#and now i’m giving myself some down time

[almostempty]

right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part one

wc: 12.5k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART TWO HERE

summary: rebuilding your life, chasing cans, and hitchin’ a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

to my pedrostories secret santa recipient @katiexpunk: this was a challenge for ya gurl to be srs (and it’s not a tentacle gangbang, i lied in ur asks babe i’m srry) i hope i hit the mark on a handful of the prompts though, i had high hopes that i could really challenge myself and deliver some breeding kink cowboy but i fear it’s more of a creampie kink—i hope that still hits, i have horse knowledge, but only rodeo adjacent experience so if any rodeo queens find glaring mistakes pls forgive me — but happy holidays bb, i really hope you enjoy-- EDIT: I MADE IT TOO GIRTHY (or something?? sorry!!) and had to split it into two parts, the second part will be up and linked as asap as possible, and i'll add the full text to ao3 so it'll be in one spot

tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, guilty yearnful joel, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin’ that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta–mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am 

thanks: to @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, ideas, etc.

The sun beats down on the gravel driveway as you pull your truck toward the old house. It looks almost the same as it did the summers you spent here as a kid when it was your grandparents–the peeling white paint on the porch railing, and the barn standing sturdy, but weathered further down the driveway. The fields stretched on as you rolled down the driveway, dotted with occasional wildflowers and critters dashing into the denser brush. 

The air blows warm through the window, same as you remember, but the weight of the memories feels different now. The summers used to feel endless here, the fields seemed endless, as did the sky. It all used to feel so liberating. It’s not an endless summer now. Everything looks smaller and more weathered. 

Except for the shiny white PVC fences on the other side of the driveway and the modern-looking house and barn built on the same soil you used to spend hours patrolling with your pony, Clover. She’d search for the best bits of grass as you laid across her back coming up with stories—some days you were an old-timey cowgirl traveling west or Clover was a wild horse you were training or you were on a quest to a magical kingdom together. 

But now it’s a new home for whoever bought up the parceled land your dad sold to cover the updates on the house when he inherited it. Someone with enough money for a fancy barn and shiny truck. You pull to a stop and hop out of the cab, still scanning the neighbor's property, making your first impression. 

Your dad emerges from the barn, wiping his hands on a faded rag. He gives you a smile and a nod. “About time you showed up,” he calls, his voice warm and teasing. “Thought maybe you had changed your mind.” 

You shake your head softly, rolling your eyes. “Nope. Nothing worth staying in that city for.” 

The gravel crunches under your boots as you round the bed to grab one of your boxes. All your belongings fit into a few boxes. At least, everything that mattered to you, everything that was still you. “Where do you want this?” You wonder how you’re going to manage living in the same house with your dad now that you’re an adult. 

“Just set it inside,” he said, gesturing to the house. “We’ll get you sorted after we have something to eat.” 

As you followed him toward the house, the outline of the neighbor's property loomed large. The barn caught your eye. It was close. A pair of horses stood in the near pasture, swishing their tails in the afternoon heat. The contrast was stark. Where your dad’s place still carried the scrapes and scuffs of decades–theirs looked new and polished. Smug even. Can a house be smug? 

“The neighbors are closer than I thought.” You cross the porch, the nostalgic screen door squeaking as your dad ushers you inside. 

“Don’t mind it. We look out for each other.” He points to the room you stayed in as a kid. “He damn near built the place by himself, and helped me with the new roof on this place.” 

You shoot him a sharp look. “You said you were gonna hire roofers instead of climbing around up there at your age.” He shrugs you off. Always stubborn. Convinced he can do it better and cheaper. Despite the toll on his body. 

“Paid him to help,” he argues, “wasn’t up there by myself. You don’t gotta worry about me like that.” 

You set your box down at the end of the twin-size bed, the room falling quiet for a moment. Your dad stays planted in the doorway, but his brows pinch and lips purse briefly before he lets out a breath. You scan the room, gaze landing on the floorboards, waiting. 

Instead of addressing the elephant in the room, he says, “You hungry?” 

You grin at that, letting out a shaky breath. Your father’s daughter, neither of you likes to dig into your feelings. He taught you to show love through actions, like keeping you fed, taking on hard labor jobs without a complaint, or changing your windshield wipers before the rainy season starts and you’re cursing yours out. 

“Yeah,” you say, brushing past the knot in your chest. “Starving.” 

The rumble of a diesel engine jolts you awake the next morning, the deep growly sound reverberating through the walls like thunder on an otherwise quiet morning. You groaned, stretching and blinking blearily at the pale light filtering in through the old curtains. It was barely dawn yet, which explains the dull headache you’ve got. 

Sleep had been restless. Tangled thoughts, ruminating on what you’d left behind. A failed engagement, the job you hated, the mix of excuses you had rehearsed for why you’d come back. You’d hoped coming here would ease the ache, but just when you were finally falling back asleep—the truck from hell pulled up to the house. 

The engine is already cut off, but now you can hear voices on the porch. Your dad’s, low and steady, just a hum, and another unfamiliar drawl. Whoever it is, they’re carrying on like the rest of the world wasn’t still trying to wake up. 

You drag yourself out of bed, wearing your soft sleep shorts and a thin shirt. The worn fabric clings to your body in places it shouldn’t, but you’re not thinking about being presentable, you aren’t really thinking at all yet. You drag your feet crossing to the kitchen to pour yourself coffee, for a brief moment you miss the coffee shop you used to stop at on the way to your old job, but the familiar roast your dad’s been loyal to has its charm. Like the free coffee at an AA meeting. It’s there and you need something to keep you going. 

