplating the other student that he met.

Okay! Here's how I feel like it would go down with their so called meeting out of the way.

Damian would see Dani and would immediately assume that she would be some sort of clone of either his father or one of the other bats. Was she sent to his school to watch and observe him? Did she know who his alter ego was?

After that, he would be watching her every move during class, surprising himself to find out that she was even in a few of his classes. Suspicious.

Does he approach her? No, because that would put too much on him and probably give her the opening she was expecting. He was ten steps ahead of her in every way!

Day after day, he watches and takes note of everything that she does, trying to notice any oddities in her behavior. Or any sign that she was spying on him.

While she didn't seem to be spying on him directly, Damian did notice her personality of being strong willed, stubborn and having a love for puns. Hm, a clone of the Robins maybe instead of Batman?

Dani, on the other hand, is wondering why the young Wayne seemed to be following her from a distance ever since they've seen each other that day on the end of school. From what Danny told her, it was the older Wayne's that she was supposed to avoid in case she was forcefully kidnapped, though it seemed that the younger Wayne was just as bad as the older ones.

How did Dani end up going to Damian's school, you ask? Well, it was simple:

Not long after Danny defeated Pariah Dark and took up the mantel as the next King of the Infinite Realms, Dani had returned from her travels around the world and decided to spend a bit of time with Danny as things calmed down. Maybe even get to know the others a bit better, seeing as she was never properly introduced to them.

She found out that he was dating both Sam and Tucker. Had been for a while now. Huh, go figure. And during that time of dating, she had arrived to catch up and spend a bit more time of all of them. Maybe even try to find a good reason to stay in Amity for a bit longer (even though she really loved to travel).

But not too long after that, a reveal gone wrong left Dani standing in a room with a frantic Sam packing up everything she owned while Jazz treated a barely conscious Danny's wound on his side. A gunshot wound that was from his parents no doubt.

One rushed explanation from Jazz about how the reveal went wrong, and how they had to leave Amity Park. Now.

With a quick meet up with Tucker, the five of them were huddled in a car and pedaling out of Amity as fast as they could. Dani staying in the back seat with Jazz to watch over Danny and make sure that he didn't pass out again on their way to-wherever it was they were going. Her core wouldn't allow it.

The clone didn't know how far they've been driving and for how long, but she knew that they were out of Amity and that was all that mattered. But the question bouncing around her head was: what happens now?

And the answer was to drive all the way called Gotham city and lay low for a while. Thankfully, a lot of the buildings were no questions asked. So when they find a place that could fit all of them (small and cramped as it was) while planning on what to do now. Of course Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all pretty much up and left without much except for some spare clothes and their ghost hunting gear (and a credit card Sam managed to snag from her mom's purse. Her own card didn't have as much on it.). But Danny was out of there and they were safe from both the Fentons and the GIW. For now.

Now, several weeks have passed. Jazz had managed to find a job to help with the money, while Sam and Tucker were both on the way as well. Which left Dani pretty much alone in the apartment with a slowly healing Danny. And while he was healing, he was kept on house arrest, much to his ire. Though he did help out with the cooking and other house chores while the others were out doing their own thing. And if the two of them occasionally floating outside their apartment during the night, who would tell on them?

When about two months passed, the older teens realized that Gotham would be their permanent home until further notice, so it would only be right that they allow Dani some time to get out as well.

So, they enroll her to school! Gotham U no less (Thank you, Tucker). Sure it was a bit stuffy for their tastes (mostly Sam's), but they were sure that Dani would fit in fine! What's the worst that could happen?

Unfortunately, Dani was a clone of Danny, so she was off to a bit of a rough start. And she hadn't really interacted with someone of her (supposed) age before, so it was all plenty new for her. So she really didn't know where to start.

It wasn't until she went to class that she met a kid in the back row facing the window, who looked like he didn't want to be in this class either. And during attendance she learned that his name was Damian Wayne. Odd, wasn't that the name of that rich family that Sam talked (more like complained) about? Oh well, coincidence maybe.

Throughout the entire day, Dani would notice that if they had the same class, he would be looking in her direction for moments at a time.

It was about the last class of the day when Dani pieced together as to why he could be doing that.

Oh..

He was shy!

Well, Dani would make sure that wouldn't last long. And maybe he would approach her soon.

So every day, Dani would work on getting to know him better. Even when he would brush her off and try to make her go away. She was as stubborn as Danny for a reason!

When the two finally became friends and Dani told that her new friend invited her to her house and also offered her parents, she forgot on whether or not that was truly the rich Wayne she was supposed to stay away from.

Dani had spoken about her friend plenty of times, and all of her parents seemed to like him.

Danny laughed every time Dani spoke about doing something or possibly pranking Damian, thinking that she was doing good with socialization and that the kid had to enjoy their friendship to some degree.

Sam was a bit more cautious of the friend, asking more of his likes and dislikes. Was he really bullying Dani? Did he say anything mean to her? Did she have to go to the school and fight a kid? All and all, Dani slowly convinced her that Damian was a good kid and she let it be. Telling Sam that Damian was a vegan may or may not have helped.

Tucker was a bit more lenient than the other two. The kid was nice to her? Didn't bully her? He was smart and knew his way around tech? Good

But as they stood in front of Wayne Mansion dressed in their more casual clothes, they all thought that they should've asked more questions about Dani's friend.

(All in all: neither of them have truly interacted with someone their age, your honor.)

Confrontations, miscommunication, and possibly a lot of bonding could come from both sides, and I would love to see it!

#Kitsune Kounters #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc×dp prompt #danny phantom crossover #dp crossover #this was in my drafts for literal MONTHS

[svgvru]

𝐒 & 𝐌 : sex in the air, i don't care, i love the smell of it!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 𝐓𝐎, 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔. it was no surprise either, well to those who know you. as the former ruler of teyvat, the king who presided over his sovereigns, it was logical that he would take a knee for you. you were his king, the dragon king. and he learned all sorts of things from you and about you when the two of you had first met during the . . . less kind days of fontaine.

things like: the former hydro sovereign, the prophecy, why he was born in a human form, anything relating to dragons, that you were kind, that you were honest, and that you were cruel. at least in his opinion.

now the kind did outweigh the cruel in most instances, however, the bedroom was a bit of a different story. see, neuvillette is such a loyal servant to you. he had been and always will be. and he's also—pliant. the poor hydro dragon could use some advice from a superior, someone older than him. after all, he is—was an over 500 year old virgin. a person with experience is someone he could benefit positively off of! and you were kind. keyword: "were."

your kisses started off sweet, they were gentle and calming. your hand were careful and soft as they roamed and prepped his body. your words were praises that could raise his ego tenfold. now?

"come now, dear . . . " there resting on your face with cruel smile, masquerading as being sweet. his feet carefully and reluctantly pad towards you. your form was sat on the edge of the bed, legs in a manspread. his eyes catch the glimmer of the blue gem on his cane next to you. he stops in between your legs, chewing on the corner of his lip. "don't hurt yourself," you whisper kissing his lips as your hands torturously slowly take off his clothing.

when you haad given him that glance just hours ago, he knew his "verdict" had been decided. oh how the tables had turned, then again, you were always his king, had they changed specifically with you? "across my legs, dearest."

your voice is soft, yet there's a command in it. therefore—he obeys. just as if he was in court, yet the roles were switched. the culprits had to face their sentence, so did he. his naked body is splayed across your legs. his back in an unintentional arch as his bare ass is on display for you. your hands teasingly trace his spine, except they didn't feel like your hands. it was another thing neuvillette hated during movements like these . . . you wore gloves. he couldn't feel your skin, it made him want to cry!

"what's the safeword?" you ask him, cane now in hand—the cold metal of his sends a shiver down his spine when you trace his skin with it. "h-hydro . . . " neuvillette mumbles. a small smile graces your face.

"good. you get ten strokes . . . that's all. now you will count, every. single. stroke. if you mess up, we'll have to restart, and i'll continue until you get it right. and finally, you are not allowed to cum without permission, is that clear?" your voice is unusually soft, yet if he looked back, he would see the lustful and cruel look in your eyes. "yes. crystal clear." he can practically feel your smile in response to his words. your lips press against his temple gently before his own cane suddenly comes in contact with his skin.

"a-AHN! mhn . . . o-one." luckily, you were using the wooden part of his cane. however, that didn't mean it didn't hurt. the soft paleness of his skin is reddened. a chuckle leaves your lips, "imagine how much more fun this would be if you had a vagina . . . "

his eyes widen at that, never had he thought you'd be into that kind of thing. nor did he think those words would leave your lips. the worst part however, was how it turned him on. his neglected cock twitches against your thigh at the words. "oh? is that appealing to you? having a woman's genitals? hm, i wonder . . . how wet would you be after one stroke? soaked? or perhaps you'd try and hold it in, hm?" your series of questions only makes his face burn more.

a smile graces your face as you can hear the pitter patter of the rain drops on the windowsill. your questions were terrible, but he wanted to know. he wondered what it would be like if you were torturing him with a vagina instead of a penis.

"it's raining already, dear. i've barely even started . . . " you tease and chuckle at him. "a-apologies, my king," he stutters, gripping onto the cloth of your pants. "forgiven."

there's a brief moment of silence after that. he wonders if you're enjoying the sight of him, or if you're teasing him. he turns to look at you, the words on his lips interrupted. "your majes—aAaahHhN!" he moans as the wood strikes his skin again. the skin of his ass a deep red. "t-two! mhn—!" he feels the material of the gloves, grope and massage his fresh stroke, a wince leaving his lips at the touch. "good," you coo. "such a good servant i have . . . "

the strokes continue, the wood striking dangerously close to his full and red balls, the ones you refuse to let him empty. "ah—my kinnnghH!" he'll sob with his lips trembling.

he pleads as if he could get out of this situation. well—he could; however, he doesn't. he refuses to use that fated safeword. no—he loves it. as much as he hates the pain, he loves it. especially because he's being punished by you, his king. he'd gladly let you ruin him in exchange for no one else being able to experience you like this. to which you fullfil his wishes. "ssss—seven!" he yelps.

the cane stops in the air. "seven?" you ask him. that was wrong, you weren't on seven. "y-yes?" neuvillette starts to question his answer, and when in his peripheral vision he sees your eyes give him a sympathetic look—he knew he was wrong.

your hand grips the base of his horns, a whimper leaving his lips as you pull his head up "ngh—ugh!" his lips tremble at the force, especially on his horns. because despite no dragon, including you, saying it . . . your horns were sensitive—specifically the base of them. "six, darling. it was six." you really do feel bad for the citizens of fontaine, plagued with this rough rain, but this was a sight you needed to see.

the hydro sovereign, back arched and tip leaking onto the floor, his eyes nearly rolled back, and fat tears streaming down his now red cheeks. his head hands, a small puddle of drool growing on the floor from him.

such a powerful being, reduced to nothing for his king, he truly is loyal. and yet, he isn't even done!

sobs rack his frame as he desperately keeps track, having to start over once more in the midst of this. his lower eyelids were red and puffy, stained with tears as he finally finished correctly. "TEN! ten, it's ten!" he whines. oh, he looks so beautiful!

you chuckle and finally put the cane down. looking beneath you, a puddle of pre-cum is in your sight; however, he hasn't cum yet! his listening skills were quite admirable, if you had only had his skills millenia ago. "i suppose you finally deserve my touch," you mumble, and the man in your lap visibly perks up at that comment. "p-pleashh! i desir—i want . . . i—!" his effort in forming words were quite adorable to you. "shh, i understand," you interrupt his words.

taking off your gloves, you touch his soft skin for the first time that night. neuvillette whimpers in happiness at the warmth of your hands—the skin to skin contact.

your hands knead his soft and sore skin, cooing to him as you do, whispering words of pride for him. your fingertips, calloused from war and past experiences, trail along his spine, simply touching him. "calm enough?" you chuckle, "i'm sure you dying to cum . . . get on the bed." neuvillette hurries onto the bed, wincing at the lingering pain. but he remains on his stomach, as up for you.

moving the cane from the bed, you crawl onto it, hovering over him. a smile is on your face as you hear the rain die down. it's not as rough as a few minutes ago, just a drizzle . . . although, that would likely change in less than a minute.

neuvillette feels two of your thick fingers touch the rim of his hole. your index slips in easily, your middle stretches him, testing how loose he is. "how long did you play with your ass, hm? that needy for your king? all you had to do was call my name . . . " your voice turns to a low whisper, his cheeks reddened before he watches you grab the bottle of lube.

he hears your pants unzip and fall, your lands lubing your cock for him. carlessly tossing the bottle wherever you lean over him.

"are you ready?" neuvillette feverishly nods, even poking his as out more for you. a smile leaves your lips as you press your tip to the rim, well your first tip. the second one is light pressing agsins his balls, leaking pre cum.

slowly but surely, you pushed your first cock inside of him, the other rubbing against his own cock. "ooooOOh! a-AH!" the dragon below you whines, you're quite surprised he hasn't completely lost control of his human form. it wouldn't be a surprise if he did.

and just as your thoughts ends, his hands claw at the sheets, turning light blue. all the way up to his elbows was there the color of the water before it ended, the color gradient and fading into his normal human skin color. the marks of hydro on his arms appear, his light blue tail flows as he looses control of his form. his back arched beautifully for you. he hears you laugh quietly at him, whining quietly at your hand stroking him. "are you ready?" your soft voice rings in his ears. "yes . . . "

he whimpers when he feels you lean down and kiss the nape of his neck. he feels your hips retract, his walls gripping your cock. "are you trying to break my dick? calm yourself," you chuckle and slam your cock back into him.

"a-apologies!" he chokes out, eyes crossed. "oh—you're so b-big!" your cock feels like a heaven he shouldn't be permitted to. it felt so good. every inch of his body has memorized you, just as you have him. your cock rubbing against his prostate felt like a gift from the gods. then again, you—you are his god. it didn't help that your second cock was frotting tips with his. your precum mix and fall with your thrusts, his legs trembling as it becomes harder to resist cumming. "you've taken it before, your alright," you coo.

full, was a word to describe this moment. although, the word 'pain' could be included. your hips roughly slap against his already sore skin, his ass jiggling with each thrust, his pale lips trembling. pain, is the word he could use to describe his need. the need to cum that he hasn't been granted. the both of you are sure his balls are red, his tip matching angrily as he desprately needs to cum. neuvillette sniffs, small tears spilling from his eyes. this always happens. the most he's every shown is emotion, is during sex.

but he couldn't curse it, he couldn't beg for it to stop . . . if it was his king granting him a way to express himself he'd gladly welcome it. "cum . . . may i? ple-please?!"

a sob is accompanied with his words. although, it is warranted. how could he not cry when you've purposefully angled yourself so your cock rams into his prostate. the downpour of rain continues, and neuvillette was going to loose his mind. "please! your maj—ngh! a-AH! my king! i—" he was prepared to plead and cry, anything to receive your cum and his own release.

"go on." his glossy eyes widen, he hadn't actually expected you to say yes. you had been cruel to him lately. what had changed? "put on your listening ears, dearest . . . "

"cum."

a loud whine and a cry of your title leaves his lips. his body shivers, his claws tearing at the light blue sheets, and his hole milking your cock. you grunt, roughly slamming your hips into him once more, eyes rolling back as you cum. when you frott tips neuvillette cums as well, a load of yours dumped inside of him and a load onto him.

"hah . . . thank you," neuvillette mumbles, blinking his low-lidded eyes. "thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

it was adorable . . . how he'd always thank you for allowing him to cum. "always so polite, hm?" you grin and kiss his temple, gently wiping his tears. "you're welcome, my love." a smalle smile grows on his face at the nickname.

the soft sounds of rain die down, a few sniffs still left in the hydro dragon below you. he's such a good servant to you, perhaps even the most loyal! well, morax might have him beat . . . but as a warm hole for you who's always ready, neuvillette takes the cake. "let's clean you up, hm? i won't make you cry anymore—tonight." neuvillette whines at your last words, but he's proud of himself for taking his punishment.

wait—what was he being punished for?

#꒰ 📃 ꒱ — 𝐍𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 #DOM MALE READER #DRAGON READER #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x male reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin x male reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #top male reader #seme male reader #bottom male character #bottom character #sub character #top reader #dom reader #male readerx #x male reader

[almostgenerallyalways]

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door. 

2022

Jake UT  [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT  [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

 2012

 You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.  

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

 2022

 You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

.

.

.

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

#tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick fic #why am i like this i stg

[dpr-stay]

Love Lost! | LN4

Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: A little bit of the feels, jealous!Lando, hurt/comfort, happy ending, a little bit of drunken confessions but not really, childhood bestfriends to lovers bcs i love that trope.

WC: ~3.2K

Hiya, it's been a few weeks. I've been really busy and kinda lost my inspo to write, so this is me dipping my toe back in. Hopefully it's ok. NOT EDITED (not much has changed huh)

There comes a point in every young person's life where they must look back at what they have done and realise how they could’ve done it greater. Done it faster. Done it kinder. Done it better. Whether it be a choice, an action, or some words, reflection and acknowledgement are key milestones in the development of a person's life.

Lando has had many of these moments. Such as when he had first set foot in a kart, he should’ve done it earlier. His debut season, he should’ve done it better. His schooling, he should’ve put more effort in. The realization of his feelings for his childhood best-friend, he should’ve done it faster.

It was all he could think as his eyes caught you at the bar with some random nobody leaning over your side, obviously trying to chat you up. He took a sip of his surprisingly bitter drink as he watched. The drink shouldn’t have been bitter, it was some fruity cocktail he’d bought for you before you’d arrived, but the look you were giving the guy who you were talking to certainly made it so.

The tightening of his chest went unaddressed as his first clenched around the glass stem, his mind begging to ignore the way your smile had shifted from the fake one you gave to creeps to one not dissimilar from the way you smiled at him. An elbow jolted into his side, causing his eyes to draw away from the bar, though his mind remained around 15 feet away.

One of his mates, some guy he’d met a week ago who wasn’t after his money but wouldn’t say no to sixteen free drinks, looked at him concerned. Atleast Lando thought the look was concerned, he couldn’t exactly tell as the guy's face was hidden behind a pair of douchey shades. He shouldn’t think that though, he probably owned at least ten pairs that looked the exact same.

The guy moved his head again in a silent gesture and Lando nodded, hiding his suffering behind the pretense of not stopping this guy from getting laid, returning the silent gesture. He then shrugged before moving on, quickly running up to a group of girls and placing his arms around the shoulders of two, leaving Lando to continue stewing.

Really, it wasn’t stewing. He had no reason to ‘stew’. He’d only discovered he’d felt this way recently, he hadn’t been silently grudging for years. However, as his eyes moved back to the bar and watched as the guy's hand slid from your shoulder to your back, he could definitely feel the pot boiling over within him. 

You hadn’t moved though, there was no indication that you were uncomfortable from your body language, so Lando had to accept that he wasn’t able to intervene. He trusted you as much as he liked you unfortunately, so he knew that you’d walk away or even signal if you didn’t like where this was going. He couldn’t rush in and be a knight in shining armour if there was no damsel in distress, no matter how much he hated it.

He slid down in his seat, trying not to appear too stalkerish to any people at the club as he watched the two of you interact. Last thing he wanted was rumors of him being a voyeur spreading around the media. It wouldn’t be too far off with the way the guy you were talking to was going. His hand was still sliding lower, moving from your mid back all the way down till it met the seat of the chair.

Lando could hardly hear the music pumping through the club, only focused on your body language. One slight flinch or look of discomfort and Lando would take that as his cue to storm over and create such a row that he would be heard in Azerbaijan. 

However, you didn’t move away. Lando could only watch as you adjusted in your seat, letting the guy's hand slide under your behind. You definitely didn’t need any help. The drink tasted almost acidic when Lando next took a sip, forcing himself to turn away from the bar. He came here for a good time, he didn’t need to see you getting it on.

He cleared his throat, though no one could hear him and no one had even paid attention to him in an hour. A quick glance around the club confirmed this, people engaged with their own activities while he was sat, watching someone he was in love with get hit on.

That’s not pathetic, is it? Lando thought it would be more pathetic if he acted on his impulses, walked over and stopped the random guy in his tracks. You’d probably be mad (would you?) and he didn’t think he could deal with it. Especially after watching what was happening in front of him.

I mean, you’d definitely been mad at him before, knowing a person for over a decade does that to someone, but he didn’t know how mad you would be. He’d never been in this situation before, one where he had to put his drink down and sit on his hands to stop them from punching the guy in the face. 

The fact that this was one hundred percent not healthy was all that Lando could think. He shouldn’t be putting himself through this, watching someone else touch you how you wanted to be touched. How he wanted to touch you.

God, he should leave. There was no point in staying here just to torture himself. He was a voyeur, not a sadist. He took a breath before chugging the drink you had insisted you couldn’t have because you wanted to pay for your own and then standing up and lumbering his way to the exit.

Doing the responsible thing, he arranged for an uber as he walked down the corridor to the door. The fresh air that greeted him sent a wave of feeling down his spine. He walked further away from the cue to get into the club, praying that no one would recognise him as he walked.

Luckily, no one did. Lando didn’t know if this made him feel better or worse.

It’s a funny thing, that. Lando normally liked being in the spotlight. Maybe it was growing up always being unwittingly compared to others, but he liked being special. Even in times Lando didn’t want to be recognised, because he truly didn’t at the moment, he still craved that little serotonin boost whenever someone would turn to him with stars in their eyes. 

