#I think it’s a moment of weakness and this….THING happening

[adelliet]

Joel Miller x f!reader

NO BOUNDARIES

Summary: Your dad’s friend, Joel Miller, stayed over at your house every friday. Over time, your affection for him grew into something deeper, something dangerous. One fateful night, and you both break the boundaries.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, strong language, flirting, mention of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), contraceptive use, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (p i v), after care (ofc)

A/N: Hey there! So, this is once again ridiculously long, sorry, I always get carried away. But I just want to thank you so much for all the activity and support! I really appreciate it! If you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story, I personally absolutely LOVE it! Enjoy! <3

It’s another Friday night, which means another one of Joel’s sleepovers at your house. You can’t even remember when his visits became a tradition. It was so long ago that even your dad doesn’t really know how the two of them met. He always tells the story differently, but one thing remains the same, they’re inseparable.

Honestly, you’d even call them soulmates. They can talk for hours, without ever getting tired of each other. Sometimes, they even remind you of teenage girls. But it’s nice. Nice to see your dad this happy. And nice to see Joel so often, right here, in your home.

Just like you can’t remember when Joel first became a part of your life, you can’t pinpoint the moment he carved himself into your mind. Every time you saw him, he settled deeper and deeper into your head, until he was right where he is now, completely inescapable.

You’re a mess for him. The mere sight of him makes your legs weak, your nipples hard, and your mouth flood with anticipation. Your heart races, your pulse quickens, and it feels as if everything around you slows down. The only thing your focus clings to is him.

It’s like some sort of spell, as if every time you sense his presence, your core begins to throb with need. And you, pathetically, have to escape him, running away to calm your body, though it feels pitifully hopeless.

Even though you hide upstairs in your room, in your comfort, the heat in your veins, the tingling between your legs, and your quickened breath remain relentless. You always have to take care of it, of yourself.

It’s truly remarkable, how ever since your thoughts began to wander to Joel, whenever your hands found their way between your thighs, you’ve climaxed within seconds. Never before have you come so fast, but then you think about those massive hands of his, wrapped around a coffee mug, his fingers nearly swallowing it whole. The rough hair and bulging veins on his arms, so effortlessly attractive. And it’s not just his hands.

His salt and pepper beard, looking so coarse and scratchy, tempting you to imagine how it might feel against your skin. His soft, silky hair, always swaying so easily in the breeze, as if the wind itself adored him. And those eyes. God, those goddamn eyes. Enchanting, mesmerizing, capable of pulling you in like a deep, endless well.

His neck, thick, strong, the way he rubs it absentmindedly when he scratches the back of his head. The unintentional glimpse of his chest when his shirt shifts, revealing just a hint of those dark curls beneath.

Joel makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. It’s nearly impossible to define, to understand what the hell is even happening to you. Are you in love? Or is it just obsession? A stupid crush? Or is it simply, pure, unfiltered desire?

You don’t know exactly what it is. The only thing you’re absolutely certain of is that your panties dampen every single time your eyes land on him. It’s as if he’s some sort of god of arousal. A living, breathing definition of attraction. And for you, he absolutely is.

Still, here you are in your room, breathless from the “activity” that barely managed to soothe the throbbing ache between your legs. Because today, Joel looks even more devastatingly good than he did last week.

You were utterly exhausted, sweat still clinging to your forehead and soaking into the pillow beneath you. Your fingers trembled, your legs shook, and your chest heaved unevenly. You had to close your eyes because the room felt like it was spinning. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep like a baby.

Eventually, though, an unrelenting hunger stirred you awake. You had no desire to get up, honestly, you’d rather stay buried beneath your blanket, dreaming up filthy, romantic fantasies about Joel. But the hunger grew stronger each second, and your body made it very clear with the impatient grumbling of your stomach.

Annoyed, you let out a groan, rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger before slowly, sluggishly, pushing yourself up. Your body felt heavy, and you stumbled to the door, barely able to find the handle in your drowsy haze. As you made your way down the stairs, you yawned widely, your eyes still adjusting to the dim light, and you nearly tripped a few times.

When you reached the bottom, a faint glow from the kitchen caught your eye. It surprised you, but your half-asleep brain didn’t have the energy to question it deeply. You simply trudged forward, too hungry and too tired to care who or what might be waiting for you in the kitchen.

You rounded the corner and suddenly froze in place. There was Joel, leaning against the table with a glass of water in his hand, facing you. For a moment, you thought it was a dream. It really felt like a dream until he greeted you softly.

In an instant, a rush of adrenaline surged through your veins, and the word exhaustion was wiped from your mind. You swallowed an imaginary lump in your throat, a bit too loudly, and offered Joel a shy, quiet, “Hey.” You didn’t want to keep staring at him like some kind of creep, but damn, he looked so fucking good.

His hair was tousled, a little messy, giving him that irresistible, just-woke-up look. He wore a loose t-shirt that gently hugged his godlike body, and those gray sweatpants that had you fighting desperately not to stare. His salt-and-pepper beard looked both sharp and somehow soft to the touch. The warm kitchen light glowed softly against his stormy gray eyes, like clouds right before a heavy rain.

Oh god, your knees felt weak, and that familiar throbbing between your legs grew more intense. Your thighs clenched instinctively, desperate to ease the pulsing ache. It was humiliating how easily he did this to you, how little it took for your body to react like this. Just one look, one sleepy, half-lidded gaze from him, and you felt like you could melt into the floor.

Your whole body burned from the inside out, a heat so fierce it almost ached. It was like every nerve ending had woken up, set on fire just from seeing him like this, so effortlessly rugged, so devastatingly handsome, standing in your kitchen in the middle of the night. Your chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and rough, rasping with a hint of sleep still clinging to it. His lips curved into a small, lazy smirk.

“Hmm…” you hummed softly, your voice barely audible. Forming a coherent sentence felt impossible when every fiber of your being was focused on not falling apart under his gaze. You fought against yourself, desperate not to make a fool of yourself, not to seem like some desperate, pathetic whore, aching for his attention.

“I’m hungry,” you finally managed, your voice a little steadier as you offered him a shy, almost innocent look. Joel chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk that made your stomach twist.

“Eating this late ain’t healthy,” he teased, lifting his glass to his lips. His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering, intense, like he could see right through you.

“Maybe not,” you shot back, finding a fragment of confidence amidst the storm raging inside you.

“But this rumbling stomach isn’t gonna quiet down on its own.” You tried to keep it playful, lighthearted, but your body betrayed you.

The throbbing ache between your thighs was relentless, an unyielding pulse that made your breath hitch, your core clench helplessly. You could feel the slickness growing, soaking through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. A humiliatingly obvious sign of just how badly you wanted him. It took everything in you to keep your face composed, to not let him see how shamelessly desperate you were for him.

“You’re right,” he nodded, his calming smile still gracing his wrinkled face. As your confidence steadily returned, the heat within you grew stronger with each word that left Joel’s mouth, control over your own actions was slipping away, bit by bit. Maybe that’s why this idea even crossed your mind.

Across from Joel, there was a kitchen island. A centerpiece your dad mainly kept for decoration, though it was occasionally used for snacking. A mischievous smirk spread across your face as you gracefully walked past Joel, positioning yourself right in front of him. Then, you bent over, leaning onto the counter as you reached for the bowl of fruit.

You knew exactly what you were doing. The thin, loose fabric of your pajama shorts shifted as you bent over, and with no underwear underneath, there was nothing to shield the view. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the burning heat radiating from your core. You knew exactly what you were exposing, and Joel noticed too, almost immediately.

Almost the second you bent down, you heard a sudden spluttering noise, followed by Joel’s deep, raspy voice choking and coughing. You turned around to see him setting his glass down on the counter, his fist pressed against his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, and his face flushed a deep red.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice so innocently sweet it only added to his torment. Joel nodded, but he was still coughing, clearly struggling to regain his composure.

After finally catching his breath, Joel inhaled deeply, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. The redness on his face lingered, a shade too obvious to ignore, and his fingers nervously tapped against the counter, a silent attempt to steady himself.

With a raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk, you watched him. “You sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, a hint of mischief in your voice. Joel nodded, his eyes slowly lifting to meet yours.

You knew exactly what hid behind those eyes of his. He had seen you, bare and exposed, exactly as you’d planned. The way his composure shattered so easily because of you made your core clench desperately around nothing, the ache between your legs intensifying.

For a moment, an awkward silence settled between you, both of you standing there, tangled in the aftermath of what just happened. Joel cleared his throat one last time, his fingers nervously brushing over his beard.

“Just… swallowed wrong,” he muttered, a lame attempt to explain away his reaction. But you both knew the truth. There was no way to hide the way his gaze had lingered, no way to ignore the way his breath had hitched. You gave a slow, hesitant nod, your eyes briefly sweeping over his figure before settling back on his flushed face.

“And you couldn't sleep ’cause you were thirsty?” you teased, nodding to the glass of water on the counter, changing the subject Joel glanced back at the glass and let out a breathy laugh, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Something like that…” he mumbled, shifting his weight. You nodded again, the tension still hanging heavy between you, pulsing in your chest and lower, so much lower.

“Had a nightmare,” he added quietly, the way his shoulders sagged, the frustration lining his face, it struck something inside you. You knew about his nightmares. You’d heard whispers of him and your dad talking about them over beers on the porch and during late-night movies, about the things that haunted him.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered gently, and Joel shook his head, offering a faint, tired smile.

“It’s alright. I’m used to it,” he replied softly, pointing towards the empty glass. “Water helped a little.”

As you stood there with Joel, your heart pounding and your pulse thrumming in your ears, a reckless thought crept into your mind. What if you could help him sleep in a completely different way?

The idea of his strong, calloused hands gripping your hips, his body pressing against yours, tangled sheets and muffled gasps. It all hit you so suddenly and so vividly that a shiver ran down your spine. You couldn’t believe where your mind had wandered, but the thought alone made your knees weak, your body burning with a desire you could barely contain.

You could feel the heat still burning under your skin, every part of you hyper-aware of the man standing just feet away. The way he tried to steady himself, the lingering flush on his face. It thrilled you.

“Don’t you want some sleeping pills?” you asked, finally piecing yourself together enough to speak, your brows furrowing in a guilty, concerned expression. Joel scoffed softly, shaking his head just a bit.

“Nah, but thanks,” he muttered, lifting a hand. His voice was rough and gravelly, that deep, rasping tone that always sounded like it was dragging over rocks. It seeped under your skin, settled low in your belly, igniting that familiar heat that made your thighs press together involuntarily.

“Okay,” you whispered, so quietly that Joel barely heard you. You shifted away from the kitchen island, your heart still thundering as you moved toward the fridge. You could feel his eyes on you, following every step, every sway of your hips, like he needed to keep you in check, or maybe like he couldn’t help himself.

When you opened the fridge, the cool air brushed over your flushed face, but it barely helped to cool the warmth spreading through your body. Your eyes lit up as you spotted the leftover pie you’d baked with your dad yesterday. The light from the fridge illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones, the arch of your brows, the slope of your nose. It was almost unfair how exposed you felt under his gaze.

Joel caught himself staring, eyes dragging slowly from your face to the curve of your neck before snapping away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Wanna try some?” you asked, pulling the pie from the fridge and turning to face him. Your voice was casual, but your pulse was anything but. There was a tightness in your chest, a dizzying need that made your mind wander to dangerous places. Places where that gruff, rumbling voice of his was in your ear, muttering things that had no place in the dim kitchen.

Joel let out a low, disapproving grumble and shook his head.

“Oh, come on,” you set the pie on the counter, your eyes glimmering with mischief. “Just a small bite.” You tried to coax him, but Joel remained firm. Still, you weren’t about to give up that easily.

You slipped a finger into the pie, scooping up a bit of the filling. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly brought your finger to your mouth, your tongue sliding over it as you tasted the sweetness. A pleased hum left your lips, your eyes fluttering closed for a second as you savored the flavor.

“It’s delicious! C’mon,” you teased, voice laced with playfulness.

For a moment, Joel just stared, a muscle in his jaw flexing as his eyes followed the trail of your tongue. You saw the hesitation, the way his eyes flicked from your mouth to the pie and back, the internal battle playing out behind those stormy eyes.

Finally, the resistance broke. He let out a resigned breath, a hint of a smirk on his lips, and stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate.

Pushing off the edge of the counter, leaning in closer. Your pulse quickened, the air between you charged and heavy. You wondered if he could hear your heart beating or if his rough breaths were enough to drown it out.

You arched a brow, the silent challenge daring Joel not to hesitate. With a small, reluctant grunt, he finally reached out and dipped his finger into the pie, his expression skeptical.

“Don’t you want a spoon?” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“My finger works just fine,” you replied, voice dripping with mischief. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly licked the remnants of pie from your finger, your tongue curling around it until there was nothing left. As you pulled your finger from your mouth, a playful, almost obscene pop echoed in the quiet kitchen.

Joel’s chest rose as he took a deep breath, his jaw tight, his gaze sharp and unreadable. You could practically see the internal conflict flickering in his eyes, questioning what he was doing, why he was still here, if he should just leave.

God, you hoped he wouldn’t leave.

Eventually, Joel gave in and tasted the cake from his finger, just like you had. It was genuinely delicious, and he let out a pleased murmur that sent a wave of heat crashing through your body. Your stomach twisted, your skin flushed hot, and the throbbing between your legs became almost unbearable, making it hard to stay still.

“It’s really good,” he muttered through a mouthful, his voice gruff and warm. “Did you make this?” he raised an eyebrow, dipping his finger for another taste. You nodded silently, watching his lips wrap around his finger again.

“It’s really good. You’re talented,” he praised, and those words etched themselves into your mind like a mark on stone.

You’re talented. Paired with his voice, his face, his eyes, everything about him was overwhelming. You fought every urge to not throw yourself at him right there, praying your wetness wouldn’t betray you, wouldn’t drip down your thighs.

Your cake was truly delicious. Neither of you could get enough of it, your fingers diving into the treat one after another, savoring each sweet bite. The atmosphere had settled, and the two of you were sharing stories, funny little moments and memories. It was nice, comfortable. Until the conversation faded and the only sounds left were your pleased hums and the soft, sticky licks of fingers.

Then, an idea, a ridiculous, childish idea, popped into your head. Before you could reconsider, you swiped your finger through the pie and, with a swift motion, smeared it right onto the tip of Joel’s nose. You hit dead center.

Joel froze, his eyes widening in surprise as your laughter filled the room. You quickly licked the rest of the cake off your finger, smirking playfully.

He took a breath, disbelief etched into his expression, and without a second thought, dipped his own finger into the pie and swiped it across your small, cute nose.

You gasped dramatically, your eyes wide, while Joel grinned like a mischievous kid.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” you teased, dragging your finger through the pie again, before smearing a sweet line across his scruffy beard.

A war had begun.

You both kept digging your fingers into the mess of what used to be a pie, smearing each other playfully without caring about the sticky disaster in front of you. Laughter mixed with lingering glances filled the kitchen, and your game became a careful balance of teasing touches and unspoken tension.

Despite your playful antics, you both managed to keep the mess mostly contained to your fingers, avoiding a complete disaster in the kitchen. Every swipe of his finger against your skin and every dab of frosting you left on him carried a weight that neither of you fully acknowledged, yet it was undeniably there.

When Joel reached out, swiping his finger through the ruined cake and aiming to smear more of it on you, his touch accidentally brushed against your lips. His finger paused there, resting softly on your mouth, and everything around you seemed to halt.

The air hung thick, the room drenched in a heavy, charged silence. Joel’s gaze locked onto yours. A mix of surprise, uncertainty, and something deeper that you couldn’t ignore.

His expression was torn, a fragile balance between the stone-cold restraint he always carried and the sudden, forbidden realization of what he’d just done. It was as if, in that brief moment, he saw the boundary he was crossing.

The fact that you were his best friend’s daughter, someone he had no right to look at that way. For a moment, you just stared at each other, both holding your breath, eyes full of anticipation.

Your eyes flicked from his gaze to his hand and back, a silent reminder that his finger was still on your lips, though the last thing you wanted was for him to pull away. You wanted him to grab you, to feel his lips on yours, to shatter the thin line of restraint between you.

Joel’s hand began to retreat slowly, hesitantly, as if he was battling himself over what was right and what he truly wanted. But he didn’t manage to pull away in time. Without a second thought, you wrapped your lips around his finger, warm and intentional.

Your eyes locked, your lips wrapping tightly around his finger, the motion slow, teasing, like you were savoring every inch of him.

The warm, wet feeling of your mouth sent a shiver through him, but your gaze remained innocent, wide and soft, a stark contrast to the fire building inside you. Despite the calm exterior, your mind was a whirlwind of forbidden thoughts, each one darker and more daring than the last, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you let yourself act on them

Your tongue swirling around his long thick finger, devouring the last bits of the pie. Joel was like a rock, motionless, his eyes fixed on you. He breathed through his nose, loudly, like a bear. His nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling more rapidly and all of his blood rushed to his cock.

You loved the way Joel looked right now. The thought that it was you, the reason he was struggling so hard, fighting every instinct to resist those seductive, pleading eyes of yours.

Joel’s breath caught sharply as you finally released his finger from your mouth, the slow, deliberate motion sending a jolt of electricity through the air. You lingered for a moment longer, your lips curling into a provocative smile as you slowly licked them, your eyes never leaving his.

Something primal stirred in him, like he was trying to steady himself. He exhaled deeply, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s late… I’m going to bed,” he muttered, his voice rough and laced with barely-contained desire, his gaze dropping to the floor as if it was the only thing keeping him from losing control. Without another word, he turned and walked away, each step heavy with unspoken tension.

“Wait!” you called out, your voice unsteady.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, not from excitement, but from a desperate fear that he might actually leave you like this. Here and now, with your knees weak and trembling, an unrelenting pulse throbbing between your legs, your breath uneven, your nipples hard and your mouth full of saliva. He couldn’t just walk away, not when you were this vulnerable, this exposed.

He stopped, his back still turned to you, shoulders taut and unmoving. It felt like he was waiting.

Waiting for the excuse you’d give him to stay, a reason not to walk away. His head tilted slightly to the side, just enough for you to glimpse the sharp line of his jaw, covered in a rugged, silver-brown beard that caught the light perfectly.

“Please don’t go…” Your voice was shaky, quiet, almost pleading. It might have sounded desperate, but you didn’t care.

Joel inhaled deeply, his eyes closing as he tipped his head back, facing the ceiling as if searching for strength. His jaw clenched tightly as you stood completely still, heart pounding, every nerve in your body screaming with anticipation.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he turned to face you. His brows were furrowed, his eyes dark and wild, like a predator barely holding back. They burned with a hunger that made the air feel thick and heavy, stiflingly hot. When his gaze locked with yours, it felt like a challenge, a dare that made your breath catch

“You should go to bed too,” he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly growl that seemed to scrape up from the depths of his chest. It was rough yet steady, carrying a weight that could silence a room.

