#WHO ARE YOU TO TREAT HIM LIKE THIS. AFTER WHAT HE'S BEEN THROUGH.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Rain is Especially Loud Tonight

Synopsis: The Prefect gets hurt due to Crowley's negligence.

TW: Injury, Stitches, Medical Stuff, Prefect gets caught under a collapsed Ramshackle

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (coming soon)

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The room would be completely silent were it not for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The environment was more comfortable than your usual medical setting, but it still felt cold in a way.

The door creaked open and in stepped professor Crewel. "Hey, Pup." His voice lacked its usual stern tone one would hear in the classroom; instead, his voice was gentle and almost hoarse.

The hoarseness was no doubt a result of him screaming at the headmage in a roar you shiver even recalling. He had spent hours tearing into the man for his gross negligence and irresponsibility.

"Pup?" His voice became more worried when you failed to answer.

"Sorry." A meek, rasped voice leaves you throat. Your throat burns with dryness despite the 6 glasses of water you already drank, and it feels like every syllable echoes through your head and causes an intense, throbbing pain. You don't recognize the voice that claws its way out of your throat as your own.

You hear the soft scrape of a chair on the floor next to your bed. "No. Don't apologize, Pup." Rocking your gaze slowly over to him its clear to you, with the way his jaw clenches and unclenches while his eyes search the blanket covering you, that he wants to say something, but isn't sure what.

You slowly rock your head to look forward again. "Everyone's been in such a panic. . .and it's my fault, I-"

The man cuts you off as you choke on your words: "Pup. This is not your fault."

"But-" Your throat feels like its been given a massage with a thousand razor blades. The coughing your attempts to speak cause only make the pain worse.

Crewel quickly grabs another glass of water and holds it up to your lips for you to drink. "But nothing, Pup- Keep those arms down or you'll re-open the wounds. That old building was bound to collapse at some point. We all knew it. If the fault is on anyone it's on us staff. Crowley made you stay there, and we didn't stop him." The glass cup clinks slightly too harshly onto the nightstand as he sets it down.

Silence falls between the two of you.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The ticking of the clock numbs your thoughts. You force your mind to stop focusing on the pain radiating from every inch of your body and instead listen to the steady ticking of the clock. The only other sound that can be herd is the occasional hurried footsteps outside the door as the other staff do their best to take care of the situation.

Your injuries have already been treated by a specialty team sent from STYX the moment the news got to them. They were the only ones aside from Grim, Leona, and the staff that had seen your mangled form before you were wrapped up like a mummy. You didn't have to ask how bad it was. Seeing Crowley throw up at the sight of you was enough to tell you it was bad.

The STYX team had spent nearly a whole 24 hours stitching you back together like some ragdoll and rearranging the many pieces of you that had been ripped and jostled out of place. If not for them. . .well, you don't want to think about it. If you looked like a mummy on the outside, you were sure that under the bandages you looked like Frankenstein's monster. There really wasn't a single bit of you that got out of that death trap unscathed.

You were kept in the school infirmary instead of being carted off to some high-tech STYX facility only because they needed to operate on you as soon as possible and didn't want to move you too much after the initial procedures. They made do by shipping a ton (literally speaking, more like 3 tons) of medical equipment to the school, most of which was now littered around the infirmary in a rushed yet professional way.

Despite your closeness to your friends, the only people who had come to see you were the staff. It's not that none of your friends wanted to see you, but that they weren't allowed to. The doctor's worried having them in so soon, when they were still full of hysteria from the news, wouldn't be the best idea. They weren't able to text you either as your phone had been crushed in the collapse.

"How's Grim?"

Professor Crewel hums: "Physically, he's pretty unscathed. He just has a few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, he's a bit traumatized."

You supposed that made sense. You didn't remember much, but what you did remember was Grim's voice. He had been returning to the dorm from after school detention when he found the building in shambles on the ground. He called out to you but your lungs were filled with debris and your torso was being crushed by layers of rubble. The dorm ghosts met Grim at the edge of the junk pile that used to be a dorm and confirmed that you were inside and that you needed help. The ghosts talked to you as you laid there, not being able to physically move anything off you themselves. They kept you awake and assured you that Grim was getting help.

Not long later you heard shouting. Two of the ghosts stayed with you while the third went out to meet the staff and fill them in. You were told after the fact that that's about the time they called up Leona to use his unique magic so they could get you out as soon as possible (that was the first time many saw the lion run).

You were blanking in and out of consciousness when they found you, but you remember them finding you. The feeling of the weight of the rubble lessening as it was methodically turned to sand and removed (in order to not end up crushing you with sand instead), the small grains dripping on your face, and eventually, the full force of the pouring rain battering your face as the last of the rubble was removed from above you. You remember Leona's manic eyes turning horrified, Crowley puking, and worst of all, Grim's face.

"STYX sent over a few trauma counselors. There are ones assigned specifically to Leona and Grim as well since they saw some of the worst of it." Crewel finally broke the silence again.

"And you? You and. . .the other teachers were there too. . .and Sam."

"Calm down, Pup. We've all had evaluations done to assess how we're handling it. We'll be fine.

"What about. . ." Your voice trails off, but from the look in your eyes, Crewel can tell what you were about to ask.

"What about the headmage?"

You nod, wincing slightly when the motion disturbs an injury on your neck.

"He's under investigation." Crewel responds after a brief pause. He knew that you surely couldn't be all that fond of the crow, but as you saw it, he was probably also your only ticket home. Crewel looked up to gauge your response, but your face remained neutral.

"And you, Pup? I obviously know you aren't doing particularly well physically right now, but what about mentally?"

"Hm?"

Crewel hesitated, not wanting to dig around in a mental wound and make it worse, "You were. . .under there for a while. I'm sure it must've been. . .scary."

You think for a moment before responding: "Was I really under there that long? It didn't feel like it. . .I think I passed out a few times." Your mumbled words put Crewel at ease in a way. He's not happy that you had been passing out, but he was at least glad that you weren't stuck under there fully conscious and feeling every second tick by as if it were an hour.

"Hmm. I see." Crewel nods. "I ought to let you rest now. A counselor will stop by tomorrow to talk to you about what happened." He stands up as he says this, his knuckles still white from how tightly he'd been gripping the fabric of his pants. "Rest well, Pup."

You simply nod, this time more carefully as to not disturb your wounds, and watch him walk out. When the door closes you swear you hear a choked sob.

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[v6quewrlds]

DOCTOR'S ORDERS, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀9.6k.

summary⠀⁎⠀between petty fights and an abnormal level of clinginess, you're at your wit's end with joe's recent behavior. who would've known that ja'marr could crack the code before you?

author's note⠀⁎⠀combined a couple of different requests into one. collection of scenes more than a real plot? struggled with the smut so pls forgive me if it sucks. i have zero medical training, pls don't yell at me. warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, established relationship, married couple fights, one (1) communism joke, joe can't shut up when he's in love syndrome, teasing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), joey talks you through it <3

Slumped shoulders and tired sighs filled the still air of their Cincinnati home as you and Joe crossed the threshold just ten minutes apart. Words remained limited to the necessary as you greeted each other for the first time that evening, the clock hanging over the front door reading 6:45 PM. The crisp smell of antiseptic and hand sanitizer mingled with the lingering scent of Joe's familiar deodorant and cologne.

You padded down the hallway to your room, heels in hand, eager to shed your work clothes and scrub the clinical office off your skin. You hadn't seen Joe in what felt like days, your paths only crossing at night, a brief intermission in your chaotic schedules. Between your patients and his training, the time you had together was a blur of tired half-sentences and fleeting kisses.

Mindlessly, you stripped out of your white coat and knee-length dress, tossing them onto the chair by the door. The sound of the fabric hitting the wood was a welcome release of the day's tension. You stepped into the bathroom and turned the shower knob, letting the water heat up. You heard Joe's footsteps approaching, the soft thud of his sock-covered feet entering your bedroom.

You lathered away at your brown skin, softly humming a tune that had been stuck in your head all day. The warm water cascaded over you, the steam wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. Suddenly, the bathroom door creaked open, and Joe's large frame filled the doorway. You paid him no attention, assuming he was just checking in before heading back to the bedroom to answer some emails, settle into bed, and mentally prepare himself for his media obligations tomorrow afternoon.

To your surprise, Joe didn't retreat. He stepped closer to the shower, his blue eyes squinting at you through the foggy glass, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "I need a shower too, babe. Can you hurry?" he said, his voice tinged with annoyance.

You rolled your eyes, holding back before answering him. "I had a full schedule today," you retorted, your voice echoing off the tiles. "You got home before me. Did you not get one in at the facility?"

Joe leaned against the sink, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "No, I wanted to shower at home." He tried to play it cool, but the hint of irritation in his voice was unmistakable. It was one of his rare flaws, the inability to hide his emotions when it came to inconveniences.

You reached for your exfoliating sponge, the sweet scent of your body scrub filling the small space. "Baby," you began, your voice firm yet tired. "I'm almost done. You could've used one of the other bathrooms."

Joe's sigh grew heavier, the frustration in his eyes evident. "It's not the same, all my stuff is in here," he said, his voice tight. "Why are you taking so long? Just hurry up."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of annoyance flicker within you. You had been looking forward to this shower, the one thing you could control after a long day of treating patients and navigating the chaos of your new practice. "Joe, I’ve been seeing patients all day. Can't you wait five more minutes?" you snapped, your voice bouncing off the shower walls.

He stepped closer, his expression unyielding. "Five minutes turns into ten, turns into twenty," he said, his voice flat. "I'm exhausted, babe. I just want to get clean."

You felt a twinge of guilt, but you stood your ground. "I've been looking forward to this shower all day," you said, your voice a mix of frustration and weariness. "You could've just told me you needed to get in first."

Joe grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, pacing for a minute before yanking off his clothes. You felt the cooler air of the bathroom flood the shower before you realized what he was doing. You squealed as Joe stepped in behind you, large hands reaching for your shampoo as if disregarding your personal space.

"Joey," you whined, your pout deepening as the shower suddenly felt much smaller. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, ignoring the tone of your voice to deliver a straightforward answer. "What does it look like? We're sharing."

The initial shock gave way to a playful scoff from you as you turned to face him, your eyes glinting with amusement despite your earlier irritation. "You're serious?"

Joe nodded, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he squeezed past you to stand under the water. "Deadly," he said, "If you’re good, I might even scrub your back for you."

You rolled your eyes, gently nudging him away from the direct shower of the steamy water. "You can’t hijack my shower, Joe. That’s not how this works," you said with a huff.

Joe chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he stepped closer to you, the water now spraying you both. "I'm not hijacking, I'm sharing," he said, his hands reaching for your very expensive, tropical-scented shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into his large, open palm. "Like we learned in preschool?"

You didn't respond, choosing instead to focus on scrubbing your extended arms. You felt Joe's amused chuckle reverberate through his chest as he lathered his hair, the suds cascading over his shoulders and down his torso.

Sensing your irritation, Joe reached over you to nudge the temperature valve. The once warm embrace of water turned frigid, causing you to jump and shriek. "Joseph!" you yelped, trying to avoid the icy spray. You took a step back, your back meeting the solid wall of Joe's broad chest as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, the water temperature now to his liking.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with feigned innocence. "Just how I like it." He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as the cold water continued to assault your skin. You squirmed in his grasp, the shock of the cold water fading into a laugh as you realized the futility of fighting him on this.

"Joe," you squealed, your laughter mixing with the sound of the water, "turn it back!" Your attempts to escape his grip only made you laugh harder as he held you firmly, his deep laughter vibrating against your back. You attempted to get a hand on the valve but your movement was cut short by Joe's larger hand gently swatting yours away.

"Come on, it's good for your skin," his deep voice rumbled in your ear. You shivered and tried to push him away, but he was too strong. The cold water continued to pummel them, and you felt your body tighten with the shock of it. "You should know better, doc," he quipped, his breath warm against your neck.

Your tense laughter subsided into a whine. "Joey, please," you begged, your teeth chattering slightly. "It's too cold. You're ruining my shower."

"Your shower?" Joe echoed, his tone incredulous. "This is our shower now."

You couldn't help but laugh despite yourself, the absurdity of the situation bringing a smile to your lips. You leaned back into him, your body beginning to warm again as the chill dissipated. His arms tightened around you as the water washed away the last of the soap. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the sound of the water the only thing breaking up the quiet.

"Alright, Comrade Burrow, let go of me," you said, your voice filled with mock irritation. Joe's arms loosened, allowing you to twist the valve back to a warmer temperature. The lukewarm water washed over you, and you turned to face him, your eyes dancing with playful anger.

"That's strike two," you muttered, a hand settling against his jaw as you pulled him down for a chaste kiss, leaving his skin tingling with a bite at his pink bottom lip.

Joe raised an eyebrow, chasing your lips as you pulled away and turned back around. "Strike two?"

You nodded, your eyes still closed, as you enjoyed the warm water cascading over you. "First, you try to bully me out of my shower, then you try to freeze me to death. You're on thin ice, babe."

Joe leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll warm you right up," he whispered, his hands skimming over your wet body.

"That's strike three, I'm leaving." You giggled, pushing Joe's hands away with a gentle smack. You stepped out of the shower, your skin glistening with water droplets. Joe stepped aside, the playfulness in his eyes never fading as he watched you wrap a towel around yourself. You grabbed another for him, tossing it onto the vanity counter before exiting the bathroom.

Joe stepped out behind you, long limbs leaving a puddle on the gray mat beneath his feet. He wrapped the towel around his waist, his skin still slightly red from the cold water. "You're cute when you're mad," he said, his voice teasing.

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you couldn't hold back. "I'm not mad," you replied, walking over to your side of the sink to start your nightly skincare routine. "Just disappointed."

Joe stepped closer to you, the warmth of his body contrasting the coolness of the bathroom air. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as he peered at your reflection in the mirror. "How can you be disappointed with this?" he asked, his voice playful as he gestured to your reflection.

Your hand paused mid toner application, and you couldn't help but smile. "It's the principle," you said, turning your attention back to your routine. You felt Joe's warm breath against your neck as he leaned closer, his arms tightening around your waist.

"Well, the principle is that we both needed showers, and we're both tired," Joe said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Let's just get ready for bed before we start arguing over stupid shit again."

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly. You finished your skincare routine, your movements precise and methodical, while Joe brushed his teeth with a hint of minty toothpaste wafting through the air. Joe finished drying off, forgoing a trip to his closet for a pair of sweatpants, and simply heading off to bed.

You set off for the closet, swapping your towel for Joe's raggedy Athens Bulldogs long-sleeve and a pair of his boxers. The fabric of his shirt was well-worn and smelled faintly of his scent. You couldn't help the shy flutter of your heart as you emerged to find him sprawled out underneath your sheets, taking up a good deal of space. The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over Joe's muscular form. His bare chest peeked out from beneath the line of the sheets covering his lower half. He held his phone in one hand, the other arm bent behind his head as he scrolled through his notifications with a trademark unimpressed expression.

You approached the bed, sliding under the covers with a dramatic sigh, your body heat immediately melding with his. As if second nature, Joe's arm curled around your waist, his free hand coming to rest on your lower back, your head finding its usual spot on his firm chest. The two of you lay there in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional buzz of his phone. Your eyes drifted shut, the warmth and safety of Joe's arms around you acting as a sedative after a grueling day.

"Love you," he hummed, placing his phone on the nightstand before switching the bedside lamp off. The sudden darkness enveloped them, and you felt Joe's chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath. You knew he was waiting for your response, but you remained silent, fighting off the twitch of a smirk.

He nudged you, a hint of urgency in his voice, "You gonna say it back?"

You pretended to be asleep, your body relaxed and limp against him, enjoying the quiet after the shower squabble. You felt his grip on you tighten slightly, a silent protest to your silence. With a dramatic sigh, you opened your eyes and propped yourself up on your elbow, the moonlight from your bedroom window highlighting the mischief in your gaze. "You really expect me to after you ruined my relaxing evening?"

Joe rolled his eyes, but the tension in his body dissipated as he couldn't help but smile at your feigned indignation. "I love you," he repeated, his voice softer this time.

You leaned in, your fingertips tracing his strong jaw as you whispered, "I love you too," before leaning in to kiss him softly. Your kiss held the promise of warmth and comfort, a silent apology for your earlier squabble. As you parted, Joe's eyes searched yours in the dim light, looking for any lingering traces of irritation. Finding none, his features softened, and he pulled you closer, soothing the two of you into your familiar embrace. His hand moved from your ass to your lower back, rubbing in slow, comforting circles as you slipped into slumber.

Your schedules left little time for cuddly nights like those as the season pushed forward. Between your full work weeks and Joe's demanding training and game days, your time together had melted into an afterthought. The occasional dinner date had turned into a rare luxury, and your once-nightly pillow talks had been replaced by quiet grumbling about who forgot to take out the trash or who left their keys scattered around the house.

The world only seemed to grace you with a few fleeting moments on Sundays when the Bengals played at home. Though you wouldn't see Joe until after the game, sharing him with his parents for a few hours before you all retired to bed, you always looked forward to Sunday evenings. It was the one day you could count on for a decent stretch of time together. This weekend, however, had been particularly testy on both your nerves.

Joe's parents, Robin and Jimmy, were staying over before making the trip back home the following morning. You and Robin fluttered between the living room and the kitchen, chatting about the game as you prepared dinner together. Jimmy sat in his designated Lazyboy, nodding along to your conversation, occasionally throwing in a comment about in his southern cadence so similar to Joe's. The house was filled with the comforting scent of dinner cooking and the first pumpkin pie of the fall baking.

You could feel your nerves frazzle every time you came within Joe's grasp. His constant touches, though affectionate, felt suffocating today. You needed space, but he seemed to need you more than ever. Each time he grabbed you, you'd give him a look that was half-playful, half-exasperated, but he remained oblivious, his attention not quite turning away from the conversations at hand.

Finally, Robin spoke up, her voice carrying a hint of teasing. "Joey, let the poor girl breathe," she said, gaining a chuckle from Jimmy.

Joe looked up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at his mother's words. "What do you mean?" he asked, adjusting his grip on your waist as he pulled you closer to his chest protectively.

You couldn't hold back your laugh. "Sweetheart," you said, your voice light with affection. "You're smothering me today."

Joe met your eye, jaw set with tension. "I just want to spend time with you," he murmured, his voice thick with a hint of defensiveness. His hand remained firmly on your waist, his thumb idly tracing circles against the fabric of your crewneck.

Your smile softened, and your eyes searched his. You knew he was just feeling the weight of your different lives. "I know," you said gently. "But you're being a little clingy."

Robin looked up from the salad she was tossing, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "It's okay to let her go, Joey," she said. "You guys need to learn to live without each other a little."

You shot her a grateful look, which Joe returned with a glower. "You're one to talk," he said, his voice tight. "You and Dad have been joined at the hip for what, thirty years?"

Robin chuckled, setting the salad bowl down on the kitchen island. "That's different," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "You two are still in the 'can't keep your hands to yourselves' phase of being together. It's adorable, really."

Jimmy coughed out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Your mother's right," he said, his gaze flicking from you to Joe. "You're both young, and busy. If you're serious about staying together, you need to find a balance of affection that works."

Joe's grip tightened, and you felt the beginnings of a petty protest brewing. "I just want to spend time with you," he grumbled into your ear, his voice a mix of annoyance and longing. "Barely see each other these days."

"I know, babe," you said, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm. "Just give me a few minutes to breathe, okay?" You gave him a warm smile, hoping it conveyed your love without patronizing his feelings.

Joe hesitated, pouting like a scolded puppy.

"Actually, sweetheart, do you mind taking a look at this?" Robin said, holding up her hand to reveal the beginnings of a scar running along her forearm. "It's been a week since I got it, and it's not healing right."

Your gaze shifted from Joe's sulky expression to Robin's arm. "Sure," you said, your professional instincts kicking in. You stepped out of Joe's embrace, following Robin to the bathroom. You could hear Joe grumble something under his breath as you closed the door behind you.

In the well-lit bathroom, you washed your hands before reaching out to take Robin's arm in your hand. "It does look a bit red," you said, your voice concerned. "How did you get it?"

"Tripped over a box at the garage sale," Robin said with a shrug, her tone airy. "Thought it was nothing, but it's still bothering me."

You continued scrutinizing the scar. "It's definitely inflamed," you said, your voice even. "I might need to write you a script for some antibiotics."

"Oh, no need," Robin said, her voice bright. "I got this checked out on Friday. I just wanted to hear your opinion and get you some space from Joe."

Your eyes widened as realization dawned on you. You couldn't help but laugh. "He's gonna kill me," you said, shaking your head. "But thank you, I needed a breather."