You push past the squeaky screen door, stepping out onto the porch. Your dad sits on the worn bench, coffee in hand. Next to him, leaning casually against the railing is a man you don’t recognize. His black Stetson gives him a classic cowboy silhouette, the morning sun catches on the sharp cut of his jaw and the scruff on his cheeks. His plaid shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, his jeans are worn and dusty in a way that speaks to more than just appearances. 

He straightens when he sees you, pulling his hat off with one hand in a fluid, effortless motion. “Mornin’,” he says, voice low and rich. “You must be the daughter. Joel Miller.” 

You take a sip of your coffee. “Morning,” you mutter, voice still thick from sleep. “You always roll up this early, or is today special?” 

Your dad shoots a look at you, but Joel just chuckles softly. 

“Guessin’ you’re not a morning person?”

Your eyes are narrow, defensive. “I’m just fine in the mornings,” you say in a clipped tone that doesn’t support your statement. “Just not when I’m woken up by a jet engine at the asscrack of dawn.” The chill in the brisk morning air causes you to shiver for a moment somehow making you look more irritated. 

Joel glances at your dad with a faint smirk before tipping his hat to you. “Noted.” 

Your dad laughs. “Should’ve heard her when she was ten,” he says leaning back. “Wouldn’t let anyone tell her what to do. Still doesn’t take shit from anyone I guess.” 

“I’m right here,” you mutter, glaring at him.

“Just sayin’,” your dad replies, raising his mug in mock surrender. He turns back to Joel and they resume their conversation about fence posts or something equally riveting. You let your eyes roam as you wake up, drinking the rest of your coffee, tuning in and out of their conversation about their plans for the day. 

The easy camaraderie between the two of them was clear. Like a friendship forged through shared labor and quiet mornings. They flow between their plans for work and that subtle gossiping that men do–convinced it isn’t really gossip–as they share updates about other folks in town and a few of the local businesses. 

“What about you?” Joel asks, turning to you and pulling you out of the fog. “You’re back for a while then?”  

It’s an innocent question, but it grates at you anyway. You stiffen. “Yeah, just taking some time,” you say vaguely. 

Joel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push for a real answer. You can feel the weight of his curiosity in the air between you. He looks to your dad, who doesn’t elaborate, letting something unspoken pass between them. 

“Well,” Joel drawls, “good timing. Lot of work to do this time of year. If you’re up for it.” 

The comment makes you pull a face. “I’m familiar with hard work,” you reply, your voice sharper than intended. 

Joel’s lips quirk again, into something like a smirk this time. “I’m sure you are,” he says with the faintest edge of a challenge. 

He takes a long swig from his stainless steel travel mug, trying to fix his eyes on the horizon. But damn, if it isn’t a challenge to see you standing there, looking every bit like you’d just rolled out of bed. In a shirt too damn thin for a morning like this, leaving too little to the imagination. 

He knew he shouldn’t be noticing something like that, shouldn’t look at you like that–especially not while you’re standing next to your dad. Hell, he shouldn’t want to look at all, but his eyes betray him. Darting for just a moment to your soft curves and the evidence of the chill in the air–the impression of your stiff nipples protruding in the soft fabric. 

Christ. He swallows hard, landing his eyes back on the scowl you wear on your face. You’re his friend's daughter. It just ain’t right. Sweet young thing like you. He battles the devil on his shoulder that reminds him you aren’t a kid. You’re a woman. A grown woman with your own life and clearly your share of grit, if the sharpness in your voice was anything to go by. 

He shifts on his feet, forcing his attention back to your dad who was still chuckling softly at something. Joel didn’t catch the joke, head too full of thoughts about you–or how to not think about you. He could feel the warmth creeping up his neck, unsettling him in front of your dad. 

You and him made loose plans for the day while Joel’s mind continued to wander. He shouldn’t have asked about why you were back. Your answer was vague, brushing him off like it was a privilege he hadn’t earned. For some reason that lodged it in his head further. He wanted to know more, even if he shouldn’t. 

Your dad stood up, stretching and declaring that all of you have work to do. You take that as your cue to head back inside, leaving the screen door swinging behind you. Joel lets out a low breath, shaking his head as he turns back to your dad. 

“She’s a spitfire,” Joel comments, keeping his tone neutral.  

“She is,” your dad agrees, adjusting his hat. “Good to have her back.”  

Joel huffs a small laugh, “S’pose we could use a strong woman around here. Keep us in line.” 

“No doubt she will,” your dad says, clapping him on the shoulder. The whole exchange stuck with Joel though. Something under that edge of yours, something unpolished that has him curious in a way he isn’t used to. He shakes his head knowing it isn’t his place to go digging. 

Your dad starts down the front steps. “Let’s get moving, then.” Joel moves mechanically, boots falling in line with your dad’s, but his mind is half on you—in that t-shirt, with that scowl on your face, and that faraway look that he’d like to unravel. 

You were used to hard work but your muscles weren’t exactly dialed in for the functional conditioning. It was humbling as you found yourself aching and exhausted by the end of the night. However, the fatigue did make it easier to fall asleep once your head hit the pillow instead of spiraling on about your failures until the birds started chirping. 

The next few days gave you a jump start into the rural routine. In bed early, up before the sun. Hot showers before dinner to wash away the layer of sweat and sweet-smelling dust from the pine shavings and hay. You found yourself looking forward to the strong coffee and the cool morning air before you started with your day. 

Your dad, and Joel, learned quickly to let you wake up rather than ask questions as they caught up on their plans before heading out together or splitting up. You didn’t mind listening, but you could feel Joel’s eyes lingering on you now and then. It made your spine straighten, determined to hide the sore muscles in your shoulders from him. If he was waiting to hear a complaint from you it was never gonna come. 

Despite getting more rest and having an endless list of labor to keep you moving–you often found yourself working solo and in silence during the day. A silence that your mind was more than happy to fill. You rehashed memories and dissected those little moments from your relationship with your ex-fiance that you wish you had seen more clearly at the time. 