There was a primal quality to it, like the warning growl of a wolf, restrained but undeniably powerful, a sound that demanded attention. It was the kind of voice that sent a shiver down your spine, commanding and untamed, yet tempered by a layer of reluctant restraint.

“I don’t want to…” you whispered carefully, testing the waters as you stepped closer, slow and deliberate, your eyes never leaving Joel’s face.

His fingers curled into a fist, knuckles whitening from the tension coiled beneath his skin. He lifted his chin slightly, his gaze sharp, assessing, dominant and firm, analyzing each measured step you took toward him.

When you were close, impossibly close, you paused, biting your lip as you looked up at him, a silent confession in your eyes. You didn’t need to say what you wanted; it was already written all over your face.

He scoffed, a dry, incredulous sound as he looked away, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what was happening. But when your fingers brushed against his shirt, hesitant yet intentional, his entire body seemed to tense.

Your palm pressed fully against his chest, feeling the steady, heavy beat beneath, strong and unyielding. His gaze snapped back to you, intense, zeroing in on your hand as if it burned.

You expected him to pull away, to reject you, or to yell at you to stop, to tell you that this was wrong, to push you away with force and distance himself as far as possible. But none of that came.

Instead, he stood there, frozen for a moment, his eyes locked on your hand resting on his chest. His breath caught in his throat as you felt the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

He bit the inside of his mouth, fighting to keep his composure, to control whatever he was feeling. His muscles tensed slightly under your touch, as if he were trying to decide whether to stop you or give in. But he did neither. Time seemed to freeze as the air around you became charged, the silence stretching longer than it should have.

Your eyes dropped down to where your hand rested. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm, pounding rapidly, almost erratically. The rhythm was fast, uneven, and at moments, you couldn’t help but worry that it was too fast, almost as if it might be too much for him to handle.

Heat flooded through your lower belly, your body taking control. Slowly, your hand moved downward, grazing the soft fabric of his shirt, your fingers brushing lightly over the outline of his abs, hidden beneath the material that you desperately wanted to pull away.

Your gaze followed the movement of your hand, and in that moment, your breath caught, noticing the shiver that ran through Joel as goosebumps spread across his skin.

The lower your hand moved, the more you felt the heat rising in your body. Your breathing quickened, each shallow inhale matching the rapid beat of your heart as your hand ventured lower.

Joel didn't do anything.

Then, your hand stopped at the waistband of his sweatpants, but before your could do anything else, Joel's hand briskly grapped your wrist, giving you a warning look. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes innocent as you suck your lips into a thin miserable line.

“This is inappropriate,” Joel’s voice was suddenly different. So were his eyes. They were hungry and dark, you could barely read what was hidden behind them.

“But is it what you want?” Your soft voice made Joel’s hand twitch, his jaw clenching, already preparing for what was coming.

“Your dad is going to kill me,” his voice wasn’t as harsh, as rejecting anymore. You could tell he was backing down, that he no longer wanted to resist.

“I know,” you immediately spoke those words without thinking, your mind already elsewhere, ready to jump at him.

“We’re going to be in trouble-”

“I know,” you stepped closer to him, even though it had seemed impossible. His grip on your wrist was tight, definitely leaving a bruise, but you barely noticed the pain as the air around you thickened with an almost palpable tension.

The space between you two crackled with unspoken desire, like static in the air, the kind that buzzes just before a storm breaks. Everything felt heavier, the silence thick enough to suffocate, yet somehow it was intoxicating, drawing you closer.

Joel glanced around, his gaze sharp, scanning the area, making sure no one would interrupt, see, or stop what was unfolding. His attention to detail made the moment feel even more intense, as though nothing existed outside of this bubble you were trapped in, where the only thing that mattered was the space you shared, the heat, the tension.

And without another word, he cupped your cheeks and crushed his lips into yours. It was like an explosion. There was no softness, no gentleness. Just raw, hungry need.

His grip tightened on you, pulling you closer as his mouth slammed against yours, urgent and demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second. The kiss wasn’t slow, wasn’t tender, it was messy. His teeth grazed your lower lip, almost bruising, but you didn’t care. It only made the fire between your legs burn hotter.

You could feel his breathing coming in sharp, ragged pulls, like he was trying to taste every inch of you. His hands roamed over your body, grabbing, pulling, the pressure hard, relentless, like he wanted to own every inch of your skin.

As his hands slid over your body, exploring every inch of your skin, as if he needed to memorize you, to imprint every curve and line of your body into his mind to never forget, he forced you to back up.

The force was overwhelming, and when your back collided with the cold surface of a fridge, it hit with such intensity that both of you gasped, breath stolen by the shock of the sudden impact. His massive frame pressing you against the fridge, forming an unyielding barrier you couldn’t escape.

There was no hesitation anymore, no doubt. Just an intense hunger, a need so fierce it was almost suffocating. You could taste the urgency in the kiss, the way he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, literally pull you inside him.

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he groaned into your ear, his teeth sinking into your neck, biting and sucking, leaving you breathless.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his dark curls, tugging when he hit that sweet, sensitive spot. His hands were all over you, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch, leaving no part of you untouched. He wasn’t modest, he wanted all of you.

His bear-like groan rumbled against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. One of his hands found your ass, squeezing it firmly, making you squeak and rise up on your tiptoes.

“You like that, don’t you?” You could feel his cocky smile brushing against the other side of your neck, making you gasp. Your fingers found the fabric of Joel’s shirt, tugging it, pulling him closer. That answer was more than enough for Joel.

He grabbed your hips, pulling your body flush against his. You moaned as his lips found yours again, feeling the hardness of him pressing against your thigh.

God, you wanted him.

Every inch of your body was on fire, your dream unfolding before you, and you could barely believe it. Here you were, kissing Joel Miller, the man you had been obsessed with for months.

Your moans, growls, and desperate whimpers melded together, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. Your tongues collided, moving together in a fevered rhythm, as your bodies instinctively pressed closer, synchronizing with every shift and pull. You craved the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by him. You needed him, in every way, feeling the undeniable pull that made it impossible to stop.

Joel felt it just as strongly, but he was always good at keeping it buried beneath the surface. He’d learned to hide his desire, to mask the intensity, never allowing his emotions to show. But now… now things had changed.

With you so close, with every breath shared between you, his control started slipping away. He could feel the heat of your body against his, the growing tension, and it was all becoming too much for him to contain. His movements, his breaths, everything began to reveal just how far gone he really was. How much he needed you.

His hand subtly slid to your thigh, moving higher until, with a slight shift, he managed to slip under your pajama shorts.

Your breath caught in your throat as the warmth of his fingers pressed against your inner thigh. His grin and the soft scoff that escaped his lips made your core pulse even harder.

Finally, his finger brushed against your wet folds, but he paused, pulling away from the kiss to take a long look at you.

“Already that wet, huh?” His finger rubbed agonizingly slow over the surface of your wet folds, his skin absorbing your moisture. Even though it was just the lightest, almost nonexistent touch, you felt it more than you should.

Your body reacted instinctively, throwing your head back, closing your eyes as your hips moved against Joel’s hand, desperately seeking more friction, more contact.

He savored the way your body trembled, the way your face contorted with need, and how your small hands desperately gripped anything they could find, clinging to something, anything, to hold on. You needed this. You needed him. And he knew it.

His finger finally burried into your folds, making your jaw fall open and gasp really loudly. Joel quickly covered your mouth by his free hand, throwing a warning look.

“We don’t want to wake your daddy up now, do we?” His voice was raspy, dark and deep. His finger working on you, curling inside you and stretching you out. You let out a soft sigh into Joel’s palm, your breath shaky as your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.

“Look at you? Such a good girl,” His words made you melt into his touch. His finger increasing the pace and strength, dugging in as deeply as he could. Your senses beginning to blur. The pleasure, slow at first, built with an intensity that made your chest rise and fall in shallow breaths.

“Yeah, that's it” he found your swallow clit with his thumb, making slow firm circles, showering you with waves of pleasure. The feeling of ecstasy was creeping in, washing over you like a tide, and you could feel your body betraying you, helplessly surrendering to the overwhelming sensations.

Your knees trembled slightly, barely holding your weight as Joel’s finger stretched you, his fingertip brushing against your walls, making you whine against his sweaty palm. He was relentless, maintaining a steady, determined rhythm while his thumb teased your sensitive clitoris in slow, deliberate circles.

Each calculated motion sent jolts of electricity through your veins, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. The contrast between his unyielding pace and the gentle, teasing caress made your mind foggy, your senses overwhelmed. Every brush, every press felt like it was designed to drive you closer to the edge, your vision blurring as if stars were bursting behind your eyelids.

His gaze never left your face, watching, studying every gasp, every twitch, the way your body responded to him. It was intoxicating, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed without a word exchanged. Your mind struggled to hold onto a single coherent thought, lost between the need for release and the unbearable, delicious torture of his touch

You completely lost yourself when he added another finger. Your legs shaking as if they couldn’t support you any longer. Every breath was an attempt to regain control, but the control was long gone. Your mind was clouded, thoughts scattered, and all you could do was grasp at his messy, soft hair, needing something to ground you.

“That's my good girl,” he whimpers, His voice was strained, broken into ragged breaths as he struggled through gritted teeth not to cum in his pants.

Something about you made him weak, unleashing the absolute monster inside him. The way beads of sweat slid down your face, the tears welling in your eyes, your fingers tangled in his hair as he still covered your mouth, controlling your every sound. You were close. He knew it.

Your core clenching around his wet fingers, covered by your juice. You gasp his name into his strong hand, finding his nape, gripping it roughly with your hands.

You swear under your breath, feeling the orgasm getting closer, only if Joel keeps going. And he does, harder, faster, relentless. His cocky smile never leaves his face, a silent promise that he’s fully aware of what he’s doing to you.

You let out a muffled groan, your voice breaking through the barrier of his palm, and threw your head back aggressively. You hit the fridge, but that was the last thing on your mind. You were tiptoeing on the spot, desperately trying to lift yourself higher, but it was impossible.

A few more tender curls of Joel’s fingers, and you felt it, an intense wave building deep inside you, ready to crash. That tingling between your thighs rippled through your entire body, making your skin prickle and your breath hitch. Your pulse raced dangerously high, pounding in your chest, echoing in your ears until it was the only sound you could hear.

Your muscles clenched tightly around him, a desperate, involuntary response that made your legs tremble. Every nerve was on fire and for a moment, the world seemed to blur and tilt, leaving only you and him, tangled in that intoxicating tension.

Your ears rang, your breath caught in your throat, and your fingers pulled tightly at Joel’s graying curls, finally reaching your orgasm. Even though you had reached your peak, he didn’t stop. His pace remained relentless, determined to draw out every last tremor from your body. The overstimulation was almost unbearable, your mind a hazy mess of pleasure and sensitivity, yet a part of you craved every second of it.

Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to regain control, but Joel didn’t grant you that mercy.

“You look so beautiful,” he groaned, his own breath uneven, strained by the effort of holding back his own arousal, forcing himself to focus solely on you. His voice was thick, rough, betraying just how much restraint it took not to lose himself in the heat of the moment.

Then, carefully, slowly, when he saw that it was getting too much for you to handle, he pulled his fingers out. You let out a small whine as the emptiness and cool fresh air hit your bare, swollen core. The absence of his touch left a lingering ache, a pulsing reminder of how intensely he had pushed you to your limit.

Your legs felt weak, keep trembling slightly, and your breath was still unsteady. Joel’s eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail. The flush on your cheeks, the dazed look in your eyes, the way your body still shivered under his gaze.

His hand finally left your mouth, slick with your saliva. Joel took advantage of the moment when his hands were free, and without warning, he grabbed your ass, giving it a firm, rough squeeze before lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. You squeaked in surprise, a giggle escaping your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly.

The erection in his sweatpants poking you right between your legs, making your wet core pulse even faster. He looked at you with a smile, passion, and desire. He needed you, you had no idea how much he needed you.

Joel turned with you in his arms, pressing your back against the kitchen island. The same place where, just moments ago, you'd been teasing him with poking your ass right into his face. Carefully, he set you down, his hands lingering on your hips for just a second longer than necessary. The cold surface beneath you sent a shiver straight up your spine, a stark contrast to the burning heat in your lower belly.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, taking you in. His chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, but his eyes were dark, intense, filled with something raw. Then, without any warning, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head in one swift motion.

Your gaze dropped instinctively, taking in the way the dim light cast soft shadows over his broad chest. A dusting of dark, slightly curled hair covered his chest, thickest at the center and tapering as it traveled down the firm ridges of his abdomen.

His muscles weren’t chiseled in a way that came from gym workouts, they were real, earned through years of carrying, lifting, surviving. His shoulders were wide, strong, built to bear weight, and his arms, corded with muscle, held the kind of strength that could be both dangerous and protective.

His stomach wasn’t perfectly sculpted, but it was firm, defined, his obliques leading down to that sharp v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. The faintest sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the light, making every ridge and hollow of his body stand out even more.

Joel was all rough edges and raw power, a man who had lived, fought, and enduredand, and right now, every bit of him was focused on you.

When your eyes finally drank him in, trailing up his body, they landed on his smug, charismatic face. The one that sent a jolt of pure, electric desire coursing through you, your core dripping wet yet again, pulsating and clenching around nothing.

“Like what you see?” he murmured, his voice rough as he stepped closer, slow but deliberate, the heat of him pressing in, forcing your back to meet the cool surface of the counter.

Your breath hitched. You could feel the weight of his stare, dragging over your face, your parted lips, the rise and fall of your chest. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was consuming you, unraveling you, making you feel exposed and wanted all at once.

Before you could even process it, his lips were on your bruised, tender neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. His grip on the other side of your throat was firm but not forceful, just enough to hold you there, to let you feel his presence completely.

His other hand pressed into your hip, grounding you, keeping you from writhing too much beneath his touch. But it was impossible to stay still. The sensation of his mouth against your sensitive skin. The slow, deliberate way he worked his lips and teeth over you, had your body reacting on its own, your muscles tensing, your breath quickening.

You could feel him smirk against your skin, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And of course, he did.

Within moments, his lips left your neck, his breath still lingering on your skin as he pulled away just enough to look up at you from beneath his lashes.

Slowly, almost teasingly, he let his head trail downward, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact until it was impossible to hold it any longer. His hands followed the same path, skimming over your sides, your waist, his fingers barely brushing the fabric of your cute yet dangerously tempting pajamas.

His hands found the waistband of your pajama shorts, fingers slipping beneath the fabric as he tugged them down at an agonizingly slow pace. The soft material glided over your thighs, down your legs, until they finally pooled around your ankles.

“There you are,” he breathed out with joy. You were now bare, exposed, with nothing left to separate you from his burning gaze. His eyes roamed over your sticky, wet folds, drinking in every inch of you like a starving man. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he exhaled sharply, the sight of you testing every last bit of his restraint.

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” he exhaled, as if he’d finally found the meaning of life. You chuckled, cheeks red, but were cut off quickly as you felt Joel’s tongue glide over your labia, making you gasp and arch your back.

“F-fuck” you whine, squeezing your your thighs together, locking Joel’s head between your legs. He laughs against your heated skin, the vibration sending hot waves right into your core, making your breath hitch.

He repeated the teasing licks. Long, slow, and deliberate. Each one dragging against your folds, making your jaw fall open. The tension coiled inside you tighter and tighter, getting dangerously closer to your edge.

Your fingers found his messy hair, tugging at it and entangling your fingers in it while you bit your lower lip, hard, trying to be as quiet as possible. But even with your teeth clenched, a few desperate sounds slipped past the barrier of your swollen, wet lips, betraying your struggle to stay quiet. Every Joel's slight movement caused a new wave of sensation that you couldn’t fully contain.

His tongue entered you, making your legs tense and your heart skip a beat, you could feel the heat rushing to your face as the sensation overwhelmed you. His gaze never wavered. He didn’t stop looking at you, not even once. It was as if he was absorbing every little reaction of yours, and the way he enjoyed it made your pulse race even faster. The intensity of his attention only heightened the pressure in your chest, making you yearn for more.

The image of him, thrusting into you, finally feeling you inside him made Joel go faster, his movements sharp and precise, pressing his nose against your clit intentionaly, his breath warm against your skin.

And you felt it, again. That familiar sensation that had your mind spinning, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. Your body reacted involuntarily, muscles tensing as if they had a life of their own, your whole body vibrating with anticipation. For just a second, you felt as if you were floating.

Your body arched, an instinctive reaction to the pleasure coursing through you, your fingers tugged at his hair with a force you didn’t realize you had. You even pulled some strands from his scalp, but he didn’t flinch.

If anything, it only seemed to fuel him, his grip on your thighs tightening as he continued, oblivious to the way your hands were wrapped tightly in his hair.

His tongue mercilessly stretched you, licking you out and savoring every drop, while his nose teased your clit even more frequently. He could feel how close you were. The way your thighs trembled around his head, your core clenched around his tongue, and finally, you reached your second orgasm of this night, his name tumbling from your lips in a breathless, intense whisper.

He stilled, his movements ceasing, but he remained there, letting you feel every lingering sensation. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, to let the waves of pleasure settle in your body. Your legs felt weak, your senses hazy, and the lingering warmth of his touch sent occasional shivers down your spine.

When you finally started to come down from your high, the overstimulation became almost unbearable. Every little touch felt electric, your body twitching involuntarily, still reacting to the intensity of it all. He finally pulled away, his lips and beard glistening from your juice, as he watched you with a look of pure satisfaction, taking in every detail of your dazed expression.

Your eyes remained shut, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to regain control over your breath. Each time you dared to open them, the world around you spun, a dizzy haze clouding your senses. You had to ground yourself, to force your body back into reality.

Joel’s hands never left your thighs, his grip firm yet reassuring. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles against your skin, anchoring you, silently reminding you that you were safe. His touch was steady, patient, giving you time and letting you come back at your own pace.

„It’s okay, babygirl. Relax, take your time,“ his voice melted into the air, deep and soothing, like warm honey coating every syllable.

His voice was enough to ease the lingering tremors in your body. The pounding in your ears slowed, the dizziness faded, and you found yourself breathing in sync with him.

You finally managed to open your eyes and prop yourself up on your elbows, taking in the sight before you. And God…that sight was unforgettable.

Joel, shirtless, his body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, droplets rolling down his temples. His lips, red and slightly swollen, his beard still damp, from you. And that look in his eyes. Soft, comforting, yet laced with hunger.

“What?” he tilted his head slightly, that signature smirk playing on his lips, clearly amused by your reaction. You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you met his gaze.

“Are you ready to continue?”

Continue?!

Your eyes widened, your pupils dilated, your body instinctively tensing. You weren’t sure if it was from anticipation or the sheer disbelief that he wasn’t done with you yet. That this wasn’t everything.