Robin chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "You guys are going to be okay," she assured you, giving you a comforting pat on the arm. "You just need to remember to make time for each other, and communicate when you need space better. Like Jimmy was saying, you need to find a good balance. I wouldn't want you two to be miserable over communication."

You nodded, your eyes lingering on the scar, which you knew was fine. The whole thing had been a clever ruse, but it had given you the break you needed. "We've been at each other's throats the last week. He just wants to be with me, but he can be..." you trailed off with a sigh.

Robin leaned closer, her expression understanding. "A little too determined?" she offered.

You nodded, unable to hold back a chuckle. "Yeah, that's one way to put it. But I love him, and I know he just misses me. I feel awful asking for space when he's so obviously trying to reconnect."

Robin squeezed your arm. "You're not asking for the moon, honey. Sometimes, Joe just needs a nudge to understand. You two are both stubborn as hell, but that's what makes you work. You understand him." She smiled softly before adding, "Just be upfront with him. Tell him you appreciate the affection, but you need some breathing room."

You nodded, taking Robin's advice to heart as you returned to the kitchen. You could see Joe sulking on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of the argument's resolution. You felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was just craving your attention. You gave him a warm smile and took a seat beside him, your legs curling under you.

"Better?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"Much," you assured him, leaning into his side. You knew that Joe's clinginess was just his way of dealing with the distance your hectic schedules had forced between you. "Your mom just needs antibiotics for that scar," you said, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

Joe looked up from his phone, his expression unchanged. "Oh," he said, his voice devoid of interest, choosing instead to allow you to pull his arm around your shoulders. A sly smile tugged at his lips, he couldn't help but feel the tension in his chest ease slightly.

Your office buzzed with the steady rhythm of a busy clinic, the murmur of patients, and the tap of your heels against the linoleum punctuating the air. You stood at a long counter, finishing up your notes, when one of your nurses, Luca, looked up from where he was entering data into a computer. "Joe's here," he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"Where?" you responded, your focus still on the paperwork you were filling out.

"In room four. He said he had an appointment," Luca replied, raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes darted up, a mix of surprise and confusion. "Appointment?" you murmured, setting your pen down and looking at Luca. "Was he on my schedule?" you trailed off, reaching for one of the stray iPads kept around the office to take a look at the day's appointments.

"Well, no. But your 2:45 was a no-show," Luca explained, his smile widening as he leaned back in his chair. "Taylor did his rooming and said it was something simple, probably just a sunburn."

You couldn't help but laugh, your heart warming at the thought of Joe sneaking in for a visit under the guise of needing medical attention. It had been weeks since you had any real quality time together, with his football schedule colliding with your busy clinic hours. You shook your head as you closed the manila folder you were holding. "Alright, I'll go see what Mr. Franchise needs," you said, your tone playfully sarcastic as you handed Luca the folder and pushed away from the counter.

Walking into the exam room, you saw Joe sitting comfortably wide in the light blue exam chair. He looked up when you entered, a familiar spark entering his eyes when he took in the sight of you. "Hey," he said, his voice low and a little shy.

"Hey yourself," you responded, your smile genuine despite your initial surprise. You set your iPad down, sitting cross-legged in your chair just a few feet away from him. "What's this about?" you inquired, your gaze traveling over his face and exposed limbs for any hint of the irritation that had allegedly brought him into the practice.

Joe shifted, his eyes avoiding yours for a brief moment before meeting them again. "Well, it's…it's my neck," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly. "My skin's been bothering me for a couple of days."

Your smile grew softer as you stood from your chair, walking over to inspect the area. "You know, I've told you before," you said gently, your voice professional despite the intimate setting. "You really need to get a better helmet liner. This irritation is from the constant rubbing."

Joe shrugged, his large hands folded in his lap. "I know, I know. I'll look into it," he said, his eyes meeting yours. The silence grew between them as you examined the reddened skin, your touch feather-light.

"When you sweat, the friction just the irritation makes it worse," you added, your thumbs tracing the inflamed line along his neck. "It's not anything serious, but it could become infected if you don't treat it. With your skin being so sensitive, we need to be careful."

Joe didn't respond, his eyes lingering on yours. You could feel his hands settle gently on your hips, urging you closer. You sighed, setting aside your professional demeanor for a moment. "You know you could've just called me to tell me about this," you murmured, a hint of exasperation in your voice. "Or gone to the team physician."

"Honey, are you listening to me?" you asked, your eyes searching his as you stepped closer, your hand reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair. The ends of his unstyled dirty blonde strands curled around your fingers, reminding you of the hundreds of times you had done this before. His cheek pressed to your chest, his breathing slowed, you knew he was enjoying the simple closeness.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned into your touch. "I am," Joe said, his voice a soft rumble.

You couldn't help but chuckle, continuing your gentle threading. "You know you're being ridiculous," you said, your voice a warm tease. "Is everything okay? How was practice?"

"Practice was fine," Joe replied, his eyes still closed. "I missed you. Just wanted to see you."

You felt a twinge of guilt. "I know," you said, your voice gentle. "I miss you too. I'm sorry we've been like this lately."

Joe's arms tightened around you. "Me too," he murmured, focused on the way your heart beat steadily beneath his ear.

"Did you really come here just to see me?" you asked, your voice filled with a mix of affection and skepticism.

Joe looked up at you, a boyish grin playing on his lips. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his blue eyes sparkling. "My skin was irritated so I came to see the best dermatologist in Ohio."

You rolled your eyes playfully, unable to resist the warmth spreading through your chest. "You're terrible," you said, your voice filled with affection. "But I'll take the compliment." You lifted his jaw, meeting his eyes before leaning down to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "I'll write you a prescription, you big baby."

Joe grinned, his grip loosening slightly. "I'm your big baby," he murmured, his eyes lighting up as you kissed his nose.

You couldn't resist the charm, your eyes crinkling with laughter. "You're something, alright," you said, stepping back to scribble something on the prescription pad. You tore off the top sheet and handed it to him. "This should help with the irritation, but you really do need to get that helmet sorted out."

Joe took the prescription with a nod, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll do it," he promised, his voice earnest. He pulled your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. "Thank you, Doc."

You felt the tension of the day melt away as you leaned into him, your free hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Any other ailments or afflictions you'd like me to check out?" you asked, your voice teasing.

Joe's smile grew into a grin. "Maybe just one more," he said, his thumb tracing a line down your arm. "My lips are kinda chapped."

You rolled your eyes, your own smile widening. "I'll take a look," you said, leaning in to kiss him lightly. "Feels fine to me. But maybe you should keep hydrating," you said, lightness entering your voice once again.

You shared a quiet laugh, the air in the room thick with the intimacy that had been missing from your recent interactions. Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment longer before you stepped away, washing your hands before reaching for the medical cream you needed to apply. You squeezed a small amount onto your fingertips before gently rubbing it into the irritated area. Joe leaned into your touch, his eyes drifting closed as the coolness of the cream soothed his skin.

"You'll pick this up from the pharmacy, right?" you said, your voice firm but gentle as you capped the tube of cream.

Joe nodded, his eyes still closed. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, the tension in his shoulders visibly easing.

You couldn't help but smile at his obedience. "Good boy," you said, your thumb smoothing over the cream to ensure it was evenly applied. "And Joe, please don't make a habit of this. I nearly popped a blood vessel when I thought you had something serious going on."

Joe nodded, his eyes still closed, savoring the moment. "I know," he said. "But sometimes, I just need to feel you taking care of me, you know?"

Your heart swelled. You did know. Your lives had become a series of passing moments, stolen kisses, and rushed conversations. You missed the simplicity of your early days together too. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder, your thumb brushing against the fabric of his shirt in small, comforting circles. "I'll make sure to be home at a reasonable tonight," you promised.

Joe's eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a warm smile. "You don't have to," he said, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. "But I'd like that."

You nodded, your eyes soft as you met his gaze. "Okay, I'll be home by seven. We can have dinner together, and maybe watch Episode IV for the thousandth time?" you suggested, your voice hopeful.

Joe's grin grew. "Now, you're talking," he said as he leaned back in the chair. "You promise to stay awake for the whole thing?"

You rolled your eyes playfully. "It's dangerous to make promises like that," you teased. "But I'll try." You stepped back, your hand lingering on his shoulder before you finally pulled away. "Now, go get that cream, and start looking for liners. No more sneaky appointments unless it's a real issue."

Joe chuckled, standing from the chair. He wrapped his arms around you in a quick, tight embrace. "Deal," he murmured before letting go.

Things had seemed to cool off, but as the weekend drew closer, the two of you were swept back up into your separate routines. By the time Thursday evening came around, you were both exhausted and looking forward to a quiet night in.

It wasn't unusual for Ja'Marr to pop over, especially before important games when Joe had his individual film sessions. The two men had made it a tradition since their time together at LSU, their friendship had remained tight with their close proximity.

Ja'Marr, with his broad shoulders and a fresh cut, strolled into your house without knocking, having memorized the code to the keypad ages ago, a bag of chips in hand. "What's up?"

You looked up from the open fridge, shaking your head with a smile, watching him unload his pockets as Joe's heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. "Hey, I'm about to make dinner, you want some?"

Ja'Marr nodded, tossing the bag of chips onto the counter. "Yeah, sounds good," he said, offering you a side hug as Joe approached. The three of you settled into the kitchen, Joe leaning against the counter, Ja'Marr with his hands in his pockets, while you started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

"You're cooking?" Joe asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched your flurry of activity. "Why don't you just order something?"

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "Because I want to?" you said, a sassy edge to your voice. You knew Joe's question was more than just a preference for takeout; it was his subtle way of hinting that you were working too hard. "It'll help clear my head."

Ja'Marr chuckled, taking a seat at the kitchen island. "Joe, are you really complaining right now?" he teased, popping a chip into his mouth.

Joe shrugged, his eyes still focused on your moving figure. "Nah, just making sure you're not pushing yourself too much," he said, his voice filled with affectionate concern. "You've been going non-stop lately."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress your smile. "I am literally making you dinner," you said, your voice light. "How are you complaining?"

Ja'Marr laughed outright at that, shaking his head. "You two are something else," he said, taking a sip of water, scowling when Joe reached into his bag of chips for a few pieces.

"What?" Joe said, munching on a handful. "You walk into my house uninvited, man. I can have a few of your chips."

You walked over to Joe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Go watch film, I'm okay, I promise," you said, gently nudging him away from the kitchen. You knew he was just trying to help, but you needed this time to unwind.

Joe sighed but didn't argue further, grabbing his iPad and retreating to the living room. Ja'Marr lingered behind, watching your every move with an expectant look on his face.

"Yes, Ja'Marr?" you asked, your eyes flickering over to him as you prepped vegetables.

"Are you still driving up to Cleveland on Sunday?" he started with a light tone. "If you are, maybe my girl could sit with you? She's been wanting to see me play in person for a while."

You paused mid-chop, the knife hovering over a bell pepper. You looked up at him, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "No, actually," you said, placing the knife down carefully. "I thought I'd stay home this weekend, maybe go to the spa, and catch the game from here."

Ja'Marr's eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you as if you had just suggested something unthinkable. "You're not going to the game?" he said, his tone incredulous.

Before you could respond, Joe's voice cut through the kitchen, his tone incredulous. "What do you mean you're not going to the game?" he called out from the living room.

You took a deep breath before releasing a long sigh. You knew Joe was sensitive about you not attending the games you typically did, but you had her reasons. "I just need some me-time, Joe," you called back, your voice firm. "I don't want to drive to Cleveland by myself. Besides, you're going to be busy with the game. I won't even see you until we get home at like two in the morning."

Joe appeared in the kitchen entryway, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. "That's not the point," he said, his voice tight. "You always come to the games in Cleveland."

You took another deep breath, keeping your eyes on your task. "Joe, this has nothing to do with you. I just know I'm gonna be exhausted, and I want to take care of myself."

Ja'Marr looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. "Maybe I'll just ask Tee," he offered, trying to ease the tension. "His mom is staying with him this week, she might go to the Cleveland game."

"It's fine," you said, turning to give him a reassuring smile. You didn't want to ruin his night with your relationship woes. "I didn't know you were that serious about her. I wish I could meet her."

Joe's face fell, and he took a step forward, obscuring Ja'Marr's view of your faces. His voice dropped, "Are you really not coming?"

You could hear the disappointment in his tone, and you felt a twinge of guilt. You knew Joe thrived on your support at games, and you had been his rock at every single one, cheering him on from the sidelines. But you were tired, so tired. "I'm sorry, babe," you said, your voice sincere. "I was gonna tell you tonight."

Joe crossed his arms, his eyes searching yours. "Is that the real reason?" he pressed, his voice low. "Or are you upset with me about something?"

You took a deep breath, turning to face him fully. "Joe," you said, your tone measured with a warning. "I have my own life too. Work is tiring, and I need the weekend to recover."

Joe's jaw tightened, his blue eyes boring into yours. "But we hardly see each other as it is," he countered. "I like knowing you're there, supporting me."

"Are you worried I won't watch if I'm not sitting in the stadium? Because I promise you, I'll be screaming at the refs through the TV just as loud." You knew Joe was taking your absence personally, but you couldn't help the way you felt.

"It's not the same," Joe said, his voice gruff. "You know that."

You sighed, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. "Babe," you began, your voice calm but firm. "I love watching you play, but I can't always drop everything to follow you around. I have my own shit to deal with here."

Joe shook his head, biting at his lip with a frown. "I don't get it," he murmured, his voice tight with frustration. "But whatever."

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his tone, but you kept your voice steady. "What don't you get?" you asked, your patience wearing thin.

"We will talk about this later," Joe said, his voice a low growl. Your jaw tightened, the two of you engaged in a silent staring contest.

Ja'Marr took the moment of silence to clear his throat awkwardly. "I can leave if you need to talk? Just let me know when dinner's ready?"

You offered him a tight smile. "No, it's fine. Stay and watch film."

Joe didn't say anything, choosing instead to continue staring intensely at the side of your face as you resumed chopping vegetables. The kitchen was filled with the rhythmic sound of the knife slicing through the peppers, the tension palpable. You felt a simmer of annoyance build in your chest, but you pushed it down. You didn't want to fight, not really, but you had to stand your ground.

"Okay," Ja'Marr drew out slowly under his breath. "Y'all two fighting like an old married couple. Maybe you need some one-on-one time, or some shit."

Joe grunted, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest. "What do you mean?"

Ja'Marr leaned back against the counter, popping another chip in his mouth as he attempted to play relationship counselor. "Y''all been at each other's necks," he said, gesturing between you. "Maybe you just need to, you know, fix it in the bedroom."

You couldn't help but snort with laughter, turning to Joe with narrowed eyes. "Did your best friend just tell us to have sex to solve our problems? Both of you get out of my kitchen, please. Go do literally anything else."

Joe couldn't help the laugh that erupted from his chest. He turned to stalk off to the living room, already taking Ja'Marr's words to heart. The wide receiver followed him as he muttered, "I'm just tryna help you, bro."

You finished dinner, serving the two men before retreating to your office to catch up on some paperwork. Ja'Marr had left before the clock hit 8:30, reminding Joe of his earlier words.

"Maybe he's onto something," Joe mumbled to himself, watching as the front door closed.

By the time Joe made it up to your bedroom, you were already tucked into bed, your laptop open and the soft glow of the screen casting a cool light over your features. You looked up at him as he entered, your eyes questioning. He paused in the doorway, his mind racing. He knew he had to tread carefully; he didn't want to start another fight, especially not after your earlier tension.

"Hey," he began, his voice tentative.

You paused from her work, the glow from the laptop lighting up your face. You studied him for a moment before closing your laptop with a sigh. "Hey," you replied, confusion etched into your features as you observed Joe carefully.

Joe took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between the two of you. He walked over to the bed and sat down beside you, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said, his voice sincere. "I overreacted. I just miss you, you know?"

You nodded, the tension in your shoulders visibly dissipating. "I miss you too," you admitted, your voice softer, offering him space to climb under the blanket with you.

Joe leaned in, his hand brushing against your cheek as he turned your face to meet his. His eyes searched yours, looking for any lingering anger or resentment. Finding none, he leaned in to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours that grew more urgent with each passing second. You closed your eyes, your arms sliding around his neck as you melted into the kiss.

Your kiss grew deeper, your bodies pressing closer together as Joe's hand traveled down to your waist, pulling you towards him. You felt the warmth spread through you, the stress of the day slowly evaporating. The two of you broke apart, both panting slightly, staring into each other's eyes as if seeing one another for the first time in weeks.

"Do you want to...?" Joe trailed off, his voice low and hopeful, his thumb tracing the plump of your bottom lip. His palm cupped the side of your face, blue eyes searching yours.

You studied him, the love and desire swirling in his gaze undeniable. You knew he was referring to the "one-on-one time" Ja'Marr had so bluntly suggested. Despite your initial dismissal, you couldn't ignore the spark it had ignited within you. The petty fights had clearly been a symptom of a deeper issue - your lack of intimacy. "Please," you murmured, leaning into his touch.

Joe didn't need any more encouragement. He leaned back, pulling you with him so you were straddling his hips. The weight of you felt like home, the warmth of your skin seeping into his as he kissed you deeply, his hands exploring your curves. Your sighs turned into a moan as you ground your hips down into his, feeling his hand squeeze your ass under his palms before bringing a hand down to hear the satisfying 'smack', the friction sending shockwaves through Joe's body.

He rolled you over, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his hands roaming over your skin, peeling your clothes away. Your hands were equally busy, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, your nails scraping lightly against his chest as you pushed the fabric over his head. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths and the rustle of fabric.

Your kisses grew more urgent, Joe's hands tracing a path down your body, his fingertips dancing along the edge of your panties. You gasped, your body arching up into his touch. He paused, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you need, baby," he whispered against your skin, lips drawing heat as they pressed wet kisses to your chest, nipping eagerly at the fat of your breasts, hands kneading the flesh beneath his palms.

Your breath hitched, your voice thick with want. "You," you managed to get out, your eyes fluttering shut as Joe's mouth found your neck, kissing and sucking the tender skin there. His touch was soothing an ache you hadn't realized you had been carrying with you for weeks.

"I can do that," he said, his words muffled against your salty skin. Your hips squirmed against him, your lips parting with another pretty moan from the feel of his tip pressing against your core. You could feel the frustration of him being so close but not close enough. The thin fabric of your underwear - ironically matching in color - was the only barrier left between you.

With a low groan, Joe's hands slid down to the waistband of your panties, his thumbs hooking into the elastic. Your own hands were busy in his hair, pulling him closer as his mouth found your breasts. He kissed and bit, his teeth grazing your nipples, and you couldn't help but arch your back, pushing yourself into his mouth. He took his time, savoring the taste of you, feeling the tremble of your body with each nibble.

You whined, tugging at the messy strands of his hair. "Joe," you breathed out his name, a plea for more. He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust as he peered up at you. He held your gaze as his fingers slipped into your panties, humming in approval when he found you slick and ready. With a nudge, he kept your thighs spread to accommodate him, allowing you access to his lips as his fingers lightly stroked through your folds.

"You're so wet for me, baby," Joe murmured, his voice thick with want. He kissed your stomach, your hips rolling with impatience. He took his time, dragging his kisses down the line of your navel until his mouth was right there, hot breath against your clit. His cheek rested against your thigh, breathing in your sweet scent as he continued to hold you open for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as Joe's fingers continued rubbing you in slow circles, your hips bucking upward in silent demand. He trailed kisses down your inner thigh, his tongue darting out to soothe you after biting into your brown skin. The anticipation was agonizing, but you knew he enjoyed teasing you, drawing it out until you were begging.

"Joey," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "Please."

He chuckled under his breath, forcing himself to keep his attention on your sensitive center. His fingers still pressed against you, sweeping through your wet pussy as your arousal began to coat the inside of your thighs and slowly drip down to the bed. He knew if he looked up and saw your face, he'd be lost in your eyes, so he focused on your reactions, the way your body arched and trembled. He brought his face closer, hovering just out of reach, his thumb gently teasing your entrance without giving you the satisfaction you craved.

"Give me a second, honey." He murmured reassuringly under his breath. "Need to make sure she remembers me. It's been so long, you think she does?" He smirked against your skin, his teeth grazing your inner thigh again, making you squirm.

Your grip tightened in his hair, your hips bucking upwards. "She'd never forget you," you managed to gasp out, your voice breathless. "Just..."

Joe took the hint, his smirk growing wider as he leaned in closer, his tongue pressing flat against your center, licking up your slit with a maddening slowness. Your nails dug into his scalp, your body tensing as he finally took you in his mouth, sucking and licking with a hunger that had been building for weeks. The sensation was overwhelming, your thighs shaking as they tense over his shoulders. You released a soft moan, the sound of his name on your lips like a prayer.