It felt nice to be revered, nice to be seen as greater, all those things he didn’t consider himself. You’d always provided that for him. He didn’t want to come off as shallow or as a user, but your everlasting presence in his life, your consistent praise, had always made him feel good. 

God, that did make him come off as shallow. It went without saying, he thought, that he always tried to return the favour. The way you always smiled bashfully in response to his compliments always made his day brighter. 

He almost swore out loud into the empty street as he walked. He should’ve realised earlier. He’d never taken himself as the boy-next-door type, mostly because he was always someplace else, but the idea of domesticity with a person who he’d always been around, especially since it was you, made him feel incredibly warm inside. 

A warmth he doesn’t feel often. It had only come around a few times in his life, but the most notable would’ve had to have been around two weeks earlier. He was just lying in bed, you on the phone rambling about whatever you were now interested in.

Every one of his responses were some variation of “yeh” but that didn’t stop you. Eventually you’d tired yourself out and Lando had finally got a word in. He’d made some tired quip about you “never shutting up”. You’d responded in like, a joke about him not being able to keep up. You’d gone back and forth with your banter before eventually you’d both called it quits and said goodnight. 

Lando hadn’t even registered the fact he was about to say “I love you” as a sign-off before you’d hung up on him until the quiet beeping of his phone sounded. That had made him really, truly think about your years-long friendship, pondering about whether he had meant that platonically or romantically.

It hadn’t taken long for him to figure it out. After ten minutes an itching had settled in his mind that he should call you back and force you to continue talking. He missed your voice, even if it was you ranting about something he had no idea about. Even the thought of it had inspired a familiar warm feeling to bloom within him.

The warm feeling had still been present in the club, even if it was accompanied by the crushing weight of feeling mediocre. Lando almost scoffed at himself as he mindlessly kicked a rock as he walked. 

His earlier thoughts ran through his mind, cursing himself for thinking it pathetic to try and stand up for his own feelings. He should’ve said something at any point. Now you were probably dancing with the guy, ignoring the fact that Lando wasn’t even in the club.

That wasn’t true, of course. You were too kind. Something that Lando had always appreciated but made it incredibly hard in situations such as this one. The buzzing of his phone alerted him to this, a single text from you reading ‘Where r u?’

Completely inconspicuous but oh so characteristic. The shorthand made it clear you were busy, you were never one for abbreviations, but Lando refused to think about what you were busy with. He didn’t think you were ‘easy’, god no he wasn’t an ass, but he’d never seen you click so fast with someone to the point that you’d let them put their hands on you like that.

Lando didn’t know how to respond, instead checking the time on the Uber. There was no way that many people were getting Uber’s that it was a twenty minute wait. He could only sigh before scrolling back to your text. 

An answer that properly conveyed his dilemma evaded him, so he just replied with a ‘Going home’ before quickly tacking on a ‘Have fun :)’ because he felt it was rude not to. After hitting send, he put his phone in his pocket before leaning against the wall of the building closest to him, staring straight into the night sky. 

He’d only have a few minutes of respite before a familiar call of his name sounded in his ears. His head swung down out of shock, watching your hasty figure make your way towards him. You were swaying on the heels you were regretting wearing, your purse having your essentials halfway out of it.

“What the hell, man?” You asked as you stumbled closer, the drink you’d bought yourself making your already unsteady steps seem as though you’d fall over if you went too close to a crack in the pavement. 

He could only look on in incredulity as you stopped in front of him, one of your hands reaching for his arm to balance yourself. He quickly reacted, sweeping you into his side, before turning his head to look at you.

“I thought you were going to stay back.” His voice had a tone of question to it and you shook your head, swaying violently side from side as you moved it.

“No, I came with you. Gonna leave with you too.” Your words were mumbled as you spoke them, the drowsiness you felt becoming incredibly apparent. Lando tried not to react, though he found it incredibly hard. The knowledge that you’d never even planned to leave with anyone but him reassured him. The feeling he got from that reassurance made him slightly uncomfortable. As much as it made him regretful that he didn’t act earlier, no one owned you and you could do whatever you liked.

The words you spoke awoke a feeling that had been increasing ever since that phone call, the previous events of the night also hadn’t done it any favours. That feeling was protectiveness. 

“Would you like me to take you home?” He asked and you nodded against his side. He held you there while you swayed, thinking over what the feeling coursing through his veins entailed. Was it right to feel protective over something that definitely wasn’t yours?

Lando was left to ponder this as you both waited for the cab. He didn’t know if that question explicitly applied to this situation. Maybe you weren’t each others in a relationship sense, but you were definitely each others in a friendship sense. Hell, he’d consider himself yours in any circumstance. He just didn’t know if you thought the same.

As the Uber pulled up the curb, Lando walked you both over. Quickly opening the door and guiding you in, he then rushed to the other side and got in the car. He gave the driver the address of your house before leaning back into his seat.

It took approximately five seconds after the car had started that your head fell on his shoulder. He froze, not daring to move a muscle in fear that he would disrupt your sleep. A quick glance down out of the corner of his eyes showed that you actually weren’t asleep, you were staring up at him. Your eyes looked as though they were shining as they stared at him, and he couldn’t help the heat rushing to his cheeks

Your expression looked starstruck, as though you’d never seen him before. He quickly tapped your shoulder in a silent ‘you okay?’ gesture. You didn’t respond, causing him to look down and look at you.

Unknowingly, he had positioned you at eye level with each other. He could feel the breaths escaping your lips as you breathed out, the closeness a feeling he decided he would cherish because of the highly unlikely chance of ever feeling it again.

Or he could call it, lean in and deal with the repercussions. He was tempted, of course, it would be such an easy way to just rip the bandaid off. He wouldn’t have to deal with a confession or the rejection. He could just lean in for a few seconds then open the door of the Uber and roll out, never having to see you again to face the rejection he could sense. 

After a few seconds he pulled the plug, deciding that the longer he held his head so close to yours, the creepier it came off. Neither of you talked the rest of the journey, relying on the old tunes of Oasis that the driver decided to put on.

Eventually, you arrived at your address. One look at Lando convinced him to walk you inside. He’d call another Uber, regardless of wait times.

You opened the door to your building, holding it open for Lando which he acknowledged with a smirk. You just rolled your eyes, the moment from the Uber well and truly passed. Regardless, you both moved to your elevator, moving in as you clicked the button of your floor. 

There wasn’t many people around, it was too late, so it was just you and Lando in the elevator. A space that would normally be full of conversation was unusually quiet. 

Lando knew why he was quiet, he was recalling the moment in the Uber, slightly mourning what could’ve happened if only he was braver. He didn’t know why you were quiet, probably thinking about how weird he was acting.

But, frankly, the night was almost over. Just another couple of minutes and Lando could start the journey home, able to think over how that man had touched you and how he would never be able to do that. He should definitely try to move on. It would be too uncomfortable to spend a long amount of time secretly loving his best friend.

The lift dinged and you both walked over, moving side by side down the corridor till you eventually reached your door. You both paused outside your door. You didn’t make any move to grab your key and instead just looked at Lando, an unfamiliar look on your face. You almost seemed resigned. Lando didn’t know why.

You then sighed before moving to your purse, rummaging for a second before pulling out your key. A quick turn and your door was open. You turned back to Lando, a small smile on your lips.

“Goodnight Lando.” You said sweetly and Lando returned the gesture quietly, pulling you in for a small hug. After you separated, you seemed to hesitate for a second before shaking your head and going inside. Lando watched you close the door and heard it click before he called out one last ‘goodbye’.

Except the words that left his lips were not ‘goodbye’. They were ‘love you’. Completely unconscious slip of the tongue but it resulted in Lando completely freezing. How the hell had he done that?

He couldn’t hear any footsteps from your side of the door and Lando was left gaping as he processed what he said and the fact that you definitely heard. It was way past the time to say it was an accident when he regained any sort of agency.

He immediately turned away from your door, poised as though to make a getaway. However, the sound of your door opening stopped him. Oh god, how was he going to write this off.

He slowly turned, making eye contact with you as you stood in the doorway of your apartment. Your expression was more shocked than blank, but it was definitely on the border. He could see the question in your face, but he could only respond with his completely gobsmacked expression.

He didn’t know what you took this to mean, but you smiled. A bright smile. A smile more radiant than any one he’d seen you give the man from the bar. It took you a second to gather your thoughts to speak, he could see you formulating something to say in your mind.

“I love you too.” Was your response and if Lando’s jaw could drop further, it did. He was not expecting any of this. If he were to confess his feelings, he thought there would’ve been a lot more of his tears involved and a lot more planning. However, here you were, shyly returning his feelings. A smile that matched your own spread across his face and you giggled at his reaction.

“Really?” He asked dumbly, something you’d tease him about later. You nodded.

It took him less than two seconds to cross from where he was standing awkwardly in the corridor to your door frame, and it took him even less time to kiss you.

And, for once, Lando felt relieved that he didn’t do anything a different way.

hope you likey

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris reaction #lando norris fic #yipee!!!

[stoat-party]

Fallout 4: Where is the Lone Wanderer?*

*a vague conspiracy theory which doesn’t actually answer the question at hand. We all have our own ideas of how the lore should go, and I’m sure yours is very canon-compliant and valid, but this is mine and I have support for it. Looooongpost.

First off: What do we know about the canon Wanderer?

We know they activated Project Purity (or had a companion do it) without the FEV and were inducted into the Brotherhood. We know they’ve met with MacCready (you can’t finish the game if you don’t), and he has dialogue indicating they had further contact. They also took the Brotherhood’s side at Adams Air Force Base.

We don’t know what happened with The Replicated Man, but since the canon Wanderer appears to have good karma, and info from 4 implies Zimmer’s disappearance was more recent than ten years ago, it seems likely they took the boring ending, which secures their membership in the Railroad.

Why aren’t they in Fallout 4?

The Doylist answer is that they’re highly customizable, and so they have no canon appearance, personality, gender, etc. But in-universe? Something happened.

“Accepting outsiders like yourself has proven disastrous in the past.” - Kells

“I've seen other soldiers come and go. Some were brave, some were honest... hell, some were even downright heroic.” - Danse

“Every doctor I've talked to was worthless. [] I don't need them... I need someone like you.” - MacCready

When Duncan first got sick, “someone like you” would have meant the Wanderer. This suggests (to me) that they’re not in the Capital Wasteland anymore. But they’re certainly not in the Commonwealth either.

The weird thing is that the Lone Wanderer is all over this game - they’re the namesake for a male hairstyle, a perk, a DCR song, a motorcycle brand… and the codename of Deacon’s mission to save the Railroad from certain destruction by recruiting the Sole Survivor.

Someday We’ll Find It, the Deacon Connection

Oh yeah, I’m going here. Desdemona’s terminal entries confirm it was always Deacon’s plan to get you onboard and use you to destroy the Institute. There are Railroad lookout posts near 111/Sanctuary and Red Rocket, and of course he followed you in Goodneighbor, Diamond City, and Bunker Hill (at least). His court jester vibe hides it a bit, but he’s manipulating you more than he’s manipulating Desdemona in the intro scene. And do you notice he rarely gives you a firm verbal disapproval unless you’re hurting the Railroad?

What could have caused Deacon’s interest in you, unless he’s made the connection between you and the Lone Wanderer? He’ll vouch for you if you haven’t accomplished anything yet, or even if you’re a Brotherhood member. A Pip-Boyed stranger emerges from a vault in the middle of a crisis, gaining friends, skills, items, and special abilities at a suspicious rate? Probably with the same gender and playstyle as the previous one? Heck, when he first heard the rumors, he probably thought you WERE the Lone Wanderer.

There are other indications the Railroad has been in contact with them — Desdemona mentions the Capital Wasteland as their primary destination for synths, and Deacon references Harkness’s recall code. If you refuse to pick a codename, Desdemona even assigns you “Wanderer.”

So what happened, then?

I think the answer lies with the Brotherhood, specifically in Deacon’s hatred of them. Sure, ideology is enough to hate them for, but Deacon sure seems suspiciously happy if you nuke their base of operations. (Some of) his comments on that:

“The Brotherhood... well, I met them on an op in Capital Wasteland a few years back. But now with Elder Maxson... Let's just say, not a fan.”

“That bastard Maxson really screwed them up. The Brotherhood used to be the good guys. Well, goodish.”

[Who’s Elder Maxson?] “He’s a piece of work, is what he is.”

And on his time in the Capital:

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Capital Wasteland? Now there's a tale.”

“Capital Wasteland. Exports: purified water, some decent tech, oh, and an insane suicidal cult that worships radiation. Thanks, guys.”

“I miss Capital Wasteland. You can actually drink the water there.”

And a few lines I’ve decided (with no evidence) directly refer to LW:

“Last partner I had wound up going... well, a little insane. I think it was all my show tune medleys.”

[After Maxson orders you to hunt Danse down] “See? This is what the Brotherhood's really about.”

And my favorite: “I’ve been looking forward to kicking the Brotherhood’s teeth in. I owe them.” This line comes before Glory is killed, so he’s not referring to that. The Brotherhood only recently arrived in force in the Commonwealth. He’s talking about something that happened in the Capital Wasteland.

So Here’s What Might Have Happened:

In early 2286, Deacon moves to the Capitol Wasteland for awhile, probably to get a face change and lay low for a bit. He contacts the Lone Wanderer, who has barely heard from the Railroad in nine years. They begin to work together.

(In context, this journal entry looks like he’s somehow gathering intel to predict when Vault 111 will open, but I can’t think of a way for him to get that information or know why it’s important, so I’m not going to believe it just yet.)

The Wanderer is still a knight, maybe a paladin. Maxson has been elder for 2-3 years and is monitoring the Institute. Meanwhile, the Lone Wanderer and Deacon are setting up infrastructure to receive escaped synths.

And then the Brotherhood finds out about one of the safehouses. With their limited understanding, they believe that the Institute is holed up there and attack. The Wanderer intentionally throws the mission — maybe disobeys orders, maybe downs a vertibird or collapses a subway tunnel, or maybe even attacks their brothers to protect the synths.

And, well-

Either they were killed, or they escaped court martial and execution by a hair’s breadth and fled the Capital, leaving Deacon to believe Maxson had them killed.

There you have it. That’s why they aren’t in Brotherhood dialogue or records. Their accomplishments couldn’t be recognized because they’re a traitor. And that’s why it’s personal for Deacon.

#i love my crackpot theory #i’ve connected the dots. i’ve connected them. #the full story in my mind gets even stupider and i’ll probably never write it #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #deacon fo4 #fo4 deacon #fo4 #fo3 #the lone wanderer #fallout deacon #deacon fallout #fallout 4 deacon #deacon fallout 4 #the sole survivor #lone wanderer #sole survivor #arthur maxson #elder maxson #paladin danse #danse #maccready #rj maccready #robert joseph maccready #glory fallout 4 #glory fallout #desdemona fallout #desdemona fallout 4 #is that enough tags

[wrenreid]

Hands-on Learning

synopsis: Spencer Reid’s best friend pays him a visit in DC. She meets his coworkers and they spend quality time together while she’s in town. But their friendly dynamic changes with he asks her a question she was not expecting. (season 2 glasses reid)

word count: 4k

content: 18+ MDNI, oral (f receive), penetration

Spencer has been begging me to come visit him again since the last time I was in D.C. six months ago. And I won't admit it to him, but I've been dying to see him again so much it physically pains me. Going six months without seeing your best friend is the worst feeling in the world, but I'd take the emotional turmoil any day because it's for him.

And I suppose he's worth sitting on this plane, lodged between a sleeping old woman and a man who has gotten up to pee ten times since take off. I must really love him because I'm only an hour into this five hour flight.

Spencer and I met when we were 18. I'd just started my freshman year at CalTech and was in an advanced class with a bunch of 22 year olds. My eye caught his immediately. He was the only person my age in the lecture hall.

I sat next to him and told him my name. I knew I had to make him my friend because he was the only other freshman in the class.

Or so I thought. I didn't know until a month into our friendship that he was indeed not a freshman, and he was taking the class for fun while he worked on his second PhD. A small part of me hated him that instant, but I had already fallen into the Spencer Reid charm. I couldn't get rid of him, no matter how hard I tried (which was not very hard at all.)

We became close pretty fast. Almost every moment we weren't in separate classes, we were together. I was pretty much his only friend and he was the first person I met in uni, and probably the only one to accept me a hundred percent as I was. Being so far from home was hard, and he made it worth it.

Usually we'd do homework or watch scary movies in his single dorm room, which I totally took advantage of. I'd spend the night with him instead of my over-sharing roommate who thought I needed to know every detail about her and her long relationship with her boyfriend Kyle, specifically the phone sex. TMI.

My other friends would joke about how we were in love, but the truth is, we weren't. Not in that way at least. He was my best friend, and I was his. We were there for every big moment in each other's lives.

Well, not every big moment. Spencer was not invited when I finally lost my virginity during spring break of freshman year. But he was there when the guy I'd hooked up with broke my heart. And he bought me ice cream and told me stupid facts until my lips broke into a smile.

I was there when he got his second and third PhDs far quicker than any graduate student should. And he was there when I graduated with my masters in psychology and cognitive science.

"You're a nerd too," Spencer said, his voice teasing as he bumped my shoulder. "You can admit it now that we're done with this place."

I told him to shut up, but a wide grin was plastered on my face. We'd made it through the highs and lows of college together.

However, that grin was soon replaced with tears. Spencer had gotten a job offer with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. He was going to the academy, and I was starting my research job. He was going to the east coast, and I was staying in California.

"You're leaving me," I said through tears, knowing me guilt tripping him was wrong. But I needed him to stay.

"I'm leaving California, not you," he said, his eyebrows knit together with worry. I could tell it was eating up at him, but I couldn't stop hating the situation. Losing my best friend was the absolute last thing I wanted.

The day he left, I drove him to the Las Vegas airport after he said goodbye to his mom. I didn't help him get his bags, instead I stood there moping. As I watched my best friend walk away, I realized I needed to be happy for him. He was excited about this opportunity, and my bitchiness was ruining that for him.

It wasn't romantic movie-esk the way I ran after him. It was more of an anxiety filled scene where snot ran down my face as I chased him down. Honestly, I probably looked like a stalker.

"Spencer," I breathed out, looking up at him.

He smiled softly. "I knew you wouldn't let me leave without giving me a proper goodbye," he teased.

I shouldn't have taught him teasing and sarcasm. It's bitten me in the ass so many times.

I wrapped my arms around him, ignoring his comment. My face pressed against his chest as his arms held me close. My eyes were closed and I steadied my breathing. Even though he was going what seemed like a million miles away, he'd always be my best friend.

And that's stayed true even three years later. We've kicked this long distance shit in the ass. Of course, we don't talk as much as we'd like, but we still talk. And whenever he can, he visits me in LA after seeing his mom, or I take a visit to the nation's capital just to see my favorite FBI agent.

——

"Every time I see you, you look different," I say with a chuckle as Spencer helps me get my bags into his guest room.

"Is that a bad thing?" He questions, eyebrows furrowed.

"Take it as you will," I say, plopping down on his couch.

He joins me shortly after. He really does look different. He's gained some weight, changed his style up just a little, his hair is parted at the side almost neatly, and he's finally wearing glasses again. Except these ones are far different from the ones he wore in college. These ones are kind of hot, but I won't tell him that because I can't feed the genius's ego any more.

"So," I say, wiggling my eyebrows. "Tell me about your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Spencer says, his cheeks already turning pink.

I roll my eyes. "Tomato, tomahto."

"Y/n," he warns.

"Fine, fine. Topic for another time. Don't forget, I'm here all week, Dr. Reid," I flash him a grin.

He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes.

"You know you've missed me," I say, leaning my head on his shoulder.

He shakes his head, but a small smile creeps up onto his lips. He's missed me. But rather than admitting that he asks, "What would you like to do tonight?"

"Food. What's the best restaurant in the city?"

"The best or my favorite?" He asks. "Because they're different."

"Your favorite," I request, a soft smile on my face.

Spencer nods. "Alright. I'll let you nap off the plane drowsiness, then we'll have dinner."

The smile on my face grows wider. He knows me so well.

After my way-longer-than-I-intended nap, we get ready for dinner. I don't dress up fancy because Spencer has seen me at my worst, drunk, crying, and throwing up.

That was the one time I've ever seen him drink. I drug him to a party that we both ended up hating. We left early and instead bought our own liquor. He'd just turned 21, and I used that to my advantage.

Spencer and I ended up drunk in his dorm room. Surprisingly, he handled his alcohol much better than I did. I got wasted and threw up in his sink before making it to his toilet to repeat the action. He held my hair back as tears streamed down my face from the burning in my throat. Then, he threw up from the sight of me vomiting. It was not our finest moment.

"Ready to go?" Spencer asks, coming into the restroom where I'm touching up my makeup.

"Sure am, doc."

The dinner is amazing. He catches me up on all things BAU cases before asking me how my promotion has been, which is, in simple words, pretty damn great.

——

"Oh you're not Spencer," says a way too handsome black man as I open the apartment door.

"Nope. I'd like to think I'm prettier," I joke.

"Yes, you are," he flashes me a smile.

The footsteps behind me halt. "Don't even think about it, Morgan," Spencer says, a warning tone present in his voice.

