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yourmomxx · 10 months

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Father of Mine

father of mine masterlist

summary: All Dean Winchester ever wanted was to protect the people he loved. Sometimes, in order to do that, he had to make hard decisions, Lisa and Ben were the prime example. Years after making another one of those hard decisions, he has to come back to the place where he had left a piece of his heart - only to be constantly reminded of what he had to sacrifice in order to keep his family safe.

warnings: canon violence, child abandonment, swear words, angst, daddy issues, character death, throwing up, this is written like an episode of Supernatural

word count: 8,2k

a/n: I’ve been writing this story for … a year now? I think? And I’ve gotta admit, I am so happy that it is finally out. Everything that I write means incredibly much to me, but this story just holds such a special place in my heart and I am very happy to share it now with you guys. I do hope you like it, and, as always, reblogs are very much appreciated because that way the story gets spread to more people! Now, enjoy!

flashbacks are written in italics

pt1 pt2 pt3

Cleveland, Ohio 2002

The bar was crowded with people.

Gruffed men wearing leather jackets and intoxicated women in crop-tops were all sprawled out around an alcohol booth in the middle.

In another corner, currently bathed in purple and orange spotlight, a guy with an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and a bucket-hat was giving a lousy cover of ‘God save the Queen’ by Sex Pistols.

♫ ♪ “Don't be told what you want. Don't be told what you need. There's no future, no future, no future for you!” ♫ ♪

On one of the way too small bar chairs, sipping a burning mix of whiskey and ginger ale, was sitting Dean Winchester, and he was pissed.

Pissed at his stupid father, who was acting like Dean was a 15-year-old with no common sense whatsoever, pissed at the goddamn ghost that had found an incredible pleasure in almost ripping his fingers off his hands, and pissed at stupid Sam for just getting up one day and leaving him - didn’t matter if that had been months ago.

And with every drink that Dean downed, he started feeling more like “Dad can kiss my ass” instead of “Dad has been doing this much longer than you and just knows better”. Meaning, he should probably slow down.

But whatever.

His Dad could kiss his ass.

♫ ♪ “Oh when there's no future, how can there be sin? We're the flowers in the dustbin!” ♫ ♪

“Why, hello,” he suddenly heard a sweet voice next to him say.

Dean turned his head and was met face to face with friendly, glimmering eyes.

Those, just as the voice that had spoken to him, belonged to a young woman who seemed to have just appeared next to him.

He moved his gaze up and down her body.

Apart from her eyes, she had smooth skin, that was covered with glowing sweatpearls, most likely because of the stuffy air around them.

Or maybe, just like Dean, she had had a couple drinks too many.

A few, fine strands of her shoulder-length hair were tousled, likely from combing her hands through it.

He licked his lips. “Well, hello you. With whom do I have the pleasure?”

He was laying on thick and he knew that, but it’s not like he could care about it.

“Gloria. Richards.” She was speaking in a soft, honey voice, and Dean urged himself to focus on her face, and not the way her neck and chest were lightly gleaming from the thin layer of sweat covering them.

“What’s yours?”

Dean Winchester.

But no, that wasn’t his name. Not today at least. If he could just remember what was. And the drinks didn’t exactly make thinking easier.

“Dean Hansley.”

Gloria smiled again.

What a nice smile she had.

"Dean Hansley." She tasted the words, let them burn on her tongue. "That's a nice name."

And then she sat down at the stool next to him, without waiting for him to invite her, and she started talking.

And he talked back with her.

And time went by, and she kept finishing and ordering drinks, that Dean all offered to pay, and she never refused.

By now, the guy in the Hawaiian shirt had been thrown off the karaoke stage, after heavily throwing up into one of the other guest's handbags, halfway through a tedious ballad about life, and love, and its misery.

The only source of music was coming from the colorful jukebox next to the pool board.

A couple drunk-off-their-asses idiots, trying to play billiards, were loudly roaring along to AC/DC’s ‘You shook me all night long’.

♫ ♪ “She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen!” ♫ ♪

Gloria was still sitting next to him, although a bit closer, and she was sipping at her third drink he had bought her tonight.

And damn, that girl had high tolerance.

Dean thought she was amazing.

“That thing with your family sucks, really.” She scrunched up her nose in slight discomfort.

Dean let out a humorless laugh and took a sip of the whiskey he was still stuck with. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Yes, he had told her about his - family issues. But so what?

It felt nice having someone listening to him for a change. Someone who wasn’t his family, didn’t even know them, and wouldn’t try to disregard his frustration by telling him to ‘put himself in his father’s shoes for once’.

Gloria finished her drink and used the palm of her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead.

Dean tried his best to not think too much about her knee touching his, her being so close him.

“The air in here is terrible,” she said, heavily emphasizing the last word.

Dean’s attention was turned to her again. He knew she had said something before that, but he hadn’t been able to catch it, too lost in his own mind.

He kind of felt bad for not listening to her.

Dean threw a look around.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty hot in here,” he agreed, feeling pearls of sweat rolling off the little hairs on his neck.

Gloria looked directly into his eyes, then up his body, down his body, before settling on his eyes again.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Then her lip.

“I mean,” she slowly spoke, “we could continue this conversation somewhere else if you want. Where there’s not so many people and the air doesn’t taste like salt.”

♫ ♪ “You really took me and you shook me all night long! Ooh, you shook me all night long!” ♫ ♪

Hell yeah.

A boyish grin started forming on his face.

“An offer like that - how could I say no?”

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

“Read it again for me.”

Dean was staring straight ahead onto the road, his gaze hard and jaw clenched.

Sam sighed and opened the newspaper again, for what had to be the seventh time now since they had first found it.

They were both sitting in the Impala, Castiel in the backseat. The angel could have just flipped his wings and flown to the destination they were headed, but he had insisted to take the drive with them, claiming he had “nothing better to do anyway”.

“St. George, Louisiana,” Sam started to read.

“In the night of Wednesday to Thursday, a young man was found dead in his room in Saint George’s Children’s Home. The 17-year-old Roy Kendall hadn’t come out of his room the first half of the day, and when a woman of the working personnel - whose name has been withheld - came to check on him, she discovered his mutilated body draped out on the bed. According to the police, the young man’s rib cage had been compressed with such force that his ribs were broken and had managed to pierce through the young man’s internal organs, which resulted in him slowly bleeding out internally. Authorities are still in the dark about the exact details of the tragedy and the questions of “Why” and, particularly, “How” something like this could even be possible. The head of the Children’s Care Institution …, blah blah blah.”

Sam purposefully drifted off and ended his reading session therefore. He folded the newspaper back together and stuffed it into the Impala’s globe compartment.

“And that’s it, I am not reading this again. Next thing you know, I’m going to dream about squished organs and ribcages.”

He shuddered.

“I just don’t get it, man,” Dean said, ignoring his brother’s complaints, but he didn’t seem to address anyone in particular.

“I mean, I checked everything, Sammy. No demonic omens, no strategic killings, no recent disappearances. That place was all white picket fences and summer barbecues when we- ”

He was quick to cut himself off.

Sam threw his brother a side glance, but decided to not address his slip-up.

“Well, Dean, sometimes monsters just … turn up, you know.” This time Sam turned his head to get a proper look at his older brother.

“Maybe it’s just passing through, or simply moved there from somewhere else. They aren’t exactly tied to a specific place.”

Dean ran his hand over his face and through his hair in distress. “Out of all places, why there?” He muttered in a low tone.

And again, he was more talking to himself than anyone else.

“I don’t understand.” Cas was suddenly talking from the back seat. “What is in this Children’s Home that is of so much importance to you both?”

Dean was quick to answer a “Nothing,” but Castiel didn’t quite believe him.

Sam turned in his seat to face the angel.

“We were working a case near there a while back,” he simply explained.

Cas frowned, still not quite convinced, but he decided to let the topic rest. For now, at least.

“I understand,” he said. “Then it would probably be of benefit for you to stick with your past aliases. Just in case anyone there should recognize you.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” Dean vaguely answered, but he seemed trapped deep in his own thoughts.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Black Hawk, Colorado 2002

“To listen to this voicemail, call-”

A dial tone sounded. The message was a few months old.

“Hey, Dean, it’s uh … it’s Gloria. You know, Gloria Richards, from a few nights ago?” A humorless chuckle was heard on the other end of the line.

“Though, guys like you don’t usually remember their casual one-night hookups. So I’ll cut straight to the chase.” One heavy inhale.

“I’m pregnant. And I know the chances of you wanting anything to do with me are zero to negative six, but I just wanted to-”

“To delete this voicemail, press 2.”

A tone.

“Voicemail deleted.”

“To listen to this voicema-”

The woman on the other end sounded more outraged this time, even though occasional cracks or hiccups in her voice gave away that she had been heavily crying moments before. Maybe still was.

“Hello Dean, it’s me again. You know, I didn’t expect you to jump up high at the news, but ignoring me?” She scoffed. “That’s a different type of low.”

She sniffled. “I’m just calling to tell you I’ve decided to keep the baby. So you can still change your mind, if you-”

“To delete this voicemail, press-” “Voicemail deleted.”

“To listen to th-”

“Hello, Dean. It’s Gloria. Again.”

This time, she seemed calmer, which could be reasoned with the tiredness her voice was radiating.

“I suppose I’m still kind of hoping that you will call me back. Or even pick up.” She sighed.

“I wanted to tell you that she’s perfectly healthy and growing. That’s right. She. Our baby is going to be a-”

“To delete this-” ”Voicemail deleted.”

John Winchester stared at the small phone in his hand and pressed a button.

“You have no more voicemails.”

That moment, Dean came bursting into the motel room, looking around the empty shelves and patting up and down his jacket- and jeans-pockets.

“Hey Dad, do you know where my phone is? I heard it ringing,” Dean asked.

“Yes, just some spam-callers,” John neatly lied. “I took care of it, but I’m gonna put it out of service, just in case.”

Dean looked at him and for a moment, John thought his son would grow suspicious, but he just nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Dad.”

John nodded and Dean left the room with his bag in hand. When he was certain Dean wouldn’t come back, John took the phone apart and crashed the SIM Card on the nightstand with the lamp.

Then he put the pieces in the bin, took his duffel bag and followed his son to the car.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

The St. George’s Children’s Home was somewhat of a small castle, kept in a renaissance style.

Around a large courtyard, archways connected four round-towers, which were slightly higher than the rest of the castle. The walls were painted a pale yellow.

Trees grew in the gardens around the castle, flowers in planted beds, and as far as Dean could remember, there was a hedge maze behind the walls, not visible from the gateway.

They had parked the Impala in one of the parking spaces next to the tall, elegant terrain fence.

Sam and Dean were wearing black suits and their fake badges, Castiel - as always - stuck with the trench coat.

Dean was eyeing the building suspiciously.

In fact, he had been doing so for the last three minutes, in which they had all sat in the Impala in complete silence.

Sam threw a quick, concerned glance at his brother before clearing his throat.

“You really wanna do this?”, he asked quietly.

“No,” Dean answered and opened the car door, “But it’s not like we have a choice, right?”

Sam sighed and did the same, not before exchanging a quick, apprehensive look with Castiel, who still didn’t quite know what was going on.

The castle’s inside was considerably more modern than its outside.

With brightly-colored walls and furniture, and minimalistic decorations all over.

It seemed cozy.

They were headed for the office of the youth center’s director, Maria Whitlock. Dean remembered exactly where that was. Down the hall, left. Past a few closed bedroom doors. Last door at the end of the corridor.

Dean cleared his throat and knocked on the door, Sam right behind him. Castiel had left before they had entered the castle, claiming to look for a suitable Motel nearby, and telling them to contact him if they needed his help.

There was a beat of silence before they heard a woman’s voice reply “Yes?” and entered the office.

Maria Whitlock was an elderly woman, with dark red hair that she kept in a low bun. She was around a head smaller than Dean, and wearing a grey blouse combined with a wine red jacket and a black pencil skirt.

When she heard them enter the room, she looked up from a few papers she was filing, and her face immediately fell.

“Hello, Maria.” Sam greeted her.

“Dean and Sam Winchester,” she breathed out, startled.

“I never thought I would see you two again.”

Dean felt a sting in his chest.

“Yeah, well,” Sam said and tried a clumsy smile. A heavy silence followed, and Dean shifted uncomfortably.

Maria frowned. “Not to seem impolite, but what are the two of you doing here?” She asked.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly.

“We, uhm, we heard about Roy and we thought that, maybe, we should just check if everything was alright and, of course, speak our condolences. You know, for old time’s sake.”

She nodded and closed the pen. “Yes, right. Roy. I completely forgot that they put that in the paper.”

A look of dark grief fell over her face and her gaze drifted into nothingness. She suddenly looked much older than she was.

Dean cleared his throat. “I gave you my number, Maria,” he spoke. “If you would’ve called, we could’ve been here sooner.”

She blinked rapidly, pulling herself out of her thoughts and looked at him for a second before she replied.

“I know, I know, but to be honest - it slipped my mind, in between all of this … chaos and tragedy.”

While she was talking, she got up from her chair and walked around the table, getting a clearer view at Sam and Dean.

“Of course,” Sam hastily said. “No worries. We are very sorry for your loss.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Dean was glad that it had been Sam who had spoken up. He wasn’t very good at that sort of things. Nor did he aspire to be.

“You said you were here because of Roy’s …. passing,” Maria continued, and the brothers nodded.

“But that would mean that this was some sort of - unnatural incident.”

Sam swallowed hard.

“Well,” he started, trying to find the right words that would not trigger a breakdown for the woman, “we saw the article in the newspaper and thought that we would just have a look at it. The circumstances of Roy’s passing aren’t exactly common for a person his age, after all.”