Your body was tightening, the tension in your core growing with each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck of his lips. Joe could feel you getting closer, the muscles in your legs tensing as your breath grew shorter. He didn't stop, his mouth working to bring you to the edge of pleasure. Your hips began to rock against him, your moans growing louder, gasping and writhing to his touch, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

Joe pulled away with a smug smirk, watching you react to his touch as his fingers took over for his mouth. With a start, he inserted one finger inside you, feeling the heat and the tightness of your walls. He stayed close, watching the way your body quivered in reaction to his touch.

"I know, baby, I know," he soothed, voice deep as he kissed your thighs, his breath brushing over your overly sensitive skin. He watched your face, the way your eyes had glazed over and your teeth bit at your bottom lip. He didn't want you to come from his fingers, though. He wanted to feel you come around his cock, wanted to hear you scream his name as you lost control.

"Keep 'em open for me, gonna give you my cock, beautiful," he urged, instructing you to keep your thighs open as you whimpered at the loss of his fingers. He kissed your stomach before sitting up to remove his underwear. His cock stood proudly, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Your chest heaved as you watched him gently stroke himself, turning your head to the side as your thighs closed together, the ache for him unbearable. You could feel your pussy fluttering, begging for his attention.

He wasn't quite done teasing you. As he sat back on his heels, he guided his tip through your folds, using your wetness as his lubricant. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth, muffling a moan at the sensation. Your eyes were glossed over with lust, watching him with a mix of frustration and need.

Without another word, Joe pushed into you, watching your eyes widen as he filled you up. He took his time, savoring the feel of your tight warmth surrounding him, your inner walls pulsing around him as you adjusted to his girth. Your eyes rolled back, your back arching off the bed as he began to move, setting a steady rhythm that had you both panting within moments.

Joe leaned forward, supporting himself on one hand as the other pulled your leg to rest against his hip. He was positioned directly over you, allowing your hands to reach for his jaw, bringing him down to kiss you deeply. You could feel the heat from his body, his chest pressing against your breasts, and you reveled in the feeling of being filled by him. His strokes grew more urgent, and you could feel the tension building within you once more.

"Come on, talk to me, sweetheart," he groaned out. "'M listening, need to hear your sweet voice."

Your breath hitched, your eyes snapping open to meet Joe's intense gaze. "I need you deeper," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea. He smirked, his eyes lighting up with challenge, and lowered himself onto an elbow, pulling the thigh in his grasp higher on his hip. The adjustment sent him deeper, and you gasped, your body tensing for a brief moment.

He chuckled, his thumb drawing a soothing circle into your thigh. "Breathe, baby," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. You took a deep breath, feeling the pressure building once more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs locking around his waist as he began to move again, his hips rolling into yours with a deep, steady rhythm that had your toes curling as you struggled to stay in control of your body.

"Yeah," you moaned, your voice strained, "like that."

Joe's pace quickened, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room as he pumped into you with an animalistic fervor that had been building since you started fighting. The frustration of the day, the need to claim you, to make you his again, was palpable in every thrust. You whimpered as his nose nudged against yours, reminding you to keep your eyes trained on his. He liked watching you come, liked the way your pupils would blow wide and your eyes would glaze over like you were baring your soul to him.

He felt you tighten around him, your legs squeezing him, your breaths coming out in short puffs. You were close, so close, and he couldn't help the smug smile that tugged at his lips. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Right there?"

You nodded, mouth wide, pupils blown, your breathing ragged. "Yes," you gasped, "right there, don't stop. Fuck, yes."

Joe groaned, his eyes never leaving yours as he felt you tighten around him. He could feel his own release building, but he held it back, focusing on you, wanting you to come first. His hips slammed into yours, the rhythm relentless, his cock driving deep within you with each thrust. You were so wet, so tight, the sensation of your pussy gripping him like a glove threatening to send him over the edge at any moment.

You began to squirm as your orgasm approached. Your breathing growing more shallow, your eyes locked with Joe's as if begging for release. His own breaths grew strained, the muscles in his arms tensing as he held himself above you, his hips moving faster, pushing into you with a force that had your body rocking against the bed.

"Uh uh," he tsked, snapping his hips into you with more force, the smugness in his expression growing with each whine you made. "You're not going anywhere, baby. Stay right here with me. I got you. Just let it go for me. Let me make you feel good."

The words were like a dam breaking, the orgasm crashing over you with a ferocity that had you arching into him, your legs tightening around him. You threw your head back, moaning his name as you came, your body shaking with the intensity of it. He watched your face, the way your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open in a silent scream, the way you clamped down on him, and it was his turn to moan out. He could feel your pulses around his cock, your walls milking him for all he was worth.

"Yeah, there you go, babe. That's it, baby, good fuckin' girl." Joe's voice was a gruff whisper in your ear, his thrusts growing more erratic as he felt your climax ripple through your body. He held on, waiting for you to come back down before he allowed himself to go over the edge. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving lines on his back, but he didn't care. He liked the push and pull, liked knowing that you were feeling everything just as intensely as he was.

"Oh, my fucking god - shit!" you gasped, feeling your orgasm continue to ravage your senses, each wave more intense than the previous as Joe's hips continued to roll into yours.

"Look at that. So fuckin' beautiful," Joe murmured, his voice thick with the beginning of his own climax. He leaned in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as his own release began to build. The taste of you was on his tongue, and it was all he needed to push him over the edge. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you, the warmth of his cum spilling into your depths as his muscles tensed and then relaxed.

Your bodies lay tangled together, a mess of sweat and limbs as you both caught your breath. You felt Joe's weight shift, his muscles slackening against you as his breath evened out. You trailed your fingers through his tousled hair, pressing gentle kisses to his forehead as the fuzziness in his head cleared.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice gruff with satisfaction.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Okay," you assured him. "You?"

"Better than okay." Joe nuzzled closer, his chest rising and falling with deep, contented breaths. You lay in a cocoon of warmth, the sheets twisted around your legs. "We should do this more often."

You chuckled, stroking your hand down his back. "Damn," you breathed, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and amazement. "You've never spoken to me like that before."

He laughed, his eyes still closed as he enjoyed the still aftermath of your passion. "It's all that pent-up frustration," he murmured. "But you liked it."

It was a statement, not a question, and you couldn't help but agree. You kissed him again, your hands still tangled in his hair. "I loved it," you admitted, your voice still a bit breathless.

Joe chuckled, his chest rumbling against you as he pulled out of you. "Good to know," he murmured, his thumb tracing over your cheek. "Guess we know what the cure for our petty fights is now."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension from earlier dissipating. "Next time I start arguing with you about stupid shit, you have my permission to fuck it out of me."

Joe smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Deal," he agreed, his voice filled with a newfound lightness. He rolled away from you, collapsing onto the bed with a sigh of contentment. You turned onto your side, kissing him softly before slipping out of bed to clean yourself up.

Joe followed her, allowing you space to handle your business before taking his turn. When you both climbed back into bed, the air was thicker, charged with the aftermath of your released tension. You lay down with a satisfied sigh, your body still humming with pleasure. You snuggled closer to him, your hand tracing shapes over his chest as you lay in the quiet darkness.

"I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass recently," Joe said, his voice soft and sincere. "I know you've got a lot going on with work and stuff, but I just feel guilty being gone so much this season."

Your hand paused on his chest, your eyes searching his in the dim light of the room. "I know, baby," you replied, your voice filled with understanding. "It's not your fault, I should've been more honest, should've told you I wasn't going to Cleveland when I made the decision."

"That's okay," Joe said, his thumb tracing lazy circles into your supple skin. "We're good. I'll go up to Cleveland, get a win, and come back for victory sex." His voice was light, the tension from earlier replaced with humor and affection.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Sounds like a plan." You cuddled closer to Joe, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

[magpiepills]

Take It Easy

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x virgin f! Reader

Word count: 4k

Summary: you’re a virgin with a crush on your best friends dad and you’re determined to make him your first.

Warnings: SMUT! PWP, PIV, fingering, tiddy stuff, oral (f receiving) virginity loss, alcohol, dubious consent on a little of this, age gap, tiny bit of daddy, creampie, Joel is kind of a creep, fetishization of youth, big dick Joel. Dirty talk, sweat pants, Sarah lives, idk what else. Typos galore, not edited, hardly beta’d at all, straight up pornorgraphy. Don’t read smut for the morals.

A word from the author: well, here we go. Big dick Joel getting real nasty with his daughter’s virgin friend.

MASTERLIST

Turgid Members notification blog

At 9 AM a bead of sweat trickled down Joel’s temple. It was a cold day, highs only reaching into the 40s. Rain was expected and he had called Tommy to take over the job site for the day, blaming a terrible migraine triggered by the weather, probably.

With no one else home and no place to be, Joel could devote himself to the task that had been hanging over him for two weeks.

You had the day off too. Classes didn’t start up again until after the new year, despite everyone heading back to campus with their clean laundry and gifts from their parents and grandparents. Sarah included. You and your best friend since 11th grade had arrived home on the same day and spent days together at your parent’s house making cookies and wrapping gifts and watching movies and drinking too-sweet amaretto sours in her and her father’s kitchen. Now she’s gone and you’re left behind, one more thing to finish up before you could get back to college life.

Joel was focused and diligent, careful and patient, but determined. His tongue slid across his bottom lip. “Just relax,” he reminded you. How could you, at a time like this?

You hadn’t been relaxed since the first night back at Sarah’s dad’s house, since you first saw the width of his shoulders, the size of his biceps, or his big dark eyes. There was no relaxing when you saw him size you up as he grabbed himself a beer from the fridge, when he spoke to you and Sarah, but only looked at you when he said to be good. All you wanted was to be good for him.

You campaigned hard. Arching your back, ass out, bright pink fabric of your thong showing above the waistband of your sweatpants while you leaned over the counter eating pizza and flipping through Sarah’s stack of magazines in the Miller family’s cozy kitchen.

“Save me any?” Joel asked, sidling up behind you, reaching for the greasy pizza box and letting his hand drag over your exposed skin, the side of his pinky finger just barely reaching under the waistband of your panties. Your cheeks heated as he smiled at you, chomping his pizza and, unbeknownst to you, semi hard in his jeans.

Of course Joel didn’t mind Sarah bringing friends home, especially little things like you, with bodies like yours that played havoc on his self control. Ones that were eager to flirt with an older man, ones who didn’t know what they were asking for.

You thought you knew. Sure Sarah was your friend, but you were still human and her dad was hot. You might not be experienced, but you had a whole treasure trove of dirty stories you read between classes and studying about how an older man could treat a younger woman. Those stories occupied your mind. You masturbated, imagining a handsome man who took charge of you like the imaginary ones, you whispered “daddy” as you came, just like the women in the stories, thrilled with the naughtiness of it all.

Now, here you are with this handsome older man, already going gray, and you wondered if he would like it if you called him daddy. You imagined how the word would sound if he said it.

You’d harbored a little crush on Joel since you first saw him at Sarah’s high school graduation party. You’d watched him from across the yard all night, wanting him to see you, but not wanting him to all at once. You never imagined he might look at you with the same carnivorous hunger in his eyes.

Of course he’d seen you, how could he not? You’d shown up looking way too beautiful for your own good then made eyes at him all night. He’d spent the entire party avoiding you so he wouldn’t be tempted to drag you up to his bedroom and wipe that fucking temptress look off your face. He knew he couldn’t.

When Sarah called to tell you about the date she had planned with some guy, you encouraged her. Told her to see a movie, dinner, anything. You helped her pick an outfit and did her eyeliner for her. When her date picked her up at seven, you were on her doorstep at seven thirty, playing dumb and looking for the jacket you’d left behind. Of course he invited you in to get it, and offered you a drink.

“You’re twenty one now, ain’t ya?” He winked at you as he poured two shots of whiskey and slid one over to you.

“Close enough,” you mumbled, low so he didn’t hear.

He watched as you swallowed the burning liquid, fixated on the way your throat moved as you obediently swallowed what he gave you. You grimaced, shaking your head and sputtering at the taste. Joel grinned and poured another and put it in front of you. “Second one goes down easier.” He was right. It went down easy, and it made you feel warm and relaxed.

You leaned close to talk, tilting your head, your eyelids heavy. “I didn’t really need my jacket,” you confessed. “Kinda just wanted to see you again.”

Joel held his liquor much better than you, but he played along, feigning ignorance. “Yeah? What do you want with an old man like me?

Of course, after that it wasn’t safe to let you leave, so you sat with Joel on his couch, a movie playing in the background. Joel pulled your bare feet onto his lap and spread a blanket over you both. Your eyelids were heavy, and you couldn’t help but stare at his profile, the curve of his nose, the fullness of his lips.

He turned to look at you, and smiled. “You gonna keep statin’ at me all night?” You licked your lips and nodded. “You can do more than look if you want to, pretty girl.”

Joel’s arm reached across the back of the couch, making the room feel smaller, the air warmer, and what happened next inevitable. He leaned over, taking more of your space, and tilted your chin up. The kiss started tender and soft, something sweet, not innocent but with no hint of how reckless he would be with you. He was so big and strong, and you felt so vulnerable and small with his arms around you, his hands roaming over your body and his tongue slipped into your mouth.

He took your hand in his and guided it to his lap, letting you feel the size of his hard cock, straining beneath the fabric. “Look what you did,” he panted, breaking away from your lips. “That’s all you. You keep comin’ over here teasing me and then I gotta go take care of it on my own.”

You gasped at the size of him, feeling the length, the thickness through his worn denim. You’d only seen pictures, and having a cock in your hands was thrilling and new. You went to unbutton his jeans, eager to take it out and see it for real when he stopped you. “Uh-uh. You ain’t ready for that yet.”

He knew you were a virgin. He’d heard you telling Sarah how frustrated you were, poor thing. The thought of being the first to have you had given him two weeks of fantasy material to jerk off with. He thought of you on your knees, mouth open obediently. He thought of you bent over the back on his couch, bare pussy showing under the hem of a short skirt. He thought of the way your cry his name when he filled you all the way up and came in your tight little snatch. He was ate up with his dirty ideas.

Sarah’s dad lifted your shirt instead, pulling it up over your tits and kissing the tops of each breast, silently reminding himself to not rush. You made soft sounds of pleasure as he worked slowly, kissing, licking, nibbling gently, pulling the cups of your bra down so he could circle your nipples with the wet point of his tongue, flicking them, sucking them, making you whimper. You’d never felt a mouth there before, and your panties were soaked already. Joel seemed to know they would be.

“You makin’ a mess for me? Let me have a look.”

“Mister Miller,” you warned him, giggling and nervous as he unbuttoned your jeans and tugged down your zipper. You held your breath as his hand slipped down the front of your damp panties. He felt the soft strip of hair you’d left over your mound, the rest of you bare and inviting.

Joel chuckled when he discovered how wet you were. His fingers were immediately covered in your slippery wetness.“Goddamn, sweetheart. All this just ‘cause I played with your tits?”

His teasing embarrassed you, until he put your hand over his erection again. “Think you can take him?” You nodded, wide eyed and he thrust against your palm. Joel laughed again. Even for an experienced woman he knew he was a lot to take. He never got tired of the whines and hiccuped breaths as he drove his cock into them for the first time. He twitched at the thought of you, eager and new, dripping wet but tight as a vice around him.

You kissed him again, pulling him down on top of you, but his hand never left your pussy. He rubbed over your slick vulva, and delved between your folds to draw out more of your arousal, spreading it around, circling your clit, teasing you into a panting mess. You closed your eyes and gripped his tshirt in your fists as you came. It was even better than when you do it yourself.

“That good, baby? You like coming like that for me?” Joel watched your dazed, loopy smile drop in surprise when he brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean and hummed at the flavor of you on his tongue.

He had his middle finger poised to slip into your pussy, beginning the task of opening you up just enough to let his cock do the rest when a pair of headlights swept across the room. Sarah was home.

Suddenly feeling much more sober, you and Joel scrambled to right yourselves and you grabbed the jacket you’d accidentally-on-purpose left behind to help explain why you were here, alone with her father. He grabbed a beer and turned on the tv, feigning interest in a show about crab fishing.

Sarah was confused by your presence, as you’d expected.

“What are you doing here? Is everything ok?” She was so sweet and concerned, and what you really wanted to do was ask her what she was doing here, wasn’t she supposed to be on a date? You waved it off, holding your jacket up as explanation.

Sarah shrugged. The two of you went to her room, closing the door behind you for a post-date recap while Joel was left alone on the couch, cock still hard.

Two days passed before you saw him again. When you came over to help Sarah pack up for the drive back to school he was there, in the same place on the couch where he had pushed you further than anyone else ever had.

As your best friend of the last almost two years tried to decide what she needed to take back with her and what she should leave in her room, you excused yourself to the bathroom. Joel saw you go in and waited behind his bedroom door for you to come back out. When you passed, his hand reached out and grabbed you, pulling you into his room and held you against his warm body, letting you feel the bulk of his erection in his sweatpants as he kissed you.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back,” he whispered low in your ear. “Me and you have some unfinished business.”

You instantly burnt with your need for him, nothing else was as important as feeling him, kissing him, touching him, finding out what else he might do to you.

Joel’s breath was warm and his mustache tickled your ear. “I want you here first thing in the mornin’ you understand? I’m not done with you,” he palmed your ass roughly, pulling you against him. He had a mind to just toss you onto his bed and sort you out right here and now. He was certainly hard enough, and he was sure if he checked you’d be dripping wet for him.

Down the hallway Sarah called for you, snapping you out of whatever was happening or could happen with just a little more time. You should feel guilty. You let your best friend’s dad finger you. You almost fucked him. He’s twice your age and she’s your best friend, but your traitorous pussy didn’t care. You wanted to find out what else he would do. You helped her finish packing, and went home to touch yourself under the covers in your own childhood bedroom.

You’d been nervous, barely sleeping all night, horny and excited and worried that you didn’t have any way to contact Joel to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind.

When you woke up you showered and put on the cutest panties you’d packed, a soft cotton bikini with a heart on the back that said “Lucky You” in bold letters. You hoped they wouldn’t be soaked by the time he got his hands on them. You misted yourself with vanilla body spray and practiced looking cool, which was the opposite of how you felt. You felt like a goofy, awkward teenager. You were acutely aware of your inexperience. You dressed in a snug pair of jeans that hugged your ass and a soft white sweater, and tamped down the guilt of driving to Sarah’s house with the intention of fucking her dad.

Sarah was already gone when you got back to her house the next morning. You arrived at eight thirty, just as Joel had instructed.

Any lingering nerves or doubt vaporized the instant he opened the door. It swung open, warmth and the smell of coffee rushing out. Joel was still in his sweatpants and a soft white tshirt, obviously slept in. He filled the doorway, looking you up and down, practically licking his chops like a hungry wolf. It was reassuring to see the way his pants were already beginning to tent. It made you feel bolder.

“Good morning, Mister Miller,” you batted your lashes at him, tilting your head flirtatiously.

“Get your ass in here,” he grumbled, checking the street for any boring eyes. Luckily most of his neighbors were at work. He shut the door and locked it before turning his attention back to you.

There was no formality or polite small talk before he was on you. His lips on your neck, sucking hard enough to mark. His hands pulling impatiently at your jeans, tracing his fingers down the back seam to cup your pussy.

“You smell good,” he said. “You get dressed up to come over here and fool around with an old man?”

“I came over for you.” You rubbed your nose against his shoulder, leaning into him, feeling his warmth and strong, sturdy body.

“I’m old enough to be your daddy.”

As if you needed the reminder.

“I don’t care, Mister Miller. I like it,” you said, emphasizing your point by grinding harder against the thick curve of his cock.

You reached for his waistband, eager to see and feel everything that was promised. You were ready to drop to your knees, but he stopped you again. “I told you you’re not ready for that.”

“Can you get me ready?” You asked so sweetly that Joel thought he thought he surely must be dreaming.

“Yeah baby. I’ll get ya ready. Come on.” Joel took you to his bedroom and sat you on his freshly washed sheets. He took off your sweater and tossed it onto a chair in the corner where his own laundry was already piled. He kissed you and unsnapped your bra. He took off his own shirt and threw it behind him. You covered your chest with your arms, but Joel pulled them away.

“Uh-uh. Don’t be shy now. You like teasing older men, walking around my house looking good enough to eat, looking at me like you do, I’m gonna take my time.”

Your body lit up when he climbed over you and pushed your tits together with his big, rough hands. He licked across your nipples, teasing them to firm points with his tongue, sucking each one, squeezing and kneading your breasts. When he had enough of that, when you began to roll your hips, he popped the button of your jeans with ease. He tugged them down your legs and held your thighs open wide. You knew you’d soaked your panties. The look on his face told you.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. You shook your head no. “Has this pussy ever been licked?” Another shake of your head. “No? Well I’m gonna fix that right now. Hold your knees up for me, baby.