The man in front of me holds his hands up in defense, the charming smile still on his face.

"This is Morgan? You did not describe him this hot," I turn to my best friend.

He glares at me. "You also don't even think about it."

I laugh softly and offer my hand out to Derek.

"Y/n. Nice to finally meet you."

His firm grip shakes my hand. "So you're the competition I have as Reid's best friend."

"In the flesh," I grin. "And it's no competition. I've got years on you."

"Ooh she's bold. I like her," he says.

I haven't had the opportunity to meet all of Spencer's coworkers because of both of our busy schedules and us making sure to spend every second together while I visit. I've met his boss one time and friend JJ. I liked them. I know enough about everyone from Spencer's stories to know that he's in good hands.

"Did you need something?" Spencer asks his friend.

"Oh right. Yeah I was just going to see if you wanted to come out with us, but I see you are occupied," Morgan says, looking to me.

"Go out where?" I ask, not letting Spencer respond.

"Bar. To drink and play games."

"That sounds fun! We'll be there," I say.

Spencer fake coughs behind me, and I turn to my best friend. He gives me a look.

"C'mon, Spence. It'll be fun. I want to get to know your team."

He can't say no to me. "Fine. But let's not stay out too long, okay? You know you can't handle your alcohol."

"Hey, I've grown up since college," I chuckle.

——

“Have you two ever...?" Spencer's gorgeous dark haired friend asks me as she takes a swig from her glass. She cuts her eyes to Spencer, then back to me.

He's currently at the bar with Morgan who's attempting to flirt with the pretty bartender.

"What? No! God no," I laugh, shaking my head.

"Hm," Emily hums. "I just thought I sensed something."

"Nope. He's my best friend. Why mess with that?" I smile softly.

"So you've thought about it?" She's nosy. I can't blame her, I am too.

"No," I answer.

That's the first lie I've told to Spencer's friends. Of course I've thought about it. I don't think anyone has been friends with an attractive person without thinking about what would happen if the relationship dynamic changed. My best friend's kind of hot. I know that. Before we were close, I debated on asking him out. But we're just friends. We're best friends. And nothing is going to change that.

I get to know Spencer's friends a little more, get slightly tipsy, and start a game of darts with Morgan.

After he beats me, not by much I'd like to add, we're just about to start a rematch, but a hand touches my back lightly. I turn around to face Spencer, and a soft smile creeps up onto my lips.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Can we head back? It's getting late," he asks, checking his watch.

I nod, brushing my hair behind my face. "Sure, but tell Morgan I totally could've beaten him in a rematch."

Spencer laughs softly. "She could've," he says to Derek behind me who rolls his dark brown eyes.

"Getting old, doc?" I ask Spencer as we walk to his car. He's 99% sober, so he drives us back to his apartment.

I sit in the passenger's seat, hands folded in my lap. My eyes are on him.

"Hm?"

"Why'd we leave so early?"

"10:30 is when the guys in the bar start getting drunker and handsy. I didn't want you to get dragged into some asshole's grasp while dancing," he explains.

"Oh," I nod. "I can handle myself, you know that right? Just because you're a big federal agent now doesn't mean I need you to protect me." My voice is thorough, but a small smile is on my lips anyway.

"Just returning the favor, Y/n," Spencer says. He knows I protected him all throughout our shared college days.

My cute going-out clothes have begun to get uncomfortable. I unclasp my bra, keeping my somewhat sexy shirt on and slip it off from underneath the blouse, letting it fall to Spencer's floorboard.

"Much better," I breathe out an exasperated sigh.

He's silent in his seat, eyes on the road. I see his hands grip the steering wheel a little harder.

"I missed you a lot," I say honestly. Usually I'm not one to say what I'm feeling or be mushy gushy, but the two shots of tequila have opened me up.

His eyes flick to me, his lips formed in a soft smile. His face is being lit up by the passing cars' headlights. I can see how sharp his cheekbones are, his jawline.  "I thought you were heartless."

"I take back my previous statement."

"I missed you too," Spencer says.

"Of course you did, I'm a delight," I gloat.

The sound of his soft laughter fills the air. It pulls on the strings in my chest.

"How is it possible that I leave in three days already?"

"Shh," he shakes his head, eyes still on the road ahead of him. "Don't mention that right now." Spencer's hand pats my knee before squeezing it comfortingly.

——

"I have a question," Spencer says, coming into his room where I'm currently laying on his bed, reading a book I grabbed off one of his many shelves.

I look up from the page I'm on. He looks nervous, cheeks red, his hands fiddling with themselves.

"Hit me," I say.

He sits down at the edge of the bed. "I don't really know how to ask this... It's a weird question. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and..."

"Spit it out, Spencer,” I eye him.

"Could you... would you tell me how to please someone. Specifically a woman. During sex."

A huffed laugh releases from me, and his cheeks burn redder. I think I'm blushing too. "What?"

"I'm sorry. That was weird. Forget I said-" he starts softly.

"Have you never...?"

Spencer shakes his head.

I didn't really think he had, but I didn't ever expect him to tell me when or if he lost his virginity anyway. He's reserved, even with me with some things.

"Wait," I sit up straighter. "Is this about your girlfriend?"

"Not my girlfriend," Spencer corrects me. "But yeah. We have a date the night you leave, and I think she's going to expect it. I mean, this is our fourth date."

"Well, if you don't want to have sex, don't have sex," I say sternly.

"It's not that I don't. It's just that I've never done it. I don't know what to do. I've read, and I'm good at anatomy. But what if I'm bad at the physicality of it all?" He presses his lips together, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip.

"I don't really know how to explain it," I chuckle nervously. The blood is rushed to my cheeks, they're probably scarlet. "It just kind of happens."

"I shouldn't have asked," Spencer says.

"No, it's just that... like with anything, practice helps people get good sex," I tell him.

He looks up at me, his eyes asking what his lips won't. I feel my heart pounding against my chest, faster than usual.

"Do you want me to... show you?" I ask. He has always preferred hands-on learning.

"Would you?"

I nod slowly, hesitantly.

He moves toward me slowly, hesitantly.

"Kiss me," I tell him, hoping this won't get too weird.

Spencer and I have been best friends for years, we're extremely close, but this may bring us too close. This could ruin everything, but for some reason, I can't stop it.

He presses his lips to mine gently, his hand cupping my face. My eyes flutter closed. I reciprocate the kiss, and it's a lot easier than I imagined. Not that I've entirely imagined it.

My hands trail up his arms slowly. He's gained muscle. I guess that's a part of his FBI agent glow up. His tongue roams my mouth, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how good of a kisser he is.

He pulls away after a few minutes. He's breathing heavy. "Are you sure this is okay?"

I nod, then lean in to kiss him again but he leans back.

"Say it."

"It's okay, Spencer," I tell him. This time he lets me kiss him again.

I lay down, my back against his bed. He hovers above me, his hand on my waist now as he kisses me. He's good at this, and that thought comes to my mind again as his lips suck on my neck.

"Keep doing that," I whine softly.

He obliges and nibbles my skin gently. "Is this okay?" He whispers.

"Mhm," I noise.

I let him take the lead for now, do what he's comfortable with so far. His hand trails up a little further. I tell him he can touch me, and he does, though hesitantly at first. His fingertips graze against my breast before he finally gets comfortable enough to take hold of it through my shirt. He squeezes then pinches my nipple. He knows more than he lead on.

A soft moan releases from my mouth, my back arches just a little. His hand slips beneath my shirt, his warm touch on my belly. Spencer takes ahold of my shirt then lifts it up. I help him take it off me. I'm completely bare hips and above since I wasn't wearing a bra anyway. His eyes widen a little, and he smiles softly.

"Stop staring at me," I laugh a little.

"We're about to have sex and I can't look at you?"

I roll my eyes. "Let's just continue."

Spencer nods. "What do you want me to do?”

"Well, most women like to do other stuff before actually getting into the sex. Penetration alone doesn't do it for most of us," I tell him.

"You included?"

"Me included."

"What do you like?" He asks.

"What are you comfortable with? Do you have any ideas?"

Spencer thinks for a moment. "I want to learn how to-I want to give you... oral."

I burst into a laugh. "Spence, never say oral to a woman. Just say head."

"Head. Noted," he nods.

He's adorable when he's nervous and nerdy. Which is pretty much always.

"Kiss me first. Anywhere," I tell him.

He chooses the soft flesh of my stomach. I smile down at him. I reach down, pushing down my shorts, my underwear too. I'm growing needy.

Spencer slips them the rest of the way down and tosses them down to the ground. After slipping off his glasses, he kisses the inside of my thigh. God, I need him to do something right now.

His big hands push my thighs apart. Then he pauses. The clocks in his brain turn.

I feel like he's just about to call this whole thing off, but then I'm hit with a shock of pleasure. His tongue licks in between my folds.

“You’re really wet,” he says, more like an observation that a tease. Then he attacks my clit with his lips after taking a second to find it. Fuck. He definitely knows more about sex than I was led to believe.

Spencer's fingers leave marks on the inside of my thighs as he grips onto them. His lips suck on my clit, tongue flicking back and forth often too.

Soft moans spill from my lips. I'm trying to be quiet. I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am.

The sudden shock of Spencer's mouth removing from my clit makes me whine in protest, but his fingers sliding inside me make up for it.

I groan, my head leaning back into the pillows.

“Do you like this?”

I bite my lip, “Mhm. Curl your fingers.”

He does as he’s told.

When Spencer both fingers my cunt and sucks on my clit, I'm a moaning mess. "Holy fuck, Spencer," I whine. My legs are shaking within minutes, and even though he's still sloppy and new at this, my body loves it. My hands grip into his hair.

"Just like that, Spencer. So good."

A loud moan rings out from me as I finish. I couldn't even warn Spencer before my release pours from me.

My breaths are heavy and loud. Spencer pulls away, looking up at my eyes.

"Was that okay?" His breathing is heavy too.

"No," I say. "Spencer that was fucking amazing. You've seriously never done that before?"

He shakes his head.

"Wow."

"Told you, I'm good at anatomy," he smiles bashfully.

"Take your pants off," I command. "I want you inside of me."

I find a condom in my purse as he shrugs his clothes off. I sit up and find myself staring at his bulge with wide eyes. He's bigger than I expected. Not like huge to where it's unnatural, but big enough that I will probably need a minute to adjust once he's in me.

I tell him to lay down, and he does. He's a good boy. I like it.

I help him get the condom on, then swing a leg over his lap so that I'm straddling him. "Are you ready?" I ask him, my hand holding his face gently.

He takes a second, processing that he’s about to lose his virginity. Probably freaking out a lottle that it’s to me. “Yes ma'am," Spencer nods.

"Just a gentlemen," I grin.

I lower myself onto him, and once he's inside me, I do need a minute to adjust. Moans come from both of us, and I love the sounds we make together.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice raspy. He repeats my name over and over as I start to roll my hips.

"Oh my god." My eyes shut, and I bite my lip to keep me quiet.

"Don't do that," Spencer tells me. "I want to hear it."

I give him what he wants. I bounce up and down on him, his length hitting me in the right spot every time.

Both of our sounds fill the room. Spencer holds my hips down, stopping me.

"Wha-?"

"I want to do it," he says softly. "Please."

"Do what you want with me, doctor," I tell him, nodding.

He flips our positions, and he's on top of me. Spencer's lips crash into mine as he enters me again.

I bite his lip, causing both of us to moan into each other's mouths.

Spencer doesn't last much longer since it's his first time, but I don't even mind. He rubs my clit until I come again, and I feel I'm floating.

We lay on his bed, heavy breaths morphing together. "I think you're going to blow her mind, doctor Reid," I chuckle softly.

"Who's?"

"You're girlfriend that's not your girlfriend," I say, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, right. I don't think I'm going on that date. Okay, actually I canceled that date when you got here."

"What?" I chuckle, confused.

"There's no date,” he says, point blank.

"Did you just trick me into sleeping with you?" My eyebrows are still furrowed, but I'm smiling.

He presses his lips together. "Well, if you put it that way... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, no. I admire the hustle, doc," I laugh softly, my fingertips circling on his bare chest.

Men and women can be purely platonic friends, no romantic feelings involved. But maybe Spencer and I aren’t that type of friends after all.

tags: @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @kylakins88 @jazzerbelle14 @cynbx @yazzyu @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @sebs-oxygen @jolotta @booktvmoviefangirl @nevielei @pauline5525mgg @necromaniackat @r3idsp3ncer

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #mgg x you #spencer reid #mgg fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid and reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x original female character #dr spencer reid #dilf spencerreid #mgg angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid series #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid hands

[loveandmurders]

Imagine you got adopted by the Sinclairs when you were ten.

Victor Sinclair found you in an orphanage: he got called to take care of you after you got badly sick.

It has been three years since you were rotting in this orphanage. Your parents promised they would come get you soon, but you long lost any hope they loved you and wanted you back. You even hoped they died in a car crash, and that was why they didn't keep their promise.

You wanted to leave this place now. You were mistreated and unhappy. You would do anything to leave, and running away didn’t work so far.

It was the first time in so long you met someone new so you promised to do anything Victor could need from you, including taking care of his sons.

Victor had always wanted a girl and he thought you could help his wife with the boys.

And if it didn't work out, he could at least hope for Bo to lash out all his anger on you. He wouldn't care and Trudy either because you weren’t truly theirs.

You were scared because you were smart enough to know Victor wasn't a good person and he told you how violent his sons could be.

But the boys fell in love with you at the second you entered the house.

Bo stopped yelling back at his mother and quickly became overprotective with you. You were the only thing that could appease him. Vincent forgot about the sculpture he was working on. Your beauty and softness made him feel overpossesive with you. You were his muse. Lester shyly offered you some toys to play with you, and your bright smile made him melt. He was only cuddles and kisses with you.

You loved them so much and you brought balance in the family. You sticked by their side when Trudy died and when Victor got killed by Bo. You would do anything for the brothers.

As you grew up, your relationship got a little bit ambiguous. After all, you were the only girl of their age in their existence. You were extremely affectionate with one another, and you had no secret for them. You sometimes kissed them, but it wasn’t fully a romantic relationship, and it never went sexual so far either.

Imagine you are fully an adult now, and you live with the twins and work close by Ambrose. Lester is often at home to spend time with you, and the twins take care of you. For instance, they wait for you to be back from work to have dinner.

You are happy. Too happy to care about the murders. You actually enjoy living with dangerous people who only love and cherish you.

Imagine one day your biological family finds you. They go to your work to talk to you. You are confused and lost. You have always thought your family died a long time ago.

Your mother is very sick, and she needs money to get a treatment. Your biological sibling wants to convince you to help and he sweet talks to you, saying he needs you, his big sister, in his existence.

You realise they are manipulating you and that your parents abandoned you but happily raised your little brother. You were the problem. You are heartbroken.

But they are good with their words. Your brother is a lot more dangerous than you can think. Your instinct knows it, but for the moment, you are too shocked to think.

You need to talk about all of this to your boys, but you don't know how. A small part of you is scared they will push you away, they will stop loving you.

Imagine you go back home later than usual that day, which worried the twins. When they see you, they instantly know something happened, and they make you talk.

Imagine the Sinclair brothers' reactions once you finish your story.

Imagine them thinking they are going to lose their girl, their sunshine, their happiness.

They don't know how they will deal with this, but they know one thing: you are a Sinclair, and you are theirs.

(Yes, I want to write for this 🙈)

#bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #sinclair brothers x reader #house of wax imagine #house of wax x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #bo sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair imagine #lester sinclair imagine #sinclair brothers imagine

[disillusioneddanny]

Love Me Like You

Absolutely wrote this instead of going to sleep. This is based off of the song Love Like You by Rebecca Sugar for steven universe.

Damian’s heart was racing violently in his chest. He was angry, no he was beyond angry. No one was listening to him! He was twenty years old now, he wasn’t some little Robin sidekick anymore either, he was Red Bird, he had taken a different name and become his own person as a vigilante yet it didn’t seem to matter to anyone in this blasted family. All they saw him as was the demon brat, the boy who had been raised to become an assassin who had been brainwashed his entire life. 

But he wasn’t that boy any longer! He had been out of the League of Assassins for the same amount of time he had been in it. If not a little longer if one could count the fact that the ten years he was with his family he was fully cognizant and could make his own decisions, unlike the toddler he had been with the League. 

Sure, he had been moulded to be the perfect weapon, the perfect heir to the Demon’s Head but he was more than that now, he was so, so, so much more than that. 

He was a hero, he was someone that others could look upon and be inspired. He wasn’t some ruffian assassin any longer and his past shouldn’t matter in the slightest anymore. At least, it shouldn’t be thrown in his face by his own family every chance he got. 

He stormed up the steps of the Brownstone he owned with his boyfriend and let out a huff, trying to calm his racing heart before he stepped into the home.  It would be different once he was past these bricks, he would be in the company of someone who saw him completely and loved him anyways. 

He stepped through the threshold and smiled as he found his beloved passed out on the couch, curled up with a blanket wrapped around him. 

If I could begin to be, half of what you think of me. I could do about anything. 

Damian smiled at his boyfriend before he stooped down, slipping one arm underneath Danny’s legs and the other under his neck as he lifted him in the air carefully, cradling him bridal style in his arms. 

“Tried to stay up and wait for you,” the halfa mumbled, pressing his face against Damian’s chest. “Got too tired.”

“It is alright, Beloved,” Damian murmured before he pressed a kiss to Danny’s forehead. “Rest, I assume you had a busy day, my dear?”

“Justice League Dark are full of idiots who don’t know their ass from their head,” Danny mumbled as Damian opened the bedroom door. 

He let out a soft chuckle at that. He would not be surprised if his beloved lost his mind even a little bit when having to work with both that dreadful Constantine and Doctor Fate at the same time. 

“Who all were there?” Damian asked as he set Danny on the bed. The halfa whined at the loss of Damian’s warmth, making the vigilante’s heart flutter. 

When I see the way you act, wondering when I’m coming back. I could do about anything.

“Give me just a moment to change into some sleepwear and I’ll join you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Danny who now laid with a pillow wrapped in his arms and a pout on his face. “Now, tell me about the meeting.”

“I originally went to the Watchtower to work on one of the main engines, Supes had been saying it sounded wrong,” he said, launching into his tale but Damian was taken back to a different time, three years before when he had first met his love. 

 I could even learn how to love like you. 

Three years ago. 

Damian trailed behind his father into the main room of the Watchtower when he had noticed something out of the ordinary. There seemed to be someone floating on the outside of the ship without a space suit of any kind. 

“Batman,” he gasped out, stepping towards the man only for his steps to falter as the man-being waved at him with a wide smile. Bruce looked over curiously and smiled. 

“Oh, that’s Phantom,” he said simply. “He’s the head engineer of the Watchtower maintenance crew. Although, I have been trying to convince him to join us as an actual member for well over a month now. He refuses.”

“He looks no older than I do, how could he be the head engineer?” Damian asked, looking mystified as the being, Phantom phased through the window and gave him a dopey smile. 

“Would you believe me if I said I was just cool like that?” He asked, looking Damian up and down. “And who might you be?”

“Right, you’ve not seen him in his newest persona,” Batman said before, Damian’s eyes had to be deceiving him, his father was smiling at Phantom! “This is Red Bird.”

Damian held out a hand for Phantom. “It’s a pleasure,” he said, locking in on those eyes that reminded him of the Lazarus Pits he had grown up around. 

“Oh, I think the pleasure is all mine,” Phantom had purred, his eyes a green fire that had sucked Damian in immediately. He had never been bested so easily by someone else in all his life. 

I always thought I might be bad, now I’m sure that it’s true. 

He never did learn how Danny had managed to become the head engineer, even after three years of dating the halfa.

“And then Detective Chimp had to but in! Which why the hell do we have a fucking monkey on the team anyway! His name is fucking Bobo, Dami, Bobo!” Danny said, now fully awake as he laid starfished in their bed, the pillow now resting on his chest as he glared up at the ceiling. 

Damian chuckled and pulled his shirt over his head before he glanced at his boyfriend once more. “He is a detective, darling, quite a good one at that. I think he’s almost as good as,” Damian stopped and scowled. No, he was not going to go in that direction, he was not going to bring up his father, not when his mood was finally starting to lift and he had been distracted by his lover. 

“Oh, I know that look,” Danny said before he floated off of the bed and gave Damian a look as he cupped his face in his calloused hands. Danny’s right thumb ran along the small scar just below Damian’s left eye. Almost miniscule, no one had ever noticed it before except for Danny. It had been from his first time knife fighting as a child, his oppent had managed to get a single nick in and Damian had been punished within an inch of his life for letting someone get past his defenses. 

He had been five at the time. 

Danny had been ready to destroy all of Nanda Parbat when he had first learned how Damian had gotten the scar. No one had ever been so angry on his behalf before. Sure, his family were angry about his upbringing but not once had they ever truly considered the emotional and mental damage it had done to Damian. How he had to work so hard to be good in their eyes even after all these years.

Cause I think you’re so good, and I’m nothing like you.

“What did he say to you this time?” Danny asked, his big blue eyes curious and so very full of love. 

Damian sighed. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, stepping away to change into his pajama pants. Danny grabbed his wrist and frowned. 

“What did we talk about, Polaris?” He asked, brows now furrowed in concern. 

“My feelings matter,” Damian recited like a toddler back to his boyfriend. 