You’re deep in one of those memories, mindlessly stacking bales of hay onto the trailer for a delivery your dad is making tomorrow when Joel enters the other end of the barn. He leans against the door, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching you work. The warm scent of hay fills the air, grounding and everpresent in his life. 

It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a common chore he’d do without thinking twice. But watching you was a whole different story. Your shirt was damp with sweat as you leaned into the work like you’d done it your whole life. You climb up a stack of bales and toss down some from the top of the next row, unaware of his presence. 

He is mesmerized by you. The sharp look on your face like you were mulling over an argument, the fluid movements as you worked, and the determination radiating off of you as you worked at an urgent pace. 

His gaze drifts lower as you climb down and bend to heave another bale onto the flatbed trailer. The muscles in his jaw tense as he lingers on the curve of your back as you bend to grab another. The way your legs shift as you work. The outline of your body in that shirt, the soft grunt you let out as you hoist another bale had him thinking indecent thoughts before he could stop himself. 

Joel drags his hand over his face, fingers brushing his scruffy jaw. Heat burning within him that has nothing to do with the Texas sun transforms into irritation. He was considering copping out and disappearing before you even noticed him when he was outed by the damn barn cats. 

The orange cat comes sprinting towards him, but it’s the black and white one meow-yelling at him down the aisle that catches your attention. A dull thud echoes through the barn as you drop another bale and watch as Joel squats down to give the cats the attention they demand. You watch, catching your breath. He’s gentle with them, murmuring something you can’t hear before he stands and strolls toward you. 

“Afternoon,” he greets you in his deep baritone voice. Joel grabs the two-string bale of hay in front of you and drops it on the trailer with ease, grabbing another before you can interject. 

“I can handle it.” You huff as you resume your task. 

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies smoothly, setting another down. “Thought it’d go faster with two sets of hands.” 

“I wasn’t in a hurry.” You eye him warily for a moment before slipping into a coordinated dance like it was natural. Tossing the rest that needed to be loaded up into the aisle for him to grab. You work in silence, just the sounds of hay shifting and boots scuffing against the barn floor. 

You break the silence first. “Dad says you and your brother hit the rodeo circuit in the summer. That true?” 

Joel huffs a soft laugh. “True.”

“You compete?”

“Team roping,” he says, his voice warming slightly. “Me and Tommy hit most of the circuits within a day's drive from here. Keeps us outta trouble.”

You roll your eyes. “Hard to picture you in trouble, cowboy.”

Joel’s smirk returned, faint but there. “You’d be surprised, sweetheart.” He matches your playful tone. 

His words linger as you work, stirring something you don’t quite know what to do with. Your mind drifts to the idea of rodeoing, the adrenaline of it, the discipline it demands. You forgot how much you missed it, how much you gave up chasing a life that didn’t pan out the way you hoped. 

Joel shifts beside you, the faint scrape of his boots pulling you back to the present. You glance at him, catching the way his shirt clung slightly to his back, the easy strength in the way he moves.

For a moment, the quiet feels comfortable. Easy. The steady rhythm fills the space. But eventually, Joel speaks again. 

“Your dad said you used to spend summers out here,” he says, in a low and easy tone. 

“Yeah,” you say, a little out of breath from the exertion. “When I was a kid.”

Joel brushes some loose hay off of his shirt. “Guessin’ it’s different now.” 

“Everything’s different now,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. 

His brow furrows slightly. “What brought you back?” 

You hesitate, not looking him in the eye. You’re searching for an answer in the dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight. “Just needed time to…rebuild.” It’s still vague. 

“You runnin’ from something?” 

You tense at that, before covering it in sarcasm. “I’m not an outlaw,” you jest, earning you a small smile. He doesn’t press further, but you feel his eyes on you, steady, and patient like he’s waiting in case you offer more. 

“It’s not as simple as people make it sound,” you say finally, the words slipping out before can stop them. “Starting over, that is.” You sit on a bale and pull your work gloves off, running the back of your hand over your forehead smearing sweat and dust in a most unsatisfying way. 

“No, it ain’t,” he adds quietly. 

Something in his tone makes your chest tighten, but you ignore the sensation. “What about you? How’d you end up here?” 

“Had to start over myself, I reckon,” he muses, dusting off his hands before sitting down next to you. The words hang in the air, heavier than you expected. He doesn’t look at you, instead, he watches the cats play with a piece of baling twine. “This place made it easier—focusing on getting the house built and getting the business running. Your dad helped too.” 

That catches you off guard. “My dad?” 

Joel nods, finally meeting your eyes. “Just seemed to understand, I guess.” 

You stare at him. You’re disarmed by the softness in his tone. Like there’s more beneath the surface if you ask for it. 

Joel feels the air thicken. He takes in the way your sweat-damp shirt clings to you, and the heavy rise and fall of your chest. For a split second, an image flashes in his mind—your chest heaving for a very different reason, your skin flushed and shining. His throat tightens, and he looks away quickly, cursing himself for letting his thoughts slip. 

The cats weave between your legs, easing the silence. But the air between you still feels charged. Your thighs are nearly touching. The proximity feels overwhelming for some reason and you're suddenly caught up in the details of his profile as he stares down at the floor. The lines at the corner of his eye, his nose, his lips.

He clears his throat and slaps a palm on his thigh. “Well,” he starts, standing up rather abruptly. “Just came by to check-in. See how you’re settling in.” 

“What?” You frown. You miss the grimace that flashes on his face, your eyes drawn to the cats darting away from the two of you. “How I’m settling in?” 

“Yeah, you know…” he gestures vaguely around the barn and your brows furrow and your eyes sharpen at him. Irritation flickers behind your eyes. 

“I told you I’m not afraid of hard work,” you snap, jumping to your feet in front of him. 