You bit your lower lip and held the back of your knees. You could feel your pussy blooming with need. Joel hooked his fingers under your panties and pulled them off. He read the words aloud. “‘Lucky You,’ he laughed. “Yeah. Lucky me.”

On his tired knees, he licked your puffy cunt. He sucked and slurped and hummed happily as you panted. His tongue pushed into your entrance, a hint of what was to come. He flicked his tongue quickly over your asshole, then through your slick, sticky folds to suck your clit. You moaned and thrashed, you dug your heels into the edge of the mattress until he shoved your knees back up and looked at you pointedly from between your legs.

You could have come from this alone, his lips and his tongue, but he pushed one finger into you, then another. Even when you fingered yourself it wasn’t this intense. Your orgasm came quickly, radiating over your body, seizing your muscles.

Joel stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand and smiling proudly down at you.

“Did good, baby. Pussy’s so sweet I could eat it all day.”

You laughed. Feeling almost as buzzed as you did from the whiskey. “Will you?”

“Is that what you want?” Joel stroked his cock through his sweatpants, a wet spot had darkened the gray fabric near the tip, and he seemed even bigger than you remembered.

“No,” you sat up on the bed and looked up at him. When you tried this time, he let you reach into his pants. His cock was hot and firm, with smooth, soft skin, you pulled it from his sweatpants and stared. Your fingertips didn’t touch when you held his cock in your fist. You slid your hand up and down in a gentle, timid stroke, quickly gaining confidence and Joel watched you explore him with glassy, half lidded eyes and a bead of precum leaking from the thick, blush pink head. In a daring moment of impulse, you licked it up, savoring the forbidden taste of him on your tongue.

Joel had to stop himself from holding your hair and shoving his cock into your throat. Patience, he reminded himself. He had to give you time. He knew you’d be taking him in every hole soon enough. An eager girl like you. A bad girl. A cock hungry little slut in the making and you were his to mold.

“That’s good, baby. That’s real good, but if you keep that up I’m gonna come and we don’t want that, do we?” Joel stepped back and kicked off his sweatpants.

You were both naked now, fully bared to each other, his body graying now, with scars and years of wear and tear, yours, young and new and untouched by anyone but him.

He got into the bed beside you, pulling you up to kiss him, the smell and taste of your pussy clinging to his mustache. He deepened the kiss and rolled on top of you once more, the time positioning himself between your legs. You felt his cock, heavy and long against your folds. He slid against you, rocking your hips, and you mirrored his movements, coating his turgid member in your wetness.

His deep, husky voice was so sexy, low and rumbling against your lips. “You feel so good. Can you feel me? Feel how bad I need you?

“I feel you Joel,” your voice strained. “You’re so big.”

“You can take him, baby. You’re ready. You did so good for me. You want it? You want daddy’s cock? You gonna be a good girl and take it for me?”

“Yes. I want it. I want it, please,” you begged in a haze.

Joel dragged his cock head through your folds again, gathering your slick, and nudging against your tight, virgin hole.

“Relax for me baby. Let me in,” Joel urged impatiently and you tried, but he was so big. That word floated in your head. Big. Everything about him was just so big. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply until he managed t fit the first inch and a half inside.

“Come on, you’re doin’ so good. Focus right here.” He sucked his thumb into his mouth, wetting it with his saliva and pressing it against your clit. It helped a little, but you couldn’t ignore the stinging, overwhelming stretch of him in your impossibly tight little cunt.

It took several beats of your heart pounding in your ears to work him all the way in, inch after throbbing inch filling you completely. You didn’t dare move. You let Joel take control. He had to focus too. You weren’t the first virgin he’d ruined but he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He inched out, and pushed back in. Out, then in, keeping a steady pace as you got acclimated to his size.

You did, slowly relaxing, relishing in the warmth of his body, the pain washed away into pleasure. Each stroke of his length into you stoked your growing orgasm. It was nothing like you’d ever felt. You began to feel crazy over it. You slipped your hand between your bodies and rubbed your clit the way you did when you were alone.

“Fuck yeah. Make yourself come. Let me feel you,” Joel encouraged, his temples glistening with sweat. He needed to come. He wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to make this good and keep you coming back but you felt so damn good. He wanted to mark you with his cum like no one else ever could.

You whined, his words, his voice were what did you in. You came hard on his cock. It was a smooth, rolling, heavy feeling, instant addiction. The feeling was soon followed by Joel’s orgasm. He didn’t stop to ask where, he just pushed deep and released inside, cum held in place with his softening cock and the weight of his body collapsing on top of yours.

What now, you wondered. You’ve fucked him, what now?

He rolled off of you and kissed you, then for a few moments you lay side by side in silence. His cum dripped out, adding to the mess between your legs.

“You ok,” he asked. “I didn’t hurt you did I? I know it’s a lot. You’re not bleeding are ya?”

“I’m fine, Joel.” You wondered if you should leave now. You went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up. You didn’t look any different in the mirror now that you weren’t a virgin. You didn’t look like someone who would have sex with their friend’s dad, either.

You went to find your clothes and purse so you could leave, but Joel was still in bed, holding his arm up for you to get back in with him. He had no intention of letting you leave soon.

“I thought I could make us some lunch before we try again.”

[thegracefulroyaltownofthesaint]

OMG!!! And after this Pandora goes to James whenever she needs to know more about some drama going on in school!!!! Like, reggie would hate that james was there, dorcas likes the guy but is pretty indifferent (at that point, they then get closer once she start dating marleen), barty thinks he’s cool but would NEVER admit it, evan would think he’s “fine. Useful, but also arrogant, so it evens out a little.” (quote from when reggie asked what his opinion on potter is) but panda, who has no understanding of social barriers comes to LOVE him! And he loves her back!! And obviously, panda —being part of the skittles, and head of the (insert a section of the newspaper here) for the Hogwarts Happenings newspaper, inherited by the skittles from Reggies older cousins— needs to know everything that goes on in the school. And though James is a loud, energetic, rambunctious force of nature, he’s also observant. He pays attention, he listens. He can turn every head in a 5 mile radius but he can also slip into the back of the room unnoticed when ge want to. And, most importantly, he craves to know everything. He hates himself for it, because “its other peoples business, i have no place in it. Its private and i have no right to know about it”, but he survives off other peoples business. He’s always taking care of his friends because those problems help him get through life. And so he (subconsciously) makes it his business to know everything, at least in griffindoor tower.

So one day, during lunch, James is sitting with his friends. 

“and then we can -“ sirius stoped short of what he was saying. With a confused look on his face, his eyes were locked farther down the table. 

James, curiously looked back to see what exactly had stopped their prank-planning session, a blond haired Ravenclaw. 

A very fast walking, determined looking blond haired Ravenclaw to be specific. 

When she reached the four boys, all of which were looking at her with matching expressions, that of confusion and interest, she say down. Right next to James.

“James.”

“Rosier? Wha-“

“Do you anything about what happened between Prewett and Longbottom?? You must’ve heard something, or been there. Please tell me you can fill in the gaps. I was talking and we all have different versions of the story. Come on James, tell me you have something, anything.” 

Without breathing, or stopping the information came out of Pandoras mouth at lightning speed, and James had to take a moment to process it all (because he’s ADHD, so delayed processing, i don’t make the rules). Blinking he responded.

“Prewett? Gideon or Fabian?” James responded in a low voice, trying to contain his interest for the matter in front of his friends. 

Pandora rolled her eyes, that were previously looking at him, wide and expecting. “Gideon, obviously. Wait, did something happen with Fabian?”

“Oh, you’re in for a treat.” He said, with a hidden smile before turning to his friends. « I´ll see you back at the common room, yea? » 

Then the two left talking in hushed voices. 

This occurrence happened multiple times afterwards. The two would just be such good friends !!!! And James (and eventually Peter, because you cant tell me he wouldn’t) is now considered an « anonymous source » until he was used so much they gave him a name. « The sun tells me » (and for pete it’d be « the mice say ») anywayyyys thats that.

“Did you hear Frank Longbottom hooked up with Alice last week?”

James stood in an empty classroom’s door barely containing his laughter. Regulus, Barty, Evan, Dorcas and Pandora were gossiping so loud he heard them through the closed door while walking down a corridor. They were in so deep they hadn’t even noticed James walking in two minutes ago.

“What?”

“Yeah, apparently it happened at the Ravenclaw party last week.”

“But Alice? Seriou- James?”

It was honestly hilarious how quickly the slytherins (and a ravenclaw) paled after realising he was there, listening. However, they had forgotten everyone in the castle is a gossip - James included.

Plus, he's a gryffindor, so he has a bit more information about the situation.

So James just pushed himself off of the doorframe and joined in: “Did you know they’re officially dating now?”

“They’re what?”

[intheupside]

The game has been Crosby’s professional life. It’s who he is and what he talks about. Hockey is his everything. And it’s what matters most to him.

Once or twice a season, when Ray Shero was general manager of the Penguins, he would invite Crosby to his office for a brief meeting that was never brief. “Usually it was about four-hours long. I’d say to Sid, ‘What’s on your mind?’ And he’d say ‘Not much.’ And then we’d talk hockey for hours, usually all afternoon.

“Detailed talk about the game, the team, getting better, training, he has such an active mind. He’s always thinking about everything. He asks good questions. He wants good answers. And often the last thing he thought about — which tells you a lot about Sid — is money.

“One time, just after he signed his second contract in Pittsburgh, I took out a calculator in our meeting. I told him the season was 180-some days long and players got paid by the day. I then calculated how much money he was going to be getting paid each day.

“I slid him the calculator and he said, ‘What?’

“I told him that’s what you’re going to be paid every day.

“He said ‘You’re kidding, right?’

“I said no, that’s the number.

“He just stared at it and said ‘Holy cow. I guess I shouldn’t skip any optional practices.’

“That’s Sid being Sid. It was never about money with him. He’s left a lot of money on the table over the years. But when he saw how much he was making in his first big contract, how much per day, it shocked him. He’d never looked at it that way before.”

When Jimmy Rutherford took over as GM of the Penguins, he made it a point to meet with Crosby almost immediately. “I flew to Pittsburgh to have dinner with him and from the time you shake his hand, and you listen to all his input and all his knowledge, you just walk away and say ‘Wow.’ He’s more special in person than you might have thought he was before you got to meet him.”

“They play their best in the biggest moments,” said Ken Holland. “You saw that with Steph Curry at the Olympics last summer. Ultimately, no matter what the circumstance, Sid drove people to greater heights. It’s not just how they play, it’s how people follow them and jump aboard.”

“How committed are they? How much drive do they have? How motivated are they? How singularly driven are they? It’s not an accident that he scored the Golden Goal. That’s what winners do. And he’s one of the greatest winners of all time.

“Everybody loves Sid. He treats people well. He hangs out with everybody and he’s one of the guys. And the respect level for him, and for the game, is through the roof. When you’re around him you see he’s just a regular person but an extraordinary player.”

Kyle Dubas is in his second season with Crosby in Pittsburgh. Like everyone else who has been around Crosby over the years, he has been taken aback by the dedication he has to practice. “He works daily on the mastery of his craft,” said Dubas. “And he takes nothing for granted.”

But what has impressed Dubas the most is the way in which Crosby interacts with his teammates on a team struggling to find its way.

Kyle Dubas is in his second season with Crosby in Pittsburgh. Like everyone else who has been around Crosby over the years, he has been taken aback by the dedication he has to practice. “He works daily on the mastery of his craft,” said Dubas. “And he takes nothing for granted.”

“Recently, we were in Anaheim and we have a rookie defenceman, Owen Pickering, who was struggling. Sid is purposely hard on Owen in practice, competing full out against him, not maliciously, just showing the kid how hard he’s going to have to work to compete with him. Sid’s mindset is, I have to do this. If he’s going to get better, I have to do this. The kid got a little frustrated by the practice and you could see it was hard on him. He wasn’t feeling good about himself. The next day, Sid goes and gets the kid and takes him for a haircut. It’s a little gesture but on a team looking to build, it’s an important one. That’s the kind of thing Sid does on a daily basis. The kind of thing most people won’t notice.”

Five years ago, during COVID, the Penguins were upset by Montreal in the preliminary round of the playoffs. The disappointed team flew home from Toronto, where games were being played at Scotiabank Arena without fans.

The team scattered, as teams tend to scatter at the end of every season. Crosby didn’t scatter. He went from the airport to the arena. He wasn’t happy with how the season ended.

He got on the ice and practiced alone that afternoon. That was Sid being Sid.

a good day to have fond feelings about sid

[lorelune]

(michael kaiser x reader // 18+ MDNI // cws: yandere kaiser, stalking, reader smokes cigarettes, toxic behaviors // wc: 2.2k)

"so you really did it?"

"did what?" you ask, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke into the frigid air. your fingers are numb.

"break up with him!"

"kaiser?" you snort, taking another drag before speaking. "i guess? i called things off earlier today, but we weren't actually dating. so it's not like it's really a breakup."

"... sure."

your friend on the line hardly sounds convinced. but it is... true. you and michael kaiser never dated. you never had a label, never discussed any type of commitment or potential future together. though you had spent more than one weekend (try a dozen plus) at his apartment, oscillating between cuddling, fucking, and being in each other's presence's in a way that was distinctly not platonic—

you and michael kaiser were never dating. you were not together. (Regardless of him flying you out to one match in Vienna, and the another in Rome—) you weren't dating.

you never were.

you never expected to either. michael kaiser was transparently damaged, and handling it in an unproductive, destructive manner. you saw this from a mile away, but entertained your chemistry regardless. maybe it was the influence of a few drinks and a few heated arguments that got you in bed with him to begin with, despite clocking his toxic tendencies early on.

you fought a lot, for not being a couple.

care made kaiser squirrely and angry. kindness made him snap. aggression, biting and clawing— angry sex that metastasized into something carnal and closer to a fight resonated with him far more than little affections. you only saw moments of vulnerability from him when you were both fucked out and exhausted. or, when he thought you weren't looking. you felt him pet through your hair while he thought you were asleep, more than once.

you broke up with kaiser because you couldn't handle things as they were anymore.

maybe you wanted to be loved. maybe you wanted to be held, openly and tenderly. maybe, you wanted a partner and not a man with an ego problem who fucked like a god and treated you like invasive creature nine times out of ten when you showed him affectionate.

(you just want to be loved.)

the luxuries and innate chemistry of your relationship simply wasn't worth it.

so, you broke things off. over text, because it seemed the least messy.

[you]: hey, what we have isn't working for me anymore. i don't want to see you any longer. i care about you a lot, but what we have is not sustainable. i wish you all the best, michael.

(you try not to be too affectionate with your message, lest you rile him up. you want to be gentle, but not too... emotional. it's better this way.)

you block him after sending the text. clean breaks— it's kinder in the long run, isn't it? even if it hurts more in the moment.

you sigh into the receiver, tossing your cigarette butt to the side, "i mean it, we weren't ever serious."

"if you say so."

you kick at the snow beneath your feet. there's an inch or two of it on the ground, coating the cobblestones of the path you walk on. the river that cuts through your city runs, despite the cold. there's no one around, and it's peaceful beneath the amber-tinged street lights.

"you don't sound convinced."

"because i'm not." your friend pauses. "... have you seen his instagram story from today?"

"nope," you pop the word from your lips. "i blocked him."

"already?"

"immediately."

"damn. that's cold of you."

"you don't know kaiser like i do," you shake your head. it's better this way, to be cleaner.

(you have always been able to foresee the way that man would tear you apart, if you misstepped too grievously.)

"well regardless," a notification comes up on your phone. your friends has sent a screenshot of kaiser's story. "look. he flew out to your city."

your stomach drops. sure enough, the screenshot has a location stamp over a photo of kaiser's deft hands, twirling a flute of champagne from what is clearly a first class seat.

"... maybe he has a match."

(he doesn't. you know this; there's no league that plays in your city.)

"or, he's coming to see you!"

"that would be insane," you laugh. that bastard... wouldn't, would he? he is... was halfway across the world.

"it would be romantic."

"it would be insane," you repeat.

you turn on your heel, back the way your came through the parkway. your apartment is... about a mile away, maybe. it's dark and cold, but you can probably get back there quickly. you're not sure where this particular sense of haste comes from—

but it's a frantic sort of feeling.

your friend pouts, "you have no sense of romance then, i guess."

(and your friend doesn't know michael kaiser.)

anxiety pitches around between your stomach and lungs. you swallow, and it feels too dry.

"i promise i do," you shake your head. "that's the problem."

"sure. tell me more about it later, 'kay? i gotta get ready to go out. let me know if your man shows up!"

your stomach rolls. "gotcha."

"bye bye!"

the line goes dead. your drop your arm to the side, your phone like a deadweight in your hand. you take a few steadying breaths, looking out at the rush of the river. the roar of it is just far enough away to not be overstimulating. the rest of the night is blanketed in snow and stillness.

you nearly trip as you begin to walk again, panic unfurling in your chest with each step.

(there's no way michael came all the way to your city, on a fucking last minute flight no less, for you. there's no literally no fucking way.)

why would he anyway? to try and salvage your not relationship? that hardly logical. there has to be another reason— his team has had him in a few PR campaigns lately, maybe... maybe that's it.

(you know that you are lying to yourself.)

you slip, just for a step or two, on some ice that's beneath the layer of fluffy snow. barely, you keep yourself upright, your arms flying up to find your balance once more. you take a steadying breath, pressing a hand to your chest.

"you should be more careful."

the blood in your veins freezes, numb and chilled like the air around you. your head jerks up.

kaiser sits on a bench, about ten paces in from of you. his arms are spread out over the back of it. he regards you with a tilt of his head, almost playful.

he looks you up and down, voice full of poison, "you could have hurt yourself."

"why the fuck are you here?" your voice barely manages to stay steady.

"why wouldn't i be?" kaiser shakes his head, a laugh bubbling in his chest. the cadence of it makes you feel nothing but unease. "i've got a match in London. i'm just picking you up."

"what are you talking about?" you swallow, audibly. you know that he hears it.

"don't be obtuse." he stands up. your stomach fills with leaden dread.

"you don't be obtuse," you snap back. "we're done. this—" you point between the two of you, "— is over."

"that's a mutual decision." he steps toward you.

you step back. "no, it's not."

kaiser is faster than you, he's up against your front in a moment. it makes you stumble back, nearly falling on the same patch of ice as before.

deftly, he gets an arm around your waist. the force of it is immediately too much, too tight, too hard. you're pulled against him, chest-to-chest. you brace your hands on his shoulders, some attempt at distance, but he doesn't budge. he stares down at you, the cold heat of his own presence engulfing you effortlessly.

"i-it's not," you whisper, voice wobbling. "you need to leave."

"you're an idiot."

"please let go."

"now, you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" kaiser smiles, something acidic that you can almost taste.

he bends the two of you, so your back arches. you scramble against him for some purchase.

"there's nothing to 'let go'," his sneers. you hit your fist against his shoulder. "you're coming with me to London, and you'll stop throwing this tantrum now, or along the way."

"it's a not fucking tantrum!" you snap at him. your voice matches the roar of the river. you meet his gaze, angry slipping into your tone as it so often does with him. "we are done. i don't want anything to do with you, michael— especially now. i can't believe you hopped on a fucking plane to, what, harass me on my own turf?"

his palms circles your jaw in a swift, uncomfortably fast movement. the pressure of him is unyielding. you can't look anywhere other than him.

the way he looks at you scares you, now more than ever. the frigid blue of his eyes is haunting and as hollow as it is full of vitriol. anger. all directed at you.

"i 'hopped on a plane' to take you home," kaiser dips you further. if he wasn't holding you, you'd crash to the ground. "i should've done so earlier, but i didn't expect that you'd lose your shit so quickly."

you weren't—, "i’m not—"

his grip on your jaw grows tighter. from a distance, this may look romantic to an onlooker.

from your position, you are in the jaws of a beast that you thought you had escaped.

"you're mine—" he pats your cheek, hard, as he tells you. the angle is bad, given it's with the same hand that's holding your jaw. your brain rattles inside of your skull. "don't think you can run away just because you got a bit scared."

"that's not why i broke up with you—"

"but, it is."

you want to cry, run away, jump in that goddamn fucking river. "no—"

"i get it," kaiser noses into your cheek. he's just as cold as you are. his voice is too soft; it unnerves you. "it's scary, loving someone. i'm scared too"

"i—" you don't love him, you can't love him—

he pulls back just enough to dip your body as far as it can go, and look into your eyes, his own pupils blown.