Look at you go, I just adore you. 

“Now, do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to drop it?” Danny asked him, letting go of his wrist to instead wind their fingers together, interlocking them so that Damian could not escape his boyfriend’s grasp even if he wanted to.

Damian just smiled at him. “I do not wish to expand into the entire argument. But he told me that I will always be an assassin at heart and that I will never be more than that,” he said softly, his eyes sad as he tried his very best to not replay the argument in his head. 

I wish that I knew, what makes you think I’m so special. 

Danny’s face crumpled before he pulled Damian in for a tight hug, the shorter man pressed Damian’s face to his neck, forcing the vigilante to crouch slightly. “He’s wrong, you’re an amazing vigilante, Damian. You’ve done so much for people, for Gotham, ancients you’ve done so much for the world,” he said, combing his fingers through Damian’s hair. “You could have easily decided that this wasn’t the life for you when you left Talia, you could have decided to live as a normal kid and never get involved in any of this. But you became a vigilante anyway, and you’ve stayed a vigilante, a hero for the last ten years. Only a special kind of person could do that, Polaris,” Danny said softly, pressing a soft kiss to Damian’s damp cheek.

 He absolutely rubbed at his face, not even realizing that he had been crying.

If I could, begging to do, something that does right by you. I would do about anything. 

“Let’s get to bed,” Danny said, watching as Damian pulled away to slip his pajama bottoms on. Danny took his hand once more and led him to their large bed. He pulled the blankets back and slipped Damian in them.

Once Damian was secure underneath the blankets, Danny wrapped his arm around him and held him close. “You know, the first time I laid my eyes on you, Damian, I knew you were the one for me,” Danny whispered in his ear, his chin rested on Damian’s shoulder as the ghost spooned him, holding the vigilante close. “My core, it sung for you. It saw the good in you even then,” he whispered. 

Damian smiled. It had taken him so long to work up the nerve to ask Danny on a date. 

Three Years Earlier. 

Damian stared at the head engineer as he declined Batman’s offer once again to join the Justice League Dark, stating once again that his passion was for engineering and nothing more. Damian had walked towards him just moments later, finally working up the nerve to talk to the ghost once again. 

“Why do you need turning him down?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. “Would you not like to use your powers to be a hero?”

Phantom had just smiled and shook his head. “Nope,” he said simply as he fasted the work belt to his waist. “Why would I do something that doesn’t make me happy?”

“For the safety of others? It is a duty, an obligation-”

“No, it isn’t,” Phantom told him. “It may be that for you, but it isn’t for me. I spent three long years trying to keep my hometown safe and I was very good at it until one day I realized it didn’t make me happy. There were others in the area who genuinely enjoyed being a hero so I let them take over. Then with all that extra time I graduated early, got my bachelor’s in engineering and now I’m working on the Watchtower as the head engineer while I get my masters. This is it for me, Redbird, it’s what makes me happy.”

Damian frowned. “But don’t you feel as though that is a waste?” He asked, trying to understand the man’s logic. 

Phantom shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve got a lot on my plate, you know? I’m the Ghost King for one, which thankfully isn’t a whole lot of work now that I’ve got a council that pretty much runs everything. I’m mostly just a figure head nowadays. And I’m just plain old Danny Phantom, the head engineer of the Justice League’s homebase. If they need me to consult with their Dark team or need my help, I’ll offer it. But I won’t go out of my way for it,” he explained. “It doesn’t bring me joy, I don’t feel a sense of pride saving the world or helping others. I just feel tired. And that’s okay.”

“I do not think I understand,” Damian said slowly. This was not something he had ever thought of. His entire life had been planned for him. First he was the heir to the Demon’s Head and then he was the heir to Batman, the only blood son. Expected to take on the mantle of Robin and fight side by side with Batman to keep the forces of evil at bay. 

And now Danny was telling him that he didn’t have to do that if it did not make him happy?

When I see the way you look, shaken by how long it took. I could do about anything. 

“Danny,” Damian said softly, turning over to face his beloved. He searched those beautiful blue eyes and let out a breath. “I do not think being RedBird brings me joy anymore.”

Danny just gave him a small smile. “That’s okay,” he whispered. “You’ve been kicking ass for ten years, that’s a long time to devote yourself to others.”

“Will you help me?” Damian asked, twining their fingers together. “Will you help me find what sparks joy for me?”

The smile Danny gave him was dazzling. “Of course, Polaris. I would be honored to help you,” he whispered. 

I could even learn how to love like you. 

Love like you. 

Love me like you. 

I hope you all enjoyed! If you want to read more of my work check out my AO3

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#dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dis writes #dpxdc #dead serious #dead serious ship #Damian Wayne x Danny Fenton #fluff #this is literally so soft and sweet and im obsessed with it #song fic #song is Love Like You from Steven Universe

[dvrk-moon]

LOVE ME (NOT) - YANG JUNGWON

TEASER 1

synopsis : fake dating your enemy, yang jungwon, for the sake of getting your mutual friends to stop playing matchmaker is the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life. however, it’s a bit more enticing when $100 is thrown in the mix.

word count : 1.8k

warnings : none for this part

featuring : ive wonyoung, bnd taesan + more in full work

genre : enemies-to-lovers, fake dating, slow burn, jungwon x fem!reader, private school au, high school au

playlist : tba

expected release date : whenever i finish this ten page essay i have

i. FOURTY-LOVE

The wind always blows when you don’t want it to.

At least, that’s what it feels like.

You were sat on a bench outside of the country club owned by your friend’s family. They were crazily wealthy, owning not only a country club but also many vacation homes and businesses. That was pretty much a given though, especially since you had met your friend at a private and prestigious academy. Everyone that attended the school was extremely well off in a sense. Most of the students had parents who were business owners, political figures, or even celebrities. To say that you were an outlier would be an understatement.

You didn’t come from wealth. In fact, you were one of the only students at your school to not come from wealth. You were offered a scholarship for your academics; last year, you had an opportunity from your old school to take a test that offered a scholarship to your current academy if you scored well. Only the top five scorers would be granted admission. You and four other students were awarded with the scholarship.

Unfortunately, that meant that you had left a completely different life behind. Your two best friends from childhood, Minji and Gyuvin, were both in support of your academic opportunity, but neither of them had passed the test, so you were left alone. A new, clean slate at a school where you knew next to no one.

Your new classmates made no effort to help you fit in. In fact, most of them ridiculed you for coming from a lower class. It was expected when mingling with snotty prep school kids, but it still hurt. The only person that hadn’t singled you out was Wonyoung.

She was easily the most popular girl there, but she still brought you under her wing. This caused the others to be slightly kinder to you, but only in her presence. 

So here you were, sat on a bench, outside of her family’s country club, swinging your legs and glancing at the tennis court in front of you. It was late March, and though the weather reports had said that it would be nice enough outside to wear a skirt, your legs were cursing you because of the wind.

Wonyoung had gone inside temporarily to go fetch the two boys that you were going to play tennis with. She’d left about two minutes ago, telling you that she just had to run down to the entrance gate and she’d be back as soon as possible.

You fidgeted with the hem of the skirt you were wearing. It wasn’t even yours; it was Wonyoung’s, and she had let you borrow it for today. You laughed at yourself, because here you were, at a country club, yet the clothes you were wearing weren’t even yours. From an outsiders perspective, you seemed rich. Everyone else could tell the truth, though.

Another breeze passed by and you stood up, walking towards the door. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d have to wait, so you figured that you may as well wait inside. 

As if on cue, Wonyoung exited the door with the two boys. You knew both of them from school. Honestly, you liked Wonyoung’s boyfriend. His name was Taesan. He was always nice to you, and never made you feel bad for being of a lower class.

The other boy, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, and you had no idea why. He didn’t seem to like you from the first day you met, even though you’d been nice to him from the get-go. If you had to guess why he didn’t like you, it was probably for the same reason that none of your other peers seemed to like you: your wealth status.

Jungwon was his name, and aside from being a major jerk to you, he was extremely intelligent. Ever since you arrived at the school, you’d been one of the top ranked students. It made sense, too, as you were permitted into the school based on your academics. Jungwon was ranked second to you in most classes. You figured that could be another reason.

As soon as you met eyes with Jungwon, he rolled his own and shook his head. He was donned in the most prestigious tennis outfit you’d ever seen, which was saying a lot, given as this country club was flooded with rich and pretentious tennis players.

“Okay,” Wonyoung started, walking over to you, “now that we are all here, do you guys want to warm up?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said, looking away from you, “let’s warm up.”

You didn’t miss how Jungwon slightly shoulder-checked you as he walked towards the tennis courts.

You entered the fenced-in courts, and another breeze blew in your direction. As a reaction, you shivered, making Wonyoung giggle as she made her way towards you.

“Sorry about the hold up,” she started, bouncing a tennis ball on the court, practicing her serving. She looked over at the other side of the court, where Jungwon and Taesan were situated. She laughed, “but those two were taking forever. They’re weird.” She offered you an apologetic smile.

“It’s fine,” you said, “I was just afraid you wouldn’t come back. I stick out like a sore thumb here.”

Wonyoung frowned, “No you don’t, Y/N. I don’t think a single person here batted an eye while I was gone.”

“You were gone,” you teased, “how would you know?”

“I know lots of things,” she commented, “I know lots and lots of things.”

You bounced the tennis ball on the court as you laughed at her words, “Whatever you say.”

After about five minutes of warming up and a dirty look exchanged with Jungwon later, Wonyoung announced, “Okay, let’s get to playing! Do we wanna do singles or doubles?”

“Let’s do doubles,” Taesan said, walking towards the net. He patted Jungwon on the back, “and Jungwon, you can be partners with Y/N. Is that okay with you guys?”

Wonyoung turned to you, “It’s fine with me as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Taesan started walking over to Wonyoung, so you took that as your cue to go ahead and walk to the side Jungwon was on. Even though you knew Jungwon wasn’t your biggest fan, you still attempted formalities with him.

“Good luck,” you commented, looking at him. You sent him a little smile, “I’ll play to the best of my ability, but I don’t play often. So, sorry in advance.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jungwon replied under his breath, thinking that you wouldn’t hear. You decided to just ignore him and play to the best of your ability, like you said you would.

The first game started with Wonyoung serving and you receiving, but the first game was cut relatively short with an easy 40-15 that ends in your team’s loss.

The rest of the games of the first set ended very similarly, to no surprise. Wonyoung’s family owned the country club. Of course she would be good at the game.

So far, you and Jungwon had only won two sets out of the seven played. Wonyoung and Taesan only needed to win one more set to win the match.

Jungwon, quite obviously, was extremely frustrated at this loss. Very early on, you’d learned that he was a sore loser, and that you being bad at tennis definitely wasn’t helping soothe his anger.

After the final set that ended up in, surprise, a win for Wonyoung and Taesan, the two winners went to take a quick victory break while they left you and Jungwon to “discuss game strategies” as they phrased it.

In the three minutes that they’d been gone, no words were exchanged between you and Jungwon. He was just repeatedly slamming the tennis ball into the court and catching it when it bounced back. The air was tense, but you still tried to make conversation.

“Sorry about that.”

“Your horrible playing?” Jungwon snidely remarked, “Yeah. Thanks for the apology, but that doesn’t change that you’re making us lose.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “You’re acting like this is life or death. It’s just tennis.”

“Yeah, it may be just tennis to you. But some people, of… higher class… take it more seriously than people like you would. So I don’t expect you to understand.”

“People like me?!” You laughed incredulously, surprised at his audacity. You tried your best to keep your voice down to not draw any attention towards you two, but with his attitude, it was difficult.

“Yeah, people like you. Did I stutter?” He asked snarky. 

Your words got caught in your mouth- most of the time when people were mean to you, you’d just either ask them what they said (even when you’d heard it) or you’d repeat what they said to you, and that usually made them back off. Clearly this wasn’t the case for Jungwon, though, as he was completely okay with repeating himself and not even thinking twice about what he said to you. You groaned, turning away from him, “You’re not nice.”

“And you’re bad at tennis.”

“At least I’m good at math…” you trailed off, semi-hoping that he wouldn’t hear. You were better than Jungwon when it came to math, and that was a sensitive topic for him. But, if he wanted to ridicule your tennis playing skills, then you would ridicule his mathematical abilities.

The tennis ball that was being aggressively bounced into the court stopped. You didn’t need to look at Jungwon to know his eyes were boring holes into the back of your head.

“What did you say?” Jungwon seethed out, taking a step closer to you.

“Nothing…” you trailed off, facing him, “it’s just that… I don’t need to be good at tennis. I’m smart.”

“Psh.” Jungwon rolled his eyes at you, “At least my parents can pay for good schooling. Sucks that yours have to mooch off of a scholarship.”

You rolled your eyes back, very slightly raising your voice at him, “Yeah. Imagine your parents having to pay for the same schooling that I get. And I get it for free.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, Wonyoung and Taesan returned with canned drinks, one in each hand for the both of them and for you and Jungwon. Wonyoung smiled, “We brought you guys back something to drink!”

You felt most of your anger dissipate at Wonyoung’s return, smiling at her. She and Taesan entered the courts once again and you met her in the middle, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Taesan also brought something for Jungwon.”

You nodded as she handed you the beverage, cracking it open and taking a drink. The cold liquid felt like a good refresher to the heated argument that was just beginning to unfold minutes ago.

“I’m glad that you and Jungwon seem to be getting along.” Wonyoung commented, nearly making you choke on the drink. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, “You guys wouldn’t make a bad couple.”

a/n : temporarily showing up with a work after half a week bc i have been thru the trenches lately lmao

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfics #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen headcanons #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines #jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon scenarios #jungwon x y/n #yang jungwon #heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #sunghoon #sunoo #enhypen jungwon #ni ki #dvrk moon

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

i don't know how to sum this up. i haven't slept in four days.

...this is gonna be a long one and im sorry. also literally every fucking one in this whole thing minus V is autistic, i don't know how, but them's the facts.

background info: around... some 8 years ago maybe, my truly BELOVED friend M (today 31F) started hanging out with a new friend group her then-friend S (31F now) had introduced her to.

(i (31 genderqueer) didn't know M then. i do know she was very lonely.)

so. S has introduced M to her friend group, and M hangs out with them for about... two years?, but, as far as i understand, S is the go-between here. M asks S what plans they have on weekends, S calls M when there's plans on weekends, that sort of thing.

what happens is: at one point S's girlfriend, V, starts flirting with M. heavily. in front of S. S VERY MATURELY decides that the solution to this is obviously to start telling M there's never plans on weekends while telling the friend group M is never free on weekends. shitty move, i think we can all agree.

and M ends up alone. she's never heard from a single one of any of those other people ever again. ever.

now. M, OBVIOUSLY and i think with good enough reason, HATES S.

but.

1) it's not S's fault M is no longer friends with the whole group, like M thinks it is. it's just not. if they had wanted to keep hanging out with her, very simply, they would have. S didn't even explicitly ask or tell them not to hang out with M, nor did she talk shit about M to get them to leave her out. and want to know why we know all this? it's because after (AFTER!) S and V broke up, M and V dated for like, three months, and V told M. what S did was shit and immature, but not like. extreme.

2) we don't know if S even knew how lonely M was/was gonna be. in my understanding of what's right or wrong, this is KIND OF REALLY important. the intention, the meanness, the ability to knowingly isolate someone to that degree. jealousy is one thing, being genuinely mean is another.

3) all of this happened 10 years ago. TEN. YEARS. they were like, 20. fetuses. we're all queer, they were all navigating the first romantic experiences, shit happens. S was shit but S also could have become a better person in these TEN YEARS. we just don't know.

OTHER background info: ive known S for like, 10 years, and she's someone VERY interesting who i've always liked (not romantically), but she's not my friend.

ok, and now. fast forward to last week. M & i & F1 (27F, my bestie, M's friend) go to a pub. S is there, says hi to me, hi to M (which. like at least apologize or something. but ok) (at this point i have no idea they even knew each other btw), S & i talk a bit like we always do, M goes home (i suspect nothing), S & F1 & i hang out, next thing u know F1 and S start to date and S and i become better friends.

(where i absolutely am the A: apparently, at some point M told me what S did to her. before we met S at the pub? after? i have NO memory of any of this.)

M wants nothing to do with S, as is her right. but at this point F1 is dating her and im making plans to like, watch clone wars with her. M tells me & F1 the whole story (tells again, in my case), tells us she has no problems with us hanging out with S but again, please can we not force them together, which, ofc, i tell her about our star wars plans and like, she's chill, she says yeah sure go for it, she jokes around about how S knows lots of people and we gotta use her to get another friend a girlfriend, shit like that.

forward again. one sunday morning, M asks me to hang out. that sunday just so happens to be clone wars day with S & F1. i tell her. she goes BALLISTIC. like, tachycardia, tunnel vision, palpitations, she's fully ready to never talk to me again because "i can't ask [me] to not hang out with S because that would be toxic, but i just CAN'T be around S, so here we go again, she's gonna steal my friend [me] (...i don't think M cares too much about losing F1, they're not that close), im losing control of the situation, the only way for me to stay in control is to choose to cut off [me] right here and now, so that's what ill do, goodbye forever". and she spends the WHOLE DAY in this frenzy (completely unbeknownst to me!), with multiple people trying to calm her down and like, get her to talk to me. (which OF COURSE the next day she ends up doing, because she loves me, she's just. very autistic.) anyway, at this point (sunday evening) ive been made aware of the situation with M, so i had F2 (F31, she's a mutual close friend who was acting as a kinda peacemaker) tell M i was there for her & ready to talk whenever, and we meet up on monday evening, i get apologized to (M had like, blocked me on all social media 😂) for the whole... overreaction, especially after id been told it was ok to see S, and M officially asks me to stop hanging out with S. i try to tell her "can i ask S about, idk, what was going on in her brain back then". she starts to hedgehog up on me so i shut tf up.

here i am the A again: i know M very well. i should have known it would not actually be okay to see S. i just should have. i do know her.

here i... can't tell how much of an A i might be: i don't want to tell S to fuck off. i WANT to talk to S, figure out how much of an actual irredeemable asshole she is, and only in that case tell her to fuck off. the 3 points i made at the start of this papyrus are still valid. also i think it's kind of fair to give her the right to like, defend herself? explain herself? before i go full ghost on her

... its like this. it's not like i care about S. not to be mean but she's no one to me. i just would like her to BE someone to me, cause she seems cool.

i have few friends. i would like one more friend.

i also made friends with a friend of S, T (can't remember age NB). they're the only other genderqueer person i know irl. id like to get to know them. (also they're kind of cute but that's genuinely not that important lol, i just like to make this post Even Longer). i wouldn't get to know T if i did what M wants (needs?) me to.

and let's not forget S is currently dating my close friend F1. just to put icing on the cake.

then again, i adore M. my loyalty to her SHOULD be more important than two people who are, again, no one to me. i should just tell F1, sorry, i won't hang out with ur gf, like ill be civil to her but i won't pursue a friendship with her. because i don't NEED to. i don't NEED these friendships. i would just LIKE them.

if S turns out to BE an asshole who hurt M on purpose, it's great, it's golden. problem solved. ill tell her she's shit and, i mean, F1 will probably break up with her too. no one gained or lost anything from a whole shebang were i haven't slept in like 4 days and got a stress herpes or whatever it's called, it's cool, it happens, go us.

but if S is... justifiable? understandable? NOT a dick? i don't feel i have an actual reason to delete her number. would i, for M? probably, yeah, but i don't WANT to.

F1 says im a doormat. F2 says im basically a monster and how could i do this to M when there's plant of other friendly fish in the sea.

AITA?

and while we're at it, if someone feels like giving advice... what do i do?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eight of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo and this should take you to the song. It's the song I named the series for, because I believe it encompasses how both the reader feels, but also how Soldier Boy will feel in a few chapters. I also believe that the song House of Memories by Panic at the Disco, fits the more modern parts of the series.

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************

Philadelphia 1938

The lights twinkled along the ceiling of the dance hall as the gentle swell of jazz floated through the air. Couples swayed on the dance floor clinging to one another as the soft tones of the music soothed the dull throb of the whispers of rising tension overseas. It was a Saturday night, and you and a few of your friends from the Dawson School for Girls had slipped away to spend the evening twirling in the arms of whomever caught your fancy.

Well, at least that's what your friends wanted to do. There was only one particular man who'd caught your fancy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Dawson School for Girls was the answer to your mother's prayers, a boarding school in Boston, far away from Ben's "corruptive influence" as she put it. Ben was currently at boarding school number ten in Upstate New York. The last time you’d seen him was when you were on break and Ben had just left boarding school number nine for fighting with other students, but he wouldn't say what for. You’d sent him a few letters to tell him how bored you were including a few sketches and watercolor paintings, with minimal response, but it was like him not to write back.

You hadn't mentioned that Howard Stine had been coming on the weekends to take you out. Your mother was pleased with him, he checked all the boxes: wealthy, not Ben, educated, not Ben, from a nice family, not Ben, and of course most importantly, not Ben.

She was practically making wedding invitations and choosing the names of your children after only three months. However, it was nice to see her happy for a change, kept her from sniping at your figure now that someone was interested. Well, not sniping that much.