“That’s not what I meant,” he grumbles, like you’re misunderstanding him. 

“Did my dad send you to ‘check in’ on me? Or did you want to see if I could keep up?” 

“It ain’t like that.” He says lowly. 

“Right.” You cut, crossing your arms. You’re over this rollercoaster of a conversation. Your eyes catch on the deep crease between his brows and the glint in his dark eyes. Something flares in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s indignation or something else entirely. “Then what is it?”

His jaw tightens, gaze locked with yours. Something unspoken flickers in his expression. But instead of answering, he straightens, stepping back. “Doesn’t matter,” he says curtly. 

Your stomach twists at the coolness of his tone, the connection you just felt snapping like a wire. 

“This was a mistake,” Joel mutters to himself. 

“What was?” you asked, your voice deadly quiet. 

Joel only shakes his head before striding toward the far door. His boots echo on the floor and the cats follow after him like shadows, their tails swishing as they dart out into the sun. Joel pauses in the doorway, glancing back with a look you don’t understand. 

“Don’t work too hard now.” His voice carries easily before he stalks off.

Your thoughts have you spinning. “The fuck is his problem?” you wonder out loud, sharp in the warm air. In the space he left. 

But deep down, you can feel the edge of something else. Something more than frustration, curling low and unwelcome in your chest. The weight of his gaze was still lingering, and try as you might, you can’t ignore the way his presence had pressed into every corner of the barn, or the faint scent of leather and bourbon that still hangs in the air. 

Your routine locks into place, and the days begin to pass in a blur. Joel stops by for coffee and acts like the conversation you had in the barn never happened. The stoic, gruff cowboy thing works just fine with you.

Except for the moments you catch him staring at you like he’s trying to find an answer to something he never asked.

If you’re honest, though, despite your hostility, you seem to catch yourself studying him with the same frequency and intensity. You’re loath to admit you catch yourself hung up on his obnoxiously broad shoulders, his arms sculpted from the physically demanding work, and that gravelly morning voice he has before he finishes his coffee.

Aside from whatever Joel’s problem with you is, everything else seems to be falling into place. You catch up on your dad’s list of projects. You pick up a part-time job at the feed store in town, keeping yourself too busy to have idle time and too tired to dwell on the past or the future. You get to know folks in the town while you work at the register.

The town seems smaller than it was when you were a kid, but there’s also a charm in the simplicity that you find comfort in. The regulars keep you up to date on the town gossip, and you’re laughing loudly with your boss, Linda, one day over a joke she’d never admit to teaching you when your neighbor struts up to you with a list in hand for a bulk feed order.

You’re cordial to him and the man at his side who gives you a flirty wink that has you raising your eyebrows in disbelief for a moment before you put it together. “You must be Tommy?”

He grins brightly and offers his hand. “And you must be the neighbor?” You give him your name and a polite smile. Your eyes flick to Joel, taking in his neutral expression. His hands rest in his pockets, but his posture is loose, his broad shoulders back in a way that draws your eye before you can stop yourself.

As you enter the details of their order into the prehistoric computer, Linda chats both of the men up, asking them about their horses and when their next rodeo is.

You give Joel his total and take his payment, trying not to roll your eyes when he doesn’t make eye contact with you. You’re ready for the interaction with him to be over when Linda puts you on the spot.

“This one’s been talking about looking for a project horse of her own.” She nods her head toward you. “You boys have any leads for her?”

You can feel your face heating up as they both look at you. It’s not like it was a secret, but you weren’t planning on making Joel privy to your plans. You still haven’t forgotten the way he said this was a mistake after having one conversation with you. Or the way he is always looking at you. Like you don’t belong here or something.

“I’ll do you one better,” Tommy says. “We’ve got a couple of colts just getting started under saddle. They could use the miles, and they’re real sweet-tempered if you wanna come by during the week.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You give him a genuine smile. “I’m actually going to take a look at one that’s got potential this weekend. Marilyn from the post office said her cousin’s got a six-year-old quarter horse she’d sell for a steal.”

Joel lets out a dismissive laugh under his breath. “You mean that Hancock gelding? The blue roan?”

“Yeah.” You confirm, slowly growing more confused by the reactions on all of their faces. “Why?”

Linda’s mouth is hanging open like you said the devil was gonna sell you his horse. Tommy gives you a modest smile like you’ve told him two plus two equals eight, but he’s too polite to correct you. Joel’s expression remains unreadable, but the crease between his brows deepens.

“Am I missing something?” you ask, hoping for an explanation. You do not like feeling like you’re being played for a fool. 

“She’d sell that horse for a dime and a handshake,” Linda says. “Her cousin broke her jaw getting bucked off that horse. That’s why he’s been out to pasture ever since.”

You’re quiet for a beat before the familiar challenge and determination wrap around your heart. “Can’t hurt to look,” you say with a shrug.

“Hancocks are notoriously stubborn and broncy,” Joel adds, his tone low and edged with warning.

“They’re also incredibly smart, loyal, and full of try if you earn their trust and ask ‘em the right way,” you shoot back, meeting his eyes for just a moment too long. Why does it always feel like he thinks you’re out of your element? Does he think you’re incompetent? It only strengthens your desire to prove him wrong.

Joel’s mouth presses into a thin line, but his gaze doesn’t waver, and it stirs something uncomfortable low in your chest.

“So I’ve heard,” Tommy cuts the tension simmering between you and Joel. “Offer still stands if he doesn’t work out.”

“Thanks.” You pointedly direct your appreciation to Tommy, not looking back at Joel. “We’ll give you a call when the order’s in.”

They take that as their signal to move along. You think that would be the end of the drama for the day, but Linda’s got one more tidbit in store after the door closes behind the two men.