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You didn’t know if you could handle more. If you could handle him. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as you tried to find your voice.

“I…” you started, but your own hesitation made you pause. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your answer, his expression filled with curiosity and just a hint of amusement.

“Suddenly speechless, huh?” His hands remained on your thighs, keeping you in place, not forcefully, but enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere unless he allowed it. Your lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

But everything shifted the moment your eyes dropped lower, down to his sweatpants.

The outline of his erection was impossible to ignore, straining against the soft fabric, so prominent it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body.

He was big.

Bigger than you expected, bigger than you thought you could handle. How were you supposed to take that?

His tip was already leaking through the material, a darkened spot forming where he was pressing against the fabric, and the sight alone made your breath hitch in your throat. Your fingers twitched at your sides, an unspoken mix of anticipation and uncertainty making your chest rise and fall faster.

In that moment, as your eyes remained fixed on the outline straining against his sweatpants, everything suddenly became crystal clear. Any hesitation, any lingering nerves, dissolved into nothing. You knew exactly what you wanted.

You wanted him. You wanted to feel him, deep, filling, stretching you in ways you had only imagined. Your body burned with need, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable, and as you finally dragged your gaze back up to meet his, there was no doubt left in your mind.

You were more than ready.

A sudden surge of energy shot through your body, making you push yourself up onto your elbows without hesitation.

Before Joel could react, your hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you with a desperate need.

Your lips crashed against his, tasting yourself on him. He let out a low, surprised groan against your mouth, but quickly melted into you, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pressed closer.

You were hungry, desperate, and Joel felt it instantly.

Not just from the way your lips moved feverishly against his or how your fingers gripped the back of his neck with such need, but from the way your hips instinctively pushed forward, grinding against him without a second thought.

A low, guttural sound rumbled in his throat as he felt the pressure, your warmth pressing into his hardened length, still trapped beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“Shit,” he muttered against your lips, his hands tightening on your thighs as if trying to ground himself. But you weren’t about to slow down.

His hands traveled up your sides, fingers ghosting over your skin as he subtly slipped them under your pajama shirt, inching it higher.

You broke the kiss just long enough to lift your arms, making it easier for Joel to pull the fabric over your head and toss it carelessly to the floor.

The moment your bare chest was revealed, his eyes darkened, scanning every inch of you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His lips parted slightly, but no words came, just a sharp inhale, like he was trying to steady himself.

His tongue swiped over his lower lip, and you swore you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Meanwhile, beneath the soft material of his sweatpants, his already strained arousal twitched in response to the sight before him.

Joel didn’t need to say a word, his expression and the way his body responded spoke volumes. His dark eyes, filled with admiration and raw desire, roamed over you, drinking in the sight.

When he finally snapped out of it, his hands quickly found their way back to your body, one cradling your cheek with surprising tenderness, the other gripping your waist with quiet possession. In one swift yet careful motion, he guided you down onto the cool surface of the kitchen island, his touch a contrast of control and craving.

The air between you was thick with warmth, every small gasp and deep murmur filling the silence. His patience, what little remained, was slipping away. His movements became more purposeful, more urgent. And then, finally, with a slow exhale, he pushed down the waistband of his sweatpants, letting them pool at his feet.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as his swollen tip dragged teasingly along your folds, smearing warmth with every slow, torturous pass. The sensation sent a shudder through your entire body, your fingers twitching against his skin.

Joel caught your reaction immediately, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he hovered above you, his lips barely brushing against yours. “Bigger than you expected, huh?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His smirk widened as he watched your breath hitch, his own control hanging by a thread.

He kissed you a few more times, each kiss deep and hungry. His lips moved with an urgency, pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter. The feeling was overwhelming at first, his moves careful, as if waiting for you to get used to him. Your back arched involuntarily, a wave of sensation running through you as you felt him deeper.

A loud gasp escaped your lips, your eyes snapped shut, the pressure building as your body responded to him. You could feel the heat coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment nearly too much to bear.

Your hips moved against him, pushing him deeper into you. Joel groaned loudly with his teeth clenched, you were so increbily tight and wet, thanks to him. You boosted his ego without saying a single word, but your body was enough to prove him he is good. Amazing actually.

When he was fully in, you both exhaled in unison. You focused on trying to adjust, to calm yourself down. Meanwhile, he fought the urge to not cum yet. Though you made it really difficult for him, you had the best pussy he had ever felt.

After a while, he started moving. Slowly, deliberately, he moved without rushing, each moment drawing out the intensity between you. You could feel how badly he wanted to go faster, harder, his restraint palpable, but he was determined to take his time.

His focus was on you, ensuring that each movement was gentle and considerate, not wanting to destroy you…or did he?

He pulled out almost fully, the shift in pressure causing a sharp breath to catch in your throat. Then, with a slow motion, he slammed back in, making you gasp with every deep, steady thrust.

The feeling of him moving inside you was both tender and intense, each shift bringing a mix of pain and pleasure, that seemed to build with every passing second. The world outside seemed to fade as all you could focus on was him, the connection, and the rhythm that only the two of you shared in that moment.

“Yeah, just like that,” he hummed with low, deep, vibrating tone. His warm breath tickled your ear, and you could feel it on your skin as it sent a wave of shivers down your spine. The sensation made you press closer, wanting to feel him more deeply.

With a subtle shift, he increased his pace, moving with a deliberate rhythm. His hands on your hips, his grip firm and reassuring, pulling you in time with his movements. Each movement of his body against yours made the connection between you stronger.

“Have you even been fucked before? You're so fucking thight,” his voice began to falter, each word stumbling over itself as his breaths grew heavier. His tip hitting your cervix, faster and faster. Goosebumps rose on your skin, each tiny shiver spreading across your body as if every nerve was alive, reacting to him. Your body trembling, your skin was more sensitive, every touch amplifying the feeling, each breath becoming a little harder to take.

“Look at ya, taking my cock so well,” his rhythm quickened, as did the force of his movements. The slapping sounds of your bodies grew louder than your sighs.

Your hips moved instinctively, trying to match his pace, but Joel held you firmly, offering support in this moment that consumed you both. Every movement was synchronized, His breath matched the rhythm of his movements, each exhale sharp and heavy, filling the air between you.

It was all too much, but you absolutely loose it, when his thumb found your clit, creating frequent circles. You murmured, your movements becoming unsteady as your nails left marks on Joel’s skin, ones that would linger long after. Your lips were raw from biting them, trying your best to stay as quiet as possible.

“That's it sweetheart, that's it,” his forhead touching yours, his pace now uncontrolled, sloppy, trying to catch up with his orgasm. It was all too much for you. The way his finger moved on your clit, how his dick stretched you out and hitting all the good and deep places you couldn't reach yourself on your own, his hot breath warming your cold nose. This combination was just too much.

You could feel every inch of your body tightening, muscles pulling taut, ready to snap. The pressure inside you built steadily, each rough movement of his sending waves of sensation that coursed through you, igniting every nerve. You gasped, your chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of feelings crashing through you.

“Are you close?” Joel’s voice was a low murmur, his words almost lost in the soft sounds of your breathing. He knew damn well that you were about to cum, but he asked you anyway, purely to provoke you, to push you further into that moment.

You could only nod, your own voice failing you as your body responded to him with a hunger that couldn’t be ignored. His hard thrusting was urgent, each one deliberately measured to bring you closer.

Then, it hit. The pressure, the tension, all of it exploded in a sudden, overwhelming rush. Your breath caught in your throat, the release sweeping through you like a tidal wave. Every muscle in your body clenched involuntarily, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. Your core clenching aroud Joel, locking him inside you, making it more difficult to move.

His name escaped in a whispered gasp as you trembled under the intensity of it. His hand found your cheek, cupping it tightly as he followed soon after, his own release coming with a sharp, breathless exhale. You felt the shudder run through him, a final wave of tension washing over you both.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence heavy between your breaths. His forehead rested gently against yours, his breathing labored as he tried to catch his breath.

“That was…” Joel’s voice faltered, but the words didn’t need to be finished. You exhaled slowly, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Your breathing heavy, listening to the rhythm of it - his and yours, blending together in the quiet of the kitchen.

Your bodies still connected, neither of you moving, just absorbing everything that had just happened. The heat between you still lingered,the world outside felt distant.

Then suddenly, Joel tensed. His entire body stiffened against yours, and his breath hitched as if something had just struck him like a bolt of lightning. He pulled back slightly, his forehead no longer resting against yours, and when you looked up at him, his expression made your stomach drop.

His usual unreadable, nonchalant demeanor was completely gone. Instead, his eyes were wide, his face frozen in shock. It was the kind of expression that sent panic crawling up your spine, because Joel didn’t get shaken easily.

Your breath caught. “What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked once, then twice, as if his brain was still catching up to his own thoughts. Then, in a rushed breath, he asked, “Do you have… contraception?”

For a moment, you just stared at him, processing the words. And then, relief washed over you so fast you almost laughed. Your body relaxed as you let out a slow, deep sigh, closing your eyes for a second as you exhaled.

A small, amused smile tugged at your lips as you opened them again. “Yeah,” you murmured, voice still soft from exhaustion. “I do.”

Joel let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face before letting out a low, relieved chuckle.

“Jesus… Alright. Good. That’s… yeah. Good.” He blew out another breath, muttering under his breath, “Scared the hell out of me for a second.”

The tension that had momentarily gripped the air dissolved just as quickly as it had come, and all that remained was warmth, quiet laughter, and the steady rhythm of your breathing once more.

Joel’s hand traced lazily onto your stomach, his fingers running up and down, grounding you in the quiet aftermath. His touch was absentminded, gentle, as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

But eventually, he exhaled deeply and shifted slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Alright, sweetheart… I gotta move.”

You hummed softly, barely responsive, still lost in the blissful daze. But then, you felt it. The slow pull as he carefully withdrew from you, making sure to move gently, mindful of your sensitivity. The sudden loss of warmth made you shiver slightly, and Joel noticed instantly, his hands rubbing over your hips before he pulled you closer for just a second longer.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

It took him another breath before he finally pushed himself out, stretching his back slightly with a small, tired groan. He looked down at you, taking in the sight of you still sprawled out, your chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. His expression softened.

“You okay?” His voice was quieter now, laced with something that sounded like concern. You managed a small nod, offering him a sleepy, satisfied smile. “Mhm,” you hummed.

Joel didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he muttered, “Stay here. I got you.”

And with that, he stood, running a hand through his messy hair as he made his way to the bathroom. You barely had time to process the sound of running water before he was back, a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

“Alright, darlin’, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He was gentle as he moved, wiping you down with slow, deliberate care, making sure not to rush. He took his time, his rough hands smoothing over your skin as if to comfort you as much as to clean you. When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and ran his palms over your thighs, massaging lightly, making sure you weren’t too sore.

Then, without another word, he reached for you, effortlessly lifting you into his arms.

“Joel,” you murmured, surprised by the sudden movement.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said simply. “Just takin’ you to the bathroom. Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. He smelled like sweat and warmth and something unmistakably him. It was comforting in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

Joel carried you into the bathroom with ease, setting you down carefully before grabbing another warm cloth, making sure you were comfortable as he helped you clean up properly. He never rushed you, never made you feel like you had to do anything but just be there, letting him take care of you.

Once you were done, he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your hair.

“There we go,” he murmured, rubbing small circles into your back. “Better?”

You looked up at him, meeting those deep brown eyes, and smiled. “Yeah,” you whispered.

Joel smirked slightly, brushing a thumb over your cheek before muttering, “Good. Now, let’s get you to bed.”

And with that, he scooped you up again, carrying you effortlessly back to the warmth and safety of his arms. On the way to your room, Joel bent down to grab your clothes from the floor, all while still holding you securely in his arms. He was strong, effortlessly so. Without breaking a sweat, he climbed the stairs, pushed open your bedroom door, and gently laid you down onto the bed.

You peeled off the towel, exhaustion making even the smallest movements feel heavy. With the last bit of strength you had left, you reached for your pajamas, determined to dress yourself. Joel lingered for a second, clearly wanting to help, but you gave him a look that told him this was something you needed to do on your own.

Once you were settled, he pulled the blanket over you, tucking you in with a care that felt almost out of character for him. Then, he leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, stepping back.

He was trying to slip back into his usual nonchalant self, acting like this was nothing, like he wasn’t affected. But the faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

“Joel?” you whispered softly as Joel stood with his hand on the door handle. He turned to face you, staying silent for a moment. “Thank you… for everything.” Joel’s lips curled slightly, and he gave a quiet chuckle, nodding once before finally stepping out of your room.

As soon as he left, his mind was a whirlwind of confusion. He still couldn’t wrap his head around what had just happened. How had things ended up like this? He had sex with daughter of his best friend. How messed up did that sound? It felt wrong, disgusting even. But he couldn't help it. You were just so-

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Joel froze as your dad’s voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. He turned, finding your father walking toward him. The grip on the door handle tightened instinctively, and Joel quickly swallowed, realizing he was still holding it.

He had to think fast. “Uh, I was just checking on her, making sure she’s okay,” Joel said, trying to sound calm. He hoped his voice didn’t betray him.

“Uh huh, and isn’t that my job?” your dad replied with a smirk, raising an eyebrow and pointing to himself. Joel’s heart skipped a beat, and his pulse quickened. He was barely holding it together but had to stay cool.

“Yeah, I was just on my way to the bathroom, and I figured I’d check on her while I was passing by…” Joel added quickly, pretending like the situation was completely normal. He had the perfect excuse, the bathroom was right next door, so it made sense. It was bealivable.

“Hmm… and is she okay?” your dad asked, his tone skeptical, but Joel could tell he was buying it.

Joel exhaled, feeling the tension leave his body as he relaxed. A smile tugged at his lips, and he dropped his gaze to the floor before looking up again. “Yeah, she’s more than okay.”

With that, Joel turned and walked past your dad, offering a casual “Good night.” Your dad watched him, but didn’t say another word, just stared after him.

What had Joel meant by that??

Thank you so much for reading! I’d really appreciate a reblog, comment, or follow! If you want to be tagged in my fanfics, feel free to let me know! Love you, and take care of yourselves!🤍

[planetallure]

i prayed for this!! i prayed for this, yes god!!

baby i was FED with this one, absolutely! so much to talk about.

this was the turning point without a doubt.

i’ve been thinking about how this chapter would go and how jj would react to no longer having access to her and honestly he was a lot more mature than i expected.

i literally had to pause and say out loud “no he isn’t…” when rafe tapped that glass to make the toast. i just KNEW it. my mind went back to how he was observing her like a statue earlier. making sure she was nice and pretty and polished for the the way he was about to put her on display. the set up was just too perfect. he knew exactly what he was doing, like yes ofc the inevitable proposal was going to be public and in front of all of his friends and family. ofc!

the chekhov’s gun moment of her looking in the mirror at her bruised and battered body??? i did not see that coming. i guess i as a reader i am so used to the shit. like oh okay yeah, rafe marking his territory and being the evil bastard that he is, right, got it. but the slight emphasis on the bite mark should’ve gave it away

i was again almost as nervous as i can imagine she was about seeing jj again after not having done so in a month but it was also inevitable. seeing that he knew very well why she had been avoiding him from the way he was treating kie, he knew what kie said got into her head. but like she told him, and i’m sure the sensible part of him would agree, she didn’t say anything that was untrue or that they didn’t already know deep down.

i honestly was calling his bluff. he knew better than anyone the chaos and danger that he would be putting her in by telling sarah and the others himself about what she’s going through. but i really don’t know (if it hadn’t come out the way it did) if he actually would’ve told anyone because he just knows too well what could happen to her if he did.

i genuinely thought he spilled the beer on her on purpose there for a second but his reaction to hearing what sarah saw on her later made me think otherwise.

it had to happen. like i genuinely believe there was no better way for it to be revealed. sarah had to see the shit for herself one way or another. and there was no way that reader could deny it then because everyone on that damn island knows how rafe is about her and that she is his shadow and there is just no way that it could’ve been anyone else but him.

baby the tussle that ensued?? the drama?? lived. like yes let’s not forget sarah is a fighter honey and i’m glad she didn’t back down or take that weak ass lie.

this absolutely couldn’t have come out a better way. the slow realization of them finding out that their friend was being abused…cherie, your mind. actually brought tears to my eyes when i imagined sarah seeing the bruises and her finding out. like not only is her brother an abuser but her dad is also aware of this and is complicit. and when she finds out that it hasn’t been just months…i can just imagine the way she’s gonna spiral and question everything that’s happened up until now.

when she realizes it was him that broke her nose and fucked up her knee?? she might just go into shock.

i’m glad they all know now though. sarah especially. because now it’s more than just one mind that can come together and support/protect her. jj is definitely gonna go rogue at some point because duh lol. engaged?? yeah that just put a brand new battery in his back. like mama he ain’t hear a word she said after that. just kissed her on the forehead and shut the door lmao.

things are bout to heat up and i don’t know if i’m ready (i’m not).

Teenage Dirtbag XVII

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, semi public sex,  jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

You hadn’t seen nor talked to JJ in three weeks.

That hadn’t been your goal, having every intention of seeing him again after that day at The Wreck—even if only to officially break it off between you. Things hadn’t worked out that way though and before you knew it, a week went by and then another and another. It was a combination of things really—Rafe being around a lot more above all else—but you also didn’t think you had it in you to look JJ in the eyes and reject him again.

The day at The Wreck had been hard enough, and you’d only succeeded then because you were so overwhelmed by Kie’s words, desperate to get away and think. She hadn’t said anything untrue, anything wrong, and that’s what made her words sting the most. Sure, JJ talked a big game about figuring out a way to safely get you away from Rafe…but in practice…? You’d been with Rafe for over two years and still hadn’t been able to come up with a scenario that wouldn’t come back to bite you.

JJ wanted to save you, and you wanted to let him, but it was unrealistic. The only chance you had would be to move halfway across the world and even then… Rafe could be scarily determined to see something through, and it wasn’t like he lacked the means and resources to simply follow you. He hated to lose.

Sometimes you wondered if JJ really understood just how dangerous Rafe was.

…or if he simply enjoyed sneaking around with his girlfriend more.

Such a thought seemed so unfair to you—especially since there was no doubt in your mind that JJ cared about you—but you’d told him the same thing before all of this even started. You’d had no problem telling him that you dating Rafe Cameron had a hand in his aggressive pursuit of you. You still believed that actually, and it wasn’t like you minded all that much because you were getting something out of this too and JJ was making you feel things you hadn’t felt in a long time.

…but Kie was right.

She was so right. You either had to leave Rafe or put an end to your ‘relationship’ with JJ. Anything outside of that wasn’t up for consideration, and between you and JJ, only one of you had what it took to do the right—and smart—thing. So, you hadn’t seen JJ in weeks…and it hurt.

You didn’t know why, but you hadn’t expected it to hurt this much.