Or for any person, really.

She nodded lazily. “Yes. I suppose you are right.”

Dean could swear that another minute of awkward silence between them would probably kill him, so he took it upon himself to prevent it before it started.

“I get that this is hard, Maria,” he said, “But if we could maybe ask you some questions? Maybe speak to the person that found him?”

She sniffled.

Oh dear God.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Her voice was a bit higher than before, and her hands grabbed for a handkerchief lying on the table.

“Uhm, the woman who found him was one of my responsible supervisors, Betty Langston. She should be present in the building today, but the last time I spoke to her, she was still pretty shaken up. I mean, who can blame her? I can’t even imagine what it must have been like, seeing that poor boy lying on his bed, just- ”

She broke off and a sob escaped her lips, before she buried her face in the kerchief.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, “I’m sorry, it’s just - he was such a kind boy. He had his whole life ahead of him. And the way that he had to go…”

She raised her head and shook it, eyes reddened and filled with tears.

“I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

“We understand, Maria,” Sam spoke in a comforting, low voice.

And Dean added, “And I promise we will find whatever did this and make sure this happens to no one ever again.”

She forced herself to a smile.

“Thank you, boys. May the angels be with you.”

Dean forbid himself a snort.

“Thank you for your time, Maria. We will let you know when we know more,” Sam said and left the office.

He wouldn’t risk making her cry again by bothering her with questions about her dead fosterling.

Dean smiled at Maria and turned to follow his brother, but she stopped him.

“Dean.”

He turned to face her.

“You do know that it won’t be possible for you to investigate here, without … encountering a certain someone.”

Dean straightened his shoulders.

“Yes, I know.”

“Have you thought about it? What you will say to her?”

“Gotta admit, I haven’t.”

She hummed and nodded. Dean noticed that she had resumed her usual upright position, and if he hadn’t just witnessed it, he probably would not know that she had been crying.

“I should warn you,” she said gently, “It probably won’t be easy.”

“I honestly didn’t expect it to be.”

She smiled a gentle smile at him and he returned it, before finally leaving the room and joining his brother in the hallway.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Lewiston, Michigan 2004

The first time he had read it, John Winchester had been drunk. He had spared a quick glance at it after coming home from a bar, before throwing himself onto the motel bed and passing out.

The second time he had read it, he had been sober, but suffering from a skull-splitting headache.

The third time he read it, it was simply to make sure his hungover mind wasn’t making any of this up. But no, the words on the newspaper stayed the same, grinning up at him with a sickening smirk that made his stomach turn.

In the small corner of the left page, where the lesser important news were usually placed, throned the bold-printed, black words:

24-year-old woman dies in tragic car accident, leaves 1-year-old daughter behind

No. God, no.

He read it again. Read the headline, read the article, the name that had been shortened but to him unmistakable: Gloria R.

R. Just like Richards. Gloria Richards.

There was a picture placed right next to the text, held in color, of a young woman that was clearly putting on a smile for the camera.

John slammed the newspaper on the round table.

“Damn it!” He yelled.

And in that moment, John was grateful that Dean had offered to go on a coffee run.

—

He was ‘going on a quick hunt’. That’s what he told Dean.

He was ‘going on a quick hunt and if anyone needed anything, they should contact Dean’. That’s what he told Bobby. And everyone that reached his voicemail.

Cleveland, Ohio. That’s where he was going. He had some business to attend to.

—

Central Nebraska

To say that Ellen Harvelle wasn’t delighted about John Winchester showing up inside the Roadhouse would be quite an understatement.

She was furious.

John paid attention to enter the wooden cabin carefully. He didn’t expect Ellen to be pleased by his sudden presence, especially considering their last encounter with each other.

It was a random Wednesday afternoon, and there wasn’t anyone seated in the Roadhouse, except for Ellen herself, who was busy cleaning the bar with a half-wet kitchen towel.

The brunette woman looked up for a quick second, as a form of formality, before she dedicated her attention back onto the dirty surface.

“I’ll be with you in a secon-” Then she realized. Stopped. Did a double take.

“Winchester.” The word was dripping from her lips with loathing.

“Hello, Ellen,” he started, but she cut him off.

“What do you want?” Her question was blunt and her tone cold and unwelcoming.

John cleared his throat and stepped from one foot to the other. He had to sell his story good, if Ellen wouldn’t get on board with his proposition, he had nobody else to go to.

“Look, Ellen. I get that you’re mad- ”

“Mad?” She let out a short, sour laugh.

“Mad doesn’t even begin to describe what I am feeling towards you, Winchester. Try hatred. Pure disgust.” She scoffed again.

“You must have a death wish, because I couldn’t think of any other possible reason why you would drag your dumbass out here again. ”

John swallowed hard. She was right. Who was he to just show up here again? After what happened?

But there was no turning back now, he had to go through with this.

“You’re right.” He spoke in a low tone to try and seem less intimidating and also attempt to soothe her temper towards him.

“I am sorry about what happened, Ellen. If I could go back and do it any different, then I would.”

A lie. She knew that. He knew that she knew that. Still - she didn’t interrupt, just kept glaring at him, so he decided to continue.

“But unfortunately, I can’t. And I know you have every right and reason to hate me now.”

Agreeing and empathizing with her.

“But there is something extremely important that I need to ask of you.”

Again, he didn’t have much time to talk, before Ellen raised her voice.

“You damned son of a bitch!”, she yelled, tossing the kitchen towel onto the counter with such force, the leftover water splashed around.

“You ain’t got no right walking in here, after what you pulled, and ask a goddamned favor of me!”

Her voice was loud in the silence of the Roadhouse and John lifted his hands up in defense.

“Ellen, please! Listen to me!”, he pleaded. Ellen wasn’t yelling at him anymore, but her jaw was still clenched and her entire body tense.

“I wouldn’t be here if I had any other options. Like you said, I must have a Deathwish to show up here. And I understand that. But you are the only person that I can trust with this. You can toss me out all you want after. You can yell, and scream, and punch me, and shoot at me. Just please, hear me out first. ”

There was silence, where John just stood there, his hands still raised in the air in front of him, and Ellen grinding her teeth as she thought about what to do now.

Because by God, did she hate him. And a part of her wanted to take a rifle and first shoot a bullet into his feet and then his di-

But on the other hand, she could not recall a time that John Winchester had ever gotten himself into a position to beg.

No, he was too proud for that. So whatever he wanted must be goddamn important for him, really.

“Tell me what you need, Winchester,” Ellen said eventually, “And let me decide afterwards.”

Her body language didn’t show one sign of hospitality still, but John interpreted her words as somewhat of a good sign.

Hopefully.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Now

After their talk with Maria, Sam and Dean settled on questioning Betty Langston.

In the middle of the wall in the entrance hall, a big frame with the pictures, names and duties of the working staff was hung up.

Above the name ‘Betty Langston’ was a picture of a friendly looking woman in her mid-twenties, with a pointed nose and blonde strands of hair framing her face.

Underneath, the duties “Social Worker” and “Deputy Manager” were listed.

When they knocked on the door which was labeled “staff”, a young man opened and told them that Betty Langston was currently positioned on the second floor.

Dean wanted to take the elevator, but Sam dragged him up the stairs.

“It will be faster,” he guaranteed, and Dean just rolled his eyes with a groan.

The hallways on the second floor were surprisingly wide, with doors placed across each other in a zig zag pattern.

Here and there were a few paintings on the walls, old and new, and green neon signs pointing toward the emergency exit.

They met Betty after they turned around the first corner. She stood in front of a pinboard and was currently hanging up new posters.

Her hair was different from the picture, slightly longer now ending halfway down her back, and copper colored with only a few blonde highlights.

The brothers made their way over to her and flashed their fake FBI-badges when she let off her work and shifted her attention to them.

“Hello, my name is David Shields, my partner’s name is Jarvis Stark,” introduced Dean. “Are you Betty Langston?”

The young woman gaped at them, slightly caught off guard. “Uhm yes, that’s me,” she eventually got out and lowered her arms. “What can I do for you?”

Dean caught a glimpse of the writing on the poster. It was a few phone numbers, and in dark blue, a text above read: ‘DON’T HESITATE TO ASK FOR HELP!’

“We’re here to ask you about Roy Kendall,” Sam carefully approached, “We understand that you are the one who found him.”

Dean couldn’t help but notice how Betty Langston’s eyes shifted to the floor and she nervously trailed her fingers up and down the paper in her hand.

“Um yes, I … I found him.” Her voice got small and she swallowed hard.

“But what does the FBI want with that? I thought it was a wild animal.”

“Given the unusual occurrence of Roy’s death, we thought it necessary to at least have a look at this case and find out what we can,” Sam said.

“That doesn’t have to mean anything, though,” Dean quickly tried to soothe her when he noticed the tears springing in the woman’s eyes. “Exactly,” Sam hastily agreed. “Only a few questions, just in case.”

Betty nodded and blinked away her tears. “Okay,” she quietly said. Sam reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out his notebook and a pen.

“Did Roy mention something … I don’t know, unusual before he died?” Sam asked, clicking the pen and bringing his notepad in position. The young woman hesitated.

“Well, not that I know of,” she eventually said, “But, you see, kids at that age … they don’t talk to us adults much anymore. If you want to know something about Roy, you better ask his friends.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. “His friends?” He repeated. She nodded. “Mhm.”

“And, uh - who are his friends, if I may ask?” Sam tuned in again. Betty thought for a second and then clicked her tongue. “Well, there’s Cassandra, Cassandra Claire,” she said and started counting the listed names on her fingers. “And, uhm, Finnegan Beckett.” Sam repeated the children’s names under his breath as he quickly wrote them down.

“And Y/N Winchester,” Betty finished.

Sam abruptly stopped writing at the ‘n’ and looked up. He felt Dean visibly tense and shift next to him.

The younger brother just put on a smile and folded the small notepad back into the inner pocket of his jacket. But not before completely writing out the last name on the list.

“Thank you so much, Miss Langston, you helped us a lot. We will let you know if there are any more questions. And, our condolences,” he added.

She shyly smiled back at him and slowly continued gathering thumbtacks to hang up her posters, and the brothers left.

Sam waited until they were out of hearing range, then turned to Dean. “So…that was something,” he carefully started.

“What do you mean?”

Sam threw him a look. “You know what I mean. The witness list. Roy’s friends. That last name…”

Dean sighed heavily. Sam waited for him to say something. And when he didn’t, Sam just shook his head but decided to not stress it any further.

“So, where to now?” He asked instead.

Dean took a look at his watch. “The morgue, I’d say. As far as I know they’re closing soon, and a dead body is not exactly the first thing I need to see in the morning, so-”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, alright. Sounds good.”

They made their way out of the castle.

“You want to take Castiel?” Sam questioned when he rounded the car.

“No,” Dean decided firmly and opened the driver’s door. “Remember what happened last time? Exactly. I don’t need Cas smelling some dead guy again.”

Sam grinned at the memory. With a creak, the Impala gave in to their weight as they sat down, and the gravel gnashed under her tires when they drove off.

༺ ｡ ° ୨❀୧ ° ｡ ༻

Central Nebraska 2006

Roughly, the dark minivan tuckered over the bumpy earth of the pathetic excuse of a road, and Dean’s insides flinched with every squeak the old car made.

When they finally came to a stop, he tossed the keys somewhere and maybe slammed the door with a bit more force than necessary. A lot more.

“This is humiliating,” he grumbled, as he took in the atrocious excuse of a vehicle they just stepped out of. He missed his Baby.

Sam ignored him, and stepped forward, towards the old wooden – house? Shack? – the mysterious phone number on their dad’s cell had led them to.

The huge letters ROADHOUSE flaunted above them, and Dean thought that these were probably made to light up when the sun disappeared.

The rest of the house looked abandoned, frankly, from the outside, and that, in combination with the four-month-old voicemail, made Dean not like his odds very much. The chances that this Ellen chick was still alive, knowing what his father had needed her for, were slim in his mind.

Or hell, maybe she just called from here, got the phone from some rando, and got on her merry way when she realized John wasn’t calling back. It’s probably what he would’ve done.

Safe to say, Dean didn’t like their odds. Even less so when they entered the eerie quiet of the bar, and spotted a man lying unconscious, probably dead, on the pool table.

Dean felt his shoulders stiffen. He didn’t like this one bit, and every second he spent here made the alarm in his head shrill even louder than before.

Dean only just turned to take a closer look at one of the shelves, when he felt something hard dig into his lower back, and heard an all too familiar clicking sound.

Dean closed his eyes. “Please tell me that is a gun.”

“No, I’m just very happy to see you,” came the fast answer from a very snarking - and female? - voice.

In one swift motion, Dean whirled around, grabbed the barrel, ripped it out of his attacker’s hand, and uncocked it. The bullet fell to the ground with an echoing clatter.

Dean almost smirked triumphantly at the blonde girl in front of him, when he felt a sudden, blinding pain in his face.

And if Dean had thought pulling up in a 30-year-old, barely functional van, of all things was humiliating, he didn’t calculate how it would feel to be absolutely sucker punched by a girl, not even as old as him.

Aside from the obvious nosebleed, his ego took a severe bruise.

“Sam! Little help here!” He called, hand still holding his hurting face.

The door swung open, and Sam walked out, hands raised to his head, a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry Dean,” he said, “I’m a little tied up right now.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, as he watched another woman with dark brown hair follow his brother close behind, a revolver held to his head in fair warning.

He would be impressed, if his vision wasn’t swimming right now.

The older woman behind Sam furrowed her brows. “Wait, Sam? Dean?” She asked, exchanging looks with kick-ass Blondie in front of him. “Winchester?”