“God, those two are so hot it’s unbearable,” she sighs. It catches you off guard, and you blink at her. “Too bad they’re cowboy Casanovas.”

“What?” You give her a scrupulous look, shifting on your feet as she leans against the counter.

“Oh, yeah,” Linda says with a knowing smirk. “Every buckle bunny in a three-county radius knows those two. I hear they have a sign-up sheet at the trailer.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, but the image comes unbidden—Joel, shirtless and panting, sweat glistening on his chest, his jeans slung low on his hips, every muscle taut as he leans over some woman. His gravelly drawl slides through your mind like warm honey as he murmurs something low and dirty, but you can’t make out the words. Your thought derails violently, and you scowl at yourself, heat rushing up your neck, but Linda’s still talking. 

“I’d stand in line for either of ‘em if I were single,” she adds with a shrug.

The image morphs into smug Joel tipping his hat, a self-satisfied grin on his face as some random woman climbs out of his bed. Your throat tightens unexpectedly, and you shove the thought away, scowling at the knot of irritation it leaves behind.

The trailer rocks faintly as you haul it slowly down the driveway toward the barn. Blue shifts inside, and the loud thud of him pawing at the floor, anxious to get out of the small space, echoes loudly in the driveway as you ease to a stop. You cut the engine and hop out of the cab, you can hear your dad’s boots on the porch steps before he’s striding toward you. “You actually brought him home, huh?” 

“You knew I would.” You grin. Your dad unlatches the trailer door and you slip past the divider to untie your new gelding and back him out of the trailer. Blue’s ears flick rapidly and he snorts like a dragon, wary of his unfamiliar surroundings, but you steady him with a calm voice and wait for him to drop his head before coaxing him backward. 

His hooves hit the solid ground and he blows out a sharp breath, shaking his neck to de-stress. “He’s gonna be perfect,” you say, running a hand along his neck. “Just needs someone who knows what they’re doing.” 

Your dad gives you a look that says he knows he couldn’t change your mind if he tried. His gaze flicks over Blue’s body, taking in his confirmation and conditioning, the scar on his back leg, the brand on his flank, and the stocky ranch horse build. “Linda said he’s got a bad reputation.” 

“Linda says a lot of things,” you shoot back, leading Blue toward the barn. “He was misunderstood. Had a rough start, that’s all. That girl who got bucked off never shoulda had him to begin with—not after he’d been out to pasture for so long. She was scared, and he felt it.” 

Your dad hums, the kind of sound that tells you he’s skeptical but not enough to argue. “Well, he’s in good hands now.” 

“And we both know I like a challenge,” you say with a steady voice, edged with something sharper. 

The sound of boots on gravel draws your attention and you glance back to see Joel strolling over from the direction of his property. His hat tipped low as his dark eyes flick between you and Blue. 

“Afternoon,” he calls, steady and smooth. 

Your dad turns and gives him a nod. “Joel.” 

“That the Hancock gelding?” 

“Yeah,” you reply shortly, adjusting Blue’s halter. 

Joel steps closer, his expression unreadable as he studies the gelding. Blue swishes his tail before shifting his weight, resting one back leg like he’s already starting to relax. Joel walks a circle around Blue, before pausing next to your dad. “Well-built,” he comments. “Is he sound?” 

You can barely hold back your eye-roll. “I had Barb meet me at the farm for a pre-purchase exam. Passed with flying colors.” You swallow down your irritation. Once again Joel thinks you’re a fool? That you’d go off and pick up a horse without a vet inspection?

Before you give Joel a piece of your mind you take a steadying breath, grounding yourself and whispering into Blue’s ear. “He might doubt both of us but he’ll be eating his fuckin’ words real quick once you and I get started.” With that, you turn away and lead Blue to the barn. 

Joel watches the two of you walk off, resting his hand on his hip. “She got a death wish or somethin’?” he grumbles.

Your dad crosses his arms, both men still watching the barn door where the two of you disappeared. “She’s tougher than she looks. And she’s got more patience than the two of us combined—for animals that is. Lord knows she’ll let us have it just for looking at her sideways.” 

Joel grunts, ignoring the heat crawling up his neck at the thought of you telling him off. “Hope you’re right.” 

“It’ll be good for her to have her own project. Haven’t seen that light in her eyes since she got here. S’about time she started moving on.” Your dad’s words eat at Joel. He still wants to know what you’re trying to rebuild from, but he doesn’t ask. Letting the silence stretch before your dad continues. 

“Plus, she’s got the right touch for it,” your dad drawls, tone laced with pride. “Always drawn to the ones that seem a little rough around the edges.” 

Joel doesn’t respond right away. His eyes narrow on the horizon, but his gaze flicks back to where you walked off, the sway of your hips lingering longer than it should. The deeply twisted interpretation of your dad’s words messing with his mind. 

In the barn, Blue seems less concerned about getting the lay of the land now that there’s food in front of him. He munches greedily, tearing hay out of the net tied in the stall. You’re buzzing with a mix of emotions, already imagining the next steps for the two of you. 

Your thoughts fall back on Joel and your dad, their low voices carrying faintly in the warm air. You can picture Joel still standing there, one hand on his hip, eyes fixed on you, that infuriatingly unreadable look expression he always has. 

Your chest tightens, heat rising in your cheeks as you lean against the stall door. You hate how Joel looks at you like that. Like he’s waiting for you to fuck up. To prove him right. Like he’s already decided you’re in over your head. 

“He doesn’t know me,” you mutter under your breath, “doesn’t know you,” you tell Blue, “doesn’t know shit.” 

Blue snorts softly, and you take that as his agreement, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Days blur into a steady rhythm—early mornings with Blue, afternoons at the feed store, and long evenings under the arena lights. Each ride sharpens your connection with him, his turns growing tighter, his strides more confident. Progress comes in small, steady victories, each one lighting a spark of hope in your chest.