This person who had become this cliche bright light in an otherwise dark life was no longer there. You didn’t look forward to the following day anymore nor anticipate hearing from someone who never failed to put a smile on your face. The nights that Rafe spent with his father or at home were no longer filled with a familiar presence to keep you company. When Rafe left the other side of your bed empty…it stayed that way.

…and against your will, you found yourself crying a lot more these days.

“Sweetheart, you really need to get more sleep,” your mother cooed as she gently touched your face. “Everything okay…?”

You nodded at her as you stirred your creamer into your coffee.

“Yeah,” you assured her. “Just having trouble sleeping lately.”

She hummed at that, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I’m going to give you something for that,” she told you, rubbing your shoulder. “...and something for those bags under your eyes too. It’s making you look ill.”

You didn’t have a response for that other than a soft ‘thanks’. She hummed at you before your father pulled her attention away, both of them getting caught up in a conversation about the broken garbage disposal. Their voices faded to the background as you continued to stir your coffee, even when it had long blended into an even toffee color. You only stopped when your name was called.

Your parents were looking at you expectantly when you glanced up.

“Sorry?”

Your mother chuckled, albeit throwing you an odd look while doing so.

“I said you’ve gotten a dress for Rafe’s party, right? It’s the big twenty-one, and you can’t go wearing something you already have,” she said, sounding like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

You swallowed at the mention of his birthday, unable to forget about its approach even if you wanted to.

“Rafe bought a dress for me months ago.”

Your mother’s smile made your stomach turn.

“Of course, he did,” she commented, gently squeezing your arm. “He’s always so sweet to you.”

You weren’t able to keep looking at her as a fondness settled on her features as she thought about your relationship.

“I’d ask to see it, but I want to be surprised, and plus he never disappoints,” she chuckled. “He always knows just what to pick, and you look so radiant every time.”

Her parting words made you sigh, and for the umpteenth time, you imagined how they’d react if they ever knew the true nature of your relationship with Rafe. They doted on him because he seemingly doted on you. Like any decent parents, they were skeptical of him until he proved himself, and now years later—after he’d long started putting his hands on you—they still thought you two were the best thing to ever happen to each other.

If they knew the truth, you had no doubt it would break their hearts for more reasons than one.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised to see you…”

Sarah’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you were forced to pull your gaze away from the picture they had on the wall. You didn’t doubt that it was some piece Rose had brought into the house.

“It’s Rafe’s birthday, so, of course you’re going to be here, but I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks…”

She hadn’t seen you in weeks, and just like with JJ, it hadn’t been intentional, but you still felt bad. In an effort to distance yourself from the younger blond, you’d pulled away from anything that had to do with him. You didn’t know if you just didn’t want to chance seeing him or hearing about him, but that had included making yourself scarce around Sarah too. Considering that you were dating her brother, it was almost an impressive feat.

“Are you okay? Because as I’m saying this I realize it has been weeks since I’ve seen you, and when Pope asked about you the other day, I realized I couldn’t tell him how you were because I don’t know myself.”

You didn’t know how to respond, unable to tell Sarah that you felt like you were constantly outside of your own body, experiencing everything indirectly since you’d unofficially broken things off with one of her best friends. You missed him—more than you thought you would—and you were back to the reality of what your life was like—and would forever be like—without JJ in it.

So, you simply said:

“I’m fine.”

Sarah didn’t look like she believed you, and you watched as she pulled her lip between her teeth.

“None of us did anything, right?” you were already shaking your head. “...because everything seemed fine and then-.”

“No, of course not,” you said with a light chuckle, trying to reassure her. “It’s just stuff at home that I’ve been handling. Nothing serious, but it’s kept me really busy lately.”

The younger girl slowly nodded at that, still looking unsure.

“If you say so,” she commented. “We’re still down whenever you can pull yourself away.”

It was a very basic gesture, but it both warmed your heart and made your stomach sink. You knew that you’d either have to man up and face the possibility of running into JJ despite the fact that you were now over, or tell Sarah you didn’t want to be friends anymore, and the latter you couldn’t ever bring yourself to do. You enjoyed being around her and her friends, and one could argue that you should be taking advantage of your new free time now that you were no longer seeing JJ.

…but the thought of facing him so soon after essentially ghosting him made your chest hurt. You were self aware enough to admit that you didn't think you were strong enough to face him and walk away again. With JJ out of the picture, you were quickly reminded of just how awful your life was before he decided to kiss you that night, and it was so easy to just let yourself go back to what made you happy.

You were afraid that your resolve would crumble with just one look.

How easy it would be to tell yourself that you deserved this and that your relationship with Rafe was hardly a relationship, at all. It wasn’t a hard argument to make either. Rafe had beat you and threatened to kill you and even put you into the hospital. Anyone in their right mind wouldn’t blame you for what you’d done, but it wasn’t just a matter of right and wrong and who considers what's classified as either of those things.

Rafe would kill you.

That was something you knew for a fact. He’d threatened to do so on several occasions, but you knew that if Rafe ever found out about you and JJ—even in a sense of past tense—there would be nothing to talk about. He would kill you and more than likely JJ too. Sneaking around with JJ just for the hell of it—with no actual foolproof plan to safely get away from Rafe for good—was a death wish.

It was beyond foolish, unfair to JJ, and dangerous for you both.

It was why you greeted Rafe with a gentle smile when he finally found you some time later, reaching for you and threading his fingers through yours. Keeping him happy would keep you safe. You knew that, and somewhere along the way, you’d gotten comfortable and allowed JJ to make you forget that. Your only viable options were Rafe…or death, and anything in between was just a longer and complicated way to achieve the latter.

“I figured I’d find you gossiping with Sarah,” he drawled, tone light-hearted.

You attributed his good mood to this day—and party—being entirely focused on him. You smoothed down the eggshell dress he bought for you, relieved that it was still blemish free. You grimaced as you recalled the last dress you’d spilled some wine on while attending yet another party his parents had thrown.

Rafe took note of the action, and he paused to admire you.

You watched as his blue eyes roamed over your frame, drinking in everything from your perfectly styled hair to the baby pink polish on your toes. The house held that moderate hum that came with a full guest list, but Rafe was entirely focused on you. It felt like one of those rare moments when he was genuinely happy with you, and the look on his face was reminiscent of when you both were eighteen and in love and he was sweeping you off of your feet.

Rafe moved closer and fingered an errant piece of hair before putting it back in place.​​ That seemed to satisfy him, and you watched as the corner of his lips curved upwards just the slightest. His fingers fell to your chin where he gently grazed your skin, and Rafe straightened, looking you over again.

“You look perfect.”

The way in which he said it broke the spell, and suddenly the look in his eyes was so clear. You felt shiny all of a sudden—metallic and heavy and like you belonged on a shelf. Your heart sank, and you didn’t know why because you knew that. You’d long accepted that to Rafe, you were some prize, molded perfectly into his ideal girlfriend who would never dare leave him or speak out against him, and who’d be his support no matter what.

For a split second, you’d really forgotten that, and you gave him a small smile.

“I’m wearing a perfect dress.”

Rafe only smiled at that before pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips, pulling you along.

Everyone was moving outside to cut the cake and lavish Rafe with even more attention. You held his hand tight as they did, playing your role and thinking about the many years to come in which you’d have to do this. You’d long resigned yourself to it, but for some reason it was getting to you today more than usual. Perhaps it was because you could see it.

All over their faces.

They all looked at you and Rafe with such fondness and hope and happiness. They saw Ward Cameron’s only son with your father’s only daughter and pictured the future generations of Figure 8 and who would start it. They looked at you two and saw two sons and two daughters and a white picket fence and maybe even a dog. It caused a shiver to travel down your spine, and just when you considered excusing yourself, your boyfriend spoke.

Everyone quieted down as he gently tapped a glass, and you were forced to remain exactly where you were.

Rafe stared into the glass for a moment before leisurely setting it aside. You knew that this was his typical speech in which he thanked everyone for coming and showed endless gratitude to Ward and even briefly mentioned you, but there was a look that passed over his face that you couldn’t name. He looked happy—as expected—but there was a hint of haughtiness in that smile.

“I’m thankful that all of you came to support my family and I to not only celebrate my birthday, but to usher in this new era as I officially join my father’s business as well…”

Hums of appreciation and congratulations reached your ears, and you threw Rafe a smile when he glanced at you.

“I pretty much have everything I want, so…” he waved his hand around. “...gifts and all that typically don’t mean anything to me at this age.”

You kept your eyes on him, wondering what direction this speech was going in.

“However…” Rafe’s smile grew. “There is one gift I’m hoping my wonderful girlfriend will give to me…”

The gasps and commotion around you sounded more horrifying to your ears than exciting as Rafe turned to you and lowered himself to the ground. He was on one knee and reaching into his pocket, and despite the fact that you knew what that meant, you were in complete denial—frozen where you stood—up until he said the words.

“...by telling me ‘yes’ when I ask her to marry me.”

You heard your mother cry out behind you, and if there was any thought that she knew about this, it was quickly gone. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Rose covering her mouth in excitement, and you wanted to look around to see if anyone felt as horrified as you felt, but you knew the answer.

If you dared to look around, everyone would be smiling and looking on in awe and anticipation as they watched Rafe Cameron propose to you. You were sure that if you were met with the sight, it would terrify you, making you feel like you were knee deep in an episode of The Twilight Zone. You glanced up anyway, and only confirmed your suspicions, and you had the sudden urge to cry.

Why was everyone so happy? Why wasn’t anyone else petrified?

It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize it was because no one else knew. No one else knew that Rafe choked you when he felt you were getting too smart with him. No one else knew that the man on one knee before you was also the very same to break your nose and put you in the hospital. No one knew that the man proposing to you had once put the barrel of a gun in your mouth and threatened to kill you.

None of them knew that, and the one person who did didn’t look nearly as horrified as you felt.

You felt like you’d been in your head forever, but in reality, it was probably only a few seconds. Rafe was still knelt before you with that haughty smile and satisfied gleam in his eye, and you knew it was because he knew he’d won. You wouldn’t dare tell him no in front of your families and their friends and put a crack in the perfect picture you two had created.

The ring was a marquise solitaire with a yellow gold band, and if you were guessing correctly, you knew it was at least 3 carats. Tears spilled over as you looked at it, recalling a time where you’d told Rafe that was your dream engagement ring, but that was back then when Rafe was your dream man, and you were in your dream relationship. Both him and the relationship were a nightmare, now, and being presented with that ring of all rings made you sob.

When those blue eyes of his dimmed just a tad, in an effort to protect yourself, your mouth spoke before your brain could catch up, desperately telling him what you knew he wanted to hear.

“Yes.”

The word came out of your mouth and was said in your voice, but you didn’t approve of it, and you broke down again as cheers erupted from around you. Your vision was blurry as Rafe slid the ring onto your finger—a perfect fit—and he was quick to stand and pull you against him. Someone was loudly crying, and it sounded a lot like your mother, but the both of you were crying for entirely different reasons.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your hair as he rocked you both from side to side. You could feel yourselves being closed in on, everyone wanting to come and personally congratulate you, and you shrunk in on yourself, wanting to be as far away from here as possible.

Rafe’s lips grazed your ear.

“You just made me the happiest man on earth.”

You turned away from your bruised reflection, thinking that the evolution of your relationship seemed to bring out a side of Rafe that even scared him a little. You thought that he couldn’t keep his hands off of you before, but it was nothing in comparison to now that he could call you his fiancee. It rolled off of his tongue whenever he was inside of you, and it made it impossible to disassociate and try not to live in the moment of what your life had become.

You didn’t know if he was excited because he was so close to tying you to him forever, or if the ring on your finger increased the sense of ownership that he felt he had over you, but too many times had Rafe left you a little more battered and bruised every time he got you into bed as of late. Thinking about the harsh feel of his teeth on your back only days ago brought tears to your eyes, and you reminded yourself that you knew the trajectory of this journey the day you lied to the police.

After the successful proposal, the party had gone on for another two hours, every individual guest wanting their own solo moment to congratulate the happy couple. Rose and your mother endlessly fawned over the ring, and when you finally got a moment alone with your father, you discovered that he’d known for weeks.

After all, it was weeks ago that Rafe had formally asked for his permission.

“I don’t think any man will ever be good enough for you,” he’d said. “...but he treats you right and respected me enough to come to me.”

The tears in your normally stoic father’s eyes only served to remind you that everyone else was living in an entirely different reality with an alternate version of your relationship. You were feeling more trapped and cornered than ever, and everyone else around you was…elated.

All except one.

“Oh my God,” Sarah had said the moment she'd been able to get a moment with you.

She took your hand and just stared at the ring, and you hadn’t needed to be a genius to know that she wasn’t as over the moon as everyone else. It was all over her face, but despite that, she attempted to be happy for you, and you appreciated the gesture.

“You’re getting married,” she breathed. “To my brother.”

You’d pulled your hand away, swallowing, and beyond all of the overwhelming emotions you were feeling, you still remembered someone whose face you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“Can you…can you not tell anyone else, please?”

She’d looked at you like you were crazy, an incredulous scoff escaping her.

“All of Figure 8 will know by tomorrow morning, you can’t be serious,” she shook her head at you with wide and confused eyes.

“Yes, but we both knew there isn’t really anyone from this side of the island you could possibly tell…”

Sarah seemed to understand that you didn’t want her friends knowing, and although you could see she wanted to know why, she eventually nodded.

“...okay. Sure,” she whispered, tilting her head at you. “Are you happy?”

You had opened and closed your mouth, prepared to lie when she continued.

“You just…don’t seem all that happy.”

“Of course, I am,” you’d said with a deep breath. “Rafe and I are getting married. Why wouldn’t I be?”

It was a loaded question, one you hoped you would never have to answer honestly.

With the heaviness of the ring on your finger and Rafe’s suffocating presence and your mother’s choking enthusiasm about the eventual wedding, you took full advantage the next time Rafe and Ward went out of town, telling Sarah you’d love to come over and hang out with her and Cleo and Kie. You desperately needed a break from the constant reminder that the rest of your life was about to begin.

You had left the ring in your bedroom because you just wanted one night without thinking about it, but you appreciated your decision all the more when the boys had unexpectedly shown up. Nevermind the fact that you weren’t quite ready to face JJ, but you really weren't ready to face him with a huge rock on your finger, and the words on your tongue explaining to him what it meant.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Cleo had half heartedly apologized when she answered the door, pressing a kiss to Pope’s cheek. “...but the house is empty, yeah?”

It was true.

Wheezie was staying with a friend and Rose was on an overnight girls’ trip. You couldn’t even find it in you to be nervous about being around the guys with Rafe none the wiser. You were at his house, and it would take nothing to just drive home, but most importantly, oddly enough, you were more concerned with being face to face with JJ again, at the moment.

Like a coward, you were unable to look him in the eye when you heard his voice for the first time in a month, and you were thankful that too much was going on for your uncharacteristic silence to be noticeable. You felt his gaze on you though, goosebumps erupting over your skin and feeling much hotter, but your eyes remained on your lap.

You only looked up just in time to see him brush past Kie to find a seat, and your brows furrowed as you looked between them. You had never known JJ to be cold, it just wasn’t like him, but there was no doubt about it that he was giving Kie the cold shoulder. The dark-haired girl saw your frown, and she merely shook her head.

“I feel like we haven’t seen you in years,” Pope said to you, reaching out for a high-five.

“Sure feels that way, don’t it.”

JJ’s comment made you grimace, and when you dared to look over at him, his gaze was already on you.

Coming face to face with him after what felt like forever made your heart skip a beat, and you struggled to look away.

“Sorry,” you eventually apologized to Pope, ignoring JJ’s comment. “Rafe and family stuff just took up so much time.”

He waved off your apology, assuring you that he was joking, but you knew that JJ wasn’t, and when the blond got up to get a drink, you impulsively followed. The rest of them—sans Kie—were none the wiser, and you briefly glanced over your shoulder before going into the kitchen. JJ was standing in the fridge, and it was only hitting you in that moment that you hadn’t seen nor talked to him in weeks.

You already knew that you missed him, but it was hitting you much harder as you stood so close to him while being unable to touch him. He looked like he was doing okay, and his hair was just as blond, and when he straightened, you were reminded of what it felt like to have those arms wrapped around you. You missed the feeling, and you missed running your hands through his hair and falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat whenever you had the chance.

In this moment, it was very hard to remember why you had left him. However, you reminded yourself that you hadn’t followed him to talk about you two. There was no ‘you two’ anymore.

There was just you, and there was just JJ.

“Why are you treating Kie like that?”

JJ didn’t respond at first, merely turning to you and staring you down for a few moments before a mocking smirk graced his pink lips.

“That’s all you have to say to me…?”

You didn’t respond to that, and when it became clear that you simply wouldn’t, JJ scoffed. He shook his head, opening a beer that was meant for Ward, no doubt, before leaning his back against the counter.

“You know why,” was what he said with a straight face.

Now, it was your turn to scoff.

“It’s not her fault,” you defended, continuing when he started to shake his head. “She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, anything that we didn’t already know. We were just choosing to ignore it.”

“You told me you weren’t going to let what she said get to you. You nodded, you assured me of that, and then I don’t hear from you for a month.”

He’d dropped the cavalier facade, and you could see the anger and hurt passing over his features. 

“You don’t answer my calls, you don’t answer my texts, and if it wasn’t for Sarah, I wouldn’t have even known you were alive.”

“JJ-.”

“We were happy-.”

“We were delusional,” you quietly hissed. “Kie was right. Don’t hate her for something that was inevitable.”

That word seemed to bother JJ, and you watched as his features hardened. Your former lover stared at you for what felt like a long time before glancing away. You watched him press his tongue to the inside of his cheek, and you didn’t like the look he fixed you with.

“Did you forget the deal we made…?”

When you frowned at him, he continued.

“That I would keep quiet about Rafe so long as you let me be there for you?”

You shifted your feet, feeling uncomfortable at the mention of that. You didn’t say anything, not wanting to acknowledge that, but JJ merely nodded with a hum. He took another swig of beer, and you really hated the look he fixed you with then.

“If you’re not going to hold up your end of the deal then why should I hold up mine?”

Your heart sank to your gut at that, and you blinked at JJ in disbelief, unable to believe that even he believed he was capable of what he was insinuating. Not only that, but it was such a cruel thing to even bluff about, and you let out a dry chuckle.

“JJ…that’s… No,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t answer your question, choosing to gesture to the living room.

“What’s to stop me from pulling Sarah aside and telling her exactly why you hardly have a life outside of your relationship with her brother?”

Your lips parted, and you just stared at him…unable to believe what you were hearing.

“You won’t let me be there for you,” he spat out with a shrug. “...and someone has to be.”

You finally found your voice, and you blinked back tears.

“That’s not your decision to make,” you quietly bit out.