Howard was… nice, but he was one of the most boring people you'd ever met and he never understood why you always carried a sketchbook with you. When he'd taken you to Franklin Park one weekend, you stopped along the pond to sketch some of the ducks that were waddling on the bank, but Howard told you he didn’t have time to wait for you to draw them. Instead of telling him that he could just leave, you shut the sketchpad and continued to walk with him and quickly learned that it was better to leave your sketchpad at the dorm whenever he was in town. You also found yourself talking less and less, allowing him to fill the silence with his talk of the stock market crash and how the United States economy recovered due to the efforts of President FDR.

You hated that. You didn't recognize yourself when you were with him. You didn't feel like you.

And every time he was here all you could do was compare him to Ben. Ben would never tell you to stop drawing, yes he would tease you about it, but he always sat next to you while you were sketching, watching you work. You never understood that. Ben was so impatient with everyone else, but he was willing to sit with you for any inordinate amount of time if you were drawing while making you laugh the whole time.

I miss him so much.

"Can I get you a drink?" Howard puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You try not to flinch at his touch. He had already been in town, walking you home from a dinner that was dominated by awkward silence and the clicking of utensils on plates when you'd run into your friends just as he was walking you back to the dorm. They had rounded the corner giggling and begging you to come with them. Despite your insistences for him to stay in and relax for the night at his hotel, he refused.

It meant that now you were stuck with him while all your friends got to twirl around with men that made them warm and giddy. Howard made you feel like you'd swallowed a lemon.

"I'm fine, but thank you." You force a smile.

Howard shrugs, before he walks away towards the crowded bar on the other side of the room and blessedly far away from you.

Your thoughts drifted to Ben. You missed your friend more than words could comprehend. Not just because you were far from your family in another city, but because it felt like you were missing apart of yourself when he wasn't there. You briefly wonder if he felt the same way when he wasn't with you.

Probably not.

You turn away from Howard's retreating figure, to watch the couples on the dance floor. You sway to the music, holding your arms around yourself and feeling your dark green dress swish around your ankles, one that you'd picked out yourself, not a monstrosity of pink tulle, but something that you believed accentuated the natural curves of your body that your mother used other dresses to hide. Your mouth turns down into a frown remembering how Howard had reacted to seeing you in it, when he tried to give you his jacket to cover up, but you refused.

You had wanted him to be stunned by how you looked in it, or at least, wanted someone to be. The same someone that was miles away and probably tickling the skirt of someone who caught his fancy.

"One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life is at the bar." Your friend Pearl stated looking behind you with wide eyes.

I've got you beat. You think to yourself to a sigh, wishing, again, that you were here with Ben instead of Howard.

"Very funny." You roll your eyes, thinking that she’s making fun of where Howard is sitting probably flagging down the bartender with both hands to catch his attention.

"I'm not talking about Howard. This guy is seriously a looker. And he's staring at you." Pearl says again.

"Sure." You continue to watch an elderly couple sway back and forth to the smooth jazz that ebbs from the band on stage.

Must be nice to be with someone for that long.

You watch how effortlessly the couple moves as one, how the man stares down at the woman with more love than you can comprehend. It makes your heart sink in your chest.

The way things were panning out, you were going to end up with Howard and you couldn't imagine looking at anyone like that other than Ben.

"You're about to see, because he's coming this way." Pearl takes a step back from you as if anticipating the stranger interrupting your conversation.

"He's not-" You begin to say, but you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back, turning you towards them.

"Fancy meeting you here." Ben smiles down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ben!" Your heart soars when you recognize your friend and you can't help but hug him so tight he laughs, the movement of his chuckle makes you feel alive for the first time in weeks. The sharp smell of whiskey and the familiar spicy scent of his cologne greets you.

"Guess you missed me." The rumble of his voice vibrates where your cheek rests against his chest.

"I did." You pull away from him reluctantly. "What are you doing here?" You can't help but smile at him, probably wider than what was attractive.

"Thought I'd stop by and visit on my way back to Philadelphia. Saw you walk into this place. " Ben shrugs. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Looking for trouble." You smirk.

"You found him sweetheart." Ben leans down towards you making your throat get unusually tight.

"Hi." Pearl says interrupting the conversation.

 Ben turns his smug smile on her. "Hi."

"I'm Pearl." She looks from you to Ben as if trying to decide that it's okay for her to introduce yourself.

"Benjamin." You watch him slip into the cool and smooth Ben, the one that charmed whomever caught his eye.

You can't help but feel a prick of jealousy against your skin. It was familiar, but every time it happened, it didn't make any of this easier. You knew that you shouldn't be jealous, you didn't have a claim on him, you were friends, just friends, only friends, best friends…

And now you were with Howard.

You let out a soft sigh watching the way that Pearl looks up at Ben and the way he leans towards her with the confident smirk you love so much on his face.

"Would you like to dance Benjamin?" She asks.

"I would." Ben's smirk turns into a smile.

Pearl steps forward to reach for his hand, expecting him to take it, but he doesnt.

"Come on sweetheart." Ben reaches out and takes your hand, twirling you ahead of him onto the dance floor.

"Ben-" You giggle, head spinning with the movement, but when he twirls you back into his chest, you feel your breath catch. This wasn't the first time you'd been pressed up against him and it wasn't the first time you recognized how perfectly you fit together. Your soft curves molding against the hardness of his muscles as you sway back and forth to the music. When you were pressed up against him, you didn't feel like you were too big, you felt perfect, because of the way you fit against him.

"You know I am here with someone-" You say, before you get too wrapped up in how good it feels to be with him.

"Yes. Howard Stine. Though I do believe you said he stepped on your toes." Ben smiles at you, eyes twinkling in the light.

"That was four years ago, and he's… sweet?"

"Hmph." Ben rolls his eyes. "You can't even say it with a straight face sweetheart."

"I have never said anything bad about your companions."

"Missy-"

"Besides her." You frown.

He laughs at your reaction, the hand clutched in your right seems to warm with his smile. "You've never said anything about them period."

Because I hate thinking about how many of them there have been. Because I hate that you don't see me as someone who could be with you.

"I try not to dwell on your numerous escapades."

"You sound a little jealous doll." He smirks at you.

"What was that you were saying about Howard again?" You tease, holding on to his shoulders as you sway back and forth to the music.

"Can't be jealous of someone I've seen get chased by a duck." Ben's eyes trace your body for a moment. Your cheeks blush under his gaze. "You look nice. Not one of your mom's I'm guessing?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't look like a cupcake." He spins you away one more time before bringing you back into his chest.

"No. I think she'd probably have an aneurysm if she saw me wearing this. Howard also thought it was a bit much-"

Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "What?"

You shrug, leveling your eyes on his chest to distract yourself from his hand placement. "He tried to get me to wear his coat."

"He what?"

You shake your head to dissipate the self-doubt and body-shaming conversation that was about to unfold in your head.

"It's nothing." You raise your gaze back to his, but you're surprised to see the anger that burns behind his green eyes.

"It's not nothing. He had no right to-"

"Ben." You soothe, rubbing your thumb over his shoulder to comfort him.

The song shifts to something softer, forlorn, a song that reminded you of the heartache you felt with Ben, but also a melody that eases your soul somehow.

"I don't understand why you're with him." Ben sighs, but you can still feel the tension in his shoulders beneath your hand.

"My mother is happy-"

"But you're not." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost earnest, as if he's trying to get you to understand something that he can't say.

"Ben." You breathe.

"Fine. I don't want you to think about him when we're dancing to our song anyway." The look in his eyes shifts back to the playful green they'd been before.

"Our song?" The words make your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile at him.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd smiled this much. Probably the last time I saw him.

"Yes." Ben dips you back, before bringing you up against him, the playful look in his eyes becoming softer as you come back.

You know that your own gaze is filled with love and you remember watching the elderly couple. The way they looked at one another warming your heart as you gaze up at Ben. The three little words tiptoe against your tongue, the three little words that you'd been trying to say forever, but you can't. You don't want to lose him, don't want to live in a world without him, because you know that it won't be worth living.

So instead you lean forward and lay your head against his chest, in the space between his neck and shoulder as the song continues. You think that you feel Ben's arms tighten around you, pulling you further into his embrace, but you chock that up to wishful thinking.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You hear someone yell, and all of a sudden someone's hand is on your wrist jerking you away from Ben.

What?

Howard is standing there his chest pushed against Ben’s, trying to look intimidating, but Howard's inability to reach Ben's shoulders made it difficult for him.

You rub your fingers over your wrist, where Howard’s bright red handprint stands out against your skin.

Ben’s eyes shift to notice your ministrations, darkening with the force of his anger at the thought that Howard hurt you.

“I think I was dancing with my girl.” Ben’s eyes narrow, skating back to Howard.

Your heart skips a beat when he says that, but you shake away the thought, knowing that Ben is only saying that to make Howard angry.

“Your girl?!” Howard sputters, his face growing red. “She’s not your girl!”

“Howie, buddy-“ Ben’s confident smirk slips over his features but you still see the anger beneath the surface. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Just because you think you have some claim on her because you’ve been stringing her along with the harem that usually follows you, does not make her your girl!” Howard fumes. “She’s with me.” Howard grabs your wrist again and drags you towards him.

“Hey wait a minute-“ You begin to say.

Ben grabs the front of Howard's tailored suit, rumpling the pristine fabric. “Don’t you dare touch her like that.”

“I will touch her however I damn well please! She's mine-"

The grip on your wrist is so tight that you know it’ll leave bruises. “Howard wait-“ You try again to diffuse the tension, bringing your free hand to rest on his forearm to make him let go.

“Shut up.” He snaps, eyes flashing back to you.

Ben’s temper flares and the sharp crack of his fist against Howard’s face echoes through the room. Howard stumbles away, letting go of your wrist as he reels backward to the welcoming hardwood floor that catches him when he falls.

“Don’t you ever speak to her that way you arrogant son of a bitch!” Ben shouts taking a step forward. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides and his jaw is tight, as his anger burns through the air.

By now the band has stopped playing music and all the couples around you are watching with wide eyes.

I have to do something before he kills him.

You put yourself between them, your hands firmly planted on Ben’s muscular chest so your back is to where Howard stands fuming. “Ben. Don’t.”

But he’s not looking at you, his gaze is locked with Howard’s, eyes blazing, muscles tensing beneath the palms of your hands. You try to ignore how good his chest feels beneath your touch.

Damn it.

“Ben.” You say his name again.

His eyes snap back to yours. The soft green has hardened to an emerald with the force of his rage, so different than how he looked when the two of you were dancing. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Please.” You whisper. "Stop."

Ben looks from you to Howard, before he finally exhales. “Fine.” He mutters, and he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people without another word.

A minute passes and the music begins all over again, the band on the stage starting with a lively tune that makes the couples around you to move back on to the dance floor, but the tension of what just happened remains in the air.

Because what did just happen? Did Ben do that because he was protective of me? Or did he do that because he was jealous?

Your eyes trace where he vanished, longing for him to come back, but when he doesn't appear, you're left to deal with the aftermath. 

********************************

After numerous apologies to Howard, he finally relented and took you back to your dorm, leaving your group of friends at the dance hall. You knew there would definitely be a conversation about what just happened between you all when they got back, but even you were confused. Ben was always protective of you, but what happened seemed over the top. You think about how Ben called you “my girl," the way he said it sending a thrill down your spine. He’d never done that before and you wondered if it was because he wanted to get a rise out of Howard or because he believed it.

Not like he’s tried to do anything about it. You think to yourself stroking one finger against your bruised wrist. The discoloration was more prominent now, black and blue marks beginning to sprout like flowers in spring. Howard’s eye didn’t look much better when he dropped you off. You were surprised that he’d been forgiving enough to continue to see you, not that you wanted to see him, but you didn't think you could handle a letter from your mother.

Then again maybe she would pull you out of this ridiculous school.

A small tap at your window causes you to raise your head to look out the glass. Ben is sitting there, but he doesn’t smile like he usually does. Your dorm room was on the first floor, which meant that Ben didn't need to shimmy up a tree to get into it like he did when you were home. Then again this was the first time he'd showed up here and you wondered how he knew where your room was. You also weren't thrilled at his appearance because you didn't know when Pearl would come back and you weren't sure what your roommate would do if she came back and found Ben in your room. She was a stickler for the rules and despite your friendship, rooming with her was one of your least favorite things about the Dawson School For Girls.

“If they find you here I’m going to be in so much trouble.” You say helping him through the small window, putting your hand on the back of his head so that he doesn't bang it against the glass. "You might like getting kicked out of boarding schools, but I don't."

“They won’t find out.” Ben rolls his eyes. He glances at Pearl’s empty bed on the other side of the room. “Roommate not back yet?”

“No she was still dancing when I left.”

Ben frowns. “Where’s the asshole?”

“Ben-“

“What?”

“He left. And I don't exactly invite him up to where I sleep."

“Good.” Ben flexes his fist.

“How did you know which room was mine?” You ask. Ben had never come to see you before at boarding school and the fact that he was here probably meant that boarding school number ten was out.

“I might have guessed wrong.” He smirks.

“Uh-huh.” You sigh, but all you can think about is how he acted earlier. Your feet shift back and forth “Why did you hit him?”

Ben’s eyes darken. “He shouldn’t have touched you like that or said that to you.”

You stand there for a minute observing his reaction.

“He kinda deserved it." You say slowly.

You knew it was true. When Ben showed up Howard shouldn’t have lost it like he did, he definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you like that or called you his-

You stutter on that thought. But maybe he is right. I am Howard’s. We’ve been going steady… The thought of being his makes something curl up in your chest and die. There was only one man that you wanted to belong to.

"Yeah.” Ben sighs.

"Why did you call me your 'girl'?" You ask.

"Um." Ben shrugs. "Felt right in the moment."

"What?"

"I mean you are. You're my friend-"

"But that doesn't mean friend Ben." You say it gently trying to catch his eye, but Ben won't meet your gaze.

"Fine. I just wanted to mess with him a little bit." Ben frowns. "But I didn't like that he called you his, or the fact that he hurt you."

“But Ben I am his.” You whisper even though you don’t want to. “We’re going steady-“

“That doesn’t make you his!” Ben snaps, eyes flashing. “Just because he feels the need to say it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But Ben-“

“And I never want to hear you say it.” He continues loudly.

What is wrong with him? I've never seen him this angry about anything.

“Why?”

“Because that means he has some claim on you. You’re not his, you’re my friend.”

"You're being ridiculous. You're saying that he can't have some claim on me but you're possessively calling me your friend!" You shout back frustrated.

Why is he acting like this? Does he really hate Howard that much?

"I am not! I'm just saying that you're my friend and you're not his!"

“I can’t be both?” Your words hang in the air between the two of you and you mentally beg Ben to answer. He was acting like he wanted you to be his, like he believed that he had some claim on you and you couldn't remember another time that he'd acted this way. Sure he teased Howard, but this was more than that.

It was almost possessive and it kinda scared you how much you liked it.

Ben doesn’t answer your question. His shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides, while something lurks behind his eyes that you can’t identify.

“Ben?” You say it like a question, ignoring the urge to press your hands against his chest like you did earlier at the dance to calm him down.

His gaze drops to your arm, where Howard grabbed you, tracing the bruises and clenching his jaw together. Ben’s right hand comes to delicately pick up your bruised wrist, running his thumb over the discolored flesh with a frown. “Does it hurt?” He rumbles changing the subject.

“No. Does that hurt?” You breathe noticing his bruised knuckles and gently probe your fingers along them.

You hated the though that he was hurt and for you, no less.

Why did he have to intervene? Why did he hit Howard?

“It was worth it.”

You both stand there for a minute, with Ben holding on to your wrist, touch surprisingly gentle.

“I just don’t like that he hurt you okay?” He mutters raising his eyes to yours. You weren't prepared for the soft look in his eyes. You expected him to still be angry over Howard, but he almost looked, worried.

“I'm okay Ben." You whisper back.

You want him to answer your question. You think again about telling him those three little words you wanted to say when you were swaying on the dance floor together but you can’t.

He nods once before he looks around the room, eyes falling on your sketchpad where it lays closed on your bed. "Got any new ones?"

You knew it was Ben's way of asking if he could stay, trying to tell you that he didn’t want to go back to Philadelphia that night, and you didn't want him to either.

"A few. If you're not too tired-"

"I’m never too tired for you."

You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. “Okay.”

The whole time you sit together on your bed, Ben doesn't drop your wrist, in fact he continues to brush his thumb against it while you look through your sketchbook. And in a few hours when Pearl finds you and Ben curled up in bed together, you’re not embarrassed, because deep down you’re starting to believe that Ben cared for you more than he was willing to admit.

*******************************

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[gorejo]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒

≡ miya osamu x f!reader

↳ Taunting him every night in his dreams since the day he's first met you — idly coming into his shop ten minutes before closing every day for the past couple of weeks. Where nothing seems to be the solution of curing his blatant lust as his body simply craves for you — hoping and dreaming of something more from someone not much more than a stranger. So he does what's best in attempt to lessen his sexual desires, only to find out his temporary get away would snowball into something greater.

tw/cw: smut. masturbation. morning wood. explicit language.

✉ : hello!! i hope you enjoy! this was inspired by a shit post that I made on my old blog about osamu that I turned into something longer (( : it was actually my first time that I felt a bit hot while writing this, so... i hope yall can feel the heat with me ! again, it's not edited so i hope you can read through the mistakes. maybe one day i'll get around to editing them... but for now, nahhhhh

Another day, another morning waking up to the sound of his wretched morning alarm, the one that Atsumu got him for a house warming gift years ago, groaning as he pushed his face into his pillow, grumbling as his morning hair sprayed out of his head, “fuck, ‘m so tired.”

Osamu mentally notes to punch Atsumu the next time he sees him for gifting him such an obnoxious clock, mumbling half asleep as he tried to recall what day it actually was, "is it day 19," groaning as he pulled his sweats down a bit, "no... it's gotta be longer than that, fucking shit."

Grunting as he pulled himself off his bed, stretching his sore body as he walked out of his room, scratching his lower stomach, toned with a layer of fat that accessorized his naked torso, as his feet trudged against the wooden floor.

Osamu always had a warm body. Since he was young, he and his brother would always sleep completely bare in the summer, but during the winter, he opted to at least don on a pair of gray sweats that loosely sat on his hips with boxers underneath but no top. 

Mindlessly touching his mildly flexed abdomen, brushing against his finely lined happy trail that traveled down to the dent on his pelvis down to his groin, Osamu felt suffocated. 

So by instinct, and without any thought, his mind still full of sleep, he shimmied his sweats down to create more room for his lower limbs to breathe. 

But to no avail, he still felt suffocated.

And making his way to his bathroom, eyes blurry and hair a frazzled mess, still touching his stomach as he looked at himself in the mirror, his reflection seemed to mock his apparent form.

“Shit,” Osamu groaned upon realization.

There standing in its glory was his morning wood — unsurprising he thought.

For any person with a male anatomy, it wouldn’t be deemed as surprising or even abnormal for their penis to be erect in the morning. It’s natural, a way of life, some would say. 

But for Osamu, it was a little different. 

Osamu usually never woke up annoyed. He would spend his mornings with a quick workout, wash up, gulp down a protein shake before heading out to his shop. And rarely would he wake up with blood gushed in his penis, even if he did, it normally went away after a cold shower without having to act on it.

Mornings were easy.

Mornings were easy up until a couple weeks prior.

"Fuck," cocking his head to one side, hissing in frustration, "it's been twenty one days."

twenty one days of waking up to an erection.

twenty one days of torture.

It wasn’t the erection that was the problem. Hell, if he woke up with morning wood every single day, he wouldn’t mind. He’ll simply shake it off knowing it was simply a spinal reflex that cycles during a person’s REM sleep, causing blood to pool in their penis — normal, that’s fucking normal.

But this, this wasn't.

It was the fact that he knows the exact reason as to why he woke up with a hardened cock, obnoxiously growing bigger within seconds as he slowly palmed himself over his thick sweats, his frustrated breaths hitching as he furrowed his brows,

“Fuckk…” he pushed against his bulge, “‘s not enough.”

And turning the shower head as he stripped himself from his clothes, his sweats pooling at his ankles, Osamu looked at his reflection once more as his thick hands stroked his cock, the head of his penis already pebbled with a glint of precum as he played with his puffy slit with his callously padded finger, stimulating himself of pleasure yet enticed with shame as he watched himself masturbate.

His breaths become hefty as his chests heaved for air in the smoke filled room. The fog slowly covered the mirror in front of him as the water behind him blared hot. And making a tight circle with his fingers, mimicking a certain ring of muscle that he deliciously dreamt about last night… and every fucking night since he’s met you, Osamu fisted himself imagining what it would be like to fuck you, to have you in his arms, to touch you, to kiss you, to have one chance of entering inside and feel your goddamn perfect walls squishing his cock.

Osamu's mind wonders — no, he lets his mind wander for more.

Was he a fucking pervert, to be masturbating to a total stranger?Well, not a complete stranger… more of a loyal customer? He thought. 

At least he knew your name.

“Fuck… YN…” Osamu longingly moaned out, as his canines lightly bit his lips, tasting a hue of his blood on his tongue.

Would you feel the same like how it was in his dreams? Soft, malleable, plushy.

How warm would you be when he’s tucked inside? Would he be able to mesh in perfectly, fit into every crevice of your insides just like how he dreamt of?

Would your cunt be wet the moment he kissed you? Folds dripping of arousal as he licked your clit and played with your tits — god, those tits looked so fucking good. 