"let's be scared together," he says, just above a whisper, before slotting his lips against yours.

you slam your fist on his shoulders, his chest, the back of his head— you don't fucking care. whatever you can reach. kaiser doesn't relent. instead, he licks into your mouth. kisses you filthy in a public park just because he can.

maybe his words seem romantic, if you were to recount them to someone else. maybe. maybe someone could read his plane ride to you as a grand, romantically-driven gesture.

but, as he holds your head squarely in place, and fucks your mouth with his tongue, stealing your words and breath in tandem— you know, so lucidly, that none of kaiser intent here is 'romantic'. not in a way that's normal, that's sane.

no, this is the only way a deeper connection can exist for him, you think. the hand on your jaw slips down to your throat, holding you there. it's a collar and kaiser's holding the leash.

you whimper; you feel so foolish. you feel so fucking stupid for thinking you could disentangle yourself from him so easily.

"do you get it now?" kaiser says against you lips.

all you can do is nod, it's all the action he allows you.

all of the fights and tension that made connection between you before so intoxicating— it evolved into this. it was always destined to. you've been ensnared since day one, but didn't have the foresight to see you.

kaiser did, though.

as he pulls away, you're light-headed. he rights you and steadies you at the waist. he pats your head and even coos at you.

"are you done now?" he begins to walk you with a hand at your lower back— back in the direction you came. probably toward the nice hotel in the center of town where he undoubtedly has a suite. where he'll fuck you stupid into the king mattress. "if you cry, i'll just make it worse."

'worse'.

you shake your head, hard and fast, and suck down any tears beading at the corners of your eyes.

he seems pleased. "good."

there's nothing you can do but walk by his side. this has always been his design, even if you couldn't see it. regardless of any attempts to sever things and run off, even cleanly, this is where you'll end up.

hip-to-hip, with his hand on your lower back. with the promise of pain and pleasure doled out to you in equal measure.

as you step through the doors of the, as expected, upscale hotel, a wave of warm, fragranced air hits you. and with it, some part of you sags, defeated so simply. crushed. you sniffle and rub at your eyes.

(you don't see kaiser smiling at your side. you don't see the way he slips the concierge a wad of bills with the understanding that he'll be given a room far away from others, and that you won't be disturbed.

he has work to do. you— were going to fucking leave him? he— he needs to make sure that you understand that that is not your choice to make.

and, as he sees you, stifling tears and shaking like a leaf, your little act shattered so seamlessly, he thinks you really are starting to get it.)

you are his.

[joonjuul]

fallen angel is so good wow it's like god answered my prayer because not long ago i was talking to myself about how i wish there's a good demon jk fic who likes to corrupt innocent souls and you served a very delicious meal thanks maam 🙏 i see your reqs are open! would you like to entertain this idea of werewolf jk who stole someone else's mate 😙 her mate could be abusive so that's why jk "saves" her or maybe jk did it for funsies bcs he's just obsessed with her lol 😆

creature of the night. jjk

pairing: alpha!jk x beta!reader

wc: 6.6k

warnings: werewolf!jk, softdom!jk, super super desperate reader, reader is taken, cheating, pwp this is nasty yall, slight coercion, light fingering (f receiving), light oral (f receiving), overstimulation, light crying, light blood, pet names, light voyernism, some aggressiveness/abusive behavior (not from jungkook), jimin is reader’s original mate !!

a/n: my first req !! tysm anon for requesting !! im not super familiar with the werewolf trope so i hope you like it !! (this fic lowk had me distracted halfway through writing phew its a nasty one) reqs still open !!

╋━

you were always happy with jimin. at least that’s what you told yourself.

it wasn’t until he stopped touching you that you realized something was wrong. he made excuses, he was busy, he wasn’t in the mood, he was stressed about his pack i mean being an alpha isn’t easy work after all. but you had been through three separate heat cycles now, and you were frustrated.

every month passed, another heat you had to endure, waiting for your alpha to take care of you, but he never did.

and then, there was jungkook.

he was the alpha of an enemy pack, a competitor, and jimin’s lifelong threat. and he was obsessed with you, the idea of stealing jimin’s most prized possession right out from under his feet drove him wild, and he never failed to show you just how bad he wanted you.

“you look tired, sweetheart. long night?” you hear the familiar voice creeping up behind you. you could smell him coming from a mile away but gave up on any attempts to avoid him, knowing he would always track you down.

you continue piling the wood in front of you, preparing for a long winter, after all it was your responsibility as the alpha’s mate to take a maternal role for the entire pack.

“no. and even if it was i wouldn’t tell you about it.” you respond coldly, you hated his presence, and you hated that he could see right through your relationship struggles.

you didn’t even need to look at him to hear the grin on his face, slicing his words in half as he spoke.

“awww is jimin really treating you that bad, sweetheart?” you can feel him coming closer to you, but you continue to ignore his approaching frame as best as you can, continuing with your woodpile with your back facing him.

“jimin is… jimin.” is all you can muster before grabbing a stack of wood and heading to your cabin, without even a glance at the man standing behind you. but you already know he’s following, like a lost puppy looking for his mother.

“that bad, huh? i know what will make you feel better.” his footsteps follow behind you as you approach the cabin. luckily for you, the whole pack including your mate were out hunting for the day, preparing for what was supposed to be a frigid winter. you knew if jimin saw him on his territory, he would throw a fit, nevermind speaking to you. he knew jungkook had taken an interest in you recently, but he never knew the true extent of it. the paw prints by your window in the snow, the scent he gave off when he was in your presence. the flirty comments were the least of your concern being that your heat was approaching again soon, and being alone with an alpha, especially not one that’s your mate, was a very bad idea. you didn’t have full clarity in your mind or control of your body during a heat, especially not around an alpha.

you threw the wood down at the foot of the cabin door, turning around to face jungkook for the first time since your interaction had started.

his frame was large, almost larger than normal, hair a curly mess on top of his head, with his arms crossed along his chest. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he looked like a real alpha, the one you’ve been dreaming of the last couple months. but you pushed these thoughts aside quickly.

“oh yeah? and what will make me feel better?” you mimic his stance, crossing your arms and tilting your head, keeping your cold demeanor as best as you can. it was hard to hate someone you had no reason to hate, especially since jungkook had been nothing but nice to you, aside from the occasional harassment. but you were jimin’s mate, and anyone jimin hated, you hated the same.

“me.” he smirks down at you, taking a step closer to you, towering over you as he slowly approached, his gaze darkening as you begin to feel a bubble arising in your stomach. your heat was supposed to begin tonight, and you needed to stay far away from an alphas that weren’t your boyfriend.

you resist the urge to back up as he walks closer to you, instead, walking past him and brushing against his shoulder in the process, making your way back to the wood pile that was calling your name.

“in your dreams, jeon. do you want jimin to kill you?” you call out as you pick up another pile of wood and begin bringing it back to the house. you feel your heart drop as jungkook takes another step closer to you, grabbing the wood from your arms and placing it next to the original pile by the cabin.

“jimin couldn’t kill me if he tried. plus, even if he did, i’d at least die going after something i wanted.” he glances at you, smiling, before going back to the wood and picking up another arm full, doing your job for you as he continues bringing more and more to the foot of the cabin.

“jungkook, you seriously need to stop with this. i know it’s your lifelong dream to destroy him or whatever, but find some other way to do it, i’m not getting involved.” you say, watching carefully as he finishes placing down the last piece of wood, leaning up so he’s now towering over you once more. he reaches a hand up, gripping your chin gently as he tilts your head to look up at him. you feel your stomach twirl at the small gesture, but never let your face show it.

jungkook however, as an alpha, has a very keen sense of smell. especially when it comes to betas that aren’t being properly satisfied, or are in heat. you, are both of those things. and jungkook could smell how desperate you were before he even reached the property line.

he smirks at you, watching your expression carefully. “you’re already involved, sweetheart.” he releases your chin and watches as your eyebrows furrow together. “plus, i couldn’t stop if i wanted to. not when im so close to getting what i want.” he tucks a hair behind your ear carefully before turning around and walking away, without even a glance behind him at your frozen stature at the foot of the cabin.

-

“do anything productive today?” your boyfriend’s sweet words echo through the dining room. you glance up from your food that you had barely touched and watch him as he eyes you carefully, waiting for a response.

“not really. brought some wood inside, that’s about it.” you bring your fork down to your plate, poking at the meat lightly before putting it down completely, leaning back in your chair. you couldn’t eat, not with the impending doom of your relationship in the back of your mind and that god forsaken alpha next door that won’t leave you alone.

jimin quirks an eyebrow before bringing his fork up to his mouth, taking another bite. “that’s strange because i heard you had a visitor.” he says in between chewing. you feel your heart drop. how could he have known? and the fact that you lied about it wasn’t helping your case whatsoever.

you gulp gently, trying to regain your composure. “y-yeah. i didn’t talk to him long though. i made him leave.”

“that’s not what it looked like, y/n.” his voice is calm, but that only makes you more nervous. how could he have seen? he didn’t get home until hours after your interaction with jungkook.

“jimin, i promise you have nothing to-“

“like hell i don’t!” you feel your body jump involuntarily as jimin smashes his hands down on the dinner table, causing the silverware to vibrate aggressively. you feel your heart begin to race, your mind swarming with thoughts as you watch him take a breath and calmly bring his fork back up to his mouth, taking another bite of his dinner.

“you know how i feel about him, y/n. why would you even utter a word to him. not to mention his obsession with you.”

“he’s not obsessed with-“

“i swear to fucking god if you finish that sentence.” you watch as jimin points his fork at you, almost threatening. you gulp again. you had no idea what had gotten into him lately. this wasn’t his first outburst recently, but if you had told the you that met him years ago that the sweet boy you knew would’ve turned into this monster, you would’ve never believed yourself

“jimin, please-“ you mutter, feeling defeated.

“you should be begging for my forgiveness, y/n. dumb fucking slut all you care about is getting dick. the second i get busy with the pack you start running off with my arch nemesis.” his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you feel your heart pang in your chest. how could he say those things?

“jimin i never-“

“the next time i see you even breathing the same air as him, we’re done. you want to be an alpha’s slut so bad? go have him.” you watch as the love of your life stands up from his spot at the dinner table, throwing his silverware down onto his plate and storming off.

you were in shock. you didn’t know what to say, what to think. but you didn’t have time to process this right now, your heat was approaching and you needed to prepare for the night.

_

you feel the warm water consume your body as you bring yourself into the bathtub. the heat comforting your cold heart almost instantaneously. as much as you wanted to push the day’s events to the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but hear jimin’s words ringing in your ears. you could barely control when jungkook approached you nevermind ignored him completely. it was nearly impossible!

you take a breath and exhale, sighing as you lean your head down and under the water, allowing it to swallow you hole.

you are only under the water for half a second, finally feeling some sort of relaxation, and then, it hits you. the first wave.

your body shudders, your heart dropping to your stomach as you feel a deep flutter between your legs.

you immediately come up for air, inhaling deeply as you cross your legs, trying to make the feeling subside in any way you can. the first couple waves are normally not that bad, but because you hadn’t been stuffed by an alpha in so long, the waves only got worse, and worse.

you feel a moan escape your lips, quickly covering your mouth before standing up from the tub and grabbing a towel, wrapping it around your bare body and escaping to your room with quick strides.

since you and jimin started to struggle, you had been sleeping in the guest room of the cabin, which is typically reserved for a member of the back during a time of need, but right now, that was you.

you quickly sit down on the edge of your bed, trying to breathe through the wave as best you can, your knuckles turning white gripping the towel across your chest.

the room is silent, air slightly chilly, enough to make your nipples harden underneath the now cold towel.

you groan, knowing that this is only the beginning, and that you needed to restrain yourself quickly before you got any funny ideas about running next door to find an alpha to mate with.

you barely had time to grab the restraints from your closet before another wave hits you, hard. you feel your knees buckle underneath you, growing weaker and weaker with each stride as the flutter travels from in between your thighs, to your desperate hole.

you feel another moan escape your lips as you regain your composure and bring the restraints to your bed.

typically you would prefer to be clothed during your heat, but right now you didn’t have time for that considering each wave was approaching faster and faster.

you lay down quickly, heart thumping in your chest as you fumble with the restraints, tying yourself to the headboard as best as you can.

once you’re fully immobilized, you take a deep breath, your legs clenching together as the heat circles around your core, the sweet tingling only making you more and more desperate, and before you know it, you’re a mess.

writhing on top of the covers, a thin sheet of sweat covered your body, your nipples exposed to the cold air only making you more sensitive. you couldn’t help the whines of desperation that left your throat. you were trying to be as quiet as possible, knowing damn well that a beta in heat without a mate was like a magnet for any alpha within a 10 mile radius, but there was only one you were worried about right now.

jungkook knew your heat was approaching before he even laid eyes on you this afternoon, and he knew that jimin hadn’t mated with you in at least three months judging by your scent.

he relived the moment he first saw you over and over in his head, staring at the ceiling longingly as he imagined how perfect you would look taking his cock, how much he would love to make you scream his name, how he would love for jimin to watch.

he smirks, feeling himself get hard at the thought of you.

but his smirk quickly drops when he hears a gentle cry in the distance.

jungkook had decided to sleep with his window open tonight, hoping that he could air out the lingering scent of you off his body before it drove him mad. but what he wasn’t prepared for was the sound of you whining across the pine trees from beside his window.

he feels his cock twitch as he makes the realization that those weren’t whines of pleasure, but whines of desperation. he figured your heat was approaching, but he didn’t realize it was here already. and not only that, but the fact that jimin wasn’t taking care of you filled him with a rage he couldn’t describe.

he feels a pinch in his palms as he opens his hands and sees the crescent patches painting his palms red, a sign of his anger, of his rage.

i should go check on her, make sure no lingering alphas get any ideas. but his thoughts are fruitless, as he’s already outside your window by the time the brain wave is complete.

but what he wasn’t prepared for, was the sight of your bare, naked body chained to your bed.

he groans darkly at the sight of you, writhing in desperation as your body pleads for some sort of relief. he brings his hand down to his pants, palming his hard on gently as his brain twists and turns at the image.

and got your scent. it was seeping through the walls. how could jimin function, nevermind sleep through this? never had he seen such a needy beta, not even in their first heat had he ever seen one so desperate.

what kind of alpha would he be if he didn’t take care of her?

you feel one of the waves finish, sliding off your body gracefully as if it didn’t leave you destroyed. each wave got more and more painful, and you were wondering how much longer you could put up with this before it consumed you completely.

your legs were shaking tirelessly, beads of sweat dribbling down your forehead as you take a deep breath in, trying to regain your composure as best you can.

but, there’s something wrong. you picked up a strange smell in the air, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

suddenly, you hear the gentle creek of your bedroom door. your body freezes, completely consumed with fear as you see a tall shadow standing in the doorway of your room.

jimin is not that tall.

you begin to whimper in fear, moving your legs so your sat against the headboard. your pleas are gentle, but any good alpha could easily decipher what they meant; please spare me.

you watch carefully as the shadow takes a step towards you, a beam of moonlight from the window shining on a small portion of his face.

“j-jungkook?” you whimper, your legs shaking gently at the feeling of another wave coming your way. you had to deter it as best as you could, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself once it arrived, especially not with him in front of you.

but, he didn’t respond, only walked closer to you, as if in a trance.

he brings a hand up to your leg, his finger gently sliding across your burning skin, carefully examining every mole and freckle along the way.

“jungkook?” you say a bit louder this time, and you watch as his face snaps up, awaking him from his day dream.

“i-i smelt you. m-my window was open, and i c-couldn’t stop myself.” he stutters, his voice less dominant and more nervous as his finger continued to trace lines up and down your thigh. you suddenly became aware of your naked state and felt a wave of guilt rush over you. jimin was going to kill you if he found out.

the feeling of jungkook’s hand on your skin stirred another wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you double over, your legs shaking aggressively as a line of slick leaks from your throbbing hole, landing on the sheets beneath you.

you’d be blind if you didn’t notice jungkook’s eyes quickly travel from your thigh, to in between them, widening as he sees the mess you’ve made already of your bed sheets.

you feel another moan escape your lips at the mere thought of his presence, silently scolding yourself for feeling this way, but you couldn’t help it, it was in your nature.

“jungkook, p-please. you c-can’t be h-here.” you stutter in between whimpers, your body shaking aggressively now as the wave takes over completely, washing you from head to toe and causing more slick to leak out of you in the process.

jungkook however, is stuck in place. his eyes were dancing around your body, from your face, to your breasts, to your gushing hole and everywhere in between. there was no way he was leaving this room now.

he feels his dominance kick in at the sound of your moans, knowing that an intense wave just hit you, and suddenly, his alpha stature comes out.

he quickly takes a seat next to you on the bed, brushing the hair out from your sweaty face.

“shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay just breathe.” you feel your core twist and turn at his words. you had never seen him so gentle before. he was always just harassing you, his alpha side must’ve kicked in when he was you experiencing a wave.

“j-jungkook. please. i won’t be able to s-stop myself.” your legs shake, your eyes closed tightly as you fight the urge to lunge at him and break your restraints.

jungkook noticed and gulps, feeling his dick twitch at the thought of being able to fuck you, mark you as his, mate with you, while jimin is right in the other room.

his mouth salivates at the sight before him, his eyes locked on your core as he watches it leak more and more slick, the bed sheets saturated with your desperation.

before he has time to process what he’s doing, he leans down, his face now in between your thighs, his breathing short and ragged as he watches your hole throb around nothing.

“just one taste…” you hear him mutter to himself beneath you. you open your mouth, wanting to tell him to stop, but nothing comes out, and your body suddenly shakes as he licks a stripe up your core.

you moan loudly, hands wrapped tightly around the restraints in an attempt to hold yourself up, your legs quivering harshly as he licks another stripe, stopping at your clit and sucking on it tightly.

you feel feral, completely overwhelmed, your body sweating profusely now as he continues to lick and suckle on your core, you can’t stop yourself from the uncontrollable moans and groans that leave your mouth.

“f-fuck. jungkook, p-please stop.” you plead, your voice weak and trembling. as much as you wanted him to stop, for the sake of your relationship, your body was desperate for the slightest bit of touch he could give you, and the more he continues his ministrations on your core, the less you’re able to control your heat from consuming you entirely.

he wraps his arms under your thighs, getting a better grip on you as he continues to eat you out relentlessly, his tongue never once faltering as he buries his face into your sopping cunt.

you moan loudly, unable to control the volume of your screams as you internally panic at the thought of jimin hearing you, or worse, being able to smell jungkook in the house. you pray to anyone that might listen to you that he’s fast asleep, but you know better. he may have been able to conceal it, but jimin’s alpha instincts would never allow him to sleep during one of your heats, it simply wasn’t possible.

jungkook pulls away from your core briefly, his face covered in your juices as he looks up at you from between your legs. the sight of you covered in sweat and heaving struggling to retain any air in your lungs only fuels him more.

“you taste so fucking good.” his voice is low and growled as he begins to move so he’s hovering above you now, your faces merely inches apart as he looks down at you. his eyes tracing your figure, his mouth agape and lips swollen, skin shining with the reflection of your juices.

you feel like you’re unable to function or think under his intense gaze, you gulp harshly, your mind overwhelmed with thoughts of your relationship, but your body unconsciously leaning up into his, trying to gain any sort of friction you can.

“let me take care of you.” he whispers, leaning down into the crook of your neck as he peppers kisses along your sticky skin. you moan deeply, cursing your body for reacting to him so easily. you hadn’t been touched in months, and he was doing everything perfectly, like he somehow already knew your body inside and out, and it was driving you crazy.

“j-jungkook.” is all your able to mutter before he begins sucking harshly on your neck, marking you in desperation. you buck your hips up into his at the sudden force, arms pulling harshly on your restraints in a subconscious attempt to break free.

“so needy, so sweet, and all for me.” he whispers in between kisses, trailing down to your breasts before taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking harshly. you feel another wave of heat consuming your body at his actions, causing you to scream out again, your legs trembling and core pulsing as it leaks more slick out onto the bed.

you’re about to protest, stop him, do anything to save your relationship until you feel his hand slide in between your thighs, prodding your wet hole before pushing inside you, still marking your breasts and chest along the way.

you moan out again, body tensing as you feel yourself tighten around his fingers harshly as he starts a steady pace on your cunt.

“let’s do something about that heat of yours, yeah?” you groan again at his words, the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you almost too much for you to bare. your eyes clench shut as you begin to shake even harder now, desperate to feel more. you bite your lip in an attempt to stay quiet but it’s no use, only breaking the skin on your bottom lip as it begins to bleed lightly.

jungkook smells the blood almost immediately and returns his attention to your face, admiring your swollen red lips. he continues his ministrations on your cunt but leans forward, devouring your lips in a passionate kiss, licking up the small drops of blood that hover on your skin.

you groan into his mouth, feeling the way his fingers curl up into you, and the heat of his tongue on yours, bucking your hips up involuntarily and pulling on your arm restraints harshly, wanting to be closer to him.

jungkook notices your attempts to escape the restraints and removes his fingers from your hole, feeling it tighten around nothing at the sudden emptiness. he brings his hands to your restraints and begins undoing them, pulling away from the kiss and watching as your eyes widen with panic.