There was a beat, before the brothers pressed out a unison “Yeah?”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Mom, you know these guys?” Dean’s head hurt with how much he was swinging it around to keep up.

“Yeah, I think these are John Winchester’s boys.” And that made Dean perk up.

The woman let out a laugh as she lowered her weapon.

—

A few minutes later, Dean was served with an iced cloth for his nose, and he and Sam seated themselves on a few of the bystanding bar chairs.

The brunette woman, who had threatened Sam, turned out to be the mysterious Ellen, whose voicemail on their dad’s phone they followed here. Jo, her daughter, and also the kick-ass blonde that had held the rifle to Dean’s back, looked about as unknowing about the whole situation as the brothers did.

Turns out Ellen had contacted John about the demon he was hunting. Said she could help him with it. Why John had never mentioned her, or her daughter, she didn’t say. Told them to ask him themselves. Dean didn’t say anything to that.

“So why exactly do we need your help?”, Dean asked, repositioning the cloth on his face.

Ellen scoffed. “Hey, don’t do me any favors. If you don’t want my help, fine.” There was a snarking edge to her voice, and Dean started to realize why his father would associate with her.

“Don’t let the door smack your ass on the way out,” she continued. “But John wouldn’t have sent you, if–“

There it was.

Ellen stood straighter. A haunted look crossed her eyes. “He didn’t send you.” It wasn’t a question.

Dean looked away.

“He’s alright, isn’t he?” Dean hadn’t known Ellen Harvelle for very long, but even he could sense the way her voice wavered. And know that she was a smart enough woman to not truly believe what she was asking.

“No.” Sam cleared his throat, and the simple word echoed through the deafening silence. “No, he’s not. We think the demon did it. Got to him before he got to it.” The thankful feeling of not being the one to have to tell her what happened felt like a sin in Dean’s gut. Then again, what’s one more on his plate.

“I’m sorry,” Ellen said. It’s what everyone said.

“It’s alright. We’re good.”

Ellen didn’t believe him, he saw it in her eyes. But she didn’t bother him more about it, either.

“So, look, if you can help us,” Sam said, and Dean threw him a look that showed just how much he wanted to smack his little brother across the face, “we’d be real happy about all the help we can get.”

Ellen’s lips twisted. “We can’t help you.”

Is this lady for real-

“But he can.”

And then the dead man stood up from the pool table.

—

Ash was a tech freak, with a haircut like Billy Ray Cyrus and the mouth of a southern cowboy. Jo called him a genius. Dean didn’t know what to think of that.

Still, he had passed him their dad’s journal, told him to go nuts, and Ash had drooled over John Winchester’s handiwork like a child over a lollipop.

Ash had left with the journal and the promise of new information in the time of fifty-one hours.

Dean thought that was long enough time to take a drink.

Jo Harvelle was a pretty woman. When she wasn’t threatening him with a rifle or punching him in the face, that was. Her soft, blonde curls fell long over her shoulders, and those jeans did wonders to her curves.

Dean started conversing with her. While he had moved to one of the tables, Sam had stayed with Ellen at the bar. He found out that her father died, a long time ago. In the back of his mind, a mean voice cackled at the irony. He paid his sympathies.

Then, suddenly, one of the doors to the backrooms flew open, and a small whirlwind of colorful fabric and y/h/c hair came dashing into the room.

“Aunty Ellen, Aunty Ellen! Look what I made!”

Dean’s head whipped around at the sound of the high-pitched voice and he spotted a small girl, not older than five years probably, squeezing herself behind the bar table. When he noticed Ellen bowing her head, he figured that the little girl had probably reached her destined spot next to her.

Dean, though he would never admit it, was an easily curious person, so he followed Jo on her way to the bar and leaned slightly over the tablewood to catch a glimpse at the small intruder.

Little Lady was tugging at Ellen’s pantleg, and expectantly holding up a colored paper for her to look at.

“Look at what I drew, Auntie Ellen!” she repeated, in that same excited tone as before, when she had stormed into the room.

Dean watched as Ellen abandoned her washcloth somewhere behind her and crouched down to meet with the little girl eye-to-eye, as she inspected her drawing.

“That’s so amazing, baby, is that us?” The girl nodded, her pigtails wiggling up and down as she bopped her head enthusiastically.

“Yes, that is you, and that is Jo, and that is me. And look, I made my own fingerprint!” She dashed her finger into a spot on the paper, and then proudly held up the red-colored tip to shove it in Ellen’s face.

The woman had a wide, genuine smile on her face. “I can see that, baby, well done, it looks so nice!” She praised. “How about we hang it up there next to the menu?”

The girl nodded her head again, and let Ellen scoop her up gently. Only then, when Little Lady was at height with them, she seemed to notice the strangers standing in the room.

In the matter of a second, Dean saw her whole demeanor shift from bubbly and open, to a more closed off version, sinking further into Ellen’s embrace and clutching the fabrics of her shirt. Something about it made Dean’s heart sting.

“Auntie Ellen?” The girl tried to whisper, but Dean had learned soon that children were terrible whisperers, “Who is that?”

Ellen looked first to Sam, then Dean, and back at the little girl in her arms. “Those are friends of Jo and me, sweetheart. Their names are Sam-“ Dean’s little brother gave a wave and a smile when Ellen introduced him. “-and Dean.”

Dean grinned and carefully stretched his hand out. “Very nice to meet you, Little Lady. Who am I speaking to, may I ask?” He laid a formal accent on his voice, one that he knew had always made Sam laugh when he was a child. It was an olive branch, but something in him hoped she would grab it.

The small giggle that Little Lady let out made Dean’s heart bloom with a warmth he didn’t know he was able to feel.

“My name’s Y/N,” she said. With a pointed look at Dean’s still outstretched hand, Ellen murmured in her ear, “And what do we do when someone gives us their hand to shake?”

Y/N nuzzled her face into the crook of Ellen’s neck, and Dean almost drew his hand back again, when a small warmth settled into his palm and closed around it.

He smiled at the girl and shook her hand. As they both pulled back, Dean twisted his hand around and huffed. “Ouff, someone has got a firm grip! Your Auntie Ellen teach you that?” Y/N grinned proudly at him and nodded her head. Then she held up her hand and showed him four fingers. “I’m already this old!”

Dean gasped. “Really? Well, that is a great age, no wonder you are so strong!”

Y/N was beaming now.

She didn’t hide in Ellen’s neck again.

“So, what about that picture now?” Ellen bounced the girl on her hip once, and it seemed like she was snapped out of a trance. Determinedly, she pointed at a space next to a hung-up blackboard. Dean figured Ellen usually wrote her daily specials on that.

The woman made a few steps over where Y/N had led her and gestured toward an already hung drawing of blue water and grey – fish? – above it, that was already taped to the wall.

“But we already put a picture there. We would have to remove that one if you want your new drawing to hang here.” The girl shrugged, and already reached for a roll of clean tape on the shelf.

“That’s okay, I don’t like dolphins all that much anymore anyway,” she explained nonchalantly. “I will just put it in my drawing box.”

Dean watched as Ellen carefully picked the old drawing from the wall to make space for the new one. He was so caught up in the scenery, he almost didn’t notice how Sam was scooting closer to him.

“You know who she is?” Sam asked. Dean turned his attention to his brother.

“Well, her name’s Y/N,” Dean answered simply. Sam didn’t roll his eyes at him, but it was a close call.

Dean just shrugged. “Guess she isn’t Ellen’s. Otherwise, she wouldn’t call her Auntie.” He pitched the last word high, to mimic the child’s voice.

Sam furrowed his brows as they watched Ellen and the small girl.

“Makes you wonder,” he said, “What she’s doing here.”

Dean just hummed. He made brief eye contact with Y/N, as she stole a look in his direction, but she averted her eyes quickly, as if she had been caught.

Dean found himself slightly smiling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sam looking at him. His brother was grinning.

“You love that kid.” It was a statement.

Dean scoffed. “Oh, shut up, I don’t even know her. Also, I love kids, plural.” He added.

Sam nodded, that smile still on his lips. Dean ignored him.

“Come on, ask him. Don’t be shy.” Ellen and Y/N had finished putting up her drawing and were now standing closer to them again. Ellen was still carrying the girl on her hip and had bent down to whisper to her.

Y/N had buried her face in Ellen’s shirt again, clearly shy to say something.

“He ain’t gonna bite you,” Ellen said, nudging her. “Go on.”

Y/N lifted her head, and shyly looked at Dean. Her eyes were flickering all over him, but never exactly to his face.

“Doyouwantodrawwithme?” She spluttered. Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“Don’t think he understood that. Try a bit slower. You can do this, come on,” Ellen encouraged her.

Y/N clutched her shirt.

“Do you want to draw with me?” She asked, head lowered and looking at her fingers. Her voice was quiet, but to Dean it felt as if she had shouted that sentence.

He felt warm inside. “Of course I want to.”

Y/N’s head shot up, and Dean Winchester had seen many beautiful things in his lifetime, but the gleaming eyes of that small child before him had to be at the top of the list. He never wanted to look at anything else.

Ellen set her down and pointed at a table in the corner of the room.

“Her colors and paper are already set up. Every day, before we officially open,” she explained with a look at Dean, and he nodded. While Sam got comfortable on one of the bar chairs, he made his way over to where Y/N had already set up her coloring tools and begun drawing on a piece of yellow paper.

Her tongue was sticking out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. Dean pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.

“What are you drawing?” He asked, stretching his neck to take a closer look. Y/N leaned back and showed him her creation. Lines of red and yellow. Maybe a tomato? An apple? He turned his head. From that perspective maybe?

“It’s Lighting McQueen!” Y/N told him triumphantly. “I saw cars with Jo.”

Dean nodded. So no apple. He also wasn’t going to point out the girl’s grammar. She was only four after all. And who was he to talk.

“How did you get that?” Y/N suddenly asked, and pointed her small finger at Dean’s forehead, right where a big scar stretched over his skin, consequences of the fatal car accident.

Dean tried his best not to wince. He didn’t need to expose his lingering trauma to this pure soul.

“I was … in an accident,” he said instead. “But I’m okay and it’s almost healed now.”

The girl nodded. Dean was almost astounded at how easy it was with her.

“Whenever I hurt myself, my Auntie Ellen takes me to the Doctor. Or Jo. Or Ash.” Her face scrunches up as she thinks hard. Dean thinks it’s adorable. He finds himself smiling again.

“They always give me colorful plasters! I always get the dinos.” She leans in closer to him when she says the last bit, almost like it’s a secret she only wants him to hear. Dean’s heart warms at the thought, and he doesn’t even know why.

“Really? I’m jealous. I think dinosaurs are amazing.” He used the same hushed tone she had before. Y/N’s eyes widened. “You don’t get dino plasters?” She asked. If Dean hadn’t known better, he would’ve said she was outraged at his confession.

He shook his head. “Nope,” he said, “only boring beige ones.”

Y/N’s eyes widened even more, and her mouth fell open. Then, her lips curved into a beaming smile. “I can give you some of mine! Jo bought me so many the last time she went shopping!”

Before he could even give it a thought, Dean felt her small hand take his, and he was yanked from his seat. Geez, how did a four-year-old kid have so much strength?

His enthusiasm was short-lived, as Sam shouted from the other side of the room.

“Dean, Ellen got us a case!” His little brother was waving around a beige folder, a few newspaper pages hanging out at the sides.

He looked at his brother, then at the girl still clinging her small hand around his fingers.

“Does that mean you have to leave?” Dean’s heart clenched at the quiet, disappointed voice. He crouched down and looked Y/N in the eye.

“Yes,” he said, honestly. “ I have to go to work.”

She tilted her head. “To save people?” She asked. Dean nodded. He didn’t know how she knew, but maybe Ellen told her.

“Yes, exactly. But I will be back soon, and then you can show me your plasters, alright?”

Y/N seemed to think about it, and then nodded her head. Her pigtails were still wiggling up and down. “You promise?” She asked.

Dean nodded. “In fact,” he said, shifted his weight, and held out his pinky finger in front of her. “I pinky promise.”

Y/N grinned up at him. Dean grinned back. She linked her small finger with his.

“Can’t break a pinky promise,” Dean said as he stood up.

She shook her head violently. “Never!”

Dean laughed and waved her Goodbye.

“Let’s go,” he said to Sam as he passed him, and grabbed his jacket.

“Bye, Ellen, Jo.” Sam lowered his voice seriously. “Y/N.”

“Bye, Sam! Bye, Dean!” Y/N waved her hand after them.

“Good luck,” Ellen said. Then they closed the door behind them. The light of the sun was a heavy contrast to the dusky air inside the Roadhouse, and Dean’s eyes needed a while to adjust to the change.

He made his way over to the abomination car, Sam close next to him. His brother bumped his shoulder.

“Plural, huh?” Sam asked, smirking.

And if Dean sped the van up a bit faster, just to give his little brother a good scare now and then, well, that was between him and the Lord above.

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technicolouredmonochrome · 2 months

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so i've been falling down the danmei productions (chinese censored productions of BL novels) rabbit hole and i've figured out the basic BL starter pack:

1. BANTER. the two protagonists need to make a ton of thinly veiled jokes at each other about being in love. because censors! so in order to get any of it aired it's all gotta be nudge nudge wink wink. let me insert an episode where everyone suddenly acts out of character due to magic! or let me make the shameless one dress as a woman for an episode! they will find any and every way to let the two leads f l i r t and make us all wonder: why don't these two just get married already?

2. YEARNING. because if one half of our main couple has not waited at least 10 years for the other to either show up in their life or resurrect from the dead, are they really in love?