One afternoon, when the sun hangs low in the sky, painting the fields with warm hues of orange and gold. From his spot near the fence of his own property, Joel leans one arm against the top rail, his black felt Stetson shading his eyes. Across the way, you’re working with Blue in the makeshift round pen. 

Joel can tell from the way you hold yourself that you’re tired. Your shoulders seem stiff and your jaw tense. But you don’t stop. Your voice carries in the breeze, warm and steady as you encourage Blue to make another pass. 

The horse resists, throwing his head and stomping at the ground, but you don’t flinch. You give him the space to settle before asking again. Joel’s lips twitch, with a hint of a smile. You’ve got grit. 

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re working off more than just the horse’s rough edges. You move with purpose and focus, but with a weight that doesn’t seem entirely about Blue. 

From where Joel stands, he can’t make out every detail, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from lingering. You draw his attention with a pull that he can’t resist.

Against his better judgment. He traces the line of your spine as you step forward, the way your hips shift when you pivot. He knows better than to look, knows it’s wrong, but he can’t stop himself. 

Blue gives in, his steps evening out as he settles into a steady rhythm circling you. Joel watches as you slow him to a halt. The tension in your posture releases and you reach out with ease and satisfaction to stroke Blue’s neck. 

That invisible pull between you draws your eyes to where Joel is standing. Your face hardens when you catch him observing your training session. He gives you a nod before pushing off the rail and heading into the barn. 

He catches glimpses of you working together in the mornings and evenings. He tries to stop himself from watching, but it’s useless. He catches himself inadvertently timing out his schedule to be able to keep an eye on you. Tells himself he wants to be sure someone’s keeping an eye on you in case something goes wrong. Or that he’s curious about your progress. 

He can admit he admires your perseverance and the skill you have. He would never admit the way he finds himself waking up hard and aching thinking about you and what it’d feel like to have your hips rocking on his lap instead of a saddle, your tits bouncing in his face, and your sweet blissed out smile. And when trudges up the steps of your porch in the mornings to see if your dad needs anything from town—he prays neither of you can see the remnants of his sins in his eyes. 

He can’t stop himself from trying to talk to you, though. One morning he asks straight up, “How’s the project horse coming along?” He tries to sound casual, averting his eyes as he sips his coffee. 

Your smile flickers, equal parts excitement and hesitation flashing across your face. “Good,” you say after a beat, sitting on the wooden bench. “He learns quick, got good stamina and drive.” 

Joel hums, tilting his head slightly. “He give you any trouble?” 

Your jaw tenses, though you try to hide it. “Nothing I can’t handle,” you reply, tightly. 

Joel nods. “Good,” he says simply, but he still looks at you, like there’s something else weighing on his mind. 

Your dad clears his throat, breaking the tension. “She’s got him started on the pattern already.” 

“You gonna run barrels?” Joel asks, curiosity sneaking into his eyes. 

“That’s the plan.” 

Joel hums, taking a long pause. “You wanna run him in a real arena? Bring him over to get some practice in with the right kind of footing and see what he’s really got for a motor?” 

Your eyes narrow and your shoulders tighten, straining with disbelief. A real arena? It’s like nothing you do is ever good enough for him. “We’re getting along just fine as is, thanks.” The words are dripping with venom as you slip back into the house letting the screendoor slam shut behind you. 

Joel’s brows furrow. “Didn’t mean no harm, by it,” he says to your dad. “My mistake,” he adds gruffly. 

Your dad looks a bit miffed at the sharpness of your rejection but gives Joel a shrug back. “She’s always gotta do it her own way.” 

The conversation with Joel sticks in your mind. You’re still chewing it over that evening as you run Blue through some drills, working on his lead changes and corners. When you finally bring him down to walk to cool down you hear the sound of hooves hitting the dirt across the field. Sharp and rhythmic. You walk Blue along the fence line. Pausing when you catch sight of Joel and Tommy in their outdoor arena. 

Their horses move like extensions of their bodies. You loosen the reins, letting Blue’s head sway with every step as you stay transfixed on the two men. Tommy’s bay gelding moves with a quick, snappy stride. His hindquarters tucked under him as he spins on a dime at Tommy’s commend. You can feel the thrill and see Tommy’s grin from where you sit. It’s infectious. You roll your eyes as he tosses his rope catching the dummy steer in a single fluid motion. 

You make another lap before you let yourself study Joel. 

He’s riding his big red mare, her muscles rippling in the sun as she powers forward at a lope. Joel’s hand is steady on the reins, his posture relaxed but exact. Every movement he makes is calculated, and deliberate, yet to an untrained eye seems completely natural and fluid. Like he and his horse were born to do it. He barely shifts to ask the mare to pivot. Her body arcs beautifully, bending around his leg as they make a sharp turn toward the roping dummy. 

You’ve seen good riders before, but there’s something different about the way works. He doesn’t just ride—he leads. Every muscle he moves is a quiet conversation between him and his horse. It’s seamless and controlled. And damn if it isn’t mesmerizing. 

He leans forward slightly, and your mouth goes dry watching his arm flexing as he tosses the rope with precision. His red mare halts instantly, kicking up dirt around her hooves. Joel adjusts his hat with a smooth motion, you can see the focus on his face. Serious and competitive.

You swallow hard as you change directions, still walking on a loose rein very aware that Blue’s sweat is long dried by now. You feel warmth burning in your core that has nothing to do with your tired muscles. He looks good out there. Too good. The kind of good that makes you think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. Your eyes drift, taking in the way his jeans hug his thighs, the line of his back as he shifts in the saddle. You imagine his hands, thick, precise fingers. Something coils hot and tight within you. You shake your head at yourself. You are not having those thoughts about Joel Miller who thinks you don’t know your ass from your elbow. You swing your leg over the back of the saddle dropping to your feet. Loosening your cinch and still trying to shake your thoughts out of your mind when you hear Tommy hollering at you. 