“i-i won’t be able to control myself.” your voice shakes as you plead to him not to undo your restraints.

“i don’t want you to.” he says calmly as he fully releases you from your confinement, your arms falling down to the bed harshly as the panic sets in on the intensity of the situation.

he looks at your expression, seeing the worry in your eyes as your arms shake, your body fighting its natural urges to pounce on him and ride him until you can’t walk.

he brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he reassures you.

“mate with me.” his voice comes out in a beg, filled with passion and need. you widen your eyes again at his request. he was asking you to leave jimin for him ? was he insane ?

“what?”

he looks at you again, his touch soothing the patches of sweat on your face, moving your hair so it’s no longer sticking to your forehead.

“mate with me.” he repeats, his voice just as desperate as the first time he asked. you’re unable to think. how could he possibly ask you to leave jimin ? he knew how much you loved him, not to mention your dedication to his pack. you suddenly get flashbacks to your dinner with him earlier, the way he yelled at you, his aggressive behavior, what he said about jungkook. you gulp harshly, consumed by your thoughts as you feel yourself begin to drift away from your current situation.

“you’re not happy, y/n. when was the last time he touched you ?” you feel a pang of shame in your heart at his words, you knew he was right, but you’d never be able to forgive yourself if you betrayed jimin like that.

“a true alpha would never let his mate endure their heat alone, even if he was mad. it’s not right and you know it.” you hear his words but you’re unable to respond, all you can think about was how jimin was in the next room, whether or not he could hear everything that was happening, all your happy moments together.

jungkook watches as you drift away from the conversation, and he brings his head back down into the crook of your neck, suckling the skin gently.

“mate with me.” his voice is more desperate now, kissing from your neck down to your shoulders. you feel yourself moan at his touch, your head lulling back as you allow him to take more space on your skin.

“mate with me.” he repeats, dragging his lips down to your collarbones and chest, passionately pecking any free patch of skin he could find.

“mate with me.” he brings his hands up to your shoulders and lays you back on the bed, kissing all the way down to your stomach and thighs, running his hands along the wet skin and scratching it gently.

“mate with me.” he leans back, bringing his hands down to his waistband and pulling them off quickly, his hands finding the hem of his shirt as well, pulling those off too, leaving him just in his boxers as he teasingly brings your hand to the waistband, tracing it gently.

you’re eyes widen at the sight of his hard on, he was bigger than you could’ve ever imagined. you feel his soft skin under the waistband of his boxers, feeling the gentle goosebumps arise as you run your fingers along it, instinctively wrapping your fingers around it signaling for him to take them off.

without a word, he follows your instructions, pulling his boxers down as you watch his cock spring free, drops of precum trickling down the head as he returns to his place above you on the bed.

he leans forward, his cock laying on your tummy as he kisses you passionately, your hips bucking up into his cock as you feel another wave rush over you. the feeling of his cock being so close to your core driving you wild.

you moan gently into his lips, your legs shaking slightly as you grind up into him, the base of his cock swiping against your core softly causing you to cry out again.

jungkook pulls away from the kiss, admiring how fucked out you looked already, bringing his hand down to his cock and aligning it with your entrance, prodding your hole gently.

“mate with me.” his voice now barely a whisper as he rubs the head of his cock between your soaked folds. you moan loudly again, feeling completely overwhelmed by every movement he made. you wanted nothing more than to say yes and allow him to fuck you right then and there, but you couldn’t stop thinking about jimin, and what that would mean for your relationship.

he brings the head of his cock back to your hole, watching as another heat takes over you, leaking hot liquid onto his tip. he growls at the sight, pushing the head gently into your core and watching as your mouth falls open at the feeling. he brings his hands to your hips, holding them in place against the bed as he stays still, only keeping the head of his cock inside you, and never once moving.

“mate with me.” his voice is now a low whisper, watching you struggle to keep your composure under him. you’re fighting against his hold, bucking your hips up as he holds you in place, anything to make him push into you deeper, but he never does.

“j-jungkook, p-please.” you groan, desperate for him to fuck you. you wiggle your hips at an attempt to gain friction but it’s no use with the way he holds you against the bed. you were cornered, you could either say yes and get what you wanted, or say no and watch as he leaves you even more desperate than you were before.

“mate with me, y/n.” his voice is sterner now, his gaze burning holes into you as you look up at him, his eyes dark and full of lust. you knew he would be an aggressive lover just by looking at him. nothing about him screamed gentle.

“p-please.” your eyes begin to well up at the overstimulation.

“do you know how fucking good i can make you feel?” your breath hitches in your throat as he rolls his hips forward, pushing his cock into you, slowly.

you feel your walls stretch around his length as he slowly moves his cock deeper into you, he was so big you thought it would never end.

“do you know how well i’d take care of you if you were mine?” you’re unable to form words as he bottoms out inside of you, still holding your hips in place as he settles within your cunt, stopping once he’s fully inside of you.

“you’d have your heat every night with the way i’d fuck you.” you feel a moan fall from your lips at the feeling of having him inside of you, his words only stirring the butterflies inside your core.

“mate with me.” he places a hand on your chin and forces you to look up at him, watching as your face is contorted with pleasure and overstimulation. and before you have time to process it, the word is leaving your mouth.

“okay.”

he quickly brings a hand up to your mouth, covering it tightly as he fucks up into you at an inhumane pace.

“good girl, fuck.” he mumbles, his cock stretching you out deliciously as he fucks you into the bed. you realize now why he covered your mouth as you begin to cry out loudly, his palm muffling the nasty sounds that spill from your lips.

his cock was big, bigger than you were used to, and the way it perfectly hit your g-spot with every thrust was driving you insane. you brought your hands up to his shoulders to find something to hold on to, feeling as they tense under your touch.

“god you’re so fucking tight. when was the last time he fucked you?” you moan again at his words, feeling him move his hand away slightly for you to respond.

“t-three months ago.” you stutter, your voice shaky as he covers your mouth once more, groaning as he fucks you even harder.

“fuck. i’m gonna take such good care of you, baby. you’re gonna forget he ever existed.” you feel your body shake aggressively as he picks up his pace, wrapping your legs around his back to allow him to fuck you deeper. he growls at the small action, moving his hand from your mouth to your throat as he wraps his fingers around your neck lightly.

“bet he didn’t fuck you like this, did he?” he tightens his grip around your neck, your head swirling as he cuts of your ability to breathe. you feel a head rush wash over you, your vision darkening slightly as you do your best to whisper a response.

“f-fuck, no he didn’t.” he releases his grip around your neck at your words, watching as you shake in pleasure beneath him. he can’t help the smirk that falls across his lips knowing that jimin was in just the next room.

he wraps an arm around your waist and flips you over so you’re on your stomach, pushing his cock into you once more as he grips your hips slightly.

you moan out loudly at the new position, already feeling like he’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“wanna hear that pretty voice, wanna hear you moan my name, want jimin to hear it too.” he slaps your ass harshly as he continues pulling your hips down to his own, fucking you from behind.

your knuckles are turning white from your aggressive hold on the sheets, your lips bit tightly between your teeth as you shake your head, the thought of jimin hearing you scaring you half to death.

but jungkook doesn’t like that response.

he wraps a hand around your hair pulling you back roughly, you let out a squeal at the sudden aggressiveness. his hips never stalled as he brought his other hand to your front, dragging it down to your clit and rubbing torturous circles with his fingers.

you moan out loudly as he continues to fuck you like this, his hands on your clit pushing you towards the edge faster and faster.

“wanna try that again?” he whispers into your ear as he continues to fuck into you, your mind is completely blank, all you can think about is your approaching orgasm and the way his fingers feel against your clit.

jungkook smiles to himself, noting how easily you get overstimulated, and lets go of your hair to watch your upper half fall back to the bed roughly. he brings both of his hands back to your hips and begins to fuck you harder.

“close already, huh sweetheart?” your body begins to shake, his mocking tone shooting straight to your core as you feel yourself begin to teeter on the edge. all you can do is moan loudly in response, you’re sure jimin could hear you, anyone in a 10 mile radius probably could.

“cum baby, wanna feel you cream on my cock like a good pup.” and at his words you can no longer hold back, your cunt tightening around him as you begin to squirt, coating his cock and balls with your slick, your vision turning black and head spinning as you scream loudly.

jungkook’s hips stall slightly at the way you squeeze him, almost pushing his cock out of you completely. his lower half entirely soaked with your slick as he groans loudly. he’d never seen a pup so desperate for an alpha that they squirted on him. he begins to fuck into you faster, his high approaching quickly too as he runs his hands up and down your sides, soothing you gently.

“shhh it’s okay, baby. you did so good, such a good girl for me.” his voice is shaky but he never shows how much you affected him. you begin to come back to reality, your entire body convulsing in overstimulation as you feel him continue to fuck you. his soothing actions by your sides only turning you on more, making the overstimulation worse as you writhe and wiggle under his hold.

“ahh- fuck.” you squeal, you had never felt this level of overstimulation before. normally jimin doesn’t even make you finish.

“almost there baby, fuck.” jungkook’s thrusts become sloppy as he fucks into you harder, making your cunt scream out in pain. he takes his final couple thrusts before groaning loudly and spilling his seed inside of you, filling you up completely. it’s more than you’re used to, you’ve never seen a man cum so much.

“fuck.” he mumbles, his thrusts slowing down as he fucks his seed into you. after a couple deep breaths he pulls his cock out, watching as the mixture of your fluids leak out, your hole pulsing with need as they drip onto the sheets below you.

you collapse onto the bed, feeling completely overwhelmed, but even more fulfilled knowing that you finally have an alpha that can take care of you and your needs.

jungkook collapses beside you, bringing a hand to your head as he tucks a hair behind your ear.

“what did he ever do to deserve you?” he mumbles just over a whisper, watching as you close your eyes gently out of over-tiredness.

just when you feel you’re about to drift into a deep sleep, you hear a creak in the doorway, your heart dropping to your stomach as you open your eyes widely, seeing jungkook’s cocky expression as he watches his gaze shift to the bedroom door.

“what the fuck.” you hear jimin’s familiar voice across the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of regret and shame wash over you, but you’re internally glad you’re not facing the doorway and can’t see his expression.

jungkook stands up from off the bed, reaching for his boxers before sliding them up over his legs and cock proudly.

“i told you i’d get her.” you hear jungkook respond confidently, finishing putting his clothes on before leaning back down to you and wrapping a towel over your figure, picking you up in one swift movement.

he looks down at your face, seeing your eyes scrunched up tightly, an expression of guilt painted on your beautiful features.

you can feel his chest grumble, but don’t open your eyes or respond as he shoots jimin a glare and brushes past him, walking out the cabin and into the wild.

you were his now, and he wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way.

[lisalamona]

Lover Boy

. Summary: After years of stolen glances, unfortunate interruptions, and sneaking out of the palace, Telemachus finally musters the courage to confess to you, well… not without a little help, of course. . Pairing: Telemachus x gn! Reader . Warnings: None . Notes: This one had been rotting in the drafts for a while. You can all thank @selena-of-ithaca for inspiring me to finish it! I will probably be doing a second part of this closer to what the request originally was cause it left me thinking about some ideas I wanna explore Art taken from duvetbox's animatic of Legendary Stars devider made by @saradika-graphics, taken from this post

You can say what you will about love at first sight—that it's not real, that it's just an exaggeration poets use to get their point across. But for Telemachus, it was real. Way too real. He just didn't know it at the time.

The first time he saw you, he was just a boy, running from the suffocating walls of the palace. It had stopped feeling like a home—what it was supposed to be—and had become a den. He felt like a lone sheep trapped in a cave full of wolves, and there was no escape. He couldn't leave. He had duties, responsibilities. And most importantly, his mother needed him.

Ever since the suitors had stormed in, treating the palace and everyone inside it as if they were nothing, life had become unbearable. The halls were filled with laughter that wasn't joyful, voices that weren't kind. Every step he took had to be careful, every turn of a corner calculated, just to avoid crossing paths with them. It didn't matter that he was the prince, the heir to Ithaca's throne—his title held no weight with them.

He felt like he was drowning, even though he stood on solid ground.

So naturally, he went to the beach. Or at least, that's where he intended to go. Lost in his thoughts, his mind running rampant, he barely noticed where his feet were taking him. He was halfway down the docks when he collided with someone—hard. The impact sent both of you to the ground, and something clattered beside you.

"Are you alright?"

The voice reached him before he even opened his eyes. The blow had forced them shut, but when he finally blinked them open, the sight before him left him speechless.

At the time, he would've chalked it up to embarrassment. Maybe that was part of it. But looking back, he thought maybe—just maybe—he knew you were the one right then and there, even if he hadn't fully realized it yet.

"Uh... hello?" You waved a hand in front of his face. That snapped him out of his daze, but before he could speak, another voice cut through.

"Kid!"

Both of you turned in unison. A man stood at the edge of the docks—a gruff, towering figure with a bit of gray streaking through his hair. His arms, covered in calluses and old scars, looked like they belonged to someone who could crush a person with a single tap. But you knew better. You knew his heart was made of gold.

"What happened? Are you alright? I knew I shouldn't have let you hold the spears," the man grumbled, his deep voice thick with concern.

"Dad," you muttered, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your tone.

But he wasn't listening. He kept going, mumbling about how he should keep a better eye on you.

"Dad! I'm alright," you reassured him, then turned back to Telemachus—though at the time, you didn't know his name. "Are you?"

He nodded quickly, still a bit unsettled by the sheer presence of your father.

"See? Everything's fine." That seemed to calm the man, at least a little.

You rose from the ground, dusting yourself off before gathering the fallen spears. With one hand, you picked them up. With the other, you reached down and helped Telemachus to his feet.

Your father studied him with a keen eye. "What's your name, son?"

"Telemachus, sir." Anyone could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Your father's brows lifted slightly. "The prince? What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I just wanted to take a stroll along the beach." Telemachus gestured toward the shore—a more desolate place, one few people ever ventured to.

"Oh, well, that's always a delight to see," your father said with a knowing smile. "Why don't you take [Name] with you? They love going there."

"Dad!"

Heat rushed to your face. That was all you could muster in your embarrassment.

"What?" Your father shrugged. "You could use a break. You need friends your age, anyway." He muttered the last part, but it was loud enough for Telemachus to hear—making your face burn even more.

That day was the first of many.

Over the next ten years, you and Telemachus built something unshakable—a bond carefully woven over time. And in those years, Telemachus came to a realization.

He liked you.

Really liked you.

He had always been hesitant to use the word love. He had never really seen it with his own eyes—not the kind poets spoke of. He had never met his father, and his mother had spent most of his life waiting, praying for Odysseus to return. He supposed the strength she carried was love, in its own way. But he had never seen it in action.

And the years had only made it harder. The suitors had grown more desperate, more dangerous, stripping away every ounce of his attention and confidence.

But then—after twenty long, agonizing years—his father came home.

Everything changed.

In the first few weeks, Telemachus watched his parents reunite. He saw the way they cherished each other, how they barely left each other's side. He saw love in the way they looked at one another, in the way his father reached for his mother's hand without thinking, in the way she smiled as if she had been holding her breath for two decades and could finally exhale.

And that's when he knew.

That's what he wanted.

He wanted to hold your hand, wanted to make you smile—not that he didn't already manage to do that. He wanted to wake up by your side, to trace soft, chaste kisses along your face. He wanted to look into your eyes and, without a single word, know that you both felt the same, that you loved each other.

The only problem was... he didn't know how.

And, gods, he was scared.

──────💗──────

Odysseus made his rounds through town, as he had made a habit of doing ever since returning home. He liked watching the people go about their day, seeing the town buzz with life. He took in every sound, every movement, every face. After spending so many years without proper human interaction, he had learned to appreciate the small things.

That, of course, didn't mean he didn't make time for his family. If anything, he dreaded the moments he had to spend away from them to tend to his duties. That was why, when his son volunteered to accompany him to the docks, he was ecstatic. His mind raced with possible conversation topics, excited at the rare opportunity to bond with Telemachus outside the walls of the palace.

But as they walked, it became increasingly clear that the conversation was more one-sided than he would have liked. Telemachus seemed distracted, his gaze scanning the crowd as if searching for something. Or someone.

Normally, Odysseus might have felt a twinge of disappointment at his son's lack of attention. But then he spotted you, helping your father unload the fishing boat. And then he noticed his son—staring directly at you, his hands fidgeting at his sides before he wiped them on his tunic, as if trying to get rid of sudden clamminess.

Oh. That explained it.

Odysseus' observation skills might have been rusty, but he wasn't stupid.

"Do you want to go talk to them?"

Telemachus nearly jumped out of his skin, his head snapping toward his father. "I— I already do talk to them! We're friends."

Odysseus raised an eyebrow with skepticism. "Friends?"

"Yes!" Telemachus insisted, a little too quickly. His cheeks, however, betrayed him as they flushed red.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I introduced myself?"

Telemachus gave him an incredulous look. "You're the king. They already know who you are!"

"Yes, well, I never personally introduced myself," Odysseus replied smoothly. "And any friend of my son's is a friend of mine."

And with that, he began walking toward you without waiting for a response.

"Father!" Telemachus whisper-shouted, but Odysseus—despite clearly hearing him—kept going, a determined pep in his step.

Panic surged through Telemachus. His father was about to make it so much worse. Desperately, he glanced around, looking for an escape. And then, without thinking, he ducked behind a stack of barrels, pressing himself against the wall in mortified defeat.

He wanted the earth to swallow him right there and then.

"Hello." Odysseus' voice snapped both you and your father to attention.

"Oh—hello, my king, what brings you to us?" your father said, immediately dropping what he was doing to give the king of Ithaca a respectful bow of his head. You quickly followed suit, though your own bow was a little sloppier in your haste.

Odysseus acknowledged both of you with a nod in return—once to your father, then once to you.

"I just wanted to meet my son's friend," he said casually. "Make up for lost time."

At the mention of Telemachus, your ears perked, and your gaze instinctively swept the area, searching for him. It was an unconscious reaction—but not one that went unnoticed by Odysseus.

"Is... is he here?" you asked, smoothing down some stray hairs without realizing it.

Odysseus' lips curled slightly in amusement, though his sharp eyes held something more calculating. He looked behind him, to where his son once stood. "He was. But he seems to have disappeared." His tone was light, but the glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly where his son had gone.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "Sounds like him."

"Mm." Odysseus crossed his arms, glancing at you with a thoughtful expression. Then, after a brief pause, he gestured toward the town. "Care for a walk?"

You hesitated, glancing toward your father for guidance. He met your uncertain gaze with an encouraging nod.

"Of course," you answered, finally releasing your grip on your work.

Odysseus extended a hand to help you out of the boat. His grip was firm but not overbearing, a steady reminder of the strength he carried. You accepted his help with a small word of thanks, and he nodded in acknowledgment.

As you stepped onto solid ground, Odysseus and your father exchanged brief goodbyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Then, without further delay, you and the king of Ithaca set off down the worn path.

"Tell me—how did you and my son meet?"

"Oh, uh—he ran into me," you said, remembering the day vividly. "Literally."

Odysseus chuckled, nodding as if that sounded exactly like something Telemachus would do. "And you've been friends ever since?"

You smiled. "More or less. He's easy to talk to."

That earned a raised brow from the king. "Is he?"

You tilted your head, sensing a hidden layer to his question. "Once he warms up to you, yes. He's thoughtful, kind. He listens—really listens. Not just to respond, but because he cares about what you're saying."

Odysseus hummed, rubbing his beard in thought. "And what do you think of him?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. "I—well, I think highly of him, of course. He's my friend."

"Just a friend?" Odysseus asked, watching you closely.

You felt warmth creeping up your neck. "I—yes?"

He chuckled at your hesitation, clearly enjoying this far too much. "Well, I suppose time will tell." Then, as if switching subjects entirely, he gestured toward the boat growing smaller behind you. "You work hard."

"I have to," you said, welcoming the shift in topic. "It's not easy work, but it keeps me moving."

Odysseus nodded approvingly. "A strong back and a strong mind—both good things to have." He studied you for a moment longer before adding, "Loyalty is important too. My son, he has to be careful about who he trusts." You could sense something else in his words, more than a father concerned for his son, something personal.

You met his gaze steadily. "I understand. And I'd never betray his trust."

The weight behind your words must have satisfied him because, for the first time, Odysseus' sharp scrutiny softened into something resembling approval. "Good."

Then, without another word, he turned his head slightly and called out, far too casually.

"You can come out now, son."

A muffled curse sounded from behind some abandoned barrels.

Your face lit up with laughter as Telemachus sheepishly emerged from his not so secret hiding spot, his face redder than a pomegranate.