“...and I disagree,” he argued, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head. “We’re not talking about the typical asshole boyfriend here. Your life is in danger every time you’re around him.”

You furiously blinked, looking towards the ceiling.

“As long as he’s happy…I’m safe,” you breathed, lips trembling as you looked at JJ again. “I just have to-.”

“...and when Ward pisses him off again? When you’re not as cold as you should be to some strange man? When he decides Topper was a bit too nice to you? Then what?”

JJ moved closer with every question, a sneer on his lips as he stared you down.

“There’s no way to keep a guy like that happy.”

You flinched, leaning away from JJ as he leaned in. He looked between your tearful eyes, and while yes he was angry and hurt over how you decided to end things, you could see clear as day that JJ was also scared. He was scared for you and whatever future was available to you now that you’d decided to completely submit to Rafe and what he wanted for you both.

His face softened the longer he stared at you, and just as he lifted his hand, footsteps reached your ears.

You were in front of the open fridge just as John B. came in, handing him a drink when he asked for one. You stared at the food in front of you while you attempted to fix your face and get your emotions in check. Your heart was racing in your chest, and you wondered if you were just about to fall back into old habits had it not been for the brunette. You slipped out of the kitchen while John B. brought up something from the other day with JJ, and your smile was half hearted as Cleo pulled you to sit beside her.

You tried to engage with them, but it was hard. You couldn’t get JJ’s words out of your mind and how right they were despite your denial of them. Keeping Rafe happy and discouraging him from hurting you would only work for so long at a time. Eventually a day would come where Ward pissed him off and he’d take it out on your body in some form or another. It was inevitable that Topper or Kelce or some other guy would slip and dare to treat you like a human being, something that Rafe would no doubt interpret as a line being crossed.

It made your heart sink to think about.

So caught up in your thoughts, you paid no mind to JJ and John B. returning from the kitchen until you felt liquid spilling all over you and the part of the couch you were sitting on. It smelled too strong to be anything other than beer, and you heard everyone scold JJ just as you jumped to your feet.

“Why were you trying to carry so many?” Sarah loudly tore into him, alternating between looking over you and looking over the stained couch. “Now Y/N has to change, and you have to fix this couch.”

They briefly went back and forth while you tried to keep your shirt from sticking to you, assuring Sarah it was fine before making your way upstairs to do just as she said you would. You hurried into Rafe’s room, peeling off your shirt and your shorts the moment you were through the threshold. Your skin was already feeling sticky, and if he’d gotten beer on more than just your back and shoulders and arm, then you would’ve admitted defeat and hopped in the shower.

You were half dressed and wiping off the last of it when you heard Sarah’s voice in the hall.

“You have clothes here, right?”

“Yeah,” you called, grabbing one of the many shirts you kept in Rafe’s drawers.

“Okay, because JJ felt bad and wanted to be sure you had something to change into, and then that made me unsure-.”

You were facing her and fully dressed the moment she cut herself off, swallowing the rest of her words. She was just inside of Rafe’s room, hand still on the door handle as she stared at you. Something passed over her face that you’d never seen before, and her brows knitted together as she gave you a strange look.

“What was that?”

Now, it was your turn to frown.

“What was what?”

Her mouth opened and closed—like she was doubting herself—before she tucked some hair behind her ear.

“On your back.”

You felt your skin grow cold at her words, heart sinking as you quickly realized what she was referring to. Now, your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to respond. Your genuine confusion had quickly morphed into something that you normally only felt around Rafe—fear. 

Giving her a soft hum, you pulled on your shirt and twisted around.

“Nothing. The shirt’s clean,” you told her.

Sarah gave a soft chuckle, but sounded off—uncomfortable.

“No, under your shirt…”

You stepped away when she reached for you, and the blonde took notice, that frown returning. It deepened the longer she stared at you, and you attempted to lighten the mood.

“It was probably just the lighting, my back’s fine,” you assured her.

She rolled her eyes at you.

“That didn’t look like a shadow. I know what a shadow looks like-.”

“Sarah, come on, my back is fine,” you waved her off, moving out of her reach. “Let’s just go back downstairs.”

Your attempt to get past her was successful, but your efforts to leave the room were halted when Sarah pulled up on the end of your shirt.

The gasp that she let out was loud—horrified—and when you hurried to turn your back away from her, she had both of her hands over her mouth. Her wide eyes were frozen exactly where your back just was, and it took her a few moments to lift her gaze. All the while, your heart was threatening to jump out of your chest. You stared at her and she stared at you, both of you silent—her with horror and you with fear.

“What the hell is that?” she whispered when she finally uncovered her mouth.

“Sarah, it’s nothing-.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” she breathed. “There are bruises—that was a bite mark!”

You worriedly looked over your shoulder, scared her voice would carry.

“Where did that come from? Did Rafe do that?”

“It’s not what you think-!”

“Then what is it? Tell me what it is since it’s not what I think,” she spat.

You struggled to come up with an answer, resigned to admit that the truth—while bad—was the best thing you had up your sleeve.

“Things get a little rough sometimes in bed-.”

Sarah cut you off with a scoff, shaking her head at you.

“I don’t believe that,” she cried. “Even if I did, that looks disgusting and painful!”

She hurried to get past you, and you struggled to stop her.

“What are you doing?” you asked her, voice panicked.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling our father-.”

“Sarah, stop!”

She twisted out of your grip, and you chased her down the hall. Your mingled voices were loud as you argued, bouncing off of the walls as you chased her down the stairs. You didn’t pay any mind to her friends and what they were witnessing, only concerned with stopping Sarah from picking up her phone. You could feel their eyes on you as you grabbed her again, Sarah fighting to get you off of her.

“Woah, woah, hey!” John B. yelled, jumping in to separate you two.

“Sarah, leave it-!”

“Are you crazy? You expect me to just-.”

She was cut off as John B. successfully pulled her away from you, a hand on your own arm pulling you away. The problem arose again when John B. let her go, and you pushed your hand against the person behind you to get to her phone before she did. You both fought over it, you on top of her on the couch as you tried to yank it out of her hands. 

You could feel several pairs of hands between you, attempting to separate you again and keep it that way. JJ’s voice was in your ear as he pulled you off of her, your legs kicking out as you pointed at her phone.

“JJ, stop her,” you tearfully spat. “She’s trying to call Ward.”

When he made you face him, his own was twisted into confusion, and he kept his arms wrapped around you.

“What are you talking about? Why is she trying to call Ward?”

“Okay, both of you calm down,” Cleo spoke up, and when you looked over you saw that she was holding Sarah’s phone up and out of reach. “What’s going on?”

“She’s hurt! It’s all over her back,” Sarah choked out, chest heaving and face distressed. 

At those words, JJ tensed against you, and you gave him a pleading look when his eyes finally met yours again.

“She tried to give me some bullshit story, but I don’t believe it,” the words tumbled out of Sarah’s mouth, and JJ let you go. “JJ, she-.”

“I know,” he said as he neared her, Sarah speaking to him the moment she noticed his approach.

“No, you don’t know. There are bruises all over her back…” you felt several pairs of eyes on you at that. “...and…and…”

“Sarah, I know-.”

“No, you don’t understand-!”

“Sarah, I know,” JJ finally screamed, taking her shoulders and gently shaking her.

The entire house was quiet as his words lingered in the air, and you swore that you could hear a needle drop. Your entire body was trembling for so many reasons, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as Sarah’s eyes widened, her gaze never breaking from JJ’s. So many emotions passed over her features—confusion, understanding, shock, betrayal—before finally settling on two.

Sarah was horrified…and angry.

“You know?” she whispered. “What…? What does that even mean?”

She looked between you two, and you weren’t able to hold her gaze, your eyes landing on the floor. You were the center of attention at the moment, and you certainly felt it.

“H-how long have you…?”

JJ didn’t answer her unfinished question right away, sighing.

“I found out months ago…”

He trailed off at the audible reaction he got, and when you looked up, Sarah’s lips were parted. John B. was behind her, and he was looking between you and JJ with an expression that rivaled his girlfriend’s.

“Months?”

Sarah turned her gaze to you again.

“Months?” she choked out. “Months…”

She repeated it like she couldn’t believe it, and JJ took advantage of her shock to get his point across.

“Sarah, you cannot call Ward,” JJ slowly told her.

“Why the hell not?” John B. wondered, and you were sure you’d never heard him sound so angry.

“...because he’s with Rafe.”

Kie whispered it, coming to the same conclusion and realization that you and JJ were trying to lead Sarah to. The blonde girl in question looked at Kie in shock as if she herself just realized that, and she furiously blinked, shaking her head.

“Kie’s right, okay? He’s with Rafe, and you cannot call him about this. Not now, not ever…”

Only you and JJ knew that Ward was well aware of his son’s nature, and neither of you seemed eager to break that news to Sarah who was so sure her father would be the person to call because he’d do what was right.

“I don’t believe this,” she shakily whispered, twisting a hand into the hair at the top of her head. “He’s hurting you, and I’m just expected to-.”

“Yes,” JJ snapped at her. “You don’t understand-.”

“You’re right, I don’t understand!” they were in each other’s faces. “I don’t understand how Rafe has been hurting her for months apparently and I’ve been in the complete dark about it. I don’t understand how you knew and didn’t say anything!”

JJ sharply inhaled.

“I don’t understand how you’re standing here and telling me not to pick up the phone, and she’s agreeing. I don’t understand any of this,” Sarah tearfully said, shoving JJ. 

You stumbled back before turning away and searching for your purse. The sight of them arguing—because of you—and the feeling of everyone staring at you and knowing the truth was making you lightheaded and nauseous all at once, and you desperately wanted to be anywhere but here.

Kie called your name first, and then Pope, but you were already at the door when JJ finally chased after you. You could hear Sarah and Kie going back and forth as you stepped outside, and your vision was blurry when JJ finally caught up with you.

“They’re going to talk to her, okay?”

You sniffed, hurrying towards your car.

“She’s confused and scared and mad, right now, so she doesn’t get it, but she will,” JJ assured you. “We’re gonna talk to her.”

JJ’s hand was on your arm as you reached your car, and you stared at your reflections in the window for a few moments before a sob escaped you. JJ pulled you into his arms, gently shushing you as you cried into his shoulder. He didn’t offer any words of encouragement because this was an unprecedented situation, and neither of you knew what was going to happen from here. Nobody else was ever supposed to know.

…but especially Sarah.

JJ held you for the longest time, and resolute in your decision to end things with him, you allowed yourself to bask in the feeling. You deeply inhaled and relaxed at the familiar scent that was JJ Maybank. You allowed yourself to find comfort in the warmth of his arms, and you could feel JJ doing the same.

When he started to pull away, he kept his arms around you, and when you glanced up, your eyes met his. He looked sad for you and scared for you but above all, he looked like he missed you, and when JJ started to lean in, you swallowed.

“Rafe asked me to marry him…”

The blond froze.

“...and I said yes.”

Your lips brushed his as you spoke, and he remained there for a moment or two before finally leaning back to look you in the eyes. If you thought JJ looked horrified before, it was nothing in comparison to how he looked after hearing that you and Rafe were getting married.

“...and if I asked you not to?”

You gave a humorless chuckle.

“I’d say that a girl can dream.”

JJ softly said your name, and you shrugged.

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” you whispered. “He asked me in front of our families and all of their friends, so it’s not like I could say no.”

You watched as JJ’s expression hardened.

“This was never fair to you,” you said to him.”Please, stop hating Kie for pointing that out.”

“I can make my own damn decisions,” JJ threw out, and you swallowed down a sigh. “...and right now, I’m telling you that I’m not letting you marry him.”

It was a good thing that you didn’t know how to respond to that, because JJ continued.

“I’m not letting that happen,” he sneered. “The thought of you marrying that asshole makes me sick.”

You moved away from him, pushing his hands away when he reached for you.

“JJ, it’s over. I’m actually saying out loud this time,” you sadly told him. “Stop calling me, stop texting me, and… I won’t stop you from staying in the pool house, but I told you that my father-.”

“I’m not abandoning you. You can’t make me,” he cut you off, and you swallowed as he looked between your eyes. “This isn’t what you want, and I’m not gonna let you do this.”

“JJ, it’s done,” you firmly said to him. “Rafe and I are engaged. He asked my father’s permission, my mother is beside herself planning the whole wedding…and you and I are over.”

You looked between his eyes.

“That’s how things are supposed to be.”

The silence that stretched between you was thick and tense, and you swallowed at the way JJ ran his gaze over you. When he reached behind you to open your door, you sharply inhaled, moving closer to him to allow him to widen it. The blond leaned in then and pressed his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds. You closed your eyes, and he breathed you in.

“I’ll talk to Sarah.”

He assured you of that when you slid into the driver’s seat, but he didn’t acknowledge anything you said, and that made you nervous. He shut your door for you, and as you started your car, you were having a hard time believing your own words when you told him that you were over.

[spr1ngtweaks]

Headcanons – When They Actually Blindfold Harley for Hide-and-Seek

(Or: The One Time Everyone in the Executive Team Was in Immediate Danger)

✩ Request by @althewendigo ✩

🕶️ The Setup

It starts as a joke.

After the last game, everyone (except Harley) was dying laughing about how utterly paranoid he was.

Stella, in her chaotic wisdom, suggests:

“Alright, but what if we made it worse? What if we blindfolded him and made him the seeker?”

Leith and Eddie are immediately on board.

Harley? Absolutely not.

“This is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I will kill you all before I allow this to happen.”

…So naturally, they do it anyway.

🎭 The Rules

Harley gets a ten-minute head start to sit with the blindfold on and "mentally prepare" (which is just him plotting your collective downfall).

Everyone else gets to scatter and hide.

The goal? Survive.

There are no winners—only survivors.

👨‍⚕️ Harley, the Most Terrifying Blindfolded Seeker

The moment he stands up, the air changes.

The usual paranoia? Gone. He has nothing left to lose.

He immediately moves with purpose.

Which is terrifying because he can’t see anything.

He’s just listening. Calculating.

Every creak in the floor, every breath held too long—he knows.

“You do realize this is unfair to the rest of you, yes?”

“I don’t need sight to find you. I just need to listen.”

Leith panics.

Leith hates this.

He thought this would be funny.

This is not funny anymore.

“Oh, this was a mistake. A massive mistake.”

Eddie starts actively regretting this entire plan.

Stella? Still thriving.

“I love this. I LOVE THIS.”

🎯 How He Finds Each of Them

🎭 Leith Pierre – The First One to Get Found

Leith was breathing too hard.

He made the grave mistake of hiding in the main hallway, thinking it would be safe.

It was not safe.

Harley stopped walking. Tilted his head. Listened.

"You breathe too loudly, Pierre."

Leith doesn’t even have time to move before Harley grabs his shoulder.

Leith screams.

Harley sighs.

“You’re weak. You didn’t even last five minutes.”

“You deserve to be eliminated first.”

"Go sit down before you embarrass yourself further."

🎭 Eddie Ritterman – The One Who Almost Got Away

Eddie actually did really well for a while.

He found a great spot in one of the old storage rooms.

But then? He shifted his weight.

A single creak. A single. Damn. Creak.

Harley turned instantly.

“Ritterman...”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

Eddie stops breathing.

Harley starts walking in his direction anyway.

Eddie tries to slowly crawl away.

Too late.

Harley reaches out, grabs his sleeve, and just—

“Got you.”

“Unfortunate.”

🎭 Stella Greyber – The One Who Fought Back

She should’ve been scared.

She was not.

Instead of running, she tried to fake him out.

Started throwing random objects in other directions to mess with his echolocation.

It worked for like five minutes—until Harley figured out the pattern.

The moment he did, she was done.

“Oh. You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately, you are also predictable.”

“Shame.”

Stella was found when she tried to throw a wrench.

Harley dodged it. Without seeing.

“Nice try.”

🎭 You – The Impossible Target

You? You made yourself a ghost.

Not a single sound. Not a single movement.

Harley knows you’re still hiding.

He hates that he can’t find you.

He knows you’re watching him.

He knows you’re waiting for the right moment.

"This is getting irritating."

Eddie and Leith are already telling you to just give up.

Harley is now actively pissed.

You wait until he’s just a little too close before—

You grab his wrist.

WHISPER, RIGHT IN HIS EAR:

“Found you first.”

Harley. Jumps.

Immediately rips off the blindfold.

Looks genuinely startled.

…Then pissed.

“You. Are. Insufferable.”

Stella is wheezing. Eddie is howling. Leith is just glad it’s over.

📌 The Aftermath

Harley refuses to speak to anyone for at least an hour.

Leith looks like he just survived war.

Eddie is questioning every life decision that led him here.

Stella is already planning a round two.

…And you?

You have unlocked a new way to mess with Harley.

You won’t let him forget this. Ever.

[edamameimei]

Perhaps, Even This —chapter 39

A year ago, you were known as your friend group’s “sunshine.” You were able to light up a whole room with your energy and everyone could rely on you for your quick wit and easy humor. You lived life simply one day at a time. However, seemingly out of nowhere, that all changes. Now a Junior in university, you find it extremely difficult to do all the things you used to do. Especially being the Resident Assistant for the Geffen Dorms. New residents begin to move in and one them is a girl you could only describe as “radiant." Her name is Megan Skiendiel, and at first, you don’t welcome the positivity but as you two continue to meet and hang out, you find yourself becoming the person you used to be. Will you be able to be that person you were a year ago? Or will everything just stay the same?

39. yn n friends

half written (wc: 867)

Jen, Soobin, and Yeonjun squeeze together sitting down on your bed. They watch as you pace the room, your head down in silence as you try to think of the words to say. Talking about your feelings was always hard, but this was a lot more to unpack than anticipated. Finally, you stop, facing your friends with a distressed look on your face. 

“I’m scared of getting hurt again.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, you begin to feel sick. Tears brim your eyes and you shake your head, willing yourself to continue, “So, I thought, if I pushed everyone away then my life would be so much easier.” You laugh, looking up at your ceiling because you can feel the tears streaming down your face. Your friends all look at you, waiting for you to finish. They sit patiently and for once, you know that they’re here because they care. You tell yourself, I’m not a burden. You convince yourself, they don’t think I’m weak. You look at them with a pained expression on your face. You whisper, “But It’s just really fucking hard right now without you guys.”

You look down at your shoes, fidgeting at the hem of your shirt at an attempt to find control over your emotions. Your voice cracks as you speak, “It’s really hard without Megan and I- I messed up so bad,” You wipe your eyes and sigh helplessly, running a hand through hair, “What do I do?” It’s almost inaudible, but they hear you loud and clear. Soobin reaches out to you first, grabbing your arm and immediately pulling you into his arms. Suddenly, you feel everyone’s arms around you as you finally allow yourself to cry freely. They rub your back, soothing you comfortingly. They allow you to cry knowing you had it pent up for months.