3. OPPOSITES ATTRACT. we need the flirty one! endlessly grinning and touching and teasing the silent one! and the cold quiet one is only soft for the sunshine one! how else can we know that their love is true!

4. SUFFERING. and i mean SUFFERING. dead parents. entire families annihilated. torture. tragic backstories abound. these men have never known happiness until they've met their other half. and then all they want to do is watch the world burn together. (and can we really blame them for that?)

5. ACTS OF ("brotherly") LOVE. they were brothers, historians would say, but they're almost always nearly dying for each other, and longing after each other, and siding with each other against the entire world.

5.1 OH BUT THEY WERE IN LOVE IN LOVE. there's gotta be at least one scene somewhere when our two main protagonists speculate about their possible future together. especially if it's just before some incredibly terrifyingly intense climax of the story (where one of our leads may *gasps* die) they talk about running a noodle shop together, or roaming the world together, or travelling from town to town fighting crime together.

5.2 AND THEY WERE SOULMATES. the word soulmates comes up somewhere. it technically translates to confidant (or person who knows me) but. if the translators decide to subtitle it as soulmate who am i to tell them otherwise.

6. FOUND FAMILY. they also have to adopt a kid who's gonna follow them through their adventures. sometimes it's two kids, sometimes it's a whole baseball team of children (of all ages and genders, they are incredibly inclusive on this point in this way). these kids are going to represent every single viewer, watching the main leads flirt while wondering, why don't i have two dads? why must one always go away and leave me behind? why is it always the rich dad that's gotta go? please come back and feed me and my poor papa we are starving rich dad.

i could keep going but these are the main requirements in our basic chinese BL novel adaptation starter packs. oh also most of the budget goes into hiring the two most attractive main leads possible and you get to watch as the cgi gets worse episode after episode as the show loses funding through its run. but it doesn't matter because these two men are clearly in love and i'm still 100% here for it.

#chinese BL novel adaptations #the untamed #guardian #word of honor #the sleuth of ming dynasty #a league of nobleman #technically that last one was not a BL but #they broke up at some point and each fed their shared custody kittens #so i'm counting it

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forestmossling · 17 days

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this is fucking- this is just absolutely fucking-

me, holding a dagger to your throat: READ THIS.

this is absolutely astounding. every part of this series, every pov, they’re all just absolute fucking masterpieces. every relationship dynamic, every plot line, all of it is just absolutely perfect.

robin unwillingly hating eddie for filling the place steve left behind, dustin creating a steve character after his death (that had me in a fucking CHOKEHOLD), and don’t even get me started on lucas’ pov. the way i was full-on ugly crying so much i couldn’t fucking see the screen through my tears. when i posted about getting destroyed by mourning in fics, this series was what i was talking about.

hopper being steve’s dad was probably one of the best things in the entire world. there are a lot of fics where hop acts as a father figure to steve, but this - this is IT. grand fucking prix of dad!hopper fanfiction. and steve-will-eleven sibling dynamic exploration is something i would both live and die for.

and THIS. are you fucking kidding me?

the fact that hop not actually being proud of him and not thinking he was brave was steve’s worst vecna-level nightmare? and hop going from not being able to tell steve to his face that he’s proud of him in gulag but finally telling him (where we can see it) during his breakdown?? literally, with all due respect, i am absolutely demolished.

and vecna being “the kid’s literally deaf, how hard can it be?” and eddie going “not on my FUCKING watch, motherfucker”.

the life they built with each other in the aftermath, the STEDDIE - oh my god, THE STEDDIE. the steddie was sure steddie-ing. steve finally accepting that he deserves love and making the first step, eddie NOT making the first step, because he KNEW something was holding steve back (at least that’s my interpretation and i’m sticking to it), all the awkward flirting and the soft moments. just- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHRDSVIDEDHKBDEDFIDDCHJDJSJABAJCODGAHWK.

the way everybody learned asl for steve and even the kids at the library picking it up (and, oh my god, THE LIBRARY. everything about it was just so precious to me), the world the author built around the party, the way it fit so well while not taking away from the main characters.

el/dustin, being an incredibly unexpected, but just as incredibly cute pairing. also, el and steve bonding over being jocks is just amazing and wonderful (i’m not talking about lucas and steve bonding over being jocks because then i’ll just start sobbing again. i will never be the same after the lucas’ pov)

just, i’m dead. @greatunironic, you fucking killed me and i thank you for it.

95438461926840264531438956/10, GO READ THIS. RIGHT NOW.

#steve harrington #get steve harrington to be loved and appreciated agenda #jim hopper #robin buckley #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #eleven stranger things #will byers #joyce byers #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #fic rec #stranger things #i’m dead but what a way to go

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years

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Bad Liar (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Author’s Note: *ahem* *mouth trumpet fanfare noises* *confetti* This is for my dear sweet Amanda’s ( @mattmurdocksscars ) 1,500 writing challenge!!! Amanda is such a wonderful human who I am in awe of every time I see her stories pop up on my dash--my sweet baby angel is as talent as all heck!!! I’m so glad I could participate. This was so incredibly fun to write, and I literally got it done in maybe 40 minutes after inspiration struck after a meeting today. It was nice to do a little change in pace as I fight writers block for other things. Enjoy, my darling, and congrats again!! :)

Summary: You have been going strong with Matt for quite some time, but it turns out there was something that you didn’t know about him that Foggy divulged, even though he was sworn to secrecy. When Matt comes home and find you trying to get into a locked closet, the truth comes out.

Prompt: “Need any help?”

Warnings: Angst (lil conflict and misunderstanding since the reader doesn’t know about Matt’s, uh, extracurricular activities -- Matt goes a bit Devil mode in his tone for a second), fluff and softness (emotion an memories involving Jack), implied smut

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,236

“Hey, Matty,” you say with a smile, trying your hardest not to panic or laugh as you look at him from right in front of his closet under the roof access stairs.

He narrows his eyes slightly in suspicion as he moves along the hallway before he places his glasses on the countertop. “Hi, angel,” he says, his voice smooth as butter. “Need any help?”

“Hm? No,” you say nonchalantly as you casually saunter over towards him. You place your arms gently on his shoulders and let them slide down to his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “It was just a long day, and I missed you. That’s all.”

“So, you were by where I keep my dad’s trunk because you missed me?”

“Yes.” Unfortunately, it’s not entirely convincing for your boyfriend.

“You really shouldn’t poke your nose behind locked doors, (Y/N),” he says, his voice lower than you’re used to. It sends a chill down your spine.

“I’m just thinking I should know things about the man I’m in a relationship with,” you tell him as you try to keep your heart from racing. With the nerves and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you lean forward, brushing your lips against his ear as you whisper. “Like that my boyfriend had an earring in high school and undergrad?”

You watch as bright pink begins to burn the tips of his ears, his skin much hotter than before, the muscle in his jaw feathering. You press a kiss on his cheek, fixing the hair that swoops on his forehead with your fingers, the feeling in your gut telling you that you need to lighten and soften the intense mood. “Knowledge of that image would make me question your street cred as a lawyer, huh?”

Matt lets out a nervous laugh before a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes pulls across his face after a solid few seconds of processing your words.

“Y-Yeah,” he stutters, wrapping his hands around your waist. “Can’t have you spreading that to all of New York, now can I?”

“I know I shouldn’t have been snooping, but Foggy had mentioned a photo album and said ‘the evidence is all there to prove that Matt Murdock had an awkward phase’. It was nowhere else in the apartment, so I figured it had to be there. I’m sorry that I made you that upset. That wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no, I’m not upset. I just wish you would have asked me first.”

“So you wouldn’t have tried to call Foggy a ‘traitorous liar’ or a ‘scabby sea bass’?”

“‘Scabby sea bass’?”

“I think it has something to do with the alleged earring in question. That, and it sounded like he was watching Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“Ah,” Matt says softly, his entire demeanor following his tone. “But, no, none of those phrases exactly. I would have tried to deflect your attention from seeing those pictures, though.”

“Deflect all you want, Murdock, but nothing is going to get seeing those pictures off of my mind.”

“Even if I do that thing with the silk sheets you like?”

“Mm, a very good attempt. Might even work. But I still want to see them. Pretty please?”

“Not the pretty please,” he smirks playfully before leaning into a kiss that wrinkles the fabric of your shirt. “Give me a second, and I’ll grab it.”

You move to sit on the couch as Matt retrieves the album and makes the quick trip next to you, the spine of the book cracking from not being used for a long time. You let out a soft gasp as you see pictures of Matt from the youngest points of his childhood.

“You were so small, Matty,” you coo as your eyes move over a page of baby pictures.

“We were all that small once, y’know, not just me,” he chuckles.

“Wow,” you breathe, pausing on a picture of a man holding infant Matt in a big comfy chair. Your fingers gently trace over the edges of the picture. “This must be your dad. You look like him.”

Matt doesn’t respond to that claim. Instead, he slides down into the couch slightly and wraps his arm around your shoulders. You slowly move through the pages, enjoying these little snippets of Matt’s life until you find a picture that looks like it’s from his undergrad years. His hair is long and floppy with the 2000s swoosh across his forehead. He’s sitting on the floor in black jeans and a gray henley, resting against a sofa, smiling at something someone out of frame is doing. Then it catches your eye: a thin little silver sliver of metal looping on his left earlobe.

“Oh my God,” you say with a giggle, leaning forward as you bring the scrapbook up to your face.

“I was convinced it looked cool,” he sighs with a little laugh. “Clearly, a blind guy should not determine what looks fashionable, nor should it be encouraged by other college boys.”

“Matty, you look hot,” you say as you linger on the image. “And since when do you have chest hair? You’re as smooth as a seal!”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Are you telling me that you’re turned on by my 2000s look and my chest hair?”

“Firstly, Matthew, you should know that you always turn me on. Secondly, yes. College me is going feral inside, right now. I need to know, though: did you ever wear a necklace or any kind of rings at all?”

“Yeah, sometimes. The rings were every once in a blue moon, though. Parties and things like that.”

“Matthew,” you moan, feeling your cheeks grow hot. This man will be the death of you. You twist and lean forward to take a peek at his ear. “Oh my God, you can still kinda see the hole from the piercing.”

“Again, not my best choice. Besides, like you said, it’d ruin my credit as a really good lawyer.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to bring back the earring, how about the chest hair?”

“Seriously?”

“Stupendously serious,” you say with a straight face.

“I’ll think about it. Chest hair would make it harder too—.” He cuts himself off before he can finish that sentence.

“Harder to what?”

“We can talk about that a little later,” he deflects with a kiss to your neck. His hands wrap around your hips and spin you into his lap so you face his front and straddle his legs. “I was thinking, while you were here, maybe we can do that thing with the silk sheets?”

“Matthew Murdock, are you trying to distract me?”

“Not at all,” he says as his hands lazily rub up your waist and down your thighs. You can tell he’s lying, but he’s already shown you one thing about him today that he probably didn’t want to, and this position is so nice. Not to mention the memories of what he is suggesting sends an erotic shiver throughout your body.

“Okay, then, Murdock,” you hum with a smile as you lean forward. “Do your worst. Make me feel all kinds of good.”

In one swift movement, he lifts you up from the couch, making you clutch onto his shoulders and wrap your legs tightly around his waist.

“Trust me, angel. When we’re done, those pictures will be the furthest thing from your mind.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother @hellskitchens-whore

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arielhopepeace · 8 months

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Sorry this part took a bit! Been getting ready to move and now I’m sick lol 😭 but enjoy and check part 1 for more extensive TWs, please ❤️

TW: smut, dirty talk, talk of sexual trauma

18+ only

5,400 words

Part two

My leg bounces about anxiously beneath my desk, constantly checking and re-checking the clock in the bottom right hand corner of my computer screen. It's nearly five, and I'm more than ready to go home and enjoy my weekend. But as every day passes, I become more apprehensive about my date with Joel tomorrow.

Of course he was wonderful, kind, a damn good kisser, and hot beyond belief, but I'm still terrified. Without any sedative-like influence from the alcohol, I'm back to the withered shell of a woman I was when Joel walked into my office.

I can't believe I was fully prepared to sleep with him the other night. I had convinced myself that I was safe enough to do something like that with him, and I'm glad I didn't. What if I kiss Joel again and I panic? Or what if we're ever intimate and I panic? What will he do? Laugh in my face and continue anyway?

No, not Joel. He's too sweet for that, right?

Obviously my libido is calling the shots rather than my rational anxiety. It's been eight years since I've slept with anyone, and I'm jumping into this way too quickly for my liking. Am I crazy? Next time I'm with him, I'm not drinking any alcohol. I need to be myself and not a sedated, sex obsessed freak.

My eyes flutter closed, my lashes dancing against my cheeks as I recall Joel's hands on my body, and his soft, skilled lips against mine. Of course he was eager, he's a man. Is that why he fixed my washer? To get laid?

Part of me is tempted to go off on him for being such a disgusting pervert, but he hasn't done anything to me. My mind is fabricating all of these scenarios and reasons for his kindness when even I know it's probably out of character for Joel.

He's a single dad who lost his wife nine years ago, and who's devoted to his daughter who he's crazy about. Joel seems to be an incredible father. There's no way a man like that would ever try to hurt me, is there?

"Y/n?" I hear from my open office door.

"Yes?" My eyes snap up to see Cynthia, my secretary.

She smiles wide at me. "Are you done for the day?"

I gaze down to see that it's ten after five, meaning I've been sitting here spiraling over Joel for almost twenty minutes.

"Yes," I sigh with a smile. "More than done. I'm ready for the weekend."

Cynthia walks beside me as we leave the building, our cars being parked next to each other's outside.

"You have any exciting plans?" she asks with a large grin.