Odysseus clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, grinning. "A prince shouldn't cower behind barrels, Telemachus. Stand tall."

Telemachus muttered something under his breath that you couldn't quite catch. You, however, were too busy giggling to care.

Odysseus gave you one last, knowing glance before stepping back. "I'll leave you two to it, then."

And just like that, he strode off, leaving Telemachus staring at you, utterly mortified.

──────💗──────

"He embarrassed me!"

"You embarrassed yourself."

Telemachus stared at his father in disbelief, then turned toward his mother, silently pleading for help.

Penelope and Odysseus sat side by side on a wooden bench, a stack of parchment spread across the table before them. Penelope had been signing documents, her focus divided between the ink stained sheets and the arms wrapped securely around her waist. Odysseus, ever at ease, rested his chin in the crook of her neck, perfectly content to hold her as she worked.

Penelope glanced up at her son, amusement flickering in her gaze. "Your father just wanted to help."

Telemachus groaned. Of course, he knew that, but did his father really have to do it like that? "I didn't need any help."

At that, Penelope and Odysseus exchanged a look—one of those unspoken conversations only long-married couples could have. A smirk tugged at Odysseus' lips, and Penelope barely suppressed a laugh.

Telemachus narrowed his eyes. "I mean it!"

"I already told you, sweetheart," Penelope said, her voice warm with patience. "You just need to ask them."

Telemachus hesitated. "But what if...?"

"The worst that can happen is them saying no." Odysseus chimed in, casual as ever.

Telemachus huffed. "No, the worst thing that can happen is my friendship with my best friend being destroyed because of my stupid heart!" He dramatically pounded his chest before flopping onto his parents' bed, face first, as if trying to bury his shame into the linens.

Odysseus exhaled through his nose. "You just need to go over there, stand your ground, and be confident."

Telemachus lifted his head just enough to shoot his father a deadpan look. "Be confident? Me?"

Odysseus shrugged. "It worked with your mother."

"No, it didn't."

The response came in stereo. Penelope's tone was amused and firm, while Telemachus' carried all the exasperation of someone who had grown up hearing his father's exaggerated tales one too many times.

Odysseus blinked. "What? Of course it did!"

Penelope gave him a knowing look. "No, I fell in love with you because of your intelligence and because you were so unapologetically you."

Odysseus crossed his arms. "...And my confidence and persistence too."

Penelope hummed, tilting her head. "Ehhh... the good looks did help."

"Hey!" Odysseus gasped in mock offense before playfully patting her waist and pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

Telemachus rolled his eyes. Of course, he loved his parents. Of course, he admired their relationship. But gods, was it frustrating to witness when he felt so incapable of achieving the same thing.

How was he supposed to be confident when confidence had never come naturally to him?

How was he supposed to just ask you when the very thought of it made his stomach twist itself into knots?

His whole life, he had watched his father's legendary feats unfold in the stories of others. Odysseus, the clever hero. Odysseus, the king of Ithaca. Odysseus, who could talk his way out of anything. He was larger than life, a master of words, a warrior, a man who could fight off monsters and trick the gods themselves.

And Telemachus?

Telemachus could barely keep his voice steady when he so much as thought about telling you how he felt.

It wasn't just rejection he feared—it was the aftermath. What if things changed? What if it became awkward between you? What if you started avoiding him? What if he lost you entirely?

He couldn't risk that.

But at the same time...

He wanted what his parents had. The quiet affection, the easy laughter, the deep-rooted love that had endured twenty years of separation.

He wanted you.

And yet—he felt stuck.

"That's why you should be yourself," Penelope's voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. "You've been friends for a while. They'll understand."

Telemachus sighed, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. "I can't be myself. Nobody wants that."

Odysseus snorted. "That's dramatic."

Penelope stood up and made her way to her son, gently touched his arm, her voice softer now. "Just try."

Telemachus swallowed, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Just try.

If only it were that easy.

──────💗──────

Telemachus couldn't get the interaction he had with you earlier that day out of his head. He had tried—tried so hard—to keep both his parents' advice in mind. He had finally gathered the confidence to tell you, rehearsing his words over and over, from the moment he woke up to the moment he finally said it.

Well... kind of said it.

You hadn't even heard him. And in that tiny, fleeting moment, all the courage he had painstakingly built crumbled into dust. When you looked at him with those oh so beautiful eyes and that perfect, heart melting smile, he panicked. The words he had prepared vanished like smoke, and before he knew it, he was scrambling to change the topic as fast as possible.

Now, as he replayed the disaster in his mind for what felt like the hundredth time, he decided it was both the smartest and most idiotic thing he had ever done. Smart—because he hadn't ruined your friendship. Stupid—because now he had to go through the agony of doing it all over again.

"You're distracted."

The sharp voice cut through his thoughts, making him flinch. His mentor, Athena, stood a few paces away, arms crossed, her piercing gaze locked onto him like a bird of prey. She had been watching his form as he attacked the training dummy, analyzing every movement, every hesitation.

Heat rushed to his face—not just from embarrassment, but because his mind had been so hopelessly wrapped around you. He swallowed thickly. "... It's [Name]," he admitted.

Athena let out a slow breath, attempting to mask both her amusement and her growing exasperation. She had seen this before—too many times, in fact. First with Odysseus, who had been equally lovesick, and now with his son, who spoke of you so fondly it was becoming predictable.

"Not again." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I am not Aphrodite. I can't help you."

But her words only sparked something in Telemachus. His eyes widened, a flicker of realization lighting them up, and then—

A grin.

"But you're Athena! Goddess of strategy!" He straightened, excitement practically radiating from him. "We can strategize this!"

Athena stared at him, expression flat.

"Please!" In a dramatic flourish, he dropped to his knees, hands clasped together in a desperate plea. "Every time I even think of them, my heart feels like it's going to burst through my ribs! Every time I look at them, I can barely think! I love them. I can't take it anymore!"

Athena sighed, looking up at the sky as if seeking divine patience. This was going to be a long conversation.

──────💗──────

The plan was simple. Or at least, Athena had made it sound simple.

Step one: Get you alone. Step two: Lead the conversation toward something sentimental. Step three: Casually, effortlessly, drop the confession like it was nothing.

Easy.

Except, now that Telemachus was actually there—walking beside you through the sun-dappled forest, the scent of pine and earth filling the air—his entire brain had turned to mush.

You walked ahead slightly, arms brushing away stray branches, sunlight catching in your hair just perfectly. You looked so at peace, humming softly to yourself, completely unaware of the internal war raging within him.

He needed to start the plan. Say something smooth. Something clever.

"So... uh." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat violently. "D-Do you like trees?"

You stopped mid step, turning to blink at him. "What?"

"Trees," he repeated, voice slightly strangled. "Do you... like them?"

A pause. Then, you burst into laughter. "Telemachus, we are literally in a forest."

He groaned internally. That was not part of the plan.

Desperate to recover, he tried again. "What I meant to say was... um, people... people are like trees!"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Oh? And how's that?"

"Uh..." He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. "Well, some are really tall! And, uh, strong! Like... my father." He winced. Gods, this was a disaster.

You bit your lip, holding back another laugh. "Right. So, are you a tree too?"

"I—" He blushed slightly at the idea you might see him as someone strong. He was spiraling. "I think I might be a bush."

That was it. You doubled over, laughter spilling freely from your lips, and despite his humiliation, Telemachus felt his heart swell at the sound. He loved your laugh. He loved—

Wait. He was supposed to be confessing, not making an absolute fool of himself.

"Why are you so nervous?"

"Umm, it's just—" Telemachus' eyes darted rapidly, searching for something—anything—that could save him. His gaze landed on Athena, perched in the form of a huge white owl on a nearby branch, watching intently. He gave her a desperate, pleading look. She only responded with a subtle nod forward, directing his attention back to you.

"Are you alright?" you asked, concern laced in your voice. You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, forcing him to meet your eyes. Gods, you loved his eyes—the way they turned into molten honey when the sunlight hit them just right. At that moment, you cursed your father in your mind. He had hyped you up to finally tell Telemachus how you felt, only for the day to end with him having some allergic reaction or whatever was happening to him.

Telemachus stared at you, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The way the light bathed your features, making you seem almost ethereal—it was unfair. Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

"By the gods, you are beautiful."

"What?"

"What?" His eyes widened slightly as if he could pretend he hadn't just spoken.

You raised an eyebrow. "I heard you. I just wanted to know if I heard right."

"Oh."

A thick silence settled between you. The air felt heavy, charged with something unspoken.

You swallowed hard, deciding to bite the bullet. "...I think you're beautiful too." The words tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you forced yourself to push forward. "I like you. I like you a lot, and it's totally fine if you don't feel the same, I just can't hold it in anymo—"

"I do too."

The response came without hesitation, so natural it almost startled you. He took a deep breath, scanning your face for a reaction—some sign that he wasn't making a mistake. He found it.

His fingers tightened slightly around yours. "You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night." His voice was steadier now, more certain. "I try to find excuses to talk to you, to be around you, to hear you laugh—even if it's just for a moment. And I know I should have said something sooner, but I was terrified that if I did, I'd lose you."

The world around you blurred. The whispering leaves, the distant crash of waves against the shore, the rustling of Athena's wings—it all faded into the background.

"You won't lose me." you promised, squeezing his hand.

Telemachus let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His free hand hesitantly reached up, brushing against your cheek as if testing whether this moment was real.

"Then, can I—" He stopped himself, but the question lingered in the air.

You smiled. "You can."

And with that, he closed the distance, pressing his lips softly against yours.

BONUS:

"Would you be mad if I let go of your hand?" "Why? What's wrong?" "It's really sweaty"

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[oaksgrove]

The Partner’s Curse

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Jinxed!Reader

synopsis: You've always been unlucky—at least, that’s what everyone says. After too many partners ending up in medical, the name "Jinx" stuck. You never argued. How could you? The evidence was there. But when Ghost volunteers to partner with you, he refuses to believe in curses. He’s determined to prove you wrong—even if it means putting himself in harm’s way to do it. 

warnings: Insecurity, self-blame, angst with comfort, found-family vibes, mild injury.

word count: 1197

a/n: completely not based on my “nickname” during high school…

The first time someone called you jinx, it was a joke. A harmless, teasing remark after your first partner twisted their ankle on a routine mission.

Then it happened again. And again.

By the time your third partner ended up in medical, the teasing took on a sharper edge. eople were avoiding you like you were a ticking time bomb, making excuses, side-eyeing you when assignments were handed out.

“Don’t get paired with Jinx,” someone laughed one day. “Unless you fancy a trip to medical.”

You overheard it from around the corner in the hallway, their words slicing through you like a blade sharper than they knew.

At first, you laughed along, brushing it off as banter.But by the time your fifth partner ended up in medical, the humor drained out of it.

To your credit, you didn’t argue, not once. You couldn’t, really.

Because they weren’t wrong. Were they?

The evidence was there: every person you partnered with seemed to end up with bad luck or injuries. Not life-threatening, thankfully, but enough to make you feel the weight of their pain like it was your fault.

Soap sat at the rec room table with Gaz, the two of them murmuring while Ghost sat nearby, arms crossed and legs sprawled.

“Jinx. That’s what they’re calling her now,” Soap muttered, swirling his spoon in his coffee. “Poor lassie.”

Gaz sighed. “It’s not fair.  It’s not her fault, It’s just bad luck.”

Soap exhaled sharply. “Aye, but it’s gotten in her head.” Soap replied, his tone softer. “You see how she’s been keeping to herself?”

Ghost, silent as ever, flicked his gaze toward the far corner of the room.

You sat alone, quietly picking at your plate, though you hadn’t touched a bite.

After a long pause, Ghost spoke, his tone flat.

“She’s not cursed.”

Soap raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, big guy? Five partners down—”

“I’ll prove it,” Ghost interrupted. His tone was sharp, final.

Gaz and Soap exchanged a look. “What if something happens to you?”

Ghost scoffed. “Then I’ll buy into the nonsense. But until then? It’s just bad luck and poor timing.”

You blinked at Price when he informed you Ghost had requested to be your partner. Not exactly sure of what to say, for a moment, you thought you misheard the Captain.

“I’m sorry? Are you sure?” you asked, voice hesitant.

“He’s sure,” Price replied, watching you carefully. “Besides, maybe it’s what you need—someone to remind you this ‘curse’ is nonsense.”

Your stomach twisted. “But… what if something happens to him?” you blurted out, your voice breaking slightly.

Price leaned forward, voice softer. “That’s the thing, kid. Ghost can handle himself. And I think it’s time you stopped carrying this weight on your own.”

-

Ghost didn’t treat you differently, like others who avoided you like the plague.

If anything, he was calm, steady, and patient. That made it worse.

Because when the first accident happened, your heart sank.

It was a simple recon assignment, nothing high-stakes. You and Ghost moved through the shadows with precision, each step calculated and silent. Everything was fine until the rooftop plank gave way beneath you. You barely managed to catch yourself, dangling over the edge with your heart hammering in your chest.

Ghost’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm and hauling you up with shocking ease.

“Steady,” he murmured, his grip like steel as he hauled you back onto solid ground.

You shook, staring at the broken plank. “I—I told you,” you stammered. “I told you this would happen.”

“Stop,” Ghost exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “That was a shitty roof, not a curse. Get your head straight, Don’t blame yourself for things out of your control.”

You nodded, but deep down? The  knot of guilt wouldn’t go away, in fact it only tightened.

The incidents kept happening. Small things at first.

A near-miss with a tripwire.

A stray bullet grazing Ghost’s shoulder.

By the third time, you snapped.

“I don’t know why you volunteered for this,” you blurted one night, pacing the safe house like a caged animal. Ghost sat at the table, cleaning a shallow cut on his arm.

“You should’ve listened to them.” Your voice cracked. “I’m jinxed, Ghost. You’re going to get hurt, and it’ll be my fault.”

Ghost didn’t react right away, just kept wrapping his bandage.

Then, he sighed. Deeply.

“You didn’t cause this,” he said, his voice calm.

“I’m sorry but how can you say that?” Your throat tightened. “Every time someone partners with me, something goes wrong.”

Ghost stood up abruptly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it stopped you cold.

“Enough Sargent.”

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer.

“You think I don’t know what they say about you?” His voice was low, edged with something unreadable, as he stepped closer to you. “You think I care?”

You swallowed hard, but you bit him back. “Maybe you should.”

His gaze softened—but only slightly.

“You’re not cursed.” His voice was firm. Unshakable. But at the same time soft like a breeze. “You’re one of the best soldiers I’ve worked with. And I’ll keep saying it until you start believing it.”

The words hit something deep inside you like a balm to the raw edges of your insecurities, but you weren’t ready to believe him..

-

Soap finally cornered you in the gym after your fifth attempt to avoid training.

“You think Ghost would’ve partnered with you if he didn’t trust you?” he said, arms crossed.

You hesitated. “I… I don’t know why he did.” you admitted quietly. “But he’s wrong.”

Soap scoffed. “Maybe you’re the one who’s wrong, then. He sees something in you, aye? And we do too. You’re part of this team, jinxed or not, so stop trying to carry it alone.”

Ghost’s final test of the so-called curse came during a mission extraction gone sideways. When the team was pinned down, you made a split-second decision—cover Ghost’s retreat, drawing fire away from him.

By the time he realized? It was almost too late.

He found you hunched behind cover, injured, but still firing with precision.

“You’re an idiot,” he growled when he reached you, dragging you to safety despite your protests.

“I couldn’t let you get hurt,” you argued.

Ghost’s voice finally broke its usual calm. “And you think I could let you get hurt?” His grip tightened. “You’re my partner. That means we look out for each other. No curses. No superstitions. Just us.”

Back at base, you sat on your cot, staring at the floor. The weight of the day pressed heavy on your chest.

Ghost leaned against the doorframe. Mask up. Watching.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up, meeting his steady gaze.

And for once? The weight felt lighter.

You smiled. “I think so, but… you were right. I’ve been blaming myself for everything. It wasn’t fair to me—or to them.”

Ghost crossed the room in two long strides, crouching in front of you, voice low. Softer.

“Took you long enough to figure that out.”

You laughed. For real, this time.

“Thanks, Simon.” 

A pause. Then—

“Anytime, partner.” he replied with a rare warmth in his voice.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash

[0798f]

💞 — Mediator.

RELATIONSHIP: Gojo Satoru x Reader

SUMMARY: When Gojo and Megumi fight, it’s up to you to get them to make amends.

A/N: I think about the Gojo-Megumi-Tsumiki household a lot...

“Babe, help! Megumi is mad at me!”

“I don’t wanna talk to him.”

“Stop pretendin’ like I’m not here!”

(Name) hadn’t even taken their shoes off when they found themselves in the crosshairs of a squabble between Gojo and Megumi. Not the first time, and certainly would not be the last time. Gojo practically launched himself at the door as soon as (Name) walked in, throwing his arms around them to bury his face in their shirt. He seemed much more upset than the actual child; Megumi stood at the entrance with a scowl too mature to take seriously and crossed arms.

He wasn’t crying, at least— but that might be a result of having freshly turned 12 and deciding he was a real adult, now. Gojo and (Name) wondered if that declaration meant he would stop being so fussy and difficult, but, so far, it seemed like quite the opposite.

That wasn’t to imply that Megumi was always difficult. He was a kid after all, and everything in his life had been shit from the very start. (Name) much preferred emotional outbursts over him developing a habit of bottling up his feelings, even if it resulted in being yelled at by a child. Gojo usually received the brunt of the anger, anyway, for his annoying tendency of pushing Megumi’s buttons without recognizing where the line should be drawn. Did Limitless come with the drawback of him being unable to read the room?

Megumi seeming nonplussed at worst while Gojo’s crocodile tears soaked into (Name)’s shirt gave them a pretty clear idea of what likely occurred. It took some force to push Gojo off of them, but once his face was at arm’s length, (Name) turned their attention to Megumi. “What did he do, Megs?”

In their periphery, (Name) saw Gojo dramatically flail his arms. “You’re ignoring me, too!? Is everyone in this house against me?”

It was difficult not to laugh at his antics, but (Name) managed as they waited for Megumi’s answer. Someone needed to take him more seriously if Gojo wasn’t going to. A few beats of silence passed before Megumi decided to spill some feelings through quivering lips. “… He won’t stop bothering me.”

“He yelled at me, (Name)! He told me to get the hell out of his room, then I told him to watch his damn language, then-!“

They had heard enough. (Name) sighed and removed themselves from Gojo’s grasp completely, much to his disappointment, and beckoned Megumi to come closer.

“Okay, I understand,” (Name) nodded. Gojo looked up at them, attempting to use a shining yet pathetic display of Six Eyes as some strange form of emotional manipulation. If (Name) had to pick who in this room was the most childish, it would be a difficult choice. They spared a single glance at Gojo. “You’re on timeout.”

“I’m the one in timeout?!” Gojo latched onto (Name) once again. “But, Megumi swore at me!”

(Name) shrugged, “you deserved it. Timeout. Apologize when we get back. Megs, c’mon. Wanna go to the convenience store?”

No child can resist the promise of a nice treat for their troubles. Megumi’s eyes lit up but he held back a smile with all his might. He rushed past Gojo to put his shoes on. Gojo, on the other hand, did nothing to hide his cry of despair. He had half the mind to grab onto (Name)’s legs and stop them from leaving, but he felt their hand card gently through his hair— some reassurance so that he wouldn’t die of neglect. With a huff and a pout, Gojo relinquished his grasp and gave (Name) enough space to open the door for Megumi.

“We’ll be back in a little bit. Think about what you did.” Once Megumi was out the door and out of the line of sight, (Name) pressed a chaste kiss to Gojo’s cheek. “Seriously, stop bothering him so much. Love you, we’ll be back pretty fast. He doesn’t seem too upset.”

He moved fast enough to kiss the corner of (Name)’s mouth before they were able to move away. “Everybody is so mean to me…”

Times like this were when (Name) remembered just how young they were. Gojo was a brat, and it could be annoying, but how could (Name) blame him? They were only in their mid-twenties, with their childhood innocence ripped away in exchange for the world of jujutsu sorcery. Surrogate parents in their early 20s and the threat of death always looming over their shoulders. Life sucked sometimes, so if this was what Gojo was upset about for the day, it meant it was a good day.

“Maybe you should reflect on that, then…” (Name)’s words trailed off as they shut the door behind them. Gojo waited like a sad dog at the window for their car to disappear down the street before he traded his slippers for sneakers.

Gojo would not be reflecting on anything.

Even when (Name) was paying, Megumi didn’t like to spend much on himself. He placed one bag of chips on the counter, despite being encouraged to get whatever he wanted. (Name) found out quickly after taking in Tsumiki and Megumi that part of parenting was taking the initiative for quiet and stubborn children, so they added 2 cans of soda and three different flavored onigiri while Megumi wasn’t looking.