Would you still call out his name, moaning, crying out ‘Samu! More more more!’ What would you look like when he first enters? will your toes curl and breaths hitch? would you whisper into his ear as he rutted inside, filling you till the depth, asking for more... telling him he's all you've ever wanted?

Would you cling onto him as much as he clings onto the mere thought of you?

And soon the mirror completely perspired with droplets of water, unable to see his reflection in the mirror, Osamu stepped into the shower.

With one arm placed on the wall as the hot water harshly fell onto his head, the droplets of water fastidiously coating his already heated body, yet his right hand never left his cock. 

Quickly grabbing a bar of soap, coating his hand with the faux lubricant to immediately stroke his cock. Every damned morning since you started to come over to his shop at exactly ten minutes before closing, having him wait all fucking day till he got to see a glimpse of your pretty face, knowing smile, and contagious laughs for ten fucking minutes.

Gritting in between his haggard breaths, Osamu bitterly lets out, "can you stay a little more?" his nostrils blaring as he tried to catch his breath, "a-at least I wouldn't feel so shitty if you gave me more time."

It wasn’t like he was a pubescent boy raging of hormones, nor did he have the right to be putting you in such an objectified position — fuck, he didn’t even know you like that. He’s probably just a restaurant owner that you happened to frequent because you "craved his handmade onigiri's" jokingly laughing as you watched him make your food, "and to see his handsome face.”

Something you probably just said to be nice.

But this… this was just wrong, yet every morning he’s woken up bricked up and horny — twenty one days to be exact since you've been lurking in his wild dreams.

Maybe it was time to see his urologist, or maybe he should see a psychiatrist, but for now… all that ranged through his head as he stroked his cock through his fists were your soft giggles and knowing looks you gave as you waited for you orders, listening to him briefly talk about his day when you invitingly asked him, “Miya-san, how was your day today?”

It was odd, but with you, it felt oddly right. Being able to talk for those ten minutes about anything — freely and willingly, albeit with the threatening feeling of his heart about to burst out of his chest, and his inability to look you in the eyes when he would package your order. But aside from that, he was drawn to you with each passing day — his heart could feel it, and surely his dick could too.

Carding his hand through his wet locks, exposing his forehead and furrowed brows as he slightly opened his mouth to a slight ‘O.’ Osamu chased after his high, using every fiber of his being and mind to recall his dream. A dream of you sucking on his cock, with a trickle of drool stemming from the corner of your lips. A dream where you fondled his balls, and licked up his length. A dream where you took him all, gagging as your soft tongue padded his length whenever he pushed deeper down your throat. And he’ll do you the favor back, as he splits open your thighs, running the tip of his cock against your wet puffy folds, the warmth of your insides making him fall completely blank as he pushed himself inside of you.

A dream where he would rightfully make love with you. A universe where he could freely call you his — have all of you as he called you “mine.”

And everytime the dream would tragically end, just when he was about to cum, just when he was about to lead you to your climax and his thereafter, were the sounds of his annoying alarm, blaring obnoxiously loud, waking him up exactly when you would moan out and whisper his name, “Miya-san, i lov—” 

“Say it, dammit,” he growled through clenched teeth, furiously stroking his cock, causing the tip of his head to sting from the friction, “fucking say it, YN.”

The knot in his stomach was tightening, building up in tension as the fire in his body felt as if entire flames were being thrown over him, the electricity drilling through his veins as he longed to hear your name being called in his dreams.

Pressing through, as he felt his climax shortly coming, thrusting his hips into his tight fist as he watched the tip of fiery head bulge out of his clenched hand, imagining just how far he could hit the deepest part of your caverns, and just how warm and plush it would feel tightly wrapping around his length. 

Imagining your tits — god, your fucking tits bouncing with every thrust he made. 

Imagining your ass ripple whenever he would pistol his cock inside you, his balls clashing into the base of your wet pussy, where the slapping of wet skin fueled his drive.

Imagining the sting on his back when your nails would claw down his spine, gripping onto his clenched ass as he drilled himself inches inside of you.

Hallucinating your moans, hearing you call out his name through it all as his fingers gripped against your skin, pushing his heavy body down to be even closer to you, stripping the oxygen in your lungs . To witness you unravel, become entirely undone within his control, to lather under his reign as he watched your submiss into your high.

He wishes he could witness it all, even if it was a silly dream, he so longed to feel you on his finger tips, to graze his lips against the canvas of your body, to hold you close to feel the warmth of your skin...

To lay naked and tired, limbs entangled under the wet sheets, hearing each other's rapid heartbeats just for a little moment, just before he’ll clean you off and set up the new sheets he’s prepared. 

To crawl into bed, and wake up with you in his arms.

To cook you a proper dinner, maybe fuck you on his kitchen counter as you wore his apron. Maybe even cook you something for late night snack for all the energy he expended out of you.

To dare think of a life of domesticity with an almost stranger — a stranger that haunted his dreams, making him feel entirely insane.

"YN..." he draws out, "m-more give me more!"

And it sets him off the edge, where the pile of his stored erection would shoot out of his swollen slit, his cock pulsing in his hand as he thrusted forward, his precious white seeds — viscous and strong — shooting to cover his shower walls only to be cleansed thereafter — but his sins weren't. Heavily groaning as he harshly inhaled his breaths, chest heaving with stomach flexed with the smaller splurts of his cum coating his hands.

“Fuck… finally,” he let out, washing his slimy hands with the running hot water, “I should really get myself checked out,” Osamu murmured before quickly getting ready for the day. 

….

5:52 pm, the time read. Usually you would trickle in a little earlier, apologizing numerous times that you couldn’t get work off earlier, and he would always respond, “that’s fine, I’m glad you made it over safely.”

Maybe today you didn’t want your usual cravings.

Maybe you already got dinner.

Maybe something happened while you were on your way over? Should he go out and check? No… that’ll be crossing the line. 

Or maybe, you somehow found out about —

Jingle.

With the sound of the bells, the beats of his heart immediately started to thump louder than before, ears perking up as Osamu immediately looked to the door. 

“Ah! I’m sorry I’m late, Miya-San…” huffing your breaths, looking as if you ran over.

‘Cute’ Osamu thought.

“There was a bit of traffic on the way, so I was a little late… sorry if I kept you waiting,” you muttered out, while taking off your coat to expose your sculpted breasts underneath your blouse. 

“Not a problem,” Osamu gulped immediately, looking away, “uhh YN-san, sit for a bit…” thanking the gods for the stand in front of him covering his growing erection, “I’ll get your order ready,” Osamu stated as he quickly donned his apron and washed his hands.

“Thank you,” you calmly responded back, slowly catching your breath as you watched him silently make your meal.

“So how was your day, Miya-San?” you hummed out the usual question, “I was so nervous I wouldn’t be able to see you,” you confessed with a soft giggle.

“It was the same as usual…” 

‘I came thinking of you again this morning, fucking hell I dream about you every damned day, and the lunatic that I am look forward to seeing you every minute.’

… “I wouldve kept the store open, just in case you would come through later,” he confessed, "I got a little worried."

“I see… you’re always too good to me, Miya-san,” giggling in your seat as you looked up at him — his arms were strong, toned with veins bulging from his forearms.

And checking him out, like you would subtly do every night, scanning from his thin waist wrapped around by his black apron, his black shirt tightly fitting his chest and on his arms but a little loose on his stomach. To his shoulders, broad and neck lean, where the short stems of his hair peaked out from the bottom of his cap as he concentrated on your order. His thick fingers sculpting the rice, moving majestically and with precise skill… his every movement with definition and purpose... wondering just how skilled he was his fingers… how he would mound your breasts... your ass.... would you have to teach him? or... would he already know your sweet spots? and what can he do with his mouth? his pretty lips always managed and plump, would he tell you sweet nothings like he usually would —

"YN-san?" Osamu questioned, his eyes worriedly looking at you for a brief moment before falling back down.

“Ah... sorry," softly smiling, "hopefully it wasn’t too busy today?” you asked, shaking any lewd thoughts as you clenched your thighs together, feeling a pool of your warm erection gathering in your panties. 

“Just the usual,” he smiled. The type of smile that would lightly crinkle the sides of his eyes, and cause his jaws to look sharp and defined, where the light chuckle of his deep voice would loom over your stimulated body, priming you for wanting more.

“I heard you have a lot of fangirls,” you teased, leaning against the edge with your hand on your cheeks, feeling butterflies in your stomach when you caught his slight blush.

“Ah… not really,” he murmured, packaging up your order, making sure there was enough for you to take for lunch the next day and share with your coworkers, “you’re probably my biggest fan.”

“Really?" chiming at the statement, "mission complete then,” you teased, “that’s been my secret mission since the beginning Miya-san,” taking the bagged food, knowingly grazing your fingers past his, teasingly pushing once more, “to infiltrate your mind, you know?”

“Well… looks like you got me,” the man confessed, looking down to cover his face, helping you put on your coat, where the slight hue of your sweet perfume unknowingly pulled him closer in.

'I want to touch her... I want her'

Where the slight touch of your arm that he accidentally managed to graze when he helped you with your coat, and the slight crevice of your breast exposed at the valley rang through his head and sight. And the mocking clicks of your heels making small steps to the door, reminding him once again of the torture he’ll feel when you’re gone.

“Miya-san,” you called out just before stepping out, the door bells chiming, where the cold winter breeze fanned into the warm dimly lit restaurant, “might want to take care of your lips next time, it seems like it would've hurt.”

“Ah… I’ll be mindful, thank you,” Osamu responded, brushing the back of his palm against his lips, feeling a slight sting as he pulled down his hat to cover his heated face as he recalled the morning of, “come again YN, next time I’ll —”

“Maybe next time I can give it a kiss to make it better?” you responded back with a smile, planting a piece of paper at the front register on your way out, “or I can buy you some ointment if you’ll give me a call,” softly chuckling as you closed the door.

Letting out a sigh, feeling honestly barren the moment you left, Osamu unwrapped his apron and took off his cap. Taking a brief moment to lock the front doors before heading over to the counter to see what you left, unwrapping the paper as he muttered out,

"call me, I'll buy you dinner for all the freebies you gave me! This is my number..."

And looking down, coming to terms with his erection bulging out of his pants, rock solid and pulsing in his briefs, feeling suffocated in his own skin as he feels his breaths start to hitch and the knot in his stomach starting to tighten.

Osamu reads your last line before groaning into his fist and unzipping his pants, pulling his shirt up to his teeth to expose his flexed stomach,

“sweet dreams Miya-san.”

© satorins™ — do not copy, plagiarize, repost, modify and/or translate my works.

#ae.writes #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #osamu x reader #osamu smut #osamu x you #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu smut #hq x reader #hq smut #hq x you #darkmode. #𖤘.hqfics

[maximoffcarter]

Possessive little me.

Pairings: Casey Novak x Alex Cabot.

Warning: SMUT.

Summary: Alexandra Cabot was never one to be jealous of anything, she had never considered herself as a jealous person; that wasn’t until she met Casey Novak.

A/n: *cough* So. Um. I don't really know what to say about this one shot. First of all, I gotta thank @saurgaeee for the idea, of course, cause bestie here is the one that gives me the ideas, and we had really good ideas about this one. But...let's say that what started being wholesome or a bit teasing...ended up in smut😬 So. There is smut here, and please, PLEASE, bear with me because I have not written any smut in YEARS and this is the first time I actually get myself to write slight smut. So please be kind cause I'm nervous about this one🥴 Also, this is basically between s5-s6, so we’ll just pretend Alex never left and they work together🫶🏻 Don't be afraid to send me an ask or message if you got any requests, I'm up for anything for now. Enjoy and leave your comments, reblog, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻

Part 2.

Casey Novak had always been known for being persistent in what she wanted and also she didn’t let anyone play her; this applied to anyone, including coworkers and even the judges. So when she was literally defied by Taft, she couldn’t hold back and leave it there. She had been annoyed with the fact that no one was actually having her back in this when it was evident that he didn’t deserve to continue in this job, even Mary Clark had told her to back away and continue as if nothing had happened and that had pissed the redhead off. But, at least she knew -or thought- that her girlfriend would have her back, she would push Casey to do more and go for his head. She didn’t expect any help, but the least she expected had been some support, so the fact that even Alexandra Cabot had agree with Mary, Casey was more than pissed.

“Casey, there is no point in you risking your career with this. He’s not worth it.” Alex said calmly as she watched her girlfriend pacing around the room.

“Oh, so, to protect my job, I need to let a judge do whatever the fuck he wants and keep destroying what he wants just because he thinks it’s better, completely ignoring the evidence or whatever we have to say. He just follows his beliefs.” Casey stopped and looked at Alex. “Alex, Rosalin was in prison, ten years of wrongful imprisonment. You’re really not trying to stop me from going after him.” She looked at her with hope in her eyes, just wanting to hear that her girlfriend had her back.  

Alex sighed as she stood up from the couch and walked to Casey, grabbing her hands, and kissing them. “Baby…as much as I’d love for him to rot for what he’s done to that woman. But we know that you would be on thin ice if you try to go after him. You cannot risk your job for this, Casey.”

Casey shook her head as she looked at Alex, trying to hold back tears. “I told Elliot this, and I am gonna tell you too…if this is justice…I don’t want this career. And you should know better than anyone. I at least thought you’d have my back.”

Alex tilted her head. “Case, I do have your back. I’ll always be here to help and support you, but-“

“I don’t want you to help me, Alex. I’m not asking you to sit with me while I go after him. All I wanted was to hear you say that you support me and that I got this.” Casey sighed. “But you know that you’re not gonna stop me from doing this.”

Alex nodded softly as she looked down at their hands. “I know.” She whispered as she looked back at Casey. “Please, think this through, Case.”

“I have. And I’m going after Taft.” Casey let go of Alex’s hands and walked out of the living room. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that she could do this, she’d do it herself and she’d do anything to have his head.

********************

Alex sighed as she looked at her watch again and noticed that it was late, Casey had called her 4 hrs ago to let her know she’d stop by her office after she was done in court, but she should’ve been done by now. So many thoughts ran through her mind as she kept looking at her door. She had told Casey that she’d be staying until late because she didn’t want to take work to the house, and she expected Casey to show up there, but it was now too late for Casey to not be there yet. She finally gave up and picked up her office phone to call Casey, but just as she was about to call, she noticed someone walking to her office, furrowing her brows as she saw blonde hair, but no one was supposed to be here anymore. And then her door opened, and her jaw dropped as she stared into her girlfriend’s green eyes.

“C-Casey?”

Casey grinned. “Hey, Lex.” She walked into the office and closed the door, walking to Alex’s desk and putting her briefcase in one of the chairs and going to lean on Alex’s desk, looking down at her. “So, what do you think?” She smirked.

“I- uh. Um- what…why-“ Alex cleared her throat as she pushed her chair back to have a better look of Casey. “Y-You’re…blonde.”

“I am.” Casey smirked as she looked down at her hands. “I was honestly a bit upset about the other day and I was a bit stressed. Thought a change would help.” She looked back at Alex as she raised her brow. “I know you loved my red hair but-“

“You look stunning.” Alex snapped as she looked into Casey’s eyes.

Casey frowned. “You…like it?”

Alex raised her brows in surprise. “Like it?” She huffed a chuckle as she stood up from her chair, her hand going to Casey’s waist and the other to Casey’s hair, running her fingers through it. “Baby, you look amazing. I love it. It’s very different but-“ She sighed. “You look hot.” She smirked.

Casey cleared her throat as she raised her brow. “Really now?”

Alex chuckled darkly. “You thought I’d be mad?” Her hand traveled down from Casey’s neck to her chest and landed on her waist, pushing Casey up so she was sitting on the desk.

Casey gulped as she looked at Alex, trying to play it cool. “Maybe.”

Alex chuckled again as she kissed her cheek. “How did it go?”

“He has been reassigned to Civil Court. He’s gonna be investigated to determine whether or not he made biased decisions on other cases.” Casey grinned.

“I’m proud of you.” Alex grinned as she kissed her nose. “I’m sorry if I didn’t support you. It was wrong of me. I was just afraid you’d be at risk of losing your job.”

Casey nodded. “I get it, but next time…please just support me.”

Alex smiled. “Let’s hope that there won’t be a next time. But…if there is, I will support you, fully.” She leaned in and kissed her lips softly. “So.” She grinned, “You really dyed your hair because you were upset at me, and you thought I’d hate it?”

Casey rolled her eyes playfully as she wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. “I also needed a change but…maybe.” She shrugged. “I was upset.”

“Well, Ms. Novak.” Alex left a trail of kissed from her jawline to her neck. “I think you look stunning.” She whispered against her neck and nibbled her sweet spot.

“Alex.” Casey breathed out as she tilted her head to give Alex more access.

“Yes?” Alex whispered as she licked the part she had just bit.

“We’re in your office.” Casey bit her lip as Alex pulled away enough to look at her.

Alex placed her hand on Casey’s chin and let her thumb run over Casey’s lower lip, leaning down to kiss her lips, and let her tongue swipe across Casey’s lower lip, biting it softly right after. “Have I told you that I love when you bite your lip?” She said against her lips as she smirked.

“Once or twice.” Casey grinned as she pulled Alex for another kiss. “If you’re gonna fuck me, you better do it.”

Alex raised her brow playfully, smirking. “Maybe we should go home, would be more comfortable and I can actually hear you scream my name.” She kissed the tip of her nose as she pulled away, putting all of her files in a pile.

Casey groaned as she rolled her eyes, hopping off the desk and fixing her clothes. “You’re a tease.”

“You love me.” Alex grinned as she looked back at Casey. “Plus, you’ll get what you want once we’re home.” She pecked her lips and then grabbed her briefcase. “C’mon.”

********************

Alexandra Cabot was never one to be jealous of anything, she was an only child, so she always had everything that she wanted. When it came to partners, she always trusted them or just chose to ignore whatever they were doing and then simply get out of the relationship, but she had never considered herself as a jealous person; that wasn’t until she met Casey. They had met thanks to Elizabeth Donnelly and Branch, they happened to be at the same event and Liz had introduced them. Casey had never been to those events, it was her very first time and Alex had been her second or third time. Alex had showed Casey around and had made it easier for her to want to be there, and as they talked, they figured that they were attracted to each other, and Alex had been the one who had asked Casey on a date.

After that date, Alex knew that she definitely didn’t see herself with anyone else but Casey, and she didn’t want Casey to be with anyone else, so she made it her mission to make Casey Novak fall in love with her. Which had not been hard at all, or she had to work hard because Casey loved every moment she spent with Alex, she didn’t want to spend a day without seeing her or being with her, so for both of them, it was easy to fall in love and they couldn’t have it any other way. And that’s when Alex figured out that she was indeed a jealous person -but she was not about to admit it-. Casey hadn’t even noticed, always being oblivious, but in one of their nights out, some guys had tried to get her attention by complimenting her outfit and her hair, and that made Alex’s blood boil, walking back to Casey and wrapping her arm around her possessively, kissing her bare shoulder and then looking at the boys with a smirk on her face. She didn’t think it was possible for people to disappear so fast, but she had just witnessed it when the boys literally ran away. Casey only turned to wrap her arms around her and kiss her, acting as if nothing had happened.

The second time that it happened, it had been in the office. Some interns had been around the office trying to get to know the place, and it so happened that they ran into Casey when she was heading to Alex’s office. Alex hadn’t noticed at first since she was in a call, but once she finished it, she looked up to find Casey talking to them, and she could see the interns eyes looking up and down at Casey, and once again, Alex felt her blood boil at the scene. She didn’t think twice, and she stood up, making her way to them, opening the door a little too fast and soon enough getting to where they were standing, rapidly getting the interns’ attention on her as they looked at her with wide eyes. She was 100% sure that they had already heard about Alex being the Ice Queen, and she didn’t care one bit about it.

“Hello.” Alex wrapped her arm around Casey’s waist, pulling her against her body and turning to look at her to offer a smile before her eyes went back to the interns.

“I was about to go to your office! You forgot your glasses on mine.” Casey smiled softly as she placed the glasses on Alex, putting a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

Alex turned to look at Casey and grinned. “Thanks, babygirl.” She looked back at the inters and raised her brows, a smirk on her lips. “Don’t you guys have somewhere to be?” Soon enough, the guys were gone, leaving Alex with a triumphant smirk on her face. She then turned to look at Casey and kissed her lips. “Should we go for lunch?”

Casey nodded. “Sure.” She then squinted her eyes and grinned. “Why you have that smirk on your face?”

Alex shrugged. “Oh, no reason.” She smiled. “Where would my baby like to go?” She grabbed Casey’s hand and pulled her into her office.

********************

Alex was playing with her glasses as her eyes focused on Cragen’s office, Casey was inside with Huang, Olivia, Cragen, and Elliot as they watched Fin and Munch interrogate a suspect. Casey told Alex that she’d stay longer than expected with the squad so Alex decided it would be a good idea to just wait for her until she was done, after all she had already finished her work and they could go back home together. She knew both had been pretty stressed since the week had been full of arraignments, trials, paperwork, etc., so the only thing that Alex really wanted was to get home, have some dinner, take a bath with her girlfriend, and then go to sleep. Her mind had been stuck all day with the thought of Casey giving her one of those massages that she so loved, she hated massages, but Casey’s hands were heaven against her skin. Olivia then walked out of the office and noticed Alex, who got out of her trance once she heard Olivia calling her name, putting her glasses down on the desk she was leaning on.