I decide to not tell her about Joel. "Nah, just me and my wine. You?"

"Ex-husband has the kids this weekend, so I'm probably going to be doing the same as you," she giggles. "Get home safely, y/n, okay?"

"Thanks, Cynthia. You too."

When I get home, I see a lovely bouquet of flowers sitting on my doorstep along with a note. I beam as I unlock my front door, placing the flowers on the kitchen counter and fishing the little card out of the leaves.

Y/n

I'm excited for tomorrow night. I hope you enjoy these flowers as much as I enjoy your company.

Joel

My face aches as I hold the card to my chest, feeling like I'm in a movie or something. I read the note several times, my mouth curling up wider and wider every time. Who knew my cheeks could stretch this far?

I carry the flowers into my bedroom, setting them on the nightstand beside my bed with the card leaning against the pretty blue vase.

I immediately press on Joel's contact, hoping that he's done working for the day. With every ring of the line, my apprehension climbs, until I hear that low, inviting burr of Joel's voice.

"Hey, you," he says sweetly. "I'm assuming you got my gift."

My cheeks burn as I beam at the floor. "I did. Thank you. You didn't have to get me anything, you know."

Joel chuckles lightly. "I wanted to."

The line goes quiet for a moment before Joel speaks again.

"Can I be honest with you?" he asks.

My heart jumps into my throat. "Of course."

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, y/n."

"Same here, honestly," I laugh sheepishly. "I feel like I'm going crazy."

He laughs, the sound warming my chest. "You know, I haven't been on many dates since my wife passed. Maybe only two."

My brows raise in surprise. "Really? How come?"

"Never felt right."

I chew on my bottom lip nervously. "But it does with me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, "very right."

"I guess I should be honest with you too and tell you I haven't been with anyone in eight years."

"What?!" Joel chokes out. "Why? How?"

I swallow hard, shaking my head. "I'd rather talk about it in person. It's—awkward."

"You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n. You never have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

My eyes feel misty at his comforting words, but my mind is screaming at me to keep my walls up. "Thanks, Joel."

"Of course, y/n. As I said, you shouldn't be thanking me for the bare minimum. I'm sorry for whatever guy made you think that's all that you deserve."

Deciding to change the subject before I panic, I quickly swallow my fear that's clawing its way up my throat. "Uh—what time should I meet you tomorrow? And where are we going?"

"I could pick you up, if you want. I'd like it to be a surprise." He audibly smiles in his words.

I can't help but giggle. "Okay, that's fine. Could at least tell me the attire?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Casual-slash-nice? I'll be wearing a button-down and some jeans. Nothing too fancy."

I nod my head, planning my outfit already. "That sounds good to me. What time will you be here?"

"Six-thirty okay with you?"

"That sounds perfect."

"I'll see you tomorrow then, y/n. I have to attempt to make a good dinner for Sarah and I. I told you I was a shit cook, but I do practice so that she's not eating crap food all the time."

I laugh, flopping onto my back on my bed. "You're a good dad, Joel."

"I do my best."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, y/n."

We hang up, and I toss my phone to the side, staring at my ceiling.

Am I making the right choice by going out with him? I won't have any way of getting home if things go poorly, or if he switches and is no longer the man I'm assuming he is. What if he's exactly like...him? I hate saying his name, or even thinking it. Joel can't be evil like him, can he?

***

I'm straightening out my powder blue sundress when there's a knock on my front door. My hands are shaky and I feel like my knees are going to buckle at any moment. Taking a steadying breath, I pull open the front door, revealing a stunning, handsome Joel before me.

He's donned in a black button-up as he said, and dark blue jeans with black dress shoes on his feet. His hair is lightly tamed with some gel, adding a bit of shine to the deep brown strands.

I feel winded at his appearance, and I'm suddenly hoping he feels the same about me. I've done my makeup to the best of my ability, and even went the extra mile to straighten my hair. Even with my heels on, Joel is still taller than me, and I don't know why I enjoy that so much.

"Wow," he breathes out, still standing on my doorstep. "I can't believe you're my date tonight."

My heart soars as I blush, looking down to my floor to try to focus my gaze elsewhere. "Thank you. You look amazing, Joel."

He scoffs. "Next to you, I look like a bum."

I giggle, meeting his soft brown eyes and the straightness of his teeth. "Are you ready?"

Joel nods, reaching his hand out for mine. "If you are."

Tossing all of my anxiety and negative thoughts aside, I grab his hand, locking my front door behind me as he leads me to his truck. He opens the door for me and helps me in, his hand letting go once I'm settled in to the passenger seat.

My eyes follow him as he walks around the front, getting in beside me behind the steering wheel. We gaze at each other for a moment, my focus falling to his delicate lips that I've missed the feeling of, no matter how hard I've tried to deny that fact. I want to want him without feeling afraid, but I can't help it.

"Kiss me," I say gently.

Joel immediately leans forward with his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me into him firmly. His lips are so soft, and his tongue is back again in its eager, talented way. I can't help but moan, his tongue the match that struck across my body to wrap it in delicious flames.

He pulls away, both of us a bit winded from the kiss. "How the hell do you kiss like that if you haven't been with anyone in eight years?"

I giggle slightly as I shrug. "You're a good guide."

Joel chuckles and leans fully away, holding his hand out for me as he keeps the other on the steering wheel, pulling away from my house. I gently slide my fingers into his, feeling euphoric and safe in his truck with him.

Not seeing him for a few days has only made my attraction grow tremendously. How does he melt all of my fears away just by being around me? Nobody has ever done that for me before, or maybe I just never let anybody try. Why am I letting him in?

We park in front of a swanky restaurant, one that I've always passed, but never eaten at. It's New Orleans style food served in a comfortable, yet classy environment. I've always wanted to try it, but it seemed odd to come here alone, even though that's what I prefer.

Joel holds my hand as we walk in, the host guiding us to a table once he tells her the name for our party. The air smells heavenly. It's like Cajun food and Texan food had a baby and this restaurant is the outcome. God bless whoever came up with this place.

The server orders our drinks, and I opt out of getting wine. Joel orders an appetizer for us, my eyes scanning the menu as he does.

"No wine?" he sneers playfully at me. "Thought you were a wine lover."

"I am," I laugh, "but I'd like to be more connected this time."

Joel nods. "That's why I didn't order any beer. I still have to drive you back home, too."

Against everything my brain is telling me, I reach beside me at the table and rub Joel's thigh gingerly. I keep my eyes on the menu, my hand shaking as I bring it to a stop against his pants.

Joel reaches down and grabs my hand, bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss against it. My gaze moves from the menu to his, seeing the slight concern etched into his face.

"Y/n," he says gently, "you're shaking again."

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I guess I'm nervous."

"About what?"

I shake my head. I can't tell him about my traumatic past on our first date, can I? He'll think I'm crazy and divulging way too much information for someone I barely know. It's not like me to open up, but I feel compelled to with him. I want him to know that it's not his fault that I'm so fucking terrified all the time.

"I don't know," I say softly. "I'm sorry."

Joel's brows knit together with worry. "Do you want me to take you home?"

God. That simple question has my anxiety skyrocketing down; that reassurance that if I need to leave at any given moment apparently being all I needed to calm down.

I give him a warm smile, leaning across the corner of the table to place a gentle kiss against his stubbly cheek. "No. I want to be here with you."

He beams at me, kissing my knuckles again. "You're not shaking anymore."

"I know," I beam, turning back to the menu. "Everything sounds so damn good. What are you thinking about getting?"

"Honestly the gumbo sounds amazing, and I've never had any."

"Ooo," I coo, nodding. "That does sound good."

After our food is brought out, Joel takes a generous bite of his dish as I dig into mine. The flavor of everything bursts in my mouth, and I let out a moan of contentment. It's incredible, and I can't believe I've never eaten here before.

Joel holds out his spoon for me with his steaming food piled onto it. "You've gotta try this."

I lean forward and take the spoon between my lips, groaning with a nod as I enjoy the taste of his meal.

"God, that's amazing." I pierce my own food with my fork, holding it out for Joel. "Now try mine."

Watching his lips slide across my fork does something sinful to me, and I'm not entirely sure why.

"This might be the best food I've ever had," he beams.

"I can't believe you haven't eaten here before. This is my favorite restaurant."

"It felt weird to come here alone," I laugh, placing my fork down to sip my water.

Joel eyes me with a glimmer in his eye. "Well, now you don't have to."

My cheeks warm as I break the eye contact, unable to hold it any longer. Although his eyes are kind and gentle, there's something so intimidating about them. Maybe it's because I'm so attracted to him, but god I can't look into them for too long.

We finish our meals and I go to pay, but Joel quickly grabs my card from me, slamming his down into the checkbook instead.

"Absolutely not," he shakes his head as we both laugh. "You can be a control freak all you want on your own time, but I'm paying for dinner tonight."

I giggle loudly, crossing my arms as I do my best to act offended. "Only I can call me a control freak."

He holds up his hands in defense. "I was only quoting you"

I playfully shove him, watching as the server walks away with the bill. "I want to pay for the next date."

Joel leans on the table on his elbows, handing me my card back. "Oh, there's going to be a next date?"

My eyes land on his, admiring the deep chocolate river that flows in them. "Yes."

"Maybe I like that you're a control freak," he beams, his eyes floating down to my lips. "It's charming."

"Charming?" I guffaw. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"Of course not," he laughs. "Everyone has their quirks, and I want to learn all of yours."

My gaze softens. "Really?"

Joel nods. "Really."

Back at my house, Joel walks me to the front door, giving me a long, lingering kiss before I unlock it.

"Would you like to come in?" I ask somewhat timidly.

He nods with a smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "We could watch a movie again, if you wanted."

I beam. "I'd like that a lot."

We enter my house, and I immediately kick off my heels, picking them up by the backs and carrying them into my bedroom. I put them away where they belong, checking my reflection in the mirror to make sure I'm tidy and presentable enough for Joel.

He stands near the couch, my eyes flicking down to his shoes. "You can take those off if you want."

Joel chuckles. "Do you not like shoes on in the house?"

I smirk, walking up beside him. "No, not really."

He laughs, bending down and slipping his shoes off to leave them by the front door near the little entrance carpet.

We sit on the couch, my thumb clicking on the remote to go to any streaming service.

"Do you have to be back to Sarah any time soon?" I ask, suddenly worrying that I'm taking up too much of his time.

"No," he smiles. "I told Mrs. Cheshire that it might be a late night. She knows I'm on a date."

Hearing him say that makes me beam vastly, gazing into his soft eyes. "Yeah, you are."

Joel chuckles, leaning in and placing a soft kiss to my cheek. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything. How about I stop being a control freak and let you pick?"

He laughs, nodding as he takes the remote from me. "Any particular genre you like to avoid?"

"I'm good with anything, really." My eyes admire his beautiful profile. "You pick."

Joel ends up landing on a rom-com, making my lips tweak up as I giggle. He laughs with me, throwing his arm around my shoulders as I lean into his chest. He smells incredible; the scent warm and musky yet clean. I inhale him deeply, needing more of him.

My head turns up to face his, admiring the stubble along his jaw. Joel flicks his gaze down to look at me, giving me a gentle smile.

"What?" he asks quietly as the movie plays in the background.

"You're a handsome man, Joel."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "It blows my mind that you think that."

"You're delusional."

"No, you're just that beautiful."

My lips attach to his in an instant, a hungry, needy feeling washing over me. I'm consumed by my own greed to have him near, desperate to have him closer. I slip my tongue against his, savoring the taste of Cajun food and Joel.

His hands rest on my hips, gripping them tightly as he begins to push me back onto the couch. My head hits the cushion gently as our lips never part, the weight of him feeling—suffocating and overwhelming. The horrible thoughts begin to flood my mind, and I do my best to push them away. But Joel is on me, devouring my mouth and keeping his grip on my hips. I can't do it. It's too much.

"Joel," I breathe, my chest beginning to heave.

"Yes, y/n?" he rasps, his lips on my neck.

"No!" I shout, pushing at his shoulders roughly.

He immediately flies back, fear and confusion staining his wonderful, beautiful face. "Y/n, hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Before even realizing it, I'm crying and shaking, curling into myself on my cushion that I was just pressed against moments ago. I close my eyes, hoping that it'll vanish. Whether it's the thoughts or Joel, I don't care. I just need them to go away.

"Remember the breathing?" he says quietly, sounding so far away it's like I'm floating in space. "Breathe with me, y/n."

My hands are over my ears, and my eyes are squeezed shut. I slowly open them to look at Joel, watching his chest inflate and deflate slowly. I follow his rhythm, moving my hands slowly away from my head to hear his deep breaths. He encourages me, smiling gently with those soft eyes of his melting me.

His hand slowly reaches out to grab mine and I let him, watching as he places it against his heart. It's racing against my palm, but his breathing is easy and calm.

"Joel," I begin, but he shushes me gently.

"Just keep breathing for a minute. Follow mine."

We sit there gazing at each other, easily breathing in and out for a few minutes until both of our hearts are no longer pounding hard against our chests.

"I need to tell you something," I say, hanging my head.

Joel brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I'm sorry, y/n."

My brows pitch up. "What for?"

"I came on too strong and I scared you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"No," I shake my head. "Joel, it's not your fault."

His vast, saddened eyes search mine, wrenching my heart. "I never want to scare you, y/n."

"Please, it's not your fault, I promise."

He nods, kissing my knuckles again.

"I haven't been with anyone in eight years because I was—" Words fail me, and I seem incapable of explaining what happened to me in this moment.

"You were what?" Joel asks gently.

"T-taken advantage of by my ex-boyfriend and his friend when I was seventeen."