After a few minutes, your cries finally subside, now sniffling quietly. You pull away from your friends, your eyes swollen and red from crying for so long. Jen reaches out, her hands cupping your cheeks. She wipes the remaining tears from your eyes and looks at you, worried. She whispers the question that has been asked of you so many times before. And this time, you know you can’t turn away from it.

 “What happened last spring, Y/n?” 

Yeonjun wraps his arms around your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs quietly, “Take your time.” You nod, looking down at your lap. You take a sharp breath, bracing yourself. “Yeji… She hurt me a lot more than I led on…” You close your eyes tightly, shaking your head as if you were trying to rid yourself of the memories that swim around in your head. “She was so awful. She didn’t just hurt me emotionally… She also- She- fuck.” You choke up, covering your mouth when the words don’t seem to leave your lips. But your friends knew exactly what you were trying to say. And they were furious.  

Yeonjun’s arms tighten around you. You can feel his anger rising as you continue opening up, taking another deep breath to recollect yourself. “She was always so mean. She would say all these awful things. But she somehow convinced me it was because she loved me– I’m so fucking stupid.” Tears brim your eyes once more and you cover your face with your hands in an attempt to shield how vulnerable you are. But Jen grabs your hands, pulling them into your lap. She squeezes them tightly, tilting her head to look at you softly. She furrows her brows. “Y/n… You’re not stupid. This was never your fault–” 

You cut her off, your voice breaking as you speak loudly, “This is all my fault! I hurt everyone! I hurt Megan, I hurt you guys, and I’m the reason why Yujin is still with Wonyoung…” You look at Jen, pain in your expression as you continue, “I never told anyone that it was Wonyoung… The person Yeji cheated on me with.” Her eyes widen at your admission. You start crying again, looking down at your lap in shame. You felt terrible for never saying anything. It’s as if your friends read your thoughts because they hug you again, holding you tightly. You hear Soobin whisper, “This was never your fault.” His words sit with you as you clutch onto Jen’s shirt. You take another deep breath before shakily responding, “What do I do now?” 

There’s silence in the room. No one one knows how to respond. They all just hold you, letting your words settle amongst everyone. Yeonjun runs his hands through your hair and looks at the others with a determined look in his eyes. He looks back down at you, grabbing your shoulders to force you to look at him. He leans in close to you, his eyes staring into yours. 

“You're not gonna fix this, Y/n,” He cups your cheeks, his brows furrowing with sincerity in his eyes, “We're gonna fix this,” He continues with a small smile on his face. His next words light something in you, as if you were brought to life again.

“We’re gonna do this together.”

a/n: omg what they finna doooooo (i know exactly what happens next LMAO)

prev ✿ masterlist ✿ next

requests are open

@saysirhc@urfriendlylocalidiot@daniiii267@xochitlisbest@minjisn1@mei2yok@goofymickeyr

✧.* taglist is open ✧.*

[rottenpumpkin13]

agszc is balanced in the most unbalanced way

they all cover each other’s weaknesses

but there weaknesses are p much covering the “how to be a functioning adult” chart

and while gen & geal probably have the most independent adult life skills, they are not the ones keeping this group functioning by being the ducttape holding up those camouflage tarps

that job is for the smallest, non-chain of command placing, unenhanced , self esteem issues ridden, etc., named cloud

who has been gifted the secret cat corralling limit break beneath it all by the goddess herself

The AGSZC Adulting Proficiency Chart™ is as follows:

S-Tier: The Backbone, The Cat Herder, The Only Thing Keeping This Group From Dying of Sheer Stupidity

Cloud Strife

Strengths: Basic life skills, survival instincts, is technically an unenhanced baseline human yet somehow outlasts everyone else here. Can cook food that won't kill you. Can do laundry. Knows where things like tax documents are supposed to go.

Weaknesses: Crippling self-esteem issues, no social rank to enforce his authority, everyone is taller than him so they think they don't have to listen. Tries to act cool and unbothered but is actually a dork who does not know how to interact with other human beings and makes jokes at the wrong time.

A-Tier: Could Survive Alone, But The Moment You Add Another Person, Chaos Ensues

Angeal Hewley

Strengths: Knows how to cook, clean, budget, and generally behave like a responsible adult. Has the most conventional common sense. The kind of guy who owns a toolbox and actually knows how to use it.

Weaknesses: Will adopt every lost soul he sees, including the feral ones, and then act shocked when they fight each other. Too honorable for his own good. Breaks his own phone constantly. Is pretty chill but when he finally snaps, it's old testament levels of wrath. Full-on "fuck this, fuck you, fuck Shinra, I'm quitting, I'm moving to a remote mountain where no one can find me, don't call, don’t write, I'll eat tree bark if I have to" kind of breakdown. But give him ten minutes and a single cup of tea, and he'll act like nothing happened.

Genesis Rhapsodos

Strengths: Self-sufficient, knows how to handle finances (for the sake of luxury, but still), good at cooking for himself. Can talk his way out of anything.

Weaknesses: Drama queen. Absolutely useless if the task does not personally interest him. Has never read a contract in full in his life. Once lived off apples and wine for two weeks straight.

B-Tier: Technically a Functioning Adult, But That's Only Because He's Too Stubborn to Die

Sephiroth

Strengths: Can manage his own schedule, extremely efficient, good at planning missions and strategizing. Understands how to budget because Shinra made him, not because he wanted to.

Weaknesses: Zero concept of work-life balance. Does not eat unless reminded. Has never used a washing machine in his life. Would be absolutely bamboozled by grocery shopping.

C-Tier: Chaos Personified, An Affront to Responsibility, A Walking Insurance Liability

Zack Fair

Strengths: Strong, charming, good at improvising. Could talk his way into or out of anything. Surprisingly adept at surviving by sheer dumb luck.

Weaknesses: No concept of money. No concept of personal space. Will start a project, get distracted, and start five more before finishing the first. If left to his own devices, he will eat nothing but instant ramen and protein bars.

[rdrclo]

How they would handle your autism

Okay so before i start i just wanted to say i am professionally diagnosed with autism, i have been for a good few years now, and even though i wouldn't change it if i had the choice, its something that affects every moment of my life, and it can be super difficult to deal with sometimes.

So to anyone else who also has it, i hope these headcanons are a comfort to you as they are to me💘

Just the boys again sorry!😭 If anyone wants me to do the girls or any other characters, please just request.

-

Arthur:

Arthur's got a quiet patience about him. He notices the way you tense up when the camp gets too loud or how you fidget with your hands when overwhelmed. He doesn't make a big deal out of it—just adjusts. If you need silence, he takes you out on a ride, letting the steady rhythm of the horse calm you down. If you struggle with eye contact, he doesn't force it, just focuses on something else while talking to you.

He's a man of few words, but you don't need them to know he cares. If you have a special interest, he listens, even if he doesn't understand half of what you're saying. "That right?" he mutters, nodding along as you excitedly explain something. If someone in camp gives you a hard time, he shuts it down with a glare alone.

When your emotions get too much—when frustration or anxiety build up to the point where you shut down—Arthur doesn't push. He just sits nearby, waiting it out with you. When you're ready, he might gruffly mutter, "C'mon. Let's go for a ride." He knows the world's a little too much sometimes, but he's more than willing to be your safety.

-

Dutch:

Dutch is a talker, and at first, he doesn't quite realize that his constant speeches can be overwhelming for you. But he's observant—he notices the way you sometimes shrink away when there's too much noise, or how certain sensations seem to bother you more than others.

Once he understands, Dutch makes an effort. He lowers his voice when he's speaking directly to you, keeping his tone smooth and even. When camp gets too chaotic, he offers you a place in his tent to take a break. "You just take a moment, my dear. No rush," he says, as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

Dutch enjoys your intelligence, especially if you have a particular interest or skill. He listens intently, even if you go on a long tangent. "You've got a brilliant mind," he tells you, meaning every word. If your way of thinking is different, he sees it as an advantage, something that makes you valuable to the gang.

He encourages you, but sometimes he pushes too hard, expecting you to handle situations that overwhelm you. If you struggle, he's quick to reassure you. "Now, now, there's no shame in that," he soothes, hand on your shoulder. He's not perfect at understanding, but he tries—and when Dutch believes in you, he makes you believe in yourself, too.

-

Micah:

At first, Micah doesn't seem like the kind of man who'd have the patience for your quirks. He's loud, brash, and constantly poking at people's weaknesses. But he's also sharp—he notices things fast. The way you flinch at loud sounds, how certain activities make you uncomfortable, or how you get stuck on one topic and talk about it for ages. At first, he teases. "Damn, you ever shut up 'bout that?" he'll scoff with a smirk, but if he sees you actually upset, he dials it back.

Over time, he gets used to you. Hell, he even starts accommodating you without thinking about it. If you struggle with eye contact, he talks to you while cleaning his revolvers or rolling a cigarette, giving you an easy way out. If camp is too overwhelming, he's the first to drag you off somewhere quieter—though he acts like it's just for himself. "C'mon, place is crawlin' with fools. Let's get outta here."

Micah doesn't coddle you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. If someone tries to mess with you over the way you think or act, he's in their face before you even process what happened. He might tease you himself, but no one else gets that privilege.

If you ever get overwhelmed to the point of closing off, he doesn't panic or push. He just waits it out, maybe making some offhand comment like, "Y'know, sittin' there like a damn statue ain't gonna fix nothin'." But his tone isn't cruel—it's grounding. If words don't help, he might nudge your foot with his boot or put something in your hands to fidget with. He's rough around the edges, but in his own way, he's got your back.

-

Hosea:

Hosea catches on quickly. He's spent a lifetime reading people, and he notices the little things. He doesn't ask a lot of questions; he just starts adjusting, making things easier for you in ways so subtle you almost don't notice.

If you get overwhelmed in camp, he gently steers you away before it gets too much. "Come on, let's take a little walk," he says, voice calm and steady. He happily listens to you talking with genuine interest, even asking questions to keep you going.

He's got a natural patience for your quirks. If you need things a certain way, he helps make sure they stay that way. You don't even have to ask; he just knows.

And if you ever have a moment where the world is too much—where you shut down or struggle to get your words out—Hosea doesn't rush you. He just stays close, offering a reassuring presence. "Take your time, no hurry," he says softly. He never makes you feel broken, never makes you feel like you need to change. To Hosea, you're just you—and that's more than enough.

-

Javier:

Javier is naturally warm and easygoing, and that extends to how he treats you. He doesn't make a big deal out of your differences —he just rolls with them.

If you have a special interest, Javier encourages it. He loves passion, and if you light up talking about something, he genuinely listens. He might not understand everything, but he enjoys seeing you excited. If your interest is music, he goes out of his way to teach you songs on the guitar, patient even if it takes you a while to get it right.

Javier is protective in a quiet way. If someone is rude to you, loud to you, he steps in before you even have to say anything. "Leave 'em alone," he says firmly, and that's the end of it. If you get overwhelmed or need time alone, he respects that, but he also makes sure you know you're never truly alone. "If you need anything, just come find me,?"

More than anything, Javier makes you feel welcome—like you belong, exactly as you are.

-

Kieran:

Kieran isn't the sharpest, but he's a kind-hearted soul who wants to make sure you're comfortable. He notices when you seem agitated. He knows you're different in a way that's just you—and he likes you just the way you are. Hes the same in some ways.

If you need some space, Kieran's the type to give it to you without asking questions. "You alright there?" he'll ask, his voice soft, before he backs off and leaves you be if you need it. He's not going to push or prod, but he's always there if you want to talk. If something's bothering you and you don't know how to say it, Kieran tries to make light of it, cracking a joke to bring a little ease to the situation.

He's the type to get a little flustered if you talk about something he doesn't understand, but he tries his best. "That's... uh, that's real interesting, I guess," he'll say, awkwardly. But there's no judgment in his voice.

He's not great with words, but he makes up for it with his kindness and willingness to just be there for you, even when he doesn't have a clue what to say.

-

Sean:

Sean's overly energetic and doesn't always understand the finer details of what you might be going through. You often flinch around him, due to his loud outbursts, and of course he rarely notices, not that any of it is on purpose. But when he does notice you're uncomfortable, he'll often try to lighten the mood, cracking jokes or teasing you, though he doesn't mean any harm by it.

If you focus on something passionately, he'll listen, though sometimes he might get distracted or not fully grasp what you're saying. He's not one to judge, though. "Sounds like somethin' alright," he might say, nodding along, even if it's more about hearing you out than truly understanding.

He isn't the type to overanalyze, but if anyone messes with you, Sean's quick to jump in. "Get lost, will ya?" he'll snap, not bothering with subtlety. For all his teasing, he's protective in his own way, and you can tell he'll look after you when it really counts.

-

Josiah:

Josiah is observant and gentle, with a deep understanding of people's different needs. He's quick to recognize when you need space or when something is too much for you. He doesn't make a big deal about it, though—he simply suggests you do something else, a moment of peace. "Why don't we go for a little stroll, eh? Clear our heads," he'll offer with his usual calm tone.

He doesn't rush you, always giving you time to process things at your own pace. Josiah listens to you attentively, offering thoughtful questions and keeping the conversation going. "Ah, quite fascinating. Tell me more about that," he'll say, genuinely interested in whatever you have to share.

Josiah's not the type to make you feel out of place. He adapts to your needs, and while he's usually quite expressive, he shows his care in subtle ways. If you're ever feeling overwhelmed, he might quietly sit with you or give you a little distraction, offering a book or a game of cards to help calm your nerves.

You enjoy his magic tricks, and he often does them for you, allowing you a good distraction from the world.

-

Charles:

Charles quickly notices when things start to feel too much for you. He doesn't ask questions or make you feel uncomfortable; instead, he simply offers a quiet space or suggests a quiet detour. "You look like you could use a break," he'll say, his tone gentle and understanding. He's the kind of person who doesn't need to talk much to know what's going on with you.

He appreciates your perspectives on the world, and often finds you easy to talk to. The two of you often open up to each other, late at night while no one else is listening.

But despite how much he treasures your deep conversations, he's also someone who will sit with you in silence, letting you have the space you need. He values respect and takes the time to understand you, always offering the kind of steady, unspoken support that helps you feel at ease.

-

John:

John is straightforward and not one to mince words, but he's also deeply loyal and protective of those he cares about. He quickly picks up on when things are getting too much for you. He does try his best to help, though sometimes he accidentally does the opposite.

John might not fully understand everything you go through, but he respects it. If you have a special interest or passion, he'll listen even if he doesn't get the details. "Alright, I hear ya," he'll say, nodding as if to show he cares about what you're saying, even if he's not completely following.

John doesn't try to force you to talk or explain your feelings and emotions. He just gives you a little space and waits patiently, knowing you'll come around when you're ready. "Take your time," he'll say quietly, his steady presence offering comfort without pressure.

When it comes to taking care of you, he shows it with actions more than anything.

-

Lenny:

Lenny has a quiet empathy that makes him easy to be around. He notices when you get overstimulated or need space, and he respects it without question, always offering a calm, no-pressure way out of any situation.

He's genuinely interested, in the way you are, but its rare he asks. He doesn't want to put you on the spot, but when you talk, he's good at giving you the time and space you need to do that.

If you need some quiet time or space to yourself, Lenny doesn't push or question it. He just lets you be, offering a reassuring presence from a distance if you need it. "No worries, I'll be around," he'll say, quietly letting you know he's there if you ever want company. He's steady and patient, making sure you feel respected without needing to say much at all.

[lazysoulwriter]

falling for you. (again and again) - paul mescal.

---

You knew Paul Mescal long before the rest of the world did. Before the brooding interviews, the GQ covers, and the thirsty tweets about his legs. Long before Normal People turned him into the internet’s favorite Irish heartthrob, he was just Paul—your best friend’s older brother, the boy who used to steal your fries and pull at your ponytail when you were kids.

And now, somehow, years later, you were in his kitchen, sitting on his counter, wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie and the most satisfied grin of your life.

"You need to stop looking at me like that," Paul mutters, standing between your legs, hands resting on your thighs.

"Like what?" You feign innocence, letting your fingers toy with the chain around his neck, your thumb brushing against his skin.

"Like you’re about to ruin me." His voice is low, teasing, but there’s truth in it.

You laugh, tipping your head back. "Paul, be serious. I think it’s pretty clear that I’ve already ruined you."

He hums in agreement, squeezing your thigh. "Fair enough."

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You weren’t supposed to end up tangled in his sheets last night, whispering secrets against his skin, tracing the freckles on his shoulders like they were constellations made just for you.

But with Paul, things never went as planned.

"You hungry?" he asks suddenly, pulling away to open the fridge, his broad back to you.

"Starving," you reply, but it has nothing to do with food.

Paul catches the meaning immediately, shooting you a look over his shoulder, a slow smirk forming on his lips. "You’re trouble, you know that?"

You tilt your head, pretending to think. "I’ve heard that before. Mostly from you."

He huffs a laugh, then tosses you an orange from the fridge. "Eat. I need you to keep your strength up."

"For what?" you challenge, peeling the fruit with deliberate slowness, savoring each bite.

Paul leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that familiar, devastating gaze—the one that always made your knees weak, even before you had any business feeling that way about him.

"For when I ruin you back," he murmurs, his voice a little rougher now.

Your breath catches, but you refuse to let him win this round.

"You've been saying that since we were kids," you tease, popping a slice of orange into your mouth. "Still hasn’t happened."

Paul chuckles, stepping closer again, his hands finding your waist. He pulls you closer until you can feel his chest against yours, your breath mingling in the small space between you. "Oh, love," he says, voice dripping with promise, "That sounds like a challenge."

The way his lips curl into a smile sends a rush of warmth through you. For a moment, everything goes still—just you and him, the world outside forgotten.

You tilt your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "You’ve never been good with challenges, have you?" you murmur, your voice soft, teasing.

Paul’s expression darkens just slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers linger at the back of your neck. The space between you has all but disappeared, the air thick with unspoken words, the tension between you crackling.

His lips hover above yours for a moment, giving you just enough time to breathe in his scent, to feel his warmth before he kisses you—soft at first, almost hesitant, as if testing the waters. But you’re both far past hesitation.

You kiss him back, slow at first, letting the kiss deepen as your hands slide around his neck, pulling him closer. There’s something about the way he kisses you—deliberate, intense, like he wants to consume you. And the longer the kiss lingers, the more certain you are that you never want to stop.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, eyes locked.

"See?" you whisper, your lips still close enough to feel his breath. "Told you I’ve ruined you."

Paul shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got me, alright. But I’m not finished with you yet."

You run a finger down the side of his jaw, tracing the line of his stubble, the playful glint in your eyes matching the one in his. "I like the sound of that," you say, leaning in for another kiss, this one just as hungry as the first.

And as the kiss deepens again, you both know there’s no going back. This thing between you, whatever it is, isn’t something that can just fade away. It’s too real, too intense—like you’re both addicted to the electricity that runs between you every time you’re together.