“Watch and learn, neighbor!” Tommy calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You glance up, cheeks burning as Tommy tips his hat your way with his charismatic grin. Joel follows his gaze, dark eyes locking on you for a moment. Tommy gives you a demonstration of his prowess with the rope–as if you hadn’t been watching–but, Joel says nothing before turning his mare and heading in the opposite direction. 

His cool look sends a shiver down your spine. 

You walk back to the barn, and the sound of their horses fades behind you, but that image of Joel sears into your mind. His commanding and maddeningly attractive exhibition just stoked a fire you’re desperate to ignore. 

You have the same stubborn streak as your father and you’d be damned if you’re gonna cave and ask Joel to use his facility. You find a summer barrel series in a nearby town with low entry fees.

You start hauling Blue out to get some experience. At first, his runs are clumsy, but as you get your miles in, his turns get tighter, his confidence grows, and your times get quicker. And you quickly feel like the two of you are ready to enter your first rodeo.

The air smells like dirt and livestock, as you unload your horse and tie him to the side of your trailer. There’s a hum from the generators, buzzing conversations, and the occasional whinny of a horse or thud as one paws at the dirt.

You had made a point not to ask if Joel and Tommy would be attending, but you catch his familiar shoulders tapering to his slim waist, with one boot on the lowest rung of the fence a few yards ahead when you head toward the warmup pen before your division gets called. He isn’t even facing your direction but you instinctively square your shoulders and raise your chin. You wonder if he’s just here to see if you’re going to fail. Or maybe he’s just watching to earn some other woman’s favor. 

Something ugly simmers in your blood and your chest feels tight. You attribute it to irritation, refusing to acknowledge any alternate reasons. You’re going to prove him wrong. 

You’re still staring at him when he turns to say something to the man standing next to him. You grit your teeth. Superstitious–as every cowboy is–his usual salt and pepper scruff is neatly trimmed, he’s got on a pair of deep blue Wranglers–nicer than you figure he owned, and a crisp long-sleeve pearl snap. Dressed to earn Lady Luck’s favor. 

The devil on your shoulder whispers a thought in Linda’s teasing voice. He doesn’t need to do all that to get lucky. You take a deep breath and peel yourself away from the sight. You’re here to focus on Blue, not your asshole neighbor and his conquests.

Despite trying to let go of your issues with Joel, a scowl stays plastered on your face throughout your warmup. Blue picks up on your distraction and he’s a little hot, as you head him toward the alleyway when it’s time for your run. Against your will, your eyes search for Joel. A wash of heat floods your veins when you find him already watching you. He mouths good luck at you and you can only manage a curt smile before you’re pushing Blue to a lope, making one tight circle before you cross the start. The sound of his hooves pounding into the dirt matches the blood pounding in your ears. The burst of adrenaline is instant. The run isn’t perfect. He breaks his stride around the second barrel and you lose time nudging him back into rhythm, but you finish the pattern without knocking anything over. The announcer calls your time as you slow to a trot, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It’s such a blur you don’t think to look for Joel. You don’t think about him at all until you’re untacking Blue at your trailer, brushing sweat marks from his coat when movement near another horse trailer catches your eye.

Joel stands close to a woman with long, shiny dark hair. She flashes a wide smile, leaning toward him and resting a hand lightly on his arm. The sight makes you grimace. You shove down the feeling. “None of our business,” you mutter to Blue as you keep brushing. But, your eyes flick back despite yourself. She tilts her head, laughing at something he says, or doesn’t say, you can’t tell. He stands stiffly, hands in his pockets. You can’t see his face from your angle.

The woman reaches to touch him again, and you feel a headache brewing in the back of your skull. Joel glances away from her, landing in your direction for the shortest moment, before his weight shifts and he takes a small step back. You scowl again, tossing your brush back into the tack room shelf with more force than necessary making Blue toss his head. Your heart thuds louder than it should and you run a hand over Blue’s cheek, murmuring softly to calm both him and yourself. When you glance back, the woman is still talking, but Joel’s looking at you again. His dark eyes are sharp under the brim of his hat. He nods, barely noticeable, before turning away from the woman entirely. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to take another deep breath before loading Blue back into the trailer to head out. You weren’t sticking around to watch any of the other events. Especially not the team roping. 

You smile when you pull onto the highway. You count the day as a success and feel ready to enter a bigger rodeo. The idea makes you glow. Finally feeling like you’re getting back to your true self. You feel like a new woman compared to the version of you that showed packed up her truck desperate to put miles between your ex-fiance and your corporate nightmare.

“It’s not that bad,” you argue, crossing your arms as your dad leans against the truck with a skeptical look. “The hell it’s not,” he replies, gesturing toward the trailer. “That’s floor is one step away from dropping your horse onto the damn highway.” You sigh, dragging a hand over your face. “I know,” you grumble lowly, disappointment sinking in your stomach. “I was just hoping you’d see something I didn’t.” “Sorry kid,” your dad says. “S’fine. I’ll figure something out. Or just eat the entry fees I paid.” “Or,” he says pointedly, “you could ask Joel.” You glare at him, fire burning in your chest. “I don’t need his charity.” “Ain’t charity,” he interrupts your sour attitude with a gruff tone. “He’s practically family. Don’t let your pride get in the way of your goals.” The words stick, heavy and uncomfortable. You’ve got half a mind to keep arguing. Joel might be your dad’s best friend, but he’s nothing like family to you. But before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re dragging yourself up the steps of Joel’s front porch. 

You realize as your boot hits the last step that you’ve never been to his place. He always offers to have you and your dad over for a whiskey or for a fire out back, but you always brush him off. You see why your dad takes him up on it though.