Joel's face twists with disgust, and the tenderness has left his eyes. "My god, I'm so sorry, y/n."

"No," I shake my head, "please don't pity me. I don't want your pity."

He gingerly reaches out and cups my face, my cheek pushing more into his touch. "It's not pity, y/n. It's compassion."

A tear falls from my eye, and Joel swipes it with his thumb. "I panicked when you first took me to the supply store for the washer hose because I was scared I wouldn't come back home. With—him—I had no way of leaving. I was trapped."

Joel frowns. "Honey, you didn't have to go with me."

I smile faintly at the pet name. "But I wanted to. I wanted to spend time with you."

"Y/n, listen to me," he cups my face in both hands, "we don't ever have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. I don't care what it is, it won't happen if you're uncomfortable. Do you hear me?"

I nod. "I still want you, Joel. I want you so badly."

"We don't have to rush into anything. I haven't even slept with anyone in years. I'll wait for you, y/n. I want to wait until you're ready."

My eyes soften as I hang my head. "God, you're amazing, you know that?"

"I'm not amazing, y/n. I'm just being a decent human. You're still fragile, and I don't want to—"

I scowl. "I'm not fragile."

Joel frowns slightly. "I didn't mean to offend you, I just don't want you doing something if it's too soon."

"Joel, I've spent the last eight years being terrified of men. You're the first man I've let kiss me in eight years. I'm not a porcelain doll. I'm a woman that's healing, and you're helping me put on the band-aids."

He smiles gently. "I'm the luckiest damn man in the world."

I scoff, sniffling a bit. "You think you're lucky because you have a trauma victim that likes you?"

"You're not that to me at all," he shakes his head. "To me, you're a strong woman who's beginning to trust. And only god knows why I'm the one who made you want to start. I'm just happy to be here with you."

My body leans forward, wrapping my arms around his neck as I push our chests together. Our lips and tongues connect effortlessly, like it's second nature for us at this point. I fling my leg over his, straddling him and pinning his thighs to the cushion.

"Y/n," Joel pulls away, his eyes searching mine, "please, if you're not ready—"

"Shut up, Joel," I tell him, reattaching our lips.

My fingers are in his hair, his hands on my hips as I gently rock them back and forth against him. I can feel how hard he is beneath me, and it only spurs me on further.

I've never ridden anyone before, but it doesn't take an expert to figure out how to do it. My hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, our lips never leaving each other's as I work at his shirt.

"Touch me," I breathe against his lips, continuing our kiss.

Joel's hands stay at my hips, rubbing them tenderly.

His shirt lays open, and I part our kiss to give him a look of disapproval. "Joel, I didn't tell you the truth so that you'd be scared of me." I bring his hands up from my hips to my breasts. "I said touch me."

He leans up to reconnect the kiss, his palms against me, kneading my chest through my dress. His hands move down beneath it, sliding up my bare thighs until he's gripping my ass tightly.

"You tell me if you want me to stop anything," he says gruffly, his eyes alight with hunger.

I nod, desperate to return to his lips.

His hands move up the sides of my dress, and I part our mouths for a moment just so he can lift it off over my head. My fingers are on his jeans, shaking from desperation as I do my best to unfasten the button. Joel helps me, making quick work of his jeans until he's sat beneath me in only his boxers.

I lick my lips in anticipation, staring down at the thick, weighty erection that rests beneath me.

"I don't have any condoms, y/n," Joel says with a ragged breath.

"I don't care. I'm on the pill."

Joel's fingers play with the band of my panties, and I can tell he's still hesitant to touch me. My lips trail along his jaw and neck as I guide his hand into the fabric that he's toying with. A small groan leaves his lips once his fingers come in contact with my slit, making me clench down onto nothing.

"Oh, my god," he groans slightly, his head falling back against the back of the couch. "You're so fucking wet."

I hum against him, sliding my tongue from his collar bone up to his earlobe. "Just for you, Joel."

He eases a finger gently inside of me, stopping my body in its tracks as a shudder of pleasure runs through me. Joel moves it out slowly, pushing it back in with ease. My hands are on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly as I let out a quiet moan against his neck.

"Gotta prep you, honey. I won't fit if I don't get you ready for me."

My breath hitches in my throat as he works a second finger into me, my lips tucking between my teeth. "Fuck," I breathe out shakily.

"God, you're so tight," he groans. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't," I whisper. "Please, I need you."

My hands hook into the sides of his boxers, pulling them down so that they're resting on his thighs with his jeans. Joel's fingers move up to my clit, making me gasp at the sudden contact.

"Cum first and then I'm yours."

"Joel," I groan, my head leaning back. "Please."

He rubs me easily, swirling my little bundle of nerves in quick, neat circles that have my thighs already quivering with anticipation.

"It's okay, y/n," he coos. "You don't have to beg. You'll have me."

My body is on fire, and my chest is heaving dramatically. I'm already so close to the edge; so close to a feeling I haven't experienced in years, not even when I'm alone. I never wanted to. I've never been so hungry for an orgasm than I am right now with Joel beneath me and his fingers against me.

That blinding rush of euphoria courses through my body and I scream out, my entrance fluttering as my release takes over me. Joel groans quietly, his fingers guiding me through it until I'm shivering from the overstimulation.

He gently pulls my face down to his, kissing me deeply and passionately. I take his thick cock into my hands, groaning at the sheer size and weight of him. My other hand moves down to pull my panties to the side, rubbing Joel's tip through my soaking apex.

"Fuck," he curses, briefly breaking the kiss. "Tell me again that you want me."

I nod, biting my lip. "I want you so bad, Joel."

"I'm yours, y/n. Take me."

I pull away, leaning up onto my knees as I position myself above him. With one hand on him at the base, I gently start to ease myself down. My jaw unhinges, my eyes open wide from the overwhelming feeling of the stretch of him. I feel full, and he's not even halfway in yet.

Joel grips my hips tightly, his eyes on where we're connecting. "Take your time. I don't want it to hurt."

"It doesn't," I breathe out sharply. "Just—a lot."

He chuckles cheekily, the sound seemingly vibrating through my body to send another rush of arousal to where he's stretching me out. I move my hand, allowing myself to settle at the bottom as we both let out a coo of approval.

"Go slow," Joel says gently.

I breathe, adjusting to him still, feeling stretched beyond belief. "Don't tell me what to do."

Joel laughs, his fingers quickly undoing the clasps of my bra. He attaches his mouth to my left nipple, making me shriek and tense up around him. He groans against me, his eyes briefly squeezing shut.

I slowly start to move up and down, groaning out towards the ceiling from the intense pleasure. Joel drops his fingers to my slick bud again, immediately making me clench down on him.

He groans, moving to my other nipple. "You're so beautiful," he praises. "Riding me so good, y/n."

His compliments spur me on, and I move my hips faster, becoming more and more acclimated to the stretch of him. My moans are constant. Every time he's buried in me to the hilt, I can't help but cry out into the emptiness of my home.

"Joel," I moan, my eyes squeezed shut. "Please, I'm so close."

His free hand comes up and grips me behind my neck, pulling my lips down to press against his briefly. "I know, honey. Can feel you squeezing me. Cum on me, y/n."

His words are my undoing, and I'm crumbling. My walls are flexing against him and my teeth are sinking into the skin of his neck, needing something to keep me grounded to earth.

Joel groans loudly, only making my orgasm more intense. "Yes, y/n," he moans. "Tell me how I feel."

"G-good," I shudder, kissing the teeth marks on his neck. "Please, Joel."

"What, honey? Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me."

His hands immediately go to my hips, his legs adjusting a bit before he starts to thrust up into me, the quick pace making me scream and bury my face back into his neck.

"Oh, my god!" I cry, my eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck, Joel, please."

"I can't hold it anymore, y/n. Tell me where you want it," he says gruffly. "Tell me."

"Inside of me!"

Joel's fingers dig into my skin so tightly I'm sure they'll leave bruises. He cries out, his head tilting back as I feel him throbbing inside of me. Every spurt of cum and jerk of his hips makes me groan, and I finally open my eyes once I feel his release stop pouring into me.

His hands move to my bare back, caressing me gently from the bottom of my spine to the top. He rubs me silently for a few moments, both of us just panting and breathing together.

"Please tell me how you are," Joel finally says. "I need to know."

"I'm perfect," I breathe, moving my head out of the crook of his neck. "More than perfect."

He beams at me, leaning up to pull me in to a wonderful, tender kiss that has my heart soaring.

"You're incredible," he says as our foreheads press together. "I can't believe you like me."

I giggle, shaking my head. "Would you stop it? You're perfect, Joel. I mean it."

He chuckles, kissing me again. "What do you want me to do?"

I cock my head. "About what?"

"Do you want me to stay the night? Or would you rather me go home?"

"Stay," I smile. "Please."

He beams at me. "I was hoping you'd say that."

****

#pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #smut #yn fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou smut

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the-guilty-writer · 10 months

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Criminal Minds PRIDE Fics

Well, it's the end of Pride Month. Thank you to everyone who entered fics, new or old (or both)! This was my first time hosting a writing challenge and the amount of love surrounding it was truly incredible. From the range of writers who participated, to the the types of fics, it shows just how broad this community spans. I hope all of you are well, and safe, and know that you are extremely loved ❤.

This list is not exhaustive by any means. There are many other LGBTQ+ Criminal Minds fics out there, these are just the entries for the challenge. If you have a late entry (I know I do) don't be afraid to send it in! If you sent in a fic and it is missing, let me know that too!

Please let me know if you have issues with the accessibility of this list for any reason (I used fun colors again). I am happy to provide you with an accessible format.

(once again, my favorite CM Pride gif which is actually part of a set that I need to track down and reblog later)

Fics are under the cut!

Reader Insert Fics:

Note: I tried my best to indicate reader traits to make it easier to find fics. If you find any of these to be inaccurate, please let me know and I will edit it to be correct

Spencer Reid

(In)visible by @foxy-eva: (fem!reader, bisexual!reader) There are a lot of obstacles you had to face as a queer woman but you never thought that falling in love with a man was one of them.

Bigotry Kills by @staygoldsquatchling02: (trans masculine non-binary!reader) While on a case in Tennessee, Spencer and Y/N accidentally reveal that Y/n is transgender to an unsub who has made it his mission to ride his small town of people he views as “less than himself”.

Ocean by @cinnamon-lesbian: (intersex!fem!reader) The reader can’t seem to love herself. Spencer lets her in on how amazing she really is.

I'd Better Ask Emily by Gill: (daughter!reader, lesbian!reader) When Spencer goes looking for your school notebook and accidentally reads your diary instead he goes to the BAU bisexual badass for help.

Emily Prentiss

Freedom-Seeking Hearts by @/foxy-eva: (fem!reader) For how much longer will Emily Prentiss and Fem!Reader be able to contain their freedom-seeking hearts?

Jennifer Jareau

Somewhere Underlined by @railingsofsorrow: (fem!reader) jennifer jareau would be the death of you someday, you know that and you'd probably let her. surprisingly, you weren't aware that you caused that same reaction on her, too.

Aaron Hotchner

So Much by Gill: (teen!reader) reader comes out to their dad as gay and his reaction is not what they expected.

---

Character x Character Fics:

Aaron Hotchner x Derek Morgan

second chance by @masterwords: It's time for Hotch to tell Jack about his relationship with Derek. He's understandably concerned that it could go bad, but hopefully nothing some chocolate chip pancakes won't help. (Spoiler Alert: It doesn't go bad. There are some rough patches here but this is a story with a happy ending.)

Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Love can rise out of the ashes by @satchels-and-socks: Spencer is heartbroken after Maeve. Spencer locks himself away and becomes a shell of his formal self. Derek realized something and is determined to show Spencer that life goes on and how someone other than Maeve is truly in love with him.

Jennifer Jareau x Emily Prentiss

The Way You Felt by @andiebeaword: While on a flight to help Spencer, exes J.J. and Emily ultimately come to terms with their buried feelings.

Jennifer Jareau x Tara Lewis

Soft & Sweet by @/foxy-eva: A confession between JJ and Tara leads to a night full of soft and sweet moments. (includes smut, 18+, minors DNI)

Emily Prentiss x Clara Seger

I Felt a Million Things When I First Met You by @baubeautyandthegeek: The one where Emily finally comes clean about just how come Clara’s always so willing to help.

Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner

There Are Secrets That We Still Have Left To Find (on Ao3) by @starzzyeyed: Spencer Reid is seven years old the first time he comes out to anyone. Three times Spencer comes out, across three different points in his life, all with three very different outcomes.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x gn!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #tara lewis

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 10 months

Text

My weekly roundup CW 23

I try to write down my thoughts after watching stuff to create a little weekly ranking in relation to the previous week on my, most of the times, quiet sundays (and because I love lists!). These are just my personal opinions and preferences based on the feeling I got watching the episodes.

And yes, this will contain spoilers!

↑ 1. Be My Favorite (Ep 3/10)

The one with the most adorable heart eyes this week:

All right, so now Kawi is trying to keep Pisaeng at a distance so that he doesn't fall in love with him and yet to get closer to Paer so that he will be the man at her side later. We can already see that Pisaeng likes Kawi. I mean, he has such heart eyes that it's really hard to miss! And I love how Pisaeng keeps reassuring Kawi that being himself is enough that others will like him. Even if Kawi eats like a pig and is just socially awkward at times. And I can understand him trying to keep Pisaeng at a distance to pursue his own selfish goal and trying to cement bridges between two former friends because he knows how it feels to lose friends and be lonely. And I'm even more looking forward to when Kawi finally realizes that the best thing he can do is not to stay away from Pisaeng, but to let him into his life and allow everything that happens next.