The weather was just warm enough to comfortably sit on the bench just outside the convenience store. It was the perfect size to fit their family of 4, even if it was a little crowded when they did. But with Tsumiki hanging out with her friends and Gojo in timeout, there was more than enough space for just Megumi and (Name). Megumi made himself comfortable on one end of the bench as (Name) paid the cashier with some cash straight from the mission they were just compensated for.

Truth be told, (Name) was exhausted as shit and returning from a mission when they walked into Megumi and Gojo’s petty squabble. They were looking forward to flopping onto the couch and passing out instantly. Gojo would throw a blanket over them, Megumi would enjoy the silence by getting some schoolwork done, and (Name) would wake up when Tsumiki got home so they could cook dinner together. But for as exhausted as they were, spending some extra time with Megumi was just as nice.

(Name) took their place on the opposite side of the bench and placed the snacks between them. He raised his brows at all the extra food but wasted no time opening the bag of chips he picked out. At first, neither of them spoke. That was one of Megumi’s favorite things about (Name); they could sit in comfortable silence, spending time together without wearing down either of their social batteries. Where Gojo was energetic and arrogant, (Name) was quiet and gentle.

Which was why Megumi struggled to understand what (Name) liked about that guy. Between bites of his food, Megumi spoke his thoughts aloud. “Why did you marry him?”

They think that Megumi might have been more bitter about their disagreement than (Name) had initially decided if he was asking a question like that of nowhere. (Name) shrugged, “‘cause I love him?”

The corners of (Name)’s lips curled up when they saw Megumi’s disgusted reaction. “But, why?! He’s annoying.”

“He’s annoying,” (Name) agreed with a laugh. He had annoyed them ever since the first day they met. Utahime liked to joke that (Name) only married him because Gojo had spent years wearing them down, and (Name) liked to entertain that theory because it was funny (for everyone except Gojo). But for as grossed out as Megumi was acting, (Name) assumed he was asking genuinely— if only just barely. “He’s annoying to the people he cares most about. He’s clingy and has no concept of personal space, which is ironic given his cursed technique.”

Megumi, mouth full, tilted his head to the side. “You just listed a bunch of stuff you don’t like about him.”

Again, (Name) laughed. “Those are the things I like about him, though. He’s always there, so I know I can rely on him. He’s been by my side for years and he’s never let me down. He’s a great guy.”

It was perhaps too earnest of a statement for the young boy to fully comprehend— especially since it was something so difficult for him to believe. Satoru Gojo? Reliable? That guy couldn’t even reliably cook eggs.

While he pondered that idea, he felt (Name) pat the top of his head. “For the most part, I’m like you; I like my space, I like my privacy. I wanna get left alone a lot. But, for me, it’s nice knowing someone is always there. That they care about me.”

Megumi squirmed under (Name)’s hand. Not because he was uncomfortable, but because he was forced to think about how much the people in his life cared for him. Tsumiki never stopped doting on him, even as he got older. (Name) always treated him the way he wanted to be treated, letting him feel independent while always knowing they were there for support. And Gojo, for everything about him that Megumi found annoying, never stopped trying to make him laugh or make him have fun.

With a huff, Megumi leaned into (Name)’s touch. Some part of him that was already being drowned out by tween angst reminded himself how lucky it was to be so loved.

“Still, he’s gotta actually listen to you when you’re upset.” (Name) gestured down the street, and following their gaze Megumi caught sight of familiar white hair just before the person turned the corner.

All the goodwill in his heart dissipated immediately and the same scowl he was wearing when he was arguing with Gojo reappeared.

(Name) rolled their eyes. One would think the greatest jujutsu sorcerer could realize that, at over 6 feet tall and sparkling white hair, he was not exactly the stealthiest person in the world. Not that it really mattered; (Name) had already guessed Gojo was going to follow them, and that he likely wasn’t trying to stay too hidden. (Name) handed one of the extra onigiri they bought to Megumi and sighed, “go tell him he can sit and eat with us if he apologizes.”

They knew Megumi wasn’t upset anymore when he rushed down the street to scold Gojo.

masterlists.

[pentrologram]

john price but he finds out he has a daughter.

some ex, a girlfriend or a wife that gave birth last week. only now mentions it to john, pictures of a beige little baby. a girl. his girl, now. he pays child support and life goes on- he takes a little more leave now, just to spend time with his girl.

until she’s not her girl anymore- until he stops by his ex’s flat and there’s another bloke there, holding his daughter.

shit explodes and when she refuses to tell john who the mystery man is, she lets slip that his girl wasn’t his to begin with. the real father had left, far out of the picture, and john was the most stable person she knew, she had said. but he’s livid. livid enough to start a custody battle over his eight-month old daughter.

and by some stroke of luck, he wins. it feels like all of it was for naught, though, when he realises how fucking expensive it is to raise a kid.

he has to take a desk job at work, but that quickly proves ineffective, because he just can’t get up later in the day and falls asleep at work frequently. his bad knee protests everything he does now that he’s relaxed a little, no longer living adrenaline filled day to day, and before he knows it, he’s at the doctors for joint pain.

*when did a doctor’s appointment get so bloody expensive?*

one thing leads to another and he sells his house, gets fired after an honorable discharge and files for joblessness.

he moves into an apartment complex. it’s dingy and he has to treat the bathroom three times for mold, but he cleans it up nice when his joint don’t hurt and when his girl is asleep.

and then there’s you.

you live in the flat over. unfortunate like him. you say hi to him and smile at the baby when he runs into you when you get home at the wee hours of the night and he’s taking her out for a breath of fresh air after a crying fit.

you tell him to not use milk in her formula. you tell him to use baby powder, because diaper rash is a real thing, contrary to what he thinks.

he’s grateful.

when she starts sleeping through the night, he takes late night smoke breaks, usually around when you get home (a happy accident, he tells himself). one time he offers you a cigarette and you stay out like that for a while in warm summer air. you look tired- are those bags under your eyes or is it makeup?

he doesn’t ask.

it’s been a while since he’s been in the dating scene, but he doesn’t think he’s overthinking things when you give him a platter of freshly made cookies on your day off. he invites you in because he’s nothing if not polite, and you have a mutual rant about the rising price of groceries and rent and how terrible the landlord is while the baby eats carrot mush in her high chair.

and- really, would you blame him if he kisses you on his next cigarette break?

[possessedmen]

Haunted love

Elliot pushed open the door to their apartment, the familiar creak a comforting sound after a long day. The place was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single lamp, casting shadows that danced on the walls. There, sprawled out on the chair with one foot up on the table like he owned the place, was Marco—or at least, Marco's body. But Elliot knew it was Lucas, the ghost of a previous tenant who had taken over Marco during their last explosive fight, possessing him when he wanted to slap Elliot.

"Hey, babe, you're finally home," Marco's voice was husky, playful, with that dark edge that was all Lucas. Elliot's heart raced, not just from the sight of Marco's foot, so invitingly displayed, but from the knowledge that Lucas was in control, making this homecoming charged with desire.

Elliot dropped his bag by the door, his eyes locked on Marco's foot, the arch so perfectly curved, the skin so smooth. "Damn, his body suits you so good," he said, his voice low as he approached, a smirk playing on his lips. He knew Lucas was exaggerating Marco's act, playing into his known weakness for feet, making this moment even more charged.

The ghost, through Marco's lips, let out a low, lustful chuckle, the sound more human than ever, laced with a hint of playful perversion. "I've been waiting for you, babe. You know how much I love having your attention on me like this," he replied, his voice thick with desire, his eyes gleaming with a naughty glint.

Marco chuckled, a sound that vibrated through the room, sending shivers down Elliot's spine. "I've been waiting for you, babe. Been thinking about your hands on me all day," he teased, wiggling his toes in a way that was both innocent and provocative.

Kneeling down, Elliot took Marco's foot in his hands, the warmth of his skin seeping into his palms. He began to worship it, his lips and tongue exploring every inch with devotion. But Lucas, ever the kinky instigator, had other plans. As Elliot focused on one foot, Marco's other foot slipped between Elliot's legs, finding the hard bulge in his pants. With a knowing smirk, Lucas began to massage Elliot's tenting bulge through the fabric, the pressure and movement sending waves of pleasure through him.

"You're driving me crazy," Elliot gasped, his hands tightening around Marco's ankle, his kisses growing more fervent on the foot he was worshipping.

Marco's laugh was low, seductive. "That's the idea, babe. I know what you like," he said, his voice full of perverted delight. The foot on Elliot's crotch moved with precision, teasing and taunting, while the one being worshipped was treated to a loving, sensual exploration.

As the pleasure built, Elliot couldn't help but voice his thoughts. "I prefer you like this, you know," he murmured against Marco's skin, his breath hot. "You're so much better than the real Marco ever was. I’m so grateful that you saved me by possessing that cheating bastard."

The ghost leaned forward, Marco's eyes twinkling with a kinky light. "I can't believe he fumbled a guy like you, babe. That asshole did not deserve you," he breathed out, his voice dripping with a seductive promise, his foot flexing under Elliot's touch in a silent plea for more.

As Elliot continued his passionate worship, his hands and lips exploring with an intensity that matched the ghost's desire, the air around them grew thick with lust. "I've been thinking about this all day," the ghost confessed, his tone both loving and lascivious, promising a night filled with the kind of intimacy Elliot craved.

In this moment, the distinction between ghost and man blurred. It was just Elliot and Marco, or what Marco had become, sharing a connection that was deeply human, wildly erotic, and utterly theirs. The air was thick with anticipation, their casual evening turning into a night of unbridled passion.

[demonslayedher]

Remember that Fate Swap AU?

Yeah. It still has some hold on my imagination, and it suddenly hit me one day how isolating that immediate aftermath would have been for these two. Their bond is gonna be so tight.

If you don't want to read the original 17,000 word AU post, see below the explanation of what's going on.

***

The premise was that the characters who canonically died in the Infinity Castle & Sunrise Countdown get to live, and vice versa, with the caveat being that Nezuko was not part of the battle so she gets to live (going by Anon's prompt). The Ask was about the aftermath so most of the AU is about the aftermath, but at this point in AU:

--Zenitsu died of his injuries from fighting Kaigaku, told Yushiro to go save the woman he loves --Yushiro saves Tamayo by getting the secret!medicine from Kanao, changes Tamayo into a human against her will and gets absorbed by Muzan while saving her --Inosuke saves Shinobu (scarring her face in the process) but dies fighting Douma --Muichiro loses an arm in the fight against Kokushibo, but he and Genya are otherwise intact, and Sanemi dies after managing a few words to Genya --After Muzan is defeated, Giyuu collapses and holds Tanjiro's hand, apologizes for being unable to protect him, and dies --Himejima holds on (but falls unconscious), withstanding injury and the mark --Iguro and Mitsuri are comatose and shredded, but they have all their limbs and are alive --When Tanjiro changed, Muichiro noticed and fought him first, Genya and anybody else still standing tried to help, but ultimately Kanao saw that while he had still freshly changed, there was still a chance to stop him if his head was cut off at exactly the right spot --But getting that shot meant Tanjiro had a better shot at her heart

And then in the aftermath of the AU, we followed a bunch of their interactions and wound up with: --So many complicated feelings about what they've all been through (and like, how Tanjiro ended up a murderer) --After going through a depressive episode, Shinobu has a renewed sisterly relationship with Aoi, to whom she gifted Kanao's butterfly hairpiece. Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho go to school like regular children, with Shinobu having rejected Tengen's offer to adopt them. Shinobu has prominent facial scars, wears Tamayo's hairpin, and extremely occasionally, Inosuke's mask. --After some attempt at backing out, ObaMitsu survives and makes good on their promise. They assumed he totally lost his vision and she lost her womb, but neither ever asked for the medical details to be sure, so they are very happily surprised when it is revealed that he still has some vision (they can look forward to other happy surprises later). Also, Tamayo figured out how to treat The Mark, so yay. --Muichiro, Genya, and Nezuko are handling things pretty well, all things considered. They more or less become sworn siblings (Senjuro, a literature fanboy, sort of fanboys over their bond). Nezuko wears Giyuu's (repaired but too big for her) haori and reads scraps of a book called "The Legend of Zenitsu" which a sparrow collects for her. Muichiro wears braids like Mitsuri used to because he finds it funny. He is of course not the one who braids his own hair. Genya has no style updates. --Hear me out, but... I kind of wound up pairing Himejima and Tamayo?????? And I, who am not much of a shipper and generally only tend to go for canon pairings, really kind liked it????????????? Even though I otherwise would never????????? Like??? They have a son and his name is Chachamaru. Plus they pretty much adopted Muichiro, Genya, and Nezuko and they all live in the Kamado house. But if you asked them if they're a couple, they're like, "???? ew no ?????" SO YUSHIRO IS PISSED BEYOND THE GRAVE, RIGHT!? --Well, yes, at the very end --Like --I really, really liked the short conclusion I wrote that takes place in hell --Basically like --Yeah --I loved it --Hashira, and like --Tanjiro, and pals, but like, Muzan, and, yeah

[thisisnotthenerd]

the thing that stuck out to me about this finale is the theme of new starts and redemptions

because it is a release for the gods in many ways. it is a release for the protagonists of the story we're following.

but in many ways it has turned into the reversal and softening of consequences/stakes that have dogged this campaign consistently.

a list of pulled punches/backtracks in the finale (in no particular order):

divine magic functioning exactly the same post-catatheosis. i think this contributes to bell's hells' reaction; if the magic is still there and the gods are gone, that still means it's okay, right? meanwhile people are grieving the loss of the beings that have defined their lives, especially in vasselheim. i guess this implies that the gods' energies have been tied to the world of exandria; those who attune to and hold faith in the particular creed of the deities can pull on their power as it was released into the world. or they pull purely from faith in other mortals, or smaller gods/beings. but they barely had any sympathy for those losing the object of their lives' purpose.

ashton sacrificing themself and not dying or losing any semblance of their powers. i get the sacrifice. i get the mirroring of fcg's sacrifice. i get wanting to go out with a bang. i also get bell's hells wanting him back. but what i want to know, is why exactly they had to be recreated with dunamis. why not be resurrected and have to grapple with the loss of that source of power and yet be in less pain because of it?

imogen (& the other ruidusborn) not losing power after predathos' release. yes i know why in the doylist sense. but it takes away the power of that decision if the source of the aberration in 'aberrant mind' goes away and nothing changes.

laudna being re-alived in a marriage ceremony/divine intervention. it feels like a little bit of a cop-out when her previous conversation with the matron implied work through time, but maybe that's just my interpretation. perhaps it's due to the reworking of magic and the expression of divine intervention.

bell’s hells threatening their way through vasselheim and getting zero flack for it even after they lost the leverage of predathos. i get the ‘heroes of the realm’ thing. i get it. did they have to intimidate their way through as much of it as possible.

orym's pact. i get why it would have constituted a break; the way it was played off felt a little flippant. it would be one thing for it to be acknowledged as him escaping a real pact that he did get powers from. instead it's more of a comedic moment.

liliana not facing public scrutiny. maybe she did, but it really seems like she recovered and just walked away. i'm aware of what she went through as an audience member; i wish we had gotten to see what imogen vouching for her on trial would have looked like. for that matter, we don't really see a resolution of the ruby vanguard at all.

opal being partially released from the circlet. this one actually makes sense to me. not protesting this one. the spider queen can't live in the circlet all the time if she's in mortal manifestation. also, opal is fully still stuck with the crown.

vax and morrighan as champions of the matron. i do think the matron's actions fit. in this scenario, she's weighing the possibilities of her champions having to run her realm against her own experience and trying to spare them both the loneliness she herself felt. it fits. i take issue with her saying she kept him greedily, rather than what it was, which was a pact fairly made that he faithfully served, which she is adjusting in a moment of mercy at the end of the world as they know it.

the gods are back on exandria. it's been treated as a bit, with reminders of evil babies and what you could do to them. recall the last time they were there the time period was called the calamity. and also, can you imagine what the followers of either betrayer gods or prime deities would do knowing that the god who ostensibly opposed theirs was out there somewhere as a vulnerable mortal? they've started an ages-long arms race of who can find the reincarnated gods first. braius stepped away from asmodeus and was promised a lifetime of being followed for his betrayal, and yet ashton was literally followed more by the kryn dynasty.

it comes across as a lot of wish fulfillment without the legwork to get there. it's not that bell's hells haven't been through the worst and come back from it; it's that the closer we've come to a conclusion, the less it seems like bell's hells have had a stake in all of it.

even their conclusions: the primary goals have been freedom and adventuring.

vox machina's original epilogues came with grief, but also a level of responsibility to their communities (whitestone, zephrah, the faith of the everlight). they had fame from their exploits because they happened on a very grand scale.

the mighty nein's epilogues came with a resurrection, and the desire to live their lives to the fullest. as the 'heroes no one knows about', they were able to step down and live quieter lives. they pursued specific purposes, whether it's beau with the cobalt soul & caleb at the academy pursuing the assembly, fjord captaining his fleet and jester pursuing her art and faith, veth and her family and camp, kingsley as the plank king, caduceus stewarding the blooming grove, yasha tending her home, and etc.

the epilogues for bell's hells focus on them achieving individual goals of freedom to travel and adventure. sometimes they have a place where they settle, but it's generally undefined. it feels as though they're not done yet, because the finality is taken out with the stakes.

everyone lives happily ever after, and the world keeps spinning. it’s like a fluffy fix-it fic, except this is fully the canon of the world.

i’ll discuss my thoughts on the greater implications for exandria another day.

[alphajocklover]

Trick or Treat dude! I'm a dorky, gamer-y, gay college student. Fitting for the season, I'm mainly studying horror movies. As for my candy, I'd have to go with my favorite, Twix.

You always knew what role you’d play if you were in a horror movie. You had watched so many, studied and deconstructed them, both as a hobby and later as a way to practice for your future career as a director. You knew exactly what cliche you filled, with your nerdy habits, your quiet demeanor and your love of horror movies. You were the obvious red herring, the guy everyone in the movie would think is the killer, even though it turns out he’s not. 

It wasn’t that you were dangerous or anything, but between your almost obsessive love of horror movies, your tendency to be quiet and antisocial, and how cagey and nervous you got around other people, it was pretty easy to see how an outside observer would mistake you for being a creep. In fact, most people in real life seemed to mistake you for being a creep too. Between all of the traits mentioned before, and being one of the only openly gay students at your fairly homophobic college, everyone treated you like you had the plague. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to ignore the jeers and insults, and most of the time you were able to, but some days it was harder to do so. Today was definitely one of those days, as today was the night of Bill Freeman’s horror movie watch party, and you specifically weren’t invited. 

Looking at Bill Freeman was like looking at yourself through a funhouse mirror. He was a huge horror movie fan too, one who wanted to be a director in the future, just like you. The two of you had most of the same classes together, and had even gone to the same high school. The two of you had quite a lot in common, but it was your differences that were even more staggering. While you were the quiet loner, he was the most popular guy in school, and it was easy to see why. He was handsome, muscular, sociable, and had this effortless charm and confidence that drew people to him. With his classic good looks and cocky confidence, he had always seemed like the kind of guy who would star in a movie, not direct one. The worst part of it all was that he actually knew what he was doing. As much as you loathe to admit it, Bill was a talented director, the few short movies he had directed showing an incredible promise even you couldn’t deny. At first you thought maybe that your shared love of movies could grow into a friendship, but he treated you the same way that all the popular kids did. Which was why you, specifically, weren’t invited to his watch party.

As you grabbed a twix bar you didn’t remember buying from your fridge and plopped down on the couch, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if things were different. If you were different. A part of you couldn’t help but fantasize what life would be like if you were just a little more like Bill Freeman. You absentmindedly took a bite of one of the twix bars, before a bright light filled your vision.

You felt a deep groan escape your lips as you sat up, your head slightly dizzy. What the hell had happened? Had you have too much to drink last night or something? Your eyes drifted over to your alarm clock, only for you to shoot up as you realized what time it was. Crap, you were going to miss your brother's party! You tossed off your sheets and rushed to your closet, revealing your muscular body to the chill air. It wasn’t like you to fall asleep in the middle of the day, but last night was pretty crazy. Between shooting the last scenes for you and your brother's latest short film, the absolutely wild after party, and the two hot wanna-be actresses you had taken to bed, you were a little surprised you had any energy left. Still, your brother had been planning this watch party for weeks, and Ben Freeman never missed out on a party!

You threw on your costume, and smirked under your mask. Only you and your twin could make a ghostface mask look fucking hot. You swaggered out the door, ready to party, hookup, watch some scary movies, and plan out your next student film with your bro. The Freeman brothers were going to take the horror world by storm!

**Yeah I still have some Halloween tfs to get through, but I'm going to slowly work them over while I continue with my usually stuff. Hope you guys don't mind**