But for now, you don’t care about labels. You don’t care about anything else. You’re here, in his kitchen, with him, and that’s all that matters.

For now, you’ll just keep falling for him—again and again.

---

[misfxtteam]

Bucky smiles faintly, of course Tony started building bots like that wen he was 15, and the mention of Steve. He shrugs, “Stevie is…he’s a black and white type of guy with most things, so yeah he’s not going to understand how we go from how we were behaving yesterday to today, but he’ll wrap his mind around it eventually.” He does nod in agreement that the concrete floor hadn’t been the most comfortable. He thinks for a second about the question before shaking his head, “No, honestly I really enjoyed everything we did,” he says with a faint blush.

He listens to Tony’s explanation about what the government had made legal, torture against suspected terrorists, the evidence that some of it was sexual in nature. He looks a bit uncomfortable, staring down at the creamers and taking one to just toy with on the table, something to distract himself from some of the worst of the memories in his head. He nods almost imperceptible, glancing up at Tony with a sort of pain in his eyes that he usually made sure to keep hidden, “You..aren’t far off. It didn’t..it didn’t happen often back in the beginning. But once they had me conditioned with the trigger words, they would use them sometimes to make me do things. Nothing rough or anything like that, just..mainly for oral,” he says quietly, looking back down at the creamer and thinking more on how he felt about it, whether it would be an issue in future. “It’s not that I think I can never do that again, I just..if I wanted to try, I would need to do it at my own pace. Meaning it would have to be a time when I’m in control and I want to do it to make you feel good, I don’t think I can handle it yet if it’s the other way around, at least not right now.”

He is quiet for a moment, contemplating something, “I liked when you were rough, I know with my super strength I could easily fight back but..but I didn’t want to. It felt…it felt really good just knowing that I was allowing it to happen by not fighting back. With them, no matter how hard i tried to fight back in the beginning, before the conditioning set in, I…they were always able to subdue me. Whether because they had a bunch of people all at once fighting me, or they would use taser-batons, and use the electricity to incapacitate me. But with you earlier it was like I..even though I wasn’t in control, it felt like I was because I knew i would be able to fight back if I wanted to, but because I knew that it felt like it was..more enjoyable because I didn’t feel weak or anything but more like I was making an active choice to allow it,” he realizes.

He had never thought about sex like this. It was always in the context of what he or his partner liked, what was enjoyable, and taboo things were always more intense but he had never thought about how it related to his trauma. In his research, he had seen that many kinks could often be rooted in a trauma or PTSD response but he had always shut down that train of thought. The idea of processing those things alone, and with no experience to connect it to, it felt like it would be an endless road of hypotheticals that would just lead to spiraling down into the tortured memories. He liked talking it out this way with Tony, with someone who had their own trauma so talking about it didn’t feel like a pity party or like Tony felt sorry for him

He looks up at Tony when he mentions stepping over the line, “No, no you aren’t stepping over the line with that. And if you want to ask about your parents Tony, you can. I..I honestly don’t mind trying to answer. But any of my HYDRA assignments I..I don’t know much outside of what I actually did. So if I don’t know something, I hope that’s okay. And..I don’t think it’s necessarily going to undo the work that we did, not when it’s a conversation like this. When we’ve talked about it in the past, we’ve always been on edge, adversarial about it, i felt the need to defend myself. I’m going to try and not think like that, I want to be able to be open to at least hearing the questions without assuming that you’re being accusatory,” he explains, looking down at his metal hand and just tracing the seams between the metal plating absently as he speaks.

“We do need to work on the buddies part,” Bucky agrees, there was no denying that. “Is it crazy that I think we could be friends, like actually decent friends? We’re both sarcastic little shits, and I do love talking about your tech with you, like..like those bots today in your lab? They were..i thought they were really interesting at least, I would have asked about them more if we hadn’t started talking about other stuff,” he admits, remembering the tense conversation they’d had. It did seem like they had a few common interests even if it was in different ways. Like Tony being a genius while Bucky was merely interested in seeing and learning about new tech, he had no skill in building anything that didn’t come with instructions.

He can’t help the proud smile that he tried to hide by looking over the menu, god it shouldn’t inflate his ego so much to know Tony thought he was the best, but he would definitely hold onto that even if only to brag within his own head. He is quiet for a moment at least before glancing to Tony, “I think..in this convo especially, you can ask about HYDRA, if you want to. When I said I don’t want to get into it too much, i just meant I didn’t plan on explaining the details of what I meant by punching bag. If you have questions, I can’t promise I’ll answer, there’s still some stuff I haven’t fully processed myself, so I might let you know I can’t answer something but I won’t mind you asking,” he promises Tony sincerely.

He glances up at the waitress as she comes to their table, smiling faintly and shaking his head with amusement at Tony’s continued use of the nicknames, “I’d like the pancake platter please, with the scrambled eggs and bacon, and a cup of coffee, oh and a glass of water please,” he requests, smiling at the woman as she jots everything down. Once she walks away, he sets his menu aside and smiles a bit, “I think doing both does add some intensity to both, I don’t like to give empty praise, I’ve always been about finding the right balance. I’m glad it worked for you, it would have been a little embarrassing if it hadn’t,” he chuckles, tapping his metal fingers on the table absently as he thinks for a moment

“Was there anything today that you didn’t like? Whether it was something you didn’t like at all, or if there was something that you liked in some ways and disliked partially?”

[chil-aglia]

𝐃𝐨 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐦? |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

[The Turtle in Stasis]

Be sure to read the tags on my Ao3 so you guys know what you’re getting yourselves into.

Art above is done by me. PLEASE feel free to make your own art and idk tag me in it or something—

ALSO, I have a Bad Things Happen Bingo card out right now and would really appreciate it, if y'all could go and help me out with it!

Warnings: Mention of blood, mention of war, major canon character “death”, etc

Quick thank you to my awesome beta reader @cimmerian1275

They agreed to be my official beta reader and so far, I’m very pleased and excited to have them on my two-man team (literally just me and them) they have also created the cover art of the book, Caden’s ref sheet and just fanart of this series in general. Very talented and please, go give them a follow, love their work, etc.

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

Leonardo Hamato is a turtle of many great talents. A master of wielding his katanas, a well-renowned and respected leader for his team and the Resistance, an expert on strategy with advanced ninja skills. A great big and little brother to his fellow family members. 

He also had an impeccable sense of humour to brighten up any dull moment.

He also had his fair share of burdens to carry. The weight of leading the Resistance in this apocalyptic world, with the Krang roaming about taking over at least 85% of the world, and the humans along with it being assimilated into Krang zombies. The fact that everyone relies on him to lead, to be a beacon of hope for others that the world can be saved. As long as he was around.

To everyone on the outside Leonardo didn’t seem to let those responsibilities get to him. Having one of the best poker faces a mutant like him could have. He was cocky, oftentimes bantering with his enemies to catch them off guard and then striking when they least expect it.

He’s the face man. And one of the best medical experts the Resistance still had. Of course, it didn’t mean he was the only medic out there. But his family always preferred him to oversee and double-check in case one of the human or yokai doctors overlooked something.

Leonardo Hamato is a turtle of many skills.

And all great beings…must succumb eventually.

-----

Ringing white noise was all Leo could hear as he laid prone on the dirt. Blood stained his blue scarf, most of it his. He could feel the red liquid essence pooling slightly from the side of his mouth. His side felt numb but he knew there was something wrong with it, perhaps more of his vital fluids escaping from a wound he couldn't identify through the haze of pain clouding his judgement.

His eyelids felt weak, and he was doing what he could to stay awake as he saw the blurry figures of his brothers hovering around him, all talking—no, shouting, among themselves. Their voices were muffled in Leo’s tympanum, who at this point was barely paying attention.

He knew the war was still raging on around him, briefly seeing the rubble and debris of broken down buildings in the distance. The muffled sounds of gunfire and explosions. The vibrations of heavy footsteps not far from where he lay.

Krang did this to him. Krang Prime to be more specific. But the bastard was gone, perhaps he left Leo to die alone in agony, to die thinking…. he failed. Failed to be the leader that everyone needed him to be. Failed to protect those who clung onto him for hope.

Failed, failed, failed.

He began closing his eyes, succumbing to the exhaustion overwhelming his mind and body. He just needs to sleep. He’ll be fine once he sleeps.

-----

Raph, Donnie and Mikey were shouting amongst themselves, coming up with ideas and plans on what to do. Unaware that Leo had already closed his eyes, no longer paying attention to them.

Mikey however was quick to notice, gasping with eyes blown wide as he stared at Leonardo’s limp and unmoving body. “Leo…?” He uttered under his breath, quickly and gently placing his tridactyl fingers against Leo’s bloody plastron as he listened for a heartbeat.

It was incredibly faint. On the brink of stopping all-together.

Mikey immediately became alarmed, shoulders trembling as he quickly tried to think of anything to save his brother. There wasn't anybody on the battlefield or nearby with the medical knowledge needed to help with something this severe. He could…he could…

He closed his eyes to ponder.

Come on Mikey! Think!

His Ninpo pulsed and surged of its own accord, and his hand that laid upon Leo’s chest began to glow. Mikey didn’t quite understand what he was doing, but it felt right. He could see, even with his eyes closed. He could see a blue light shining in the distance despite the darkness of the void he now found himself in.

Leo’s soul, he figured.

Mikey swam over to the blue ball of energy, clutching it gently but securely in his hands as he looked down at it solemnly. “You’ll be okay. I’m gonna help you out bro.” Mikey soothes, unsure if the ball of light can even hear him or be comforted. He looked around the void before curling in slightly, his transparent body glowing more in an effort to shield Leo.

He was searching for something….searching for a connection. Searching for a secure and safe space to store Leo into.

And… and he found it as he peered deeper into the darkness. It was hard to make out what it was, but Mikey felt it was the best option. The only option.

And so he glimmered brightly in concentration, the blue ball that was Leo flew out of his hands, as though he was being reeled in by an invisible fishing line, heading towards a location that Mikey charted for him with his own mystic powers.

He was going to be okay… he knew it, wherever he was going.

Mikey finally opened his eyes, blinking as his vision was blurry and distorted upon returning to the real world. “Mikey! Come on, we can still save Leo, but we gotta get out of here.” Raph exclaims, shaking his little brother's shoulder as the mutant box turtle recoiled out of surprise and stood up.

Donnie was now carrying Leo on his back. Mikey didn’t even see him move. Then again, he was preoccupied with something else. ”I can make a portal to the base.” Mikey assured, stretching out his arms as Donnie nods quickly, “Well come on! Leo’s not getting any lighter here.” He sarcastically quips, the stress eating away at Mikey as he inhales a deep breath before maneuvering his hands out in front of him.

He sweats from the exertion, but an orange portal begins to open, spreading widely enough for everyone to fit and whipping up loose pebbles and dust around their feet. Donnie was first to jump in with Leo, Raph following after and lastly Mikey jumping in, the portal closing behind them once they returned to the safety of the base.

They had arrived in one of Donnie’s labs, where the softshell pants from either exhaustion or worry, Mikey doesn't know, and immediately began taking Leo towards one of their private medbays. Leo hadn’t woken up or twitched a muscle during the whole ordeal.

”You're going to be okay Leo… just gotta patch you up again and—“ Donnie was interrupted when he almost bumped into someone, a familiar chest. Noticing who it was he was almost relieved to see them.

”Draxum. Help! Leo…h-he got hurt, badly!” Raph exclaimed, unable to hide the panic in his voice as he pleaded with the yokai who paused like he'd recently seen a ghost, and looked as though he ran here if his loud breathing and ruffled fur was anything to judge by.

Draxum stared silently at Leo. Taking in his appearance. He looked rough, still bleeding out onto the floor, his blood still visible on Mikey’s hands and Donnie’s clothes who was no doubt going to freak out about it more later.

”Come, we must stop the bleeding first.” He took charge, shaking his head to snap out of the daze he was in as he led the brothers to the med room. Donnie was quick to settle Leo’s large body onto the bed, immediately assisting Draxum as they worked together to assess and patch his wounds, clean up Leo, strip off the blue and bloodied scarf as well as the rest of his gear and wrap him in fresh bandages.

Mikey was ushered out by Raph who didn’t want him seeing the state their brother was in right now for any longer than he had to. For Raph, it was like seeing the culmination of all his failures take a physical and heartbreakingly real form, he failed to protect his brother. He remembered making a vow to Splinter years ago to always be there and protect his family from harm. And yet here Leo was, unconscious, limp, bruised and bloody all over. Raph felt like curling over into a corner and just crying. But he had to remain strong for his brothers, at least for Mikey.

Mikey on the other hand could tell what Raph was thinking when he looked up into his biggest brother's face, seeing the effort he put into holding back tears on his tight expression. He didn’t blame him one bit. Mikey himself felt similar given the circumstances.

He knew that he took Leo’s soul someplace safe before he could succumb to his injuries…but was it truly safe? Did he screw up? Did he send his older brother on a quicker route to death's door? For all he knew, that's exactly what he did.

Mikey’s lip quivered as he turned to Raph, who avoided eye contact, apparently finding the ground to be more interesting. Mikey knew Raph was just overthinking everything, he could tell because Raph’s ‘worried stink’ was particularly strong.

“Raph…” Mikey murmured, scooting close enough to softly touch his brother's arm in silent support. The snapper mutant glanced down at his youngest brother.

“He’s going to be…” Mikey halted in his sentence. As he thought about it once more. He refused to believe that Leo would die, that he could already be dead. He’s going to be okay, he WILL be okay, he needed to convince himself if he was going to help his brother.

He cleared his throat and continued in a stronger tone “Leo is going to be okay…”

Raph blinked down at him, a tense moment went by and he gave an appreciative nod, Mikey let his brother scoop him up and hold him tight as they waited.

Leonardo didn’t move or twitch a muscle as Donnie and Draxum worked in tandem together to treat his brother. And the inner turmoil was overwhelming, his brother has been seriously injured before, but these new symptoms? The utter lack of response? Leo seemed to be completely catatonic. And they don’t have any painkillers or drugs strong enough to knock out a fully grown mutant scientifically engineered to be resilient and built for war like this, so it couldn’t be those. If only Leo wasn’t the one injured, he’d surely have an inkling of what's wrong.

“He hasn’t woken up once since we brought him back, and with the amount of pain he has to be in—“ He began to run off for the needed equipment so that he could gather data and figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it, but paused when Draxum spoke up sternly.

”No. He won’t need any of that, and I have a much better place for him. Wheel him along and follow me.”

“Draxum? What do you mean?”

Draxum leaves the room, gesturing for Raph and Mikey who had been anxiously waiting outside to come with him. Donnie soon followed from behind, wheeling Leo’s medical bed out of the room with a flat expression.

The brothers share a perplexed look between each other, unsure where Draxum was taking them. The yokai himself remained quiet as he led them to his lab, further on the other side of the base that they currently resided in. Away from the prying eyes of humans and yokai alike.

Upon entering the lab, Draxum didn’t stop there. No, he ventured further over to a wall where all he did was place his hand against a brick, a hidden hand print recognition scanner appearing as it scans Draxum palm, beeping with a green light before the wall actually splits open to reveal an elevator.

”What is this? I don’t recall this being here.” Donnie voiced out, eyes narrowing in suspicion at the idea of Draxum keeping secrets from them.

“That’s because I kept it hidden. I made a hidden underground lab for myself.” Draxum only stated, striding into the large elevator that looked just big enough to fit the bed, gesturing for the others to enter as well.

Donnie wheels Leo inside, flabbergasted by his admission while Draxum waits for everyone to enter, pressing a button to close the doors as the box they were in starts descending.

”You have a hidden lab?! Since when?! How come I didn’t know about this?” Donnie interrogated, the ding of the elevator sounding off as the automated doors opened to reveal Draxum’s hidden lab.

It was big, cluttered with machinery, and the shelves were stacked with tattered and ancient-looking books. And multiple jars of experimental medicines and colourful liquids inside that had somehow survived the alien invasion were littered around the space.

Glass tanks were lined up ahead, and the brothers audibly gasped and awed at their surroundings. How was Draxum able to keep this hidden for so long without anyone, especially Donnie, finding out about it?

“Okay… we seriously need to have a talk about all of this, but what’s important right now is why did you want us to bring Leo down here? What could you have here that can help him?” Donnie tilted his head with a questioning gaze, already poking and prodding at a few of Draxum’s projects littered around his secret lab with a critical eye. Draxum showed them when he commanded Raph to pick Leo up and place him inside the first large and empty tank that he opened the glass door of, who gingerly and carefully carried his limp brother to where Draxum had gestured. Raph hesitated when he reached the glass door.

”Place him inside. We need to preserve him.”

”I’m sorry, preserve him?! He’s not dead or in some kind of coma.” Donnie hissed out, but Draxum just furrowed his brow and quietly groaned, rubbing at his temple with a clawed hand.

“Just do as I say, we don’t have the luxury of time to waste”

The three brothers share a conflicted look, but Raph eventually moves Leo inside when he meets Mikey’s trusting gaze, placing Leo down and stepping out as Draxum closes and seals the tank, turning to face a button on the side of the giant tube and pressing it. They all trust Draxum, to certain degrees.

Green liquid quickly fills the tank, Leo’s limp body rises up and floats comfortably in the unknown substance as it fills up completely. The brothers watch with a mix of emotions warring on their faces, from fear, to horror to disgust and morbid curiosity. Seeing Leo float motionless in this tube like a specimen was… strange, unsettling.

”So, you just had this laying around here for who knows how long now?” Donnie narrowed his eyes towards Draxum, who looked away and hummed in response.

“I needed more space for my…work.” He supplied eventually, glancing back at them as Raph steps forward, just as equally confused and baffled as the rest of his remaining brothers.

”What work, Drax?”

”It's…complicated.”

”Well explain the complexity of whatever it is you’ve been doing down here!”

An argument began to grow between the three with Mikey observing them from the outside, panic took control of him for a moment as he feared a potential fight could break out, given the high emotions everyone was experiencing right now.

Mikey turns his attention back to Leo’s floating body, mouth feeling dry and chest tight. He had to look away before the tears could find more incentive to fall. When he first saw Leo laying on the ground in the battlefield, it was hard not to stare. Leo had always been smiling, grinning or making jokes even in the face of danger.

But this time…

Mikey shook his head, taking his mind off it all as he decided to wander around the newly discovered underground lab that Draxum hid from them for who knows how long. Mikey wasn’t all too worried as to why Draxum kept this from them. It wasn’t like he was a villain anymore.

He softly gawked at the experimental medicine that was placed on the nearby table and shelves. Whatever was Draxum doing in here? Hiding medicine didn’t seem like it was such a big deal, especially if it was going to help the Resistance.

A sudden chill ran up Mikey’s shell, making the turtle uncontrollably shiver as he looked behind him, his eyes concentrated on the dark side of the room that didn’t seem to have any lights illuminated over there. An invisible string was tugging on Mikey to venture into the dark corner and investigate, and he did. Taking one step at a time as the abnormal feeling grew stronger and pulled him onwards.