☼ 2. Love Tractor (2/8)

The most adorable puppy falling in love:

This is so cute! I read the manhwa and it's so cute! And the adaptation is so good to begin with! I have no idea how the story will fit into eight episodes, but I like to be surprised. The characters are well met. Yechan is one of the cutest puppies we've had on screen so far and he needs to be protected at all costs!

↑ 3. Our Dining Table (10/10 Final)

And there it is again over with getting hungry all the time. It ended the way it began, on a soft episode of feel-good. Yutaka is now officially part of the family, I love Minoru's father, everyone is happy, even though everything is transient, but that's just part of life and it would be much worse if you didn't allow beautiful things to happen just because they might be over again someday. All in all, a very nice, very quiet series.

↑ 4. My Story (9/10)

The most adorable couple in love this week:

Zeke and Fifth are back and cuter than ever. Fifth finally agrees and poses naked for Zeke and the latter can't stop looking at him as if the most delicious food was being served there. The fact that he didn't have water dripping out of his mouth is everything, too. The two are just incredibly cute lovers. And Sky and Win are also on cloud nine and then Sky's dad dies. And I'll be honest, it was somewhat foreseeable, but for a change in the land of drama.

↓ 5. La Pluie (7/12)

That is me watching flirty Patts and Saengtai:

Can I first say how pissed off I am with this ending? It just overshadows everything! That Lomfon finally discovers that Saengtian isn't so one-dimensional after all. The cute animals! And that Saengtai and Patts have taken the next step. Even though Sengtai isn't ready to be sexually satisfied by Patts, that doesn't mean he can't satisfy Patts. And I'm absolutely on board with that! It's nice to see that there's consent there. That it's being shown that you don't have to have sex at the first opportunity. That it's okay to say stop. That it's okay to give instead of take, especially if you're sexually inexperienced. Because receiving can be embarrising at first. It needs time to open up and to have the trust in the other person. Well, and then comes the end. And that pisses me off. Why the hell is Patts just standing there and letting himself be kissed? Afterwards it's going to be back to, she kissed me, I didn't mean to, and I'm going to sit there wondering why he didn't just turn his head away, kept her at a distance, said no, and why he closed his eyes…It's such a crappy source of drama. So not just the kiss with the ex, but the misunderstanding as such. I hope they resolve it wisely. I'll try to muster up that much trust after all.

The most unnecessary drama of the week:

↓ 6. Step by Step (7/12)

It went on and I don't like Put. I don't like how he tries to manipulate Pat into continuing this relationship with him. I don't like how he takes Pat for granted. I don't like how little effort he puts in. I don't like how he uses the stuffed animal as a distraction from the real problem. And basically, nothing has changed. They broke up because Put prioritized his career, which is a legitimate reason, totally non-judgmental here! But then he has the audacity to come back and put Pat back in the closet, to continue to put his career above everything. I think it could have possibly even worked between the two of them if he could have made Pat feel like he came first, if he could openly stand by him, openly care about him. But also only maybe. Because actually Pat has had feelings for Jeng for a while. And I think that's absolutely fine. Jeng is an adult and knows what he wants. He doesn't play games and doesn't have to defend his territory unnecessarily because he's so insecure that someone else wants to play with his toys. And he looks at Pat with that look that I think everyone likes to be looked at with, so that gives plus points. I'll give Jaab and Jane some more time to pick me up. I find their relationship…difficult. So everything, every interaction is difficult for me.

↑ 7. Our Skyy 2 (15+16/16 Final)

The most romantic shit I have seen in a while:

Yeah, still not a fan of the mix of Bad Buddy and A Tale Of Thousand Stars. I don't know, somehow I don't like Pat and Pran as much after watching this. I'll have to watch Bad Buddy again soon to get rid of the pale aftertaste. Otherwise Phupha and Tian…It was so nice to see them, just the two of them living their lives together like that and cuddling. Would be enough for me, but we were able to witness how our Chief gives his Tian the 1000th star. My heart wanted to stop for a moment. What a fucking romantic ending for the two of them and for the series. It really was a perfect ending. Not to mention all the kissing between the two…I mean hello? Seven or eight? In one episode? That's when my heart almost stopped for the second time…

↓ 8. The Luminous Solution (3/6)

So, next week my predictions come true…cheating…Basically I don't even mind the subject, especially if I don't like the couple and would rather see them in the arms of the other party. And right now, I don't think our doctor and Thana make a good couple. And Ryou and Mai are cute together. That's all I can say right now. The best friend is a pain in the ass, but I'm sure that will resolve itself. And hey, maybe the café will have a reason to be in the story soon!

↓ 9. Naked Dining (9/12)

I really don't know what to make of this at the moment. It's all kind of crap. Mahiro is so impatient that it's kind of upsetting me. I mean, he's been aware of his feelings for years and has accepted them, but for Souta, this is all new and he's confused because he feels something for Mahiro. What that is, he doesn't know. Basically that's okay, what pisses me off is the fact that they don't play on with it now. The two could have gotten closer now. They could have done something other than just cooking. They could have given Souta the space and time to get to know himself better and his feelings. Instead, you randomly throw drama into the mix. This week our dear colleague, who of course knows that there is something in the air between the two, but still wants to fight for Souta, even though there is no indication that Souta likes her that way. And then next week comes an ex who causes Souta to get jealous…This is unnecessary drama that doesn't feel natural and thus somewhat spoils my enjoyment of the series.

As a goodbye, here you have the cutes puppy of this week. Have a great week!

#weekly wrap up #weekly update #sunday charts #josi watching bl #just my opinion #be my favorite #be my favorite the series #love tractor #our dining table #my story the series #la pluie #la pluie the series #step by step the series #our skyy 2 #the luminous solution #naked dining #bl series #bl drama

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marimbles · 5 months

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Hope you don’t mind me asking lol, I stumbled upon your blog and I see you are in the throes of Ouran hyperfixation 😅 What are your opinions on each member of the host club?

yes im definitely in the throes thanks for noticing<3 lol. i'd be delighted to share my opinions on each member of the host club !! this will be LONG bc i have a lot to say about these binches (also this will have manga spoilers). so i'll put it under a cut

Haruhi—honestly what's not to love. she's scruffy and apathetic and grumpy and direct and 300% done with everything, including gender conformity. "these damn rich people" yes king go off. also you're so valid for being 90% motivated by food. it's such a perfect and fascinating idea to drop a person like fujioka haruhi into a group of ridiculous dramatic people like the host club and see how they fare. impressively well, actually. she cleans up nice and is surprisingly charming and intuitive underneath the apathy. but this is only what you find out in like the first episode!!! she grows so much over the course of the story, especially in the manga, and it warmed my heart so much and made me so proud of her 😭 how her relationship with the host club members changed her as a person and even enabled her to better pursue her lifelong dreams. ugh. i love how falling in love with tamaki gave haruhi such a beautiful character arc. first her resistance (which was both understandable and hilarious), because he's so STUPID and RIDICULOUS and in her mind is the last kind of person she'd want to be with, but then she realizes how much she has learned from him and how much he's opened her heart, and she's so inspired by him—to experience new things and understand people better and challenge her preconceived notions and grow to be a better, kinder person, which will make her a better lawyer too. she's actually so brave, to step out of her comfort zone, and connect with others, and to learn how to accept help, when she closed herself off as a coping mechanism when she was so young. she has so much patience to deal with the host club theatrics and a lot of patience with her dad, who is also rather theatrical lol. she had to grow up young and mature so fast and i like how through the host club she learned how to have fun and let other people support and admire her too. ugh i just love her! she has such a soft and good heart and she learns to love so deeply even though it initially went against her nature! she's soooo stray italian greyhound coded to me.

Tamaki—my favorite. one of my favorite characters of all time now actually. im just obsessed with him. i already have a weakness for blond boys with sad backstories and i blorbified him so so fast. as a longtime adrien agreste stan it was inevitable, once i learned about his existence. i saw the most pathetic drama queen loser in all of fiction and i went "yeah he's perfect." i loved him as soon as i watched an episode but i think it was this post that really sold me on him and convinced me to read the manga. i mean isn't he just the guy of all time. as a sillyguy myself i can't not adore him, because he is SO silly and SO dramatic and SO larger-than-life ridiculous, and i am just a big fan of that. but at the same time he has a surprising amount of depth, revealed little by little, that just made me fall even more in love with him as i learned more! cause the thing about tamaki is that everything about him is over-the-top and outlandish—including the size of his heart, and the way he cares about other people, and the lengths he will go to to help them. he's like incredibly narcissistic and incredibly selfless, at the same time. such a fascinating contradiction to me. he has such big feelings whether it's overwhelming grief over a stranger's sob story or unbridled excitement over a mcdonald's happy meal toy. i think all in all tamaki's character can be summed up with one word: love. he just loves everything and everyone to an incomprehensible degree, and that love is transformative. he loves his broken family to the point of wholenesss, and his lonely schoolmates the the point of chosen family, and haruhi to the point of courage—because he was just as confused and afraid as she was, and they both learned to be brave enough to love in a way they always thought was impossible for them. he just loves the whole world and it loves him back, because when you put that much love out there it's bound to be reflected back to you. i love how essentially tamaki annoyed all his friends into becoming his found family lol, because as stupid and obnoxious as he is, he cares SO much, and that's how he won each one over individually, to the point that they'd do practically anything for him. despite being pretty obtuse about himself he's very intuitive about other people and he is able to see them as they really are, in a way they couldn't even see themselves yet, and understand them to a degree that allows them to understand themself. anyway im always crying about him, cause. yeah.

Kyoya—man i love him. so calm and cool and collected and lowkey an evil genius. i love how he plays off tamaki so perfectly. they truly are a married couple lmao. but again!!! in signature ouran fashion, there is much more to him than meets the eye! they're all so much more than the "type" they are assigned! because yes kyoya is the "cool one," the genius one, the guy who always has a plan, the one who's constantly strategizing internally and weighing pros and cons and thinking 9 steps ahead, who only does things for his own benefit … but also underneath he is so passionate. he has all the emotions he tends not to show. fear and anger and grief and love. the anime did such a good job of portraying this because sometimes i think about that scene with him painting inside the golden frame and then it zooms out and he's made a giant beautiful work of art outside the frame, with every color, and i just sort of wanna cry about it. the hidden depths of kyoya ootori...i love that, like haruhi, he learned that it's important to have fun, and if your best friend is a complete idiot, it's good for you! (albeit sometimes detrimental to your health and sanity, lol.) again i loved how they handled it in the anime where in the end he shows his father how intelligent and powerful and in control he was, just to let all of that go, because he found what made him happy, and that was more important than any of it. i love a guy who forms unbreakable bonds first against his will but then puts his whole heart into them! who learns to defy expectations and forge his own path! who learns that happiness is its own end! MAN!! ok also the part in the manga where he spends his whole paris vacation searching for tamaki's mom and completely exhausts himself and falls asleep in the street because of it, just because he wanted to be able to report back to tamaki that she was alive and well. i might cry. im a tamaharu shipper but i have a very soft spot for kyotama.

Kaoru—i get emotional about him sometimes. he is sooooo 😭 ok because at first, the twins are identical both in looks and personality. but as the story progresses, their individuality becomes more obvious, and kaoru reveals himself as the more emotionally mature twin. i love the twins for being mischievous and silly and obnoxious and just a tiny bit evil sometimes, and for always making fun of tamaki (i mean SOMEONE has to), but they both have a lot a depth underneath that which makes them so dear to me 🥺 and kaoru. oh. baby boy. he's so intuitive, often seeing what hikaru is unwilling/unable to see, and so self-sacrificial, always willing to put his brother's needs over his own. the way he was developing feelings for haruhi the whole time, just like hikaru was, but he was the first to realize and admit it to himself, and he gave hikaru space to figure it out too. and then how he is honest with haruhi and confesses to her but in the same breath tells her that his relationship with hikaru is too important to jeopardize, so he bows out gracefully even as he speaks up. UGH! sometimes i just think about that part in the manga where he talks with haruhi about how he wouldn't know what to do if he and hikaru wanted the same thing and both couldn't have it, and then later they have a box of cookies and there's not enough for everyone so he saves his for hikaru, and then haruhi points out that he found the answer to his question, didn't he? about what he would do if they wanted the same thing? so then he ends up stepping back to let hikaru pursue haruhi instead of him, promising to support him, and helping him grow and mature into a better person. wahhhh...... he's a sort of tragic character to me honestly. like it makes me a little sad to think about him. but he just has a good heart, and he ends up happy because the change he was afraid would make him lose the relationships that were most important to him actually made them even stronger.

Hikaru—i think i have a slightly softer spot for kaoru, but i really really love hikaru as well, and i think his character arc is one of the best in the series. he's definitely the brasher/less mature twin in the beginning, who tends to let jealousy and anger get the better of him and he lashes out sometimes because of his frustration and confusion about his own feelings. he struggles with self-awareness and kaoru knows that, which is why he gives hikaru opportunities to self-discover and figure himself out. hikaru falling for haruhi and admitting that to himself and others, even haruhi, was so important for him as someone who always defaulted to keeping others out and viewed everyone but kaoru as an outsider. he really didn't trust anyone but kaoru with his thoughts and feelings, but being part of the club made him open up, examine himself, and consciously choose to mature. one of my favorite hikaru moments is when he dyes his hair dark to show that he's an individual who is separate from his twin and wants to be viewed as such, but at the same time he makes it clear to kaoru that being individuals doesn't mean they have to drift apart or be any less important to each other—and he's determined for them to stay just as close even as they pursue separate paths for the first time in their lives. i also love his rivalry with tamaki over haruhi and how that affects him and forces him to grow. another favorite moment is when he demands that tamaki open his eyes and encourages him to not let his trauma get the best of him. instead of letting tamaki stay ignorant of his feelings for haruhi, which would be to his advantage, he makes tamaki realize them so they could have an equal chance to pursue her. he has so many sweet moments where he feels conflicted about tamaki, wishing he was out of the picture but also feeling so much gratitude and affection for him. he just really loves tamaki, and really loves kaoru, and really loves haruhi, and that love that started out with so much hurt and jealously makes him grow into a more selfless and genuine and mature person, when he finally, like kaoru, bows out and chooses to be happy for tamaki and haruhi. ugh he's a good boy even though he acts like a turd sometimes. lol.