“Hey! Waiting for Casey?” Olivia smiled.

“Yeah, I finished with my own work, so thought I could wait for her here.” Alex smiled.

Olivia nodded as she leaned over the desk beside Alex, looking at Cragen’s office too and noticing Casey. “So, now she’s a blonde, huh?” She smiled.

“She is, she looks like a real life Barbie.” Alex grinned, eyeing Casey intently.

Olivia nodded as she grinned. “She looks really good, fits her well, actually.”

Alex looked at Olivia and raised her brow. “She does.” Before she could say anything else, Elliot appeared in front of them and started talking about the case, Alex moving away from the desk and walking behind Elliot and Olivia as she heard about the case.

“I’ll check if I can get us a warrant but, I’m telling you, this is not looking good, and I don’t thin the judge will buy it.” Casey spoke as she walked with Cragen to where Olivia, Elliot and Alex were, turning then to look at Alex and smiling softly. “Hey you.”

Alex smiled. “Hey.”

Casey kissed her cheek softly and smiled. “Let me get my stuff and then we leave.” She went to Fin’s desk to grab her coat and her briefcase.

“You better watch out for Perez, cause she has been eyeing you this whole time, Novak.” Fin laughed as he looked at Alex and Casey, making Alex look back at Fin, frowning.

“Who?” Alex snapped.

“New officer, since Novak got here, he’s been standing like a dumbass in there.” Fin pointed to a brunette officer that was talking to another officer and every now and then looking on Casey’s direction.

Casey rolled her eyes. “He can look all he wants. I don’t really care.” She shrugged as she looked at Fin.

Alex sighed as she looked back at Casey. “Hey baby, we should go.” She looked back at Elliot’s desk and grinned softly, walking away, and waiting at the entrance, standing a bit closer to where the officers were.

Casey said her goodbyes and as she was about to walk to Alex, she huffed a chuckled and grabbed Alex’s glasses from Elliot’s desk, putting them up to show Alex and grinned. “You always forget them, baby.” She chuckled as she put the glasses on Alex and kissed her nose. “Now we’re good to go.”

Alex tried not to blush as Casey kissed her nose and called her baby, cleared her throat and grabbing Casey’s hand, pulling her so they could leave. It was no secret that Casey had a very soft spot for Alex, and she didn’t care showing it in front of everyone, but Alex, had always been reserved, except when it came to Casey. She called her pet names, she wrapped her arm around her, kissed her cheek, etc. But hearing Casey calling her names and Alex blushing? That was definitely something they didn’t see every day, so when they looked at both of them and noticed Alex’s face, they all couldn’t help but laugh a little, making comments and jokes knowing that if they made them in front of Alex, they’d have to prepare for their deaths.

********************

Casey sighed softly as she walked into the precinct, smiling as she noticed Olivia and Elliot. “We got him.”

Elliot sighed. “Well now that’s good news.”

“Congrats, counselor.” Olivia smiled as she patted Casey’s back.

“Thanks.” Casey frowned as she looked at Elliot. “Did you get bad news?”

“Fin called, he’s in the Peralta trial. They’re giving Alex a hard time.”

Casey sighed softly as she nodded. “Yeah, she’s been stressed about it lately.”

“Maybe that’s not the only reason she’s stressed.” Olivia raised her brow as she sat on her chair, looking at Casey.

Casey looked at Olivia and raised her brow. “What you mean? Something else happened?”

Olivia chuckled. “C’mon, Casey, you really haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what? Am I missing something here?” Casey looked at Elliot and back at Olivia.

“Men have been giving your girlfriend a hard time. Literally anyone that stares at you or even dares smile at you, is giving your girlfriend a hard time.” Olivia chuckled softly.

Casey huffed a chuckle and shook her head. “That’s not true. Alex is not a jealous person.”

Elliot laughed as he leaned over Munch’s desk, crossing his arms as he looked at Casey. “I never thought you were an oblivious person, Case.”

“Did you not notice last time when Perez was devouring you with his stare? Alex got upset, she wrapped her arm around you and kissed you right in front of his face.”

Casey shrugged. “That’s something Alex always does. I mean, sure, she does it more than she usually does but that’s because she’s becoming comfortable with us being public.” She shook her head as she frowned. “Guys, you’re looking really into this. Alex is not a jealous person.”

“I’d say possessive.” Elliot shrugged. Olivia chuckled softly.

Casey rolled her eyes. “Right. You don’t know Alex like I do, behind all that ‘ice queen’ persona, she’s actually a really sweet and loving person. She’s cute. I don’t think she’s possessive nor jealous.”

“Whatever you say, Novak.” Olivia shrugged as she grinned, standing up again to grab her things. “Let’s go for some drinks and we’ll call the rest from there.”

“No need. We’re back.” Munch sighed as he walked with Fin.

“That bad?” Elliot frowned.

“Don’t even mention it to Cabot.” Fin murmured as he shook his head. “We’re not done yet but, it doesn’t seem that good. Recess until tomorrow afternoon.”

Olivia sighed as she looked at Casey. “Think your girlfriend will need a drink.”

Casey nodded as she looked back and noticed Alex walking to them, a serious look on her face. “Guys, why don’t you go ahead, and we meet you there?” Everyone agreed and grabbed their stuff, leaving both women alone. Casey offered a small smile and stood in front of Alex. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Alex sighed as she looked at Casey, offering a small smile. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Casey kissed her forehead softly. “Let’s forget about it tonight. Let’s go for some drinks and we can go over your notes in the morning, yes?” She offered a small smile. “Or we can go home, I’ll do what you tell me.”

Alex smiled softly as she pecked her lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Casey shrugged. “I definitely am.” She smiled. “So? What does my baby want?” She grinned.

Alex blushed slightly at her words, rolling her eyes playfully. She had always found it cringe whenever they called her baby, but Casey? She loved it. “Let’s go for some drinks.”

“Then we go.” Casey grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “C’mon. Drinks are on me.”

“Oh, so charming.” Alex chuckled softly.

Once at the bar, they all started randomly talking about stories of other cases they’ve done, funny stories, etc. Alex still felt a bit stressed about the whole thing but seeing her girlfriend laughing with the squad and telling her own stories, make her smile and even laugh a little. She knew everything she needed was to be with Casey and things would eventually get at least a little better, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy hanging out with the squad, they were her second family and even if they got under her nerves, they also got the best of her and relaxed Alex; she loved them, and that was everything she needed.

Eventually, after some drinks, Alex had also joined in with her own stories, earning hysterical laughs from everyone, they had gotten to the point where they were all a bit tipsy and whatever worry they had, it was entirely gone now. Casey noticed their drinks were now gone and she offered to pay for the next round, kissing Alex’s cheek and going to the bar and ordering a new round of drinks, leaning over the bar to wait for them. Alex was in conversation with Olivia and Elliot, but then she turned to look at her girlfriend and make sure she was alright or if she needed any help with the drinks, and that was enough to help her sober up a bit, feeling her blood boiling once again. She hated the fact that she was getting so used to feeling like this. It so happened that Trevor Langan had decided to go to the same bar as them and was now leaning over the bar talking to Casey. Alex took a deep breath as she finished her drink and tried to look away, knowing that Casey could handle it, she knew Casey didn’t like him, more so when she found out that he had tried to invite Alex out. But she couldn’t help but look back at them, wanting to wipe Langan’s smirk off his face.

“Hey, Fin, you think you can help with the drinks?” Alex turned to look at him with a smile on her face, standing up to walk to the bar followed by Fin.

Olivia turned in their direction and grinned. “Oh, I definitely wanna see this.”

Alex stood beside Casey and wrapped her arm around her waist, looking at Langan. “Langan. Long time no see.” She grinned.

“Alexandra Cabot. Likewise.” Trevor smiled. “I was just telling Casey that blonde really fits her well, didn’t really recognize her.” He looked at Casey and grinned.

“I’m outta here.” Fin whispered as he grabbed the drinks and went back to the table with the squad.

Casey rolled her eyes as she looked at Alex. “And I was telling him to back away, but he thinks he can get a date with me.” She looked back at him and raised her brow.

“Oh, you got no chance, bud. Haven’t you heard? Casey’s taken.” Alex grinned.

“Ah, c’mon, Alex. A date won’t hurt anyone.” Trevor shrugged. “If you want, you can join, I’m sure you regretted saying no to me now that I’m inviting Casey out.” He looked Casey up and down before he returned his eyes to Alex.

“Actually, Trevor. I am also taken. If you cannot put the puzzles together, I’ll help you out a bit. Casey is my girlfriend. So, I’d really appreciate it if you went back from where you came from.” Alex smirked as she tried to stay as calm as possible.

Trevor cleared his throat. “Oh. I didn’t know that. I’m- sorry. Have a nice night.” He smiled before he grabbed his drink and went back to his table.

Casey laughed softly as she turned to look at Alex. “I can’t believe he’s still trying. It’s like he wants to get with every-“

“Can you come to the bathroom with me?” Alex grabbed Casey’s hand and didn’t wait for an answer, pulling her with her and going to the bathroom, completely ignoring the looks from the squad.

Casey frowned once they were inside, turning to look at Alex who checked there was no one in the bathroom as she locked the door. “Alex?”

Alex turned to look at Casey and pushed her against the cold wall, crashing her lips against Casey’s in a searing but passionate kiss, making Casey gasp but reacted once Alex’s hands went to her waist to pull her impossibly closer to her. Casey wrapped her arms around Alex and deepened the kiss, moaning softly, giving Alex access to let her tongue explore Casey’s mouth, tasting the alcohol and the sweetness of Casey’s taste. They parted to catch their breathe but Alex left a trail of soft kisses from her cheek to her earlobe, nibbling it slightly and then down to the junction of her neck, making Casey buck her hips against Alex’s front and her hands burying in Alex’s hair. Alex proceeded to bite and suck on Casey’s sweet spot, earning another moan from Casey, making her smirk against her skin as she licked the bite. When she noticed Casey was almost trembling against her, she pulled away panting as she looked at Casey, getting some of Casey’s hair out of her face and kissing her forehead softly.

“W-What was that for?” Casey breathed out as she looked into blue eyes.

Alex chuckled darkly as she smirked. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

Casey squinted her eyes as she grinned. “Right. So…it has nothing to do with Langan.” Biting her lip softly as she looked at Alex.

Alex leaned in again to kiss her, sucking on her bottom lip, and biting it softly. “I don’t know what you talking about.” Alex whispered softly as she let go of Casey’s waist, smirking and going to check herself in the mirror, fixing her hair.

Casey took a deep breath and finally moved to go to the mirror. She frowned as she looked at herself and gasped. “Alex! I don’t have any makeup to cover this up!”

Alex smirked as she looked at Casey. “Oh, I didn’t think it’d show up.” She winked at Casey before she walked to the door and unlocked it, walking out of the bathroom and leaving Casey behind.

Casey looked back in the mirror and huffed a laugh. “Possessive. Sounds about right.” She shook her head before she fixed her hair and tried to bottom up her shirt all the way to the top.

********************

Alex groaned as she dropped her briefcase on her desk and sat on her chair, running her hands through her hair as she leaned back into the chair. Weeks of working on this case for the asshole to get away with it for one simple mistake that wasn’t even the detectives or Alex’s fault. All those stressful days and nights working on this case for nothing, for them to break him free and no way to retrial. She felt the stress finally catching up and taking over her body as she tried to stretched but she felt nothing but pain and tension. She closed her eyes for a moment not sure of what she was supposed to do next. She could stay and try to figure out if she could retry this case or she could simply go home and accept her defeat, but both options honestly felt useless and wrong. She opened her eyes as she heard her door closing, looking up and seeing her girlfriend walking towards her, a sympathetic smile on her face.

“Hey.” Casey smiled as she pulled a chair and brought it to Alex’s side, sitting down and turning Alex’s chair so she was facing her. “You okay?”

Alex sighed softly. “Who called you?”

“Fin.” Casey shrugged. “He said he saw you really upset, wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Alex nodded. “I am okay. I just…really wish they could’ve put all evidence and the victims first. They let him walk and I don’t think I can do it again.”

Casey nodded as she grabbed Alex’s hand and kissed it softly. “We can talk to Liz, she can tell us what we can do, and I’ll be here to help.”

Alex smiled as she looked at Casey. “I know you will.” She sighed. “I think we can try again. We can go to Liz and ask for advice.”

“But don’t beat yourself up if Liz says you cannot do it again.” Casey grinned. “Then you and I can work on it.”

Alex huffed a chuckle. “Of course you’d offer that.”

“You know I can do it.” Casey grinned and leaned in to kiss Alex’s cheek. “Anything else in that pretty head of yours?”

Alex shrugged as she sighed, looking away. “I don’t think so.”

Casey raised her brow as she tilted her head. “You know, one of the interns went to my office today.”

Alex snapped her head up and looked at Casey. “What?”

“Yeah, he introduced himself since he didn’t have the chance last time I saw them. Said he had heard about me, and he was pretty interested in my way of working. Said he’d love to learn my techniques.” Casey smiled.

Alex nodded as she wetted her lips. “By that, he means, get in bed with you or work stuff?” She raised her brow.

Casey chuckled softly as she shook her head. “You’re a jealous person.”

Alex frowned. “Am not.”

“Baby, you literally just asked if he wants to get in bed with me or he was talking about work.” Casey raised her brow. “Last week at the bar, you took me to the bathroom and made sure to mark me, so everyone could see that I’m yours.” She grinned. “Not only do you get jealous, but you get possessive over me.”

Alex’s heart stopped at Casey’s words, clearing her throat as she shrugged. “I uh…I’m sorry I- I don’t know why I get like this, I just-“

“I kinda dig it.” Casey smirked.

Alex raised her brow. “You do?”

“Alexandra, you should know better than to get jealous of some random people. When you know that I’m yours.” Casey said as she stood up, sitting on Alex’s lap and wrapping her arms around Alex’s neck.

Alex’s breath hitched as she looked up at Casey. “I guess I was just afraid that you noticed that I was nothing special.”

“You’re wrong in that. Because you’re everything I ever wanted and more. You are something special, Alexandra Cabot. There is no denial of that.” Casey smiled as she leaned down to kiss her lips softly. “Do you think I also don’t get jealous whenever someone looks at you? But…I like to think that you really don’t have eyes for anyone else but me.” She grinned. “A bit cocky, but…am I wrong?” She asked against her lips, kissing her again.

Alex shook her head, pulling away enough to answer. “Not at all.”

Casey nodded, kissing her forehead softly. “Thought so.” She smiled. “Now, why don’t you let me help you relax? Get some stress off.”

Alex frowned again as she looked at Casey. “What are you talking about?”

Casey nibbled on her bottom lip as she moved to kneel down in front of Alex, getting under her desk and moving Alex’s chair again to have her in front of her. Alex’s breath hitched again as she felt Casey’s cold hands going under her skirt and moving it up enough for her to be able to pull her underwear down. Alex’s eyes filled with lust as she stared into green eyes, her eyes too full of lust.

“Casey…” Alex breathed out as Casey pulled down her underwear.

“Just relax, baby. And let me do my part.” Casey wetted her lips as she parted Alex’s legs.

Alex gasped softly and threw her head back as she felt Casey’s tongue licking all the way up from bottom to her clit, making Alex’s hips thrust against her and her hands burying in her hair, pulling her closer to her. Alex couldn’t help but moan louder than she wanted as Casey worked her way in her heat, pausing every now and then to bite her thighs and then diving back, licking and sucking. Her eyes closed for a moment as she threw her head back, Casey’s name leaving her mouth in small whimpers. But as she looked back up to look at Casey, she noticed a shadow walking in front of her windows, cursing under her breath and pulling softly on Casey’s hair, but Casey had other plans.

“Casey!” Alex whispered/yelled.

“Hey Alex.” Olivia said as she opened the door.

“H-Hi! Hey.” Alex tried to clear her throat as she looked at Olivia, offering a smile.

“Sorry, I just wanted to come check on you. Fin and Munch told us what happened back there.” Olivia said as she leaned over the door frame and crossed her arms.

“Oh, yeah. Uh…I mean…we did what we could and-“ she took a deep breath as she felt Casey’s fingers going inside her. “I-I think we tried everything we could.” She cleared her throat again. Pulling Casey’s hair to get her away but Casey sucked on her clit and pumped harder.

Olivia frowned but nodded. “ We did, and if you need any help, you know we’ll help you out.”

Alex nodded rapidly. “I know. Thanks.”

Olivia frowned again. “Are you feeling okay, Alex? You…seem weird.”

Alex sighed as she tried to hide the moan that wanted to leave her mouth. “Stress…getting to me. I uh…I think I’m getting a bit…a bit sick.”

“Do you want me to call Casey? Or I can take you home if you need to.”

“No! No, Casey-“ Alex gulped as she bit her lip. “Casey said she’d come. Any time soon now.”

Olivia nodded. “Alright then, I’ll leave you do your stuff.” She smiled softly. “Call if you need us.” She offered a final smile before she closed the door.

Alex followed Olivia with her eyes until she made sure she was completely out of sight and couldn’t help but moan loudly, her hand covering her mouth as her other hand pulled Casey’s head closer. “Case…I’m gonna come.” She breathed out as she looked down at Casey.

Casey bit her lip softly as she looked up at Alex. “Then come for me, and don’t look away.” She said in a rapier voice as her tongue darted out again to lick and suck on her clit.

Alex moaned Casey’s name heavily as she came undone, blue eyes never leaving green ones, her body shaking and thrusting into Casey’s face as Casey continued pumping her fingers and licking through until she finally calmed down. Alex thew her head back against the chair and whimpered as Casey licked her clean, pulling her fingers out slowly. She kissed Alex’s thighs before she pushed Alex’s chair to be able to move out of under the desk and stand up. She turned to make sure no one was near and looked back at Alex who was still panting heavily against the chair. Casey chuckled darkly as she leaned over the desk, Alex’s underwear hanging on her hand.

“Feeling better?” Casey smirked as she licked her fingers clean, moaning at the taste of Alex.

Alex left out a heavy breath as she shook her head. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Oh, am I?” Casey raised her brow as she tilted her head. “I just wanted to help you relax.”

“And you couldn’t wait until we got home.” Alex raised her brow as she sat down, making sure that she was stable enough to stand up.

Casey shrugged. “Maybe I wanted the whole office to hear you moan my name, so they know you’re mine.”

Alex chuckled softly as she stood up, pulling her skirt down and pressing her body against Casey’s. “I thought I was the possessive one.”

Casey shrugged. “Who said I can’t be? After all…you’re mine.” She fixed Alex’s glasses, proceeded to place her hand on Alex’s cheek and pulled for a kiss, her tongue swiping against Alex’s bottom lip asking for access.

Alex’s moaned at the taste of herself in Casey’s tongue, biting Casey’s bottom lip as she pulled away. “Guess I can’t object to that. I see why you dig it.” She smirked, kissing Casey’s nose.

“But hey…seriously talking now.” Casey smiled softly. “I only want you, Alexandra Cabot. I’m yours. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex smiled as she kissed Casey’s cheek. “Same goes to you, Casey Novak.” She pecked her lips softly and grinned. “Should we go home now so I can fuck you?” She bit her lip.

Casey smirked. “As you wish.” She moved once Alex backed away from her, both women grabbing their briefcase.

“Can I have my underwear back?” Alex looked at Casey.

“Oh. This is mine to keep.” Casey smirked as she put the underwear inside her briefcase.

Alex sighed as she shook her head. “You better remember to take it out when we’re home or you’ll be in serious trouble tomorrow.”

Casey laughed softly as Alex wrapped her arm around Casey’s waist, kissing her cheek and walking together to the door. Alexandra Cabot still had her doubts about being a jealous person, but she had to agree that she was a little possessive. But after all, Casey Novak was hers and only hers.

#casey novak x alex cabot #casey novak #alexandra cabot #alex cabot #calex #svu fic #svu #law and order svu

[historianthesecond]

Familiar Melody

Hi! It’s my first time writing about Nikolai, so I apologize if it isn’t that good. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it ^^

Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Reader-----1.3K-----SFW

Summary: As the daughter of the music teacher, you’ve known the Second Prince since a long time ago. You both thought you’d never see each other again, and yet, here you are, face-to-face. Have the feelings between you two changed?

Tags: Fluff| Childhood Friends/Childhood Sweethearts| Lil bit of Longing| I think that’s all

A piano melody echoed from under the doors of the music room when Nikolai passed by on his way toward the bedroom. He frowned, the leather of his boots creaking over the muffled sound of the growing storm raging outside. The metal handles felt cold against his warm hands, leaving the gold slightly stained with oil from his repairing the Hummingbird that had kept them up much later than he imagined.

Just like however was practicing piano at this hour, too.

The music room seemed frozen in time, with the same paintings decorating the walls, and string instruments tucked in the glass doors of the closets aligned to the far end of the space. A piano settled in the middle of it, a lonely stool in front of the massive instrument where a figure sat in front.

Dressed in a simple dress that pooled in light violet waves across the wooden floor, hair swinging in gentle movements as the fingers flew across the keys. A familiar, yet foreign picture of the music teacher’s daughter Nikolai met more than ten years ago.

He knew it was you, but it was the way only a hunch could determine. It was impressive that he remembered the color of your hair, the posture you glazed over the piano that looked so comfortable and easy to mimic, only to discover that his legs started to irk too much when he tried to stay still for a whole two hours.