What was it? What else did Draxum keep secret?

Mikey squinted his eyes at the shadows, noticing the outline of another tube-like tank, he placed his hand on the glass, the chilly sensation of its surface made him shiver again as he looked around for some kind of way to illuminate it. He noticed his hand was still bloody but dry from touching Leo earlier, but that didn't bother him at the moment. He crouched down slightly, finding what appeared to be a switch of sorts, flicking it up as he heard the whirring of what he guessed to be a water filter starting up.

He steps back out of surprise when the tube actually lights up, showing off what was inside… or more like who.

Mikey let out a startled yelp, stumbling backwards and landing on the floor as his brothers and Draxum rushed over to see what happened. “Mikey? What’s wrong?!” Raph interrogated, checking over his little brother who was frozen staring ahead with wide open eyes.

Donnie and Raph didn’t notice the occupied tank that was now visible to them. More focused on the wellbeing of Mikey who looked a whole new shade of green paler. He raised his finger on a shaking arm and pointed forward.

”….Leo?”

Mikey saw Draxum go stiff in his peripheral vision, who was looking ahead and imperceptibly sighed, placing a hand over his face. Furthermore looking ashamed as Raph and Donnie finally followed to where their brother was pointing, and recoiling violently at the sight they were met with.

Inside the green and bubbling liquid of the tube was a mutant turtle. Much younger than they were, somewhere in their teens if Mikey had to guess. The turtle looked like an exact replica of Leo, especially when Leo was younger.

This turtle, while resembling Leo, had only slight differences noticeable. The most notable one was that this turtle had extra stripes racing up their shoulders and stopping just a little bit under their chin, similar ones were visible on the outside of their thighs.

This turtle remained asleep, eyes closed as it floated peacefully in the tank. Raph blinked, stupefied, and turned to Draxum with wide eyes before narrowing them in anger. “Please explain what the hell we’re looking at.” He demanded, as Draxum exhales a breath he must have been holding and strolls over to the tank, his hooves clicking on the ground in the silent lab and eyes trained on the turtle in stasis.

”I created him 17 years ago. With the very real possibility that one of you four may perish. In this war, I want to take any chance that would be beneficial to us all, so he’s a backup that I created for such a scenario”.

Donnie gaped, pointing between Draxum and the turtle. “You… made another mutant? And kept it quiet for 17 years?! Do you realise how insane that is?!” He blurted out, as yet another dispute broke out.

Mikey had stood back up on his feet at some point, standing in front of the tank as he observed the new mutant in front of him. It was uncanny how much it looked a lot like Leo. Mikey placed his hand on the surface of the tube again, closing his eyes when he felt that familiar pull from earlier encouraging him.

He was back in that empty void of darkness again, looking around, floating in the air as he saw a vibrant light pulsing brightly in-front of him.

It was blue…

It was Leo. The box turtle gasps inaudibly upon realising what this could mean. He remembered when he saw Leo’s soul earlier today. He wasn’t quite sure what he did, but he remembered sending the soul away, sending it to the best and nearest vessel it could store itself safely in.

And that vessel was this 17-year-old in-stasis turtle.

This turtle is Leo.

Mikey snapped out of it all and came back to the real world, smiling widely with tears of relief in his eyes as he turned around to the arguing trio.

”Guys! Stop fighting!” He announces, but it falls upon deaf ears making him grumble as he clears his throat. Inhaling a deep breath.

”EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LISTEN!”

His voice boomed and startled the three who jerked back at his command to gape over at him. Mikey waits a moment for his nerves to calm down before spreading his arms out wide, enthusiastically. “Leo is safe and fine, guys! This turtle right here—“ He pauses and gestured to the sleeping mutant.

”It’s actually Leo!”

”Whoa, slow down Mikey. Leo is over there.” Raph corrects in confusion, tilting his head to the side as Mikey nodded but then shook his head, “Yes, he is. But, but! If you let me explain why this is Leo. You’ll believe me.” He bubbly jumps up and down as he places his hand over his plastron.

”Long story short, out on the battlefield I connected myself to find Leo’s soul. I saved him and directed his soul to be stored somewhere safer, in-case he… I stored him in another body. And this is the body that Leo’s soul is currently in!”

They all stood and stared, Donnie crossing his arms. “Angelo, have you gone mad? That’s scientifically impossible.” He scolded but before he could rant about the science behind it and how that couldn't be true, Draxum steps forward.

”But not mystically impossible.” He rectifies, placing a hand under his chin in thought, “It’s incredibly rare but not unheard of, according to legends and rumours in the past, yokai and witches and any other beings who were mystically gifted, were able to transfer a soul into a different body. It’s a tricky concept to think about and even more difficult to actually succeed in and pull it off. But if what Michaelangelo says is true…” Draxum ceases, as he looks between the sleeping mutant and back over to where Leo’s actual body was now stored.

”…then it’s possible that Leonardo is inside this body. Serving him as a vessel of sorts.”

Raph and Donnie remained quiet, taking into account what was said. They were always learning more about the mystic side of the world, relying on their knowledge of Ninpo and what Draxum had been teaching them. Sometimes the yokai that were still around and aiding the Resistance would inform them of legends and rumours and even showcasing whatever mystic abilities they had to offer in the war against Krang.

The mystic world was vast and they were only still scratching the surface of it all. So, this whole soul being transferred into a new body wasn’t… entirely surprising if it could be explained via mysticism.

”Why isn’t Leo waking up, then?” Raph mumbled sadly, his attention back on the younger mutant. “He’s been like this for years. Only a few times he’s opened his eyes. Earlier today, just before I found you all he had opened his eyes again. With this soul transfer, it could possibly take a few weeks at best for him to properly wake up.” Draxum explained the statistics of the reason. Donnie clicked his tongue, finding all this hard to process and incredibly difficult to even accept.

”I’m going to my lab.” Was all he said, storming off as Raph watched on in concern.

“I’ll… go make sure he’s okay.” Raph adds, awkwardly leaving in a hurry and going after Donnie. Mikey remained where he was, observing the new body his oldest brother was now residing in.

”He’ll be fine. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” Draxum assures, placing a gentle hand on Mikey’s shoulder as the box turtle mutant nods. “Can…can I visit him?” He asks shyly, earning a surprised noise from Draxum who seemed to think it over a little before he nodded in tentative agreement.

“Yes, you can visit. In return, I would like to continue your mystic training again soon. I know that you are already incredibly powerful as you are now. But from what you’ve told us, you seem to have more untapped potential within you. It would be wise to learn more about it”

Mikey smiled up at his second dad appreciatively “Deal” He agreed, he turned back to his hand that was still resting on the tanks cool surface.

”Wake up soon, Leo.”

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

THIS IS ACTUALLY A VERY FUN STORY TO WRITE GUYS! Like I’m already getting fanart, got myself a beta reader. Life do be good!

APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE PRETTY FAST AND OFTEN DON’T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER. THEN I’D TRY AND FIX ANY MISTAKES WHEN I SEE ONE.

Quotev - Do I Look Like Him?

Ao3 - Do I Look Like Him?

Taglist:

@turtl3sk3tch3s

[buckley-diaztruther]

hope you dont mind me adding to your fucking genius

my feelings on ramon diaz are this: he has no idea how to be a father. he isn't even really sure how to be a husband but he's trying to figure it out now that he's finally home and retired.

from what I can see, Ramon was far less the super strict militant father that we see more often (think John Winchester). Instead, I think that ramon was just straight up absent. physically, emotionally, mentally. he had no desire to be there. and so he enlisted his son to do it all instead. and then when said child fell short to the task it pulled the unwilling ramon back into this reality of fatherhood that he wanted to avoid and so he lashes out.

hes not the dad who stands over your shoulder and corrects your posture or watches you for any one wrong move. that would require being there to see it. instead he's the father that keeps his distance until he absolutely can't anymore, and he punishes eddie every time it happens. because eddie is the eldest, the son, the one who is supposed to hold it all together in ramon's absence. and he does it all leading by example of what a man SHOULD look like. it's the machismo, the toxic masculinity demanding that as a man you can only be two things - stone cold stoic or raging mad, and the anger must always be displayed with the furious pride of a man protecting what is his - his family, his reputation, his job. but he must never, ever let himself feel anything about it all beyond that anger because anything else is weakness.

he does this, he shows this, and he says this in the few times he ever actually has to interact with his son in any real way.

its only now that ramon is retired and without an escape that he has to learn to change. Eddie's visit and their conversation was a huge eye-opening moment for ramon, but the thing is he still has no clue what the fuck he's looking at.

he knows he has a wife that he failed, and so he makes up for it by being her unwavering support. he has a son that said 'ive tried so hard to avoid ever becoming like you' and so he projects how own fuck ups onto his child because he thinks 'this is how I can help. this is what helped me fix the bond with my son, surely it must work here'.

but nothing for Eddie and ramon is fixed. It's better, but it's also not healed. it's just kind of glossed over as "ah yes those were the bad days" with no actual understanding of why. no understanding that just because eddie was the one to take the first step towards healing them, that doesn't mean it was right. that should never have been eddies responsibility and it shouldn't be Chris's either.

but ramon doesn't realize that he's still doing it. he's physically present, but he's still refusing to actually see and engage and act. he's just counting on helena (and in his mind, christopher) to run the show the same way he counted on her and eddie in the past.

ramon diaz isnt better than helena just because he's sort of trying. but he has the potential to be, if he ever gets his head out of his ass and looks at the world and eddie with his own eyes for once

I'm seeing so many anti Helena posts on my dash and it's awesome, keep it up you guys, but I think we should start anti-Ramon posting too. Like, I'm sorry, but he's just as bad. And just because he's less clumsy about it - going after Eddie to "support" him - doesn't mean he isn't just as complicit in this rift between Eddie and Chris.

He told Eddie to give Chris time. That Chris will come around. "Like Eddie did." Completely ignoring that a) Eddie only came around because he wanted to stop being angry ("for myself"), not because Ramon redeemed himself, and b) Eddie has been giving Chris time. Months of time.

So maybe it's time to stop being passive. It's time to talk to Chris. It's time to have that heart to heart. Telling Eddie not to do that ensures that Eddie stays well away from Chris, in the same way that Helena keeping the PS5 does.

At the end of the episode, Eddie stops following Ramon's advice (to follow Buck's instead) and wouldn't you know it? It works!

In conclusion: Ramon sucks just as much as Helena does, and you will never make me like the Diaz parents.

[sonicexelle-junkary]

For the record, I know you didn't explicitly say "Sonic killed Tails in Hungry Hero"

https://www.tumblr.com/sonicexelle-junkary/779203408255156224/i-think-the-hungry-hero-au-would-work-really-well

It's just that your response is worded...a bit deceptively?

Shadow is the one who killed Tails. There's not a moment of weakness for Sonic there. What happened is that Shadow decided to kill Sonic, and in the process ended up killing Tails.

It's not Sonic's fault his best friend/important person died. It was Shadow's. Sonic may blame himself, since Tails stepped in and he'd potentially think none of that would have happened if he hadn't become a cannibal to begin with. But if it's anyone's "moment of weakness", it's Shadow's, for deciding to become judge, jury, and executioner and killing an innocent in the process.

Sorry I just wanted to say that😅

I get what you’re saying bout that, I did word that a bit weirdly. I woke up like an hour before then so apologies for that.

BUT I’d argue that it’s more or less both of their faults. Shadow instigated the fight, but Sonic got too overzealous and careless. He assumed Shadow would take the hit—or at least try and reflect or block it in some way. He didn’t think he’d dodge when there was someone behind him. At least, that’s how I intended it to be taken.

Admittedly I drew Shadow a bit out of character at the end of that act, but it doesn’t bother me that much to go change it, nor do I want to redo an au that has already been redone once before. Shadow has his own way of doing things, but even he wouldn’t really do something like that. Trust me though, I am going to mess with the both of them for what happened to Tails. Sonic is not the only one messed up by this accident.

[roman-o-cheese]

And suddenly I’m thinking about you again

[casualavocados]

You've never done that when I got close to you before. Why? None of your business. Tell me, or you can't leave.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 10

[the-au-collector]

Thanks for the tag!

1. How many works on AO3? 42

2. Total AO3 word count? 125,204

3. Top 5 fics by kudos:

The Song From The Sea: The sequel to Cupcakes for Harmony where Legend gets his daughter back. I believe this is my second-oldest fic on AO3 so I'm not surprised it's my top one.

Memories of Home: Legend is homesick and the Chain comforts him. One of the oldest LU fics I wrote, from back when I was just a lurker in the fandom.

Poor Rabbit Heart, Please Slow Down (You're Okay): In which I give Legend a laundry list of fears because I love making Legend cry. Part of my Sicktember 2024.

Cupcakes For Harmony: Legend had a daughter on Koholint. Unfortunately, she disappeared with Koholint. And the first fic I ever posted on AO3!

Warmth: Legend's arthritis flares up and Warriors helps. Part of Sicktember 2024.

4. What fandoms do you write for? Linked Universe... minus that ONE Promised Neverland fic I have posted. I also write Kingdom Hearts and Tales of the Abyss fic, but nothing is posted for either of those yet because they're all really long longfics.

5. Do you respond to comments? I really should, but I don't do it very much. I don't quite know what to say 😭

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: At the moment, it's Accepting Fate. I meant to finish it during Febuwhump but that unfortunately never happened because life got in the way. So, uh, it kind of ends with Legend nearly being killed by the Shadow? I meant for it to have a second chapter where Time and Legend talk it out, but that never happened so alas. Legend is stuck in unconscious hell.

7. Fic with the happiest ending: A lot of what I write is fluff so they all have quite happy endings. I guess the fluffiest ones right now are A Great Birthday, Crud We're Sick, Taking Care of a Legend, And There Was Only One Bed, and Proposal Under the Stars. (I'm sorry I couldn't choose which one was fluffier)

8. Do you get hate? Nope.

9. Do you write smut? I do not and probably won't ever.

10. Do you write crossovers? No. ... Unless you count Kingdom Hearts (which is in itself a disney x final fantasy crossover)

11. Ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? I have not.

14. All-time favorite ship? I'm usually a multishipper but Ravioli for LU, Aschtalia for Tales of the Abyss, and Venkai for KH are almost always endgame in whatever I write for their respective fandoms.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I am so sorry to the fans of this fic but Enter, King. I love King as a character and I love the whole premise of adding a godawful amount of Links to the chain but I've written myself into a corner with this fic specifically (I do hope to touch the series again one day though, my brain comes back to it and its alternate-series The Second Chain AU relatively often). I hope to finish it one day but every time I look at it I cringe and think "I should have planned this out more"

16. Writing strengths? I've been told that I'm good at character interactions and pacing

17. Writing weaknesses? I've taken a hard curve away from describing characters... which is unfortunate because I have very vivid mental images but I have no clue how to describe them in a way that flows well in my stories.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? Idk. As a writer, it's a bit difficult to get it right, but I've never really used in in my fics. In my original works, I only sprinkle in a word or two of the fictional languages I've made up so eh. No thoughts. Brain empty.

19. First fandom you wrote for? I believe it was the Lion King? If not, Kingdom Hearts (I've been wriitng fic for KH for over 10 years. Thankfully none of it has seen the light of day)

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? Posted? It's between Cupcakes for Harmony (the series) and Sometimes It Takes Death To Make The Truth Come To Light (it is my magnum opus of Sicktember). Not posted? Reconnect the Chain. That thing will be eating my brain until I finish it.

No pressure tags! @poposusz @vicmillen @twink-between-worlds @lunaopus @hotcheetohatredwastaken @seaotter-17 + whoever wants to join!

Tagged by the wonderful @zarvasace

1. How many works on AO3? 8!

2. Total AO3 word count? 132k Which is, uh, more than 10k a month. How did I manage that?

3. Top 5 fics by kudos:

Two Moon Pearls and the Master Sword the chain gatecrash Legend's first quest. Honestly, I'll be surprised if this is ever surpassed. It's my oldest, but also it's a good combination in terms of length, accessibility, and story I think.

Ocarina, Oracle Sequel to the above! The chain gatecrash OoA and OoT. There's a pipeline from people reading Moon Pearls to reading this nowadays. It'll be interesting to see how it goes, it is a longer read after all.

Mandatory Puppy Pile The funniest and shortest fic I have. This was second place after Moon Pearls for a long, long time. We love wolfbrain Twi.

Reasonable Assumptions The little fic that could. This came out after Moon Pearls and it's always done... fine. It's not the funniest, or best, or angstiest or most anything else of anything I've done, but it chugs along. Hyrule, Legend and Wild meet in Hyrule's era. None of them realise time travel has occurred.

Requiem of the Wind Ghost ship and space whales. 8.5k Wind centric one shot. I feel like this one is very me lmao. I like it! It'd be nice if it got more attention. I reckon Fortuity is going to overtake it though.

4. What fandoms do you write for? Zelda/LU exclusively at the moment

5. Do you respond to comments? Yep, all of them. The authors that influenced me tended to do it, so it just seemed the normal thing to do.

6. Fic with the angstiest ending: Hero of Hyrule The fic people skip, presumably because it's dark. I wouldn't say it's an unhappy ending though.

7. Fic with the happiest ending: Fortuity Shot story, happy ending, and co-author who would happily write the fluff for me <3

8. Do you get hate? Nah. Shout out to the bookmark that called OcaOra a solid 7/10 for being complicated and not as emotional as preferred though LMAO

9. Do you write smut? I have not written fic smut 😐

10. Do you write crossovers? Nope

11. Ever had a fic stolen? Nope, not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope again!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic? @whitewinterstar and I wrote Fortuity together! It was a fun time <3

14. All-time favorite ship? I'm not much of a shipper to be perfectly honest! 'All time' is a big ask too!

Uhh, I loved Nagisa and Tomoya in Clannad After Story.

15. WIPs you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Ha haaa... I'm gonna work on Completionist again one day, really I am.

16. Writing strengths? APPARENTLY PACING??? I've had several people complement this recently so huh. Dialogue, characterisation, having a couple of genres going at once.

17. Writing weaknesses? Painting a picture of the setting, generally setting the environment, fights probably, too much telling and not enough showing sometimes.

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialogue? I don't really have thoughts on mixed language dialogue. 🤷‍♀️ Maybe I should get some.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Technically I have a single Naruto one shot out there...

20. Favorite fic you've ever written? Two Moon Pearls and the Master Sword will always be my baby.

Tagging: @needfantasticstories @nyastri @not-freyja @zolanort @somer-writes

[shalomniscient]

natlan 5.1 was batshit insane but i won't deny cookery when i see it. last 1/3 of the archon quest is just brilliantly done in my opinion, from writing to level design to soundtrack. just genuine excellence

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)