Honey—i don't have as strong of feelings for honey as the others i've gone over but he is still a great character! obviously he's adorable, and i just find him very sweet and enjoyable. and of course the fact that the sweets-obsessed boy lolita who carries around a stuffed bunny is actually a genius and also a martial arts master who can take down 50 guys singlehandedly...yeah it's pretty dope lmao. i love how he learned from tamaki the meaning of true inner strength—not pretending to be something your not for someone else's sake, but being unapologetically YOU and embracing what makes you happy! honey learns to comfortably live a seemingly contradictory life, because he openly loves his cake and cutesie stuff but he remains a strong and well-respected leader and master of the haninozuka martial arts. it's funny and but also very fitting to me that in the manga he ends up with the girl from the black magic club—someone who's different from him in what appears to be every way, but honey is not afraid of contradiction and appreciates people being themselves!

Mori—he's the host i least connect with, just because he doesn't get much focus and also barely speaks lol. but i still love mori! i really admire his loyalty—just the truest friend anyone could ever ask for. he and honey are such an iconic duo. his "lovely item" lol. it's really sweet how much of a natural protector he is—not just how he looks out for honey but also haruhi and the whole host club. he's a very compassionate person with strong principle. one of my favorite mori moments is when he demands a fight with honey just so he feels like he has the right to tell him what to do and remind him to brush his teeth when they're apart for college haha. also shout out to the part where tamaki desperately asks "do you ever think about kissing honey-senpai" because he's freaking out about haruhi and mori says no but later is shown worrying that he screwed tamaki up by lying, because he does actually think about kissing honey 😂

ok this concludes my Opinion Of The Hosts soapbox hour, thank you for asking and sorry i answered:) tldr i love them all lol

#ask #starlightbelle #ohshc

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papa-evershed · 10 months

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I’m curious… what do you think are the sexiest gifs of Rob EVER? 😏 I’d love to see ‘em.

I apologize for my late answer but like a weirdo, I was just convinced that my choices would somehow be disappointing. 😅🙈 I just feel like most people are going to expect gifs of kissing scenes or skin but those aren't even the ones that make me the most feral. But I'll give it a shot. 😂

As always, under a read more for length but also for cringe worthy fangirling and NSFW thirst-talk.

Immediately, my first thought was this gif. When I say I adore this man's belly I fucking mean it. He's just so deliciously man-shaped. Tall and thick and soft in all the right places. I love a belly, lets me know that a person isn't too militant and allows themselves to indulge in life's pleasures. 😏😏 (I'm reading way too much into a belly but here we are.) Add in the fact that in this specific scene, Martin Evershed is being the ultimate soft, caring Dad™. He has every reason in the world to lose his shit on Sam but instead he actively chooses to be what she needs in that moment and it's just incredibly sexy because he is a whole ass Man™. I just wrote a fucking novel about this one gif but listen, there's a reason it's first that comes to mind.

The thumb in the mouth? 🙃

Speaking of Act On This, this one too. I'm not even sure if I can put my finger on exactly why this specific gif is one of my favorites. Perhaps because he's usually so smiley (which I adore) that a rare serious/stern look wrecks me. Another reason I want him cast as a villain. Just...yes, sir.

And on the flip side, these because he's just so soft again. I fucking love soft men, ones who don't seem to have that drive to constantly perform their own personal version of hyper-masculinity. (also, I'd suck a random dick off the street to get this in HQ)

I'm a simple creature and I like profiles, noses, and tits.

Like I said, I'm a simple creature and I am no better than any man.

When the right men manspread at the right time? Yes. Yes, that.

When Dad™ shows up to save the day? Get that man a beer and a blowjob.

And while I love it when a man is great with kids...I also think it's incredibly sexy when he's tired of their bullshit cause aren't we all sometimes? 😅

FUZZY GREY NECK? say no more. Also, I'd stand in a three hour long line to wait my turn to ride his thigh like he was the carousel at Disney World. I said what I said.

Hutch. Just Hutch. Everything about the character was sexy. And bless this t-shirt. The shoulders. The arms. The fuzzy neck. The nose. He could 100% talk me into sleeping in that creepy ass cabin and much like Phil, we'd also wake up naked and calling out to God.

Annnd because I feel like it's expected and it does deserve attention, this kiss with Papa E. Listen. Listen. So many fucking onscreen kisses go from 0 to 60 in .000005 seconds. Just immediate face-fucking right out the gate. And IDK about y'all but that shit just isn't enjoyable in real life. Don't assault my fucking face like a Dallas Cowboy's linebacker. 🙃 Ease into it. Warm up. Mr. Evershed will patiently take his time making you so anxiously desperate for more that when he finally does deepen that kiss your lips will be eagerly wet and ready...heh. 🙈

Anyway. 😳 I've been really good about not being thirsty on main anymore and this is still quite tame for me but I'm gonna stop now because this post could go on all night. 🫠

#y'all can't see me like this

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katyspersonal · 10 months

Note

Top 5 Elden Ring's demigods

Argh... Could you've given me any HARDER top to make? :') No matter who I put below 5th place, I will feel like a huge prick @_@ Because they all deserve some praise, and some love. It is just incredibly good writing. Well, fine then, let's try.

Five - Morgott!

I talked about him already. The absolute tear-jerker character, a member of oppressed minority, that is defending the very corrupt system that deems people like HIM worthless.... He made me cry (/srs ) more than once upon just this sentiment. He is very realistic, and very easy to sympathise with and feel bad for. He certainly radiates a giant soft spot, though (and not JUST because he has dad bod that is completely naked under his robes, hahaha). In a weird way, he reminds me of Asg0re, a character from my other fandom - a big "monster" King who did a lot of bad things on his way, and because of his mental wound, but in the end might melt upon a simple hug or be easily convinced. It is just not what a Soulsborne game would've let us experience, but... honestly, he has not only huge muscles, but also a huge HEART. I love this combination a LOT, it pulls the richest spectrum of emotions.

Four - Malenia!

She is such a beautiful and impressive boss.... ...that I never talk about her. x) I can't quite explain how my focus works, sorry </3 She scares me a little - and it is not even her fault, but the thing that casually claimed her body, because superior deities have nothing better to do I guess :/ She is holding up very well for someone who has to live in a constant struggle with the horror plaguing her very being. And for someone having to hold up as a warrior of her dear brother's interests despite her body rotting as she goes. And having to repeat 'I am Malenia, blade of Miquella' like a mantra, since Rot is infamous to destroy the memories, and she must not forget what and who she is fighting for.

"She deserved better" is an understatement, I'd say. Her personality shines through the 'influence' that has been ruining her quite well, I'd say. She is a strong warrior, very determined, but very full of honor and love at the same time. I say this in every other post about strong Soulsborne characters, yeah. True bravery is not lack of fear but going despite fear, true power is not being callous unbreakable wall but to still hold your weapon firm through struggle and pain, true personality is what you ARE and not what you are 'not', etc etc. It is always about the feelings.

Three - Godwyn!

I could not explain why he made it to this place very well, honestly. First, he stroke my weird spider-sense intuition. I was going into Elden Ring mostly in blind, and still keep whatever I can to be revealed as I go! Thus, I did not know anything about Godwyn besides the fact that he was the golden child (metaphorically and literally) that went down as sacrifice during Night of the Black Knives as one having his soul killed. And that he used to be a lovely person. But one day, as I was playing Elden Ring and progressing casually, from nowhere, for no reason, I started to think of this character. Again, for no reason, I was thinking of the 'Deep Sea' and imagining him becoming a mermaid (?), and healing/truly dying/letting new soul grow/whatever by returning to the sea. I even started crying, and I swear, those emotions felt like they were not even mine.

It felt very random, but you can't even imagine my surprise when that same day, I just coincidentally travelled to THAT location, and found him. And, coincidentally, he was posed like this with a mermaid tail. I take weird 'intuition moments' (dreams or waking) very personally as I have many of them (and funny enough, they always have to do with the 'sea' theme). No matter how I feel about this character in the future, but the weird "foretelling", "intuition" bond fixed my attention, so yeah.

He seems like a very loveable person, though... From narration standpoint, it does make the most sense that he of all people had to suffer this way. It just would not have had the same effect if someone less likeable/innocent had to go down. It is... sad, how much of this character is his tragedy alone. But, he befriended a dragon and bridged the gap between conflicting forces, and from what I gathered losing him specifically was what broke Marika, and Mohg named his new dynasty after himself AND Godwyn. Clearly, the guy was the best thing to ever have been associated with the Golden Order, and manifesting everything good about it within his personality alone. Whenever I bash the Golden Order as inherently corrupt thing, I just always think back on Godwyn as a confirmed exception from the judgement. And, of course, he would have enough "kindness" to spread death as new form of existence... despite the fact that his 'true' self would've probably dreaded to manifest living in death of all things.

Two - Rykard

I talked about this guy since the day ONE I've picked even remote interest in Elden Ring, isn't it so? @_@ Well, I still stand by what I was talking about. Tanith is absolutely justified for being obsessed with this guy. He is like uh... Aldr1ch but executed much better, or rather, in more sympathetic light? I for one honor the narrative of a character who has the GUTS, the S P I N E to sacrifice a lot, their morals included, to just get OUT of the corrupt (!) way their world works. And I have a feeling that so does Miyazaki. x) I think it is a twisted sort of bravery that we are lucky to never experience and only perceive through fiction. But, unlike Aldr1ch, who revels in his corruption and the horrible things he has to do, Rykard, 1) has a loving family and 2) hinted to have or have had sympathetic traits and simply lost his way from.... heheh.... biting more than he could chew... xd heheh... :drum emoji because I am a comedy genius:

But, in either case, ya'll are lucky that the guy is happily married. Ya'll would not survive the intensity of my thirst otherwise. It is just my rule to not touch married characters. I still admire the guy though. Not to mention the fucking UNREAL AWESOME FUCKING DESIGN, one of the best I've seen ANYWHERE, and him having my favorite theme in entire Elden Ring. Like, it was legitimately hard to live down the crisis of him being "taken", because this guy is really loveable, both as a man and as a monster.

One - Ranni!

Honestly, I always liked the mysterious aura, the clairvoyance and the uhhh... I guess, machiavellianism of this character? "Ends justify the means" character who does some unforgivable things but believes there is no other choice, and the grander purpose is more important. But, she has so many layers. She stepped away from her mother's teachings yet still created a badass illusions to protect her and clearly loves her forever, she has trust issues but in the end needs true friends and true kindness (something even an idiot like Seluvis can see!).

You could see it hurt her to do all that, but whatever freedom could be was worth it. She is just a very complicated character, that goes above and beyond. Letting her own body be killed is badass but understandable, since her body was inextricably tied to the Golden Order, as an Empyrean. Letting her somewhat-brother who was a genuinely good and radiant and loveable person be killed? That's a bit... more drastic... And so on. Indeed, she IS like Rykard in how far she had to go, and how much she had to sacrifice, but nonetheless I uh... would not say she lost clarity of her mind like him? It is interesting how by Dante's Divine Comedy though, Herecy is associated with fire but only on 6th level, yet it is treachery that is considered to be THE sin of sins, and it is the lowest level, and associated with ice, like her element. I am thinking about this very often @_@"

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Honorable mention - Radahn!

Sorry, but I love the guy, despite lack of deep discussion (and becoming a mascot of the most toxic fans). This is ADORABLE that he learned Gravity Magic just so he could still ride Leonard. He appears to be such a goofy dumbass, wholesome person in the "wrong" way, opposing a character that is actually likeable and loyal to the things and people that arguably never deserved it?

But you know I am a huge fan of Rom Bloodb0rne, right? He gives off the exact same 'person that seizes and conceals the horrors of the cosmos from humanity, although their personality and intellect are gone' vibe. It is just... that same vibe of a "silly" character, the comic relief, that turns out to either face a tragic fate or reveals a much deeper personality. He is simple and complicated at the same time! And, well, him having been such a legendary and impressive warrior that so many people gathered just to give him honorable death. This is somewhat impressive. He was actually a very close tie with Malenia.

#elden ring #ranni the witch #rykard lord of blasphemy #godwyn the prince of death #malenia blade of miquella #morgott the grace given #starscourge radahn #ask replies #ask meme #use later #no seriously ya'll would not survive the raw cataclysm had rykard not been taken #all two of you who heard me simp for Aldr1ch thought THAT was bad? you don't know what IS 'bad'#good family though him and tanith hella deserve each other /pos #but yeah this is the hardest 'top 5' i've done yet because i can say good things about everyone #even mohg lol #it is just the magic of fuckin awesome writing skills #thanks for the ask!#lol i have mixed feelings talking about 'telepathy trips' as i call them (like with godwyn)#because i swear i can foretell what i will learn/feel few hours before it happens for SOME reason #but it is so weird that i don't know what to make out of it besides 'time is a social construct anyway' sfdhfdhfhds #at least it was not as bizarre as my dream about golden tree before I even LEARNED of ER let alone played #*X-Files music bass-boosted and deep-fried*

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