Nikolai called your name as if it were a bet, half-expecting it would have been a mistake. That you were gone with your family and that the person in front of him was just too eerily similar to your physique—or how he imagined you would look now, better put.

Your left hand hovered over the keys, frozen in a mid-finished tune.

The lamps flanked the piano alone and leaving the rest of the room in semi-darkness made your eyes twinkle when you looked back at him, a smile slowly appearing as you recognized him.

Turning, you incorporated to bow. “Moi Tsarevich,” you said. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Nikolai,” he corrected. “I would like to believe we’re still friends so perhaps you can teach me piano again?”

When he was a child, his Mother tried to morph him into a noble, just like Vasily. He had a dozen of teachers for each subject imaginable; economics, language, law, fencing… of course,  he must also have a former music teacher, your father. And as with any other teacher—except with those lucky ones of fencing and dancing—Nikolai was a troublesome kid. Incapable of sitting during the lessons in front of a desk, distracted while doodling his inventions in the margins of his books.

You leaned against the instrument. “Oh? Why is that? Have your attention span gotten better?”

He winced. So that’s how you remembered him. Not a very fond memory, but it could still work.

Nikolai didn’t pay attention to the piano lessons either, so your father thought it would be a good idea to bring you along, so Nikolai could at least try to imitate you, or that somehow his competitive nature would get prickled by your almost natural skill in front of the piano.

Instead, the prince found you boring. Sitting on the uncomfortable stool repeating the same part of the song again and again until you memorized it, only to go after the next part and the next. It was oh so dull. And why would you not pay attention to him?

You didn’t care he was a prince, that he could get you in trouble if he wanted to. Nikolai had tried to poke you, to call you, first, with simple ‘psst’ noises, until a couple of days later he caught your father calling your name.

It was the first time you stopped, half-turning to him careful not to touch him as you both shared the same piano. A realization hit Nikolai, considering that perhaps he had to play your ways if he wanted to prove his inner theory, the one that said that perhaps it would be easier for him to have friends outside the snob kids of the courtesans that would do anything to be in Vasily’s good book, including ignoring him and other crueler things that he preferred to shrug off from his memory.

“Perhaps it would get better if I can get a dedicated teacher,” he commented, eyeing the clock hung nearby. “One that plays well into midnight would do.”

You sat at the stool, facing him, with your fingers interlaced at your lap. “I’m afraid I don’t teach, Moi Tsarevich, my duties as a court musician absorb too much of my time.”

He walked closer, looking at the sheet music. “I assume you’re practicing for my birthday celebration?”

“A somewhat conceited assumption, but yes. I am.”

Nikolai couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Would it count as conceited if I ask you to dance with me at the party?”

You slid back down the piano’s cover, turning your head at him with a smile. “I don’t think I can play the piano and dance at the same time.”

“A shame, truly. And here I thought you were a prodigy.”

The dimmed room wouldn’t hide Nikolai’s clothes stained with ash and oil, and it was easy to connect the dots while remembering all the drawings of his inventions back in the day when he showed them to you after class.

“Not as much as you, that is clear.” Even if you used to talk to him ironically to counterbalance his never-ending witty jokes, you were saying the truth. He had always been very bright for things a noble wouldn’t expect to master unless strictly necessary.

Thunder disrupting into silver flashes over the gigantic window overlooking the Queen’s Garden, the place Nikolai plucked flowers to sneak them into your backpack when you weren’t looking, even when he knew it was a better idea to give them to you face-to-face.

"I missed you," he said then because it was true and it didn’t make sense to pretend otherwise. Nikolai had tried to keep track of your family when he enlisted in his military service, but when the notice arrived of your father resigning his place as a court musician and renowned teacher to move out of Os Alta, he thought you’d left with him.

Being Sturmhoud had put his mind at bay from the overflowing memories of the people that cared for him when he was still Nikolai, the Second Prince nobody minded. He thought of you gone, just like he did with Dominik. And now that he had you in front of him, a striking wish swept over him, wanting to hug you. When was the last time he did so?

Years ago, the last afternoon he spent in this room, sitting next to you on the stool even though it had become too small for both of you. It was just as improper as the way the hugged you, rubbing your back with his hand as you had your fists filled with the soft fabric of his dress shirt. When he kissed you, for the first and last time.

He’d wished the moment could have lasted longer—for an eternity, even.

“I missed you too, Nikolai,” you said softly, hoping that your hair could hide your flushed state, the way your eyes avoided his.

The prince stood there, unsure of what to do. The clock chimed past midnight.

“I shall go,” he said. “I need to have my beauty sleep.” Before turning, he added: “You don’t need it, but you should rest, too.”

“Is that a compliment I hear?” You pretended to be shocked, ignoring that your heart was hammering against your ribcage.

Nikolai winked, strolling toward the door. "I'll see you at my birthday celebration, then. With my gift, of course.”

“Goodnight, Moi Tsarevich,” you waved. “Sweet dreams.”

“I’ll dream of you,” he replied, his tone nonchalant as he opened the double doors, stepping out.

Before he could close the door, he heard your laugh. “That’ll be more a nightmare, but suit yourself.”

As Nikolai walked away, he heard the soft melody of the piano flowing out from under the door, a smile slowly making its way into the corners of his lips. He did miss you. So much more than he thought.

Perhaps he could resume where you two left off last time?

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai x you #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lanstov #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x you

[malum-forev]

"Who did this to you?" For the bingo plz & thank you!💕

Bby girl, ask and you shall receive! This is a Mafia!40's!Bucky x MobBossDaughter!Reader. Think the godfather style when you read this! I think this is one of my favorite things I've written, and I hope you like it too!

 You were running, your heightened senses making everything around you feel like a series of photographs. Snapshots taken to reduce space in your mind after your fight or flight response.

You weren’t supposed to be here, if you’d only listened to your father’s overprotective words or at least listened to his nagging nanny- your father had scolded you many times telling you not to call Bucky that but whenever the two of you were behind closed doors he would laugh, calling you the funniest woman he'd ever met- you wouldn’t be in this position. 

Your feet ached, blisters were sure to form, your heels were definitely not made for this kind of activity. You looked down at the shiny leather shoes, gromets now vacant where a bow used to be tied. It must have fallen off somewhere on the way, your fleeing movements loosening the knot.

You turned the corner and finally saw your house, the four-story Brownstone had only two lights turned on. You looked down at your broken watch, your first attempt to flee your “date” if you could even call him that, it marked ten past eleven and that was hours ago. It pained you to admit that Bucky was right, he’d warned you thousands of times that the Walker family was not to be trusted. 

“Even though there is peace today, it doesn’t assure you it will be that way tomorrow.” Bucky had told you once after you’d said you were considering accepting a date from the family’s oldest son. “Remember your position in this family and in this world, then consider their true intentions.”

But you’d only rolled your eyes at his remarks. “I believe you are the one who should remember his position in this family and in this world.” You came closer to him, his towering height did not intimidate you. The two of you had virtually grown up together. He was ten years your senior, making everyone around you think you were as close as siblings but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. A brother should never think of his sister the way Bucky thought of you whenever he let his mind roam to that place he shouldn't. You smoothed the lapels on his three-piece dark wool suit, you flattened your palms on his firm chest and dragged them down slowly. He took in a sharp breath as your hands inched down below his belt and stopped parallel to where he desired you the most. Your fingers twitched as if they had a mind of their own, wanting to get closer to him, closer to the part of him that made him masculine. 

You ripped your hands from his hips and took his right hand, you rested it on your palm and your other hand toyed with the signet ring on his pinky finger. The gold shone against his skin, your family’s crest forever imprinted on it. Your father’s wish to have had a male heir would linger as long as the ring lived. There was no amount of duties you could complete that would let your father pass his empire down to you. A stinging truth that made you curse having been born as a woman. 

“Did you make a vow of chastity when my father picked you up from the streets?” Your voice was calm as you rubbed your finger on the gold ring. “Or is it just your terrible personality that forbids you from making a woman climax?”

Bucky chuckled, low and throaty. “The only vow I made your father, was to never fuck his darling little girl.”

“Hm.” Was the only thing you said, dropping his hand and leaving the room. 

You climbed up the steps to your home almost having to drag your body, the exhaustion of sprinting what felt like hours catching up to you. You slowly turned your key, trying to make the smallest amount of noise and stepped inside. There was the faint sound of a record playing and light chatter coming from your father’s study. But as you were about to walk up the stairs to your bedroom and finally put an end to this abhorrent night, the door opened. In a panic, you quickly hid in the coat closet. 

“That’s it for tonight, James.” You heard your father say. “I better get upstairs before I’m sent to the doghouse.”

“Good night, Sir.” Bucky responded. 

You leaned back on the plush fur coats, trying to steady your breath. This was the first time you caught a glimpse of your garments. The silk dress you’d saved up over a month’s allowance for, was now gashed down the middle. You were lucky no one had seen you run around at this time of night, one bad move and you’d be revealed. Your chest was starting to purple, finger sized hues of blue and violet started to appear where John had tried to force you down. You wouldn’t be surprised if your aching neck was covered in these bruises. 

Your shoes were filled with mud and scratches and your tights that once had a seam going up the back were ripped, holes everywhere. Your eyes started to burn as you remembered the crazed look in his eyes as he tried to rip your clothes off but you swallowed down your tears.

Once you made sure your father had retreated to his bedroom, you wrapped yourself in one of your mother’s fur coats and quietly left your hiding spot. But once again, as soon as you stepped foot on the staircase another creak came from the study. This time you weren’t quick enough.

“Is it past three am already? Done with a hard night’s work of terrorizing young children?” Your back was to Bucky but you were sure his face was adorned with a smug smile. 

Your shoulders dropped with a sigh. “Not today, please.”

The first alarm rang when he heard your tone. His eyes trailed from the top of your head, noticing your usual pinned up hair was awry, to your muddy shoes. He heard his heartbeat in his ears as he zeroed on the small patch of skin being revealed from a hole in your tights. You had more than enough money to buy a pair each day of your life if you wished that so, why were you wearing a ripped pair?

“Turn around.” Bucky said quietly at first but as you stood glued to your spot he became more and more desperate, his voice becoming louder. “Turn around and look at me now!”

Bucky had no care for your parents sleeping two floors up. He just wanted you to turn around and tell him you had been carelessly running through a field or whatever you decided to do whenever you weren’t with him. He wished, even though it would fill his being with madness, that you would tell him some man had wooed you with enough love that you’d followed him to bed. Taking you for the night of your life. But as you slowly shifted and he looked at your reddening eyes, he knew something was terribly wrong. You kept your head low, something your usual gutsy nature would never allow. 

Bucky took you into the study, the light illuminated the bruises that were peeking out of the fur collar. 

“Take it off.” Bucky demanded with a gruff tone he’d never before used with you.

You shook your head, one single tear fell from your eye. “I can’t”

“Please, darling.” Bucky closed his eyes and steadied his breaths, trying to keep his anger at bay but it was proving to be impossible. Impossible because your courageous personality was something he loved and seeing you like this could only mean one thing, impossible because his blood boiled when you flinched as he raised his hand to caress your cheek. 

With a gulp you let the coat drop to the floor, pooling around your feet. 

Bucky gasped, his trembling hand traced from your jaw down the valley of your breasts. His touch ghosted the ripped fabric, slipping the scraps of what used to be the sleeves down your arms, making the dress join your discarded coat. 

His jaw ticked as he took you in, your once smooth skin he’d so often wish he could kiss had been dishonored. Your body was a temple only few had the privilege to access and someone’s corrupted mind had tainted it. His fingers circled every single bruise on your body, counting thirty-five. 

Bucky sat you down on your fathers couch and took your heels off, carefully checking for any sign of swelling or injury there. 

“Who did this to you?” Bucky whispered, looking at you for the first time since he’d discovered you on the staircase. 

“It was my fault, I should have listened-“

Bucky’s jaw twitched again. “Who did this to you?” He asked through gritted teeth. 

You couldn’t answer him, the embarrassment and pain of the events becoming too much to bare. Your tears fell freely. 

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time.” He raised his voice, frustratedly running a hand through his hair. “Who did this to you!”

“John- John Walker.” You whispered through sobs. 

Bucky got up and paced the study, his fists curling and uncurling at his side. 

“Bucky- don’t-“ you tried but he interrupted. 

“Go to your room!” He barked, you’d never seen such fire in his eyes before. Bucky took off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders, covering your body. He gently led you to the staircase, his hands were careful, like he was scared of hurting you. 

“Where are you going?” You worried. 

Bucky ran his hand over his face, he was trying to calm himself but all he could see was red. 

“Go to your room.” He repeated, this time calmer, opening the front door. “And don’t come out until I knock on your door.”

He didn’t wait for your reply as he slammed the door shut. 

At first, you paced your room and gnawed on your lower lip. Then you showered, trying to clear your mind but each time the soap disappeared and your bruises showed, you were reminded of what happened.

Around three hours later, there was a soft knock on your door. 

You tugged your robe close to your body as you opened the door. Bucky had a gash on the bridge of his nose and a reddish mark on his jaw. You let him in, closing the door with your back. 

As soon as he was inside your bedroom, Bucky dropped to his knees. “Please forgive me.”

Your eyes widened at the sight of the usual stoic man now crying. Your lips parted. 

“Forgive me for not protecting you.” Bucky pleaded, opening your robe and placing a chaste kiss on each of your bruises trailing his lips from your ankles to your stomach. 

“I sentenced John to thirty-five blows, one for each of the marks his vile hands created on your body.” His usual white shirt was stained with dark red marks, Bucky looked up at you his blue eyes clear. “Until my last breath, I will protect you. That is my vow to you.”

Bucky took your hand, his bloody knuckled hand placed a stained cloth bag in your palm. You gasped as you saw teeth inside of it. 

“I have given your father two of his fingers to prove my commitment.” Bucky said before returning his journey up your body, trying to take your pain away. One kiss at a time. 

Part 2

0-0

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[words-of-wolf]

Content warning: this post contains mentions of wolves hunting other animals, and some thoughts on the subject. Nothing I'd consider graphic, but I know it can be sensitive for some folks so I thought I'd warn beforehand!

Hhh, it's a bit hard to know where to start with getting back into writing about my experiences.

It's not that I don't have anything to say - it's the opposite! There's so much I'd like to share. I've always loved talking about my experiences... maybe a bit self-indulgent, but I like to think it can help other folks too, and I've gotten many interesting conversations out of it in the past, so no regrets!

Can't imagine I'll be posting big things like this frequently, but I'll happily answer questions and chat too. ^u^

So... right now, what I've decided I'd like to write about is some of the, I guess kinda fundamental aspects of my identity as a wolf therian.

It's interesting in a way, because there are so many wolves around - there's a lot of people to compare experiences against! I guess, if you have a rare kintype, or a kintype that's varied enough that your individual variation of it is rare (like dragons) - it might be hard to imagine that a wolf would struggle to find other people they relate to. But then, well: there's me.

I don't think anyone's nonhuman experiences are wrong. I don't think anyones' are "superior" either; it's just about who you are as an individual, what feels right and comfortable to you. I just wanted to get that across! Cause what I'd like to talk about does involve some comparison between my feelings and the things I've seen expressed by other wolf therians, and I wouldn't want it to be read as me saying my way of being as any better than anyone elses' (it's not).

During my time in the kin and therian communities (which, I first encountered over ten years ago now, but my activity has been very on-and-off since I reached adulthood) I've met so, so many wolf therians. It's... hmm, complicated for me, in a way? Because I felt very isolated, especially when I was younger, and I felt like wolf therians were supposed to be "my people". But really, I could count on both hands how many wolves I've met that I really related to on any level.

And the reason for that is the same now as it's always been: for a lot of wolf therians, being a wolf seems to be a kind of violent, bloodthirsty identity. The "predator" feeling is strong; there's some affinity for the thrill of the kill, the violence of it all.

That's not a bad thing. It's not wrong! But my experience has been... very different from that.

My perception of wolfhood isn't really "red in tooth and claw" like that. It's more... simple. Not peaceful really - life as a wolf is full of trials and strife - but the violence never felt defining for me. In terms of personal importance, the feelings of wanting to hunt, to fight, to bite and maim... I'd be lying if I said they were entirely absent, but they were always tertiary to things that seemed far more present and central.

I think a big part of that is... well, for context, I believe my wolf identity is linked to a past life. Yeah, stereotypical, I know! But it's genuinely what I experience; I do remember that life, or at least aspects of it. And those memories influence a lot of my experiences in my current life as a wolf-person.

The thing that strikes me most when I compare my own perspective on wolfhood to the ideas often expressed by other wolf therians, is that to me, hunting wasn't violence. It couldn't be violence.

Why? Because I just plain didn't realise that the deer and other animals we killed were living things.

There was no... room to even consider that idea. I didn't know that the deer I drove to exhaustion felt pain and terror, same as I did. I just knew I was hungry and it was food.

It's a strange thing to consider, isn't it? People talk a lot about "what makes us human". I don't think there's any one thing that does. But if I were to point to one of the most jarring, and one of the most utterly sacred parts of being human to me, it would be the ability to connect emotionally with other species.

Humans are not unique for doing that. And maybe there's some animals a wolf could come to see as an individual, in the way I would've seen another wolf. But a deer would never be that. Which contrasts strangely with me, now, as a human: where I can love pigs, and care about their welfare and treatment, but still enjoy some bacon or a porkchop. That can conflict, sometimes, yeah - but from a wolf perspective, that would be incomprehensible. At least, from my experiences it would be.

And if you remove the idea of violence from hunting, suddenly a wolf's life doesn't seem very violent at all. The act of hunting and killing prey animals felt no more violent to me, than when I cook up a steak for myself now. To someone, that would be violent, but to me it's just a steak - y'know? I know the steak comes from a cow, but that fact brings me neither grief nor pleasure. It's just kinda how the world is and I'm mostly okay with that.

The act of hunting was, I'd say, something I enjoyed as a wolf. I loved the chase. It was fun. Taking down prey could be scary; even a deer is dangerous when cornered and desperate. But the thing with nature is that it makes what you have to do to survive feel desirable: so risking my life for a meal felt thrilling, in a way, and a full belly afterwards was satisfying, and comforting, and a relief from the usual gnaw of hunger.

Hunting's only a small part of being a wolf, though. Even setting aside all the attempted hunts that fall through before you even get into a full sprint.

A lot of wolf life focuses on territory. In some places, it's a very intense, almost war-like conflict; constant, bloody, often fatal. Not always, though. It depends a lot on the intensity of the ecosystem you live in: a place with lots of prey attracts lots of wolves, who then compete for access. If the prey's more spread out, the wolves are more spread out too... and an area of land feels less worth dying for when you've got so many others to search.

Me and my pack were one of the latter varieties. Territorial conflicts were rare, for us; I don't recall any specifically. We patrolled, we marked our space. Territorial disputes were something I was aware of, I think - if I saw a trespasser I certainly would've acted with aggression - but it just wasn't a common occurrence.

So my experience of being a wolf didn't feel like it was defined by violence much. It didn't feel bloody and raw. I could see myself in the image of a wolf that snarls, maybe, but moreso I see myself in the image of the wolf that sleeps, or - perhaps most of all - the wolf that wanders.

And that's what existence as a wolf was, and is for me! It's wandering. It is the neverending search. Even when you find what you need, the relief can't last long - you need to move on soon, you need to seek again soon, because it won't be long before your empty belly's gnawing at your insides again. It wasn't ever a life of violence, it was a life of travel, for the good and the bad of it: for the new sights and new smells and new opportunities; for the exhaustion, the uncertainty, the sore paws and aching muscles.

And the restlessness. The need to keep moving. Keep going. Keep searching, always searching.

But, of course, that's still not the centre piece of the puzzle. Because that could only ever, of course, be the pack.

This is something I'll probably dedicate time to writing about all on its own, because I have such deep feelings about "the pack" as a concept, and also about my pack, who I lived for in my last life.

But I will say that all of my deepest, most vivid, and most impactful memories... they're not of the hunt, they're not about territory or conflict or hunger. What I remember most richly is the love I felt for my pack. It's a feeling I can't quite find it in me to explain; sometimes I wonder if the reason I identify as loveless in this life, is simply because no love I've ever felt as a human could compare to what I felt as a wolf.

I think there's a kind of synergy between the simple mind of a wolf, and the feelings a wolf experiences: in the quiet of an animal's mind, emotions seem so much stronger, so much more vivid somehow. I feel that even now, when I have a mental shift, and the logic and reason falls away - all that's left is emotion and physical senses, and they paint a picture so, so bright.

And those past life memories that I hold dearest, they have a similar quality to them... to curl up with my family after a long day of travel. Or listen to their happy snores as we all sleep off a full belly. And playing with the pups... I was a very fun wolf-uncle. And those pups were my joy, light of my whole life! <3

So... yeah. That's what being a wolf is to me.

It's not the only way to be a wolf. It's not the "right" was vs anyone else's "wrong". This is just what wolfhood is to me personally. Maybe other wolves will see something of themselves in this, maybe not! Either way, I appreciate the time you took to read my rambling. It feels nice to carve out a place in my life again where I can really talk about this stuff. c:

#therianthropy #wolf therian #wolfkin #past life #spiritual therian #spiritual kin #tw animal death