It’s beautifully made with stunning wooden chairs and a bench for seating on the porch. You’d consider complimenting him on his craftsmanship if you weren’t already dreading what you’re about to say. Joel opens the door, his hat already in hand like he’d been expecting you. “Somethin’ wrong?” “Yeah,” you admit, trying not to hesitate. “Uh, trailer’s shot,” you point your thumb in the direction of your dad’s place. “Was wondering if you’d have room in your trailer to haul Blue with your horses.” 

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches. The gleam in his eye makes you want to say never mind. You brace for a smart-ass remark. “‘Course,” he replies. You blink, caught off guard by the simplicity of it. “Of course?” 

He leans back into the house to grab something, then he’s handing you his keys. “Load your tack up tonight, and get your bags in the living quarters.” “No need,” you shake your head, leaving him holding the keys between you. “I’ve got the truck. And a tent.” 

Joel leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You pointedly avoid how his sleeves strain around his biceps. “You’re ridin’ with us. Not riskin’ that truck dyin’ on the highway.” You glare, lips pressed into a thin line. Of course, you’ve got a trailer with a busted floor and a truck with more miles than you’d like to admit on it—while Joel has a shiny truck from this decade and a horse trailer with a tack room and living quarters. Probably has AC and everything.

You catch the glint in his eye, realizing you’re the one asking for a favor and you steel yourself, reminding yourself to bite your tongue.

“Fine,” you grit out, holding your hand out for the keys.

The truck hums beneath you, the steady vibration doing nothing to ease the thick tension in the cab. Tommy’s passed out in the back seat, his hat tipped low over his face, leaving you alone with Joel and the steady drone of the country ballad playing through the speakers.

“You always listen to this?” you ask, breaking the silence as you reach toward the radio.

Joel glances at you, one hand resting casually on the wheel. “Somethin’ wrong with it?”

“Didn’t know you were a ‘sad songs for sad cowboys’ kind of guy,” you mutter, flicking through stations before he can answer.

Joel doesn’t stop you, but when you pause on something irritatingly upbeat, his hand moves toward the knob just as yours does.

Your fingers brush his, and the contact jolts through you like a live wire.

You pull back instinctively, your breath catching as your heart slams against your ribs. Joel pauses for half a second before retreating, his knuckles tightening faintly on the wheel.

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Joel stares ahead, his jaw clenching as his thoughts spiral. He knew telling you to ride with him was playing with fire. But he can’t stay away from the heat. You glance out the window, pretending the spark you felt wasn’t real. It’s just Joel, always better than you, always an ass. The charged silence stretches on though, every shift of his hand on the wheel drawing your attention. Every shallow breath reminds you of his proximity. 

“This’ll do,” you say tightly. Joel huffs softly, but says nothing, keeping his eyes pointed straight ahead. Neither of you speaks again for the rest of the drive, but the weight of the accidental touch remains, thick and suffocating. The rodeo grounds are already alive with motion by the time you’re parked and unloading the horses. The evening sun casts an amber glow over the circus of trucks, tents, and trailers. You help get the portable fence set up and the horses settled before the three of you head off to check in at the visitor's tent and get your meal tickets. 

The smell of barbecue wafts through the air and you get in line to fill your plate. Folks chat eagerly. Tommy strikes up an easy conversation with a group of riders near the picnic tables.

You watch as some folks head back to their campsites, hesitating on whether you want to do the same or find a table. Joel passes you and sits at a nearby table and before you can debate any longer a voice interrupts your thoughts. “Long travel day?” the wiry cowboy drawls, tipping his hat and gesturing to the bench next to him. “Take a seat.” 

You give him a quizzical look, but you’re hungry enough to take the opportunity to sit and eat. 

“Name’s Cody.” He introduces himself while you eat. He tells you he’s a bull rider. Asks if you’re runnin’ barrels tomorrow. He’s chatty with a smooth and easy voice and a playful look on his youthful face. You answer his questions, politely, suddenly keenly aware of Joel’s gaze boring into the back of your head. It makes your spine prickle with something you can’t name. The heat of his stare burns into you, fierce and unwavering, making every laugh at Cody’s jokes feel like defiance. Cody continues on and you find it easy to listen to his stories, but you can’t help feeling compelled to glance over your shoulder betraying the distraction you’re trying to ignore. Cody points out some of the other riders he knows and invites you to come hang out at their campsite and have a drink. You’re still searching for the right words when you catch sight of Joel walking swiftly past your table. He mutters something to Tommy–who seems to be proving Linda’s rumors true with a woman wrapped around his arm and batting her lashes at him–and stalks off. Your stomach twists as you watch him go, irritation flaring hot and fast. “The fuck is his problem?” you mutter under your breath, turning back to your plate. Cody shrugs, clearly oblivious. “Who knows? Anyway—” But you’ve already tuned him out, your eyes following the path Joel struts down before he disappears.

You joined Cody and his friend for one drink, hoping it would ease your nerves. He had a kind group, a little rough around the edges, but tough as nails like you’d expect bull riders to be. They kept your mind distracted with their wild stories, but you decided to head back to the trailer before anyone got drunk and stupid. The walk back to the trailer feels longer than it should, every step weighed down by something stirring within you, something that has you on edge. You check on the horses before pulling the door open and climbing into the living quarters. The cool night air hasn’t soothed the heat that’s been simmering within you since dinner—or since that moment in the truck if you’re honest. You toe off your boots before looking up to see Joel, leaning against the wall, his jaw set tight, and his eyes sharp as they snap to yours.

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, realizing it’s just the two of you in the small space. “Reckon he’ll be out til the sun's up,” Joel says in a quiet, low tone. “Alright,” you nod. Another point goes to Linda for that one, you figure. Joel’s jaw remains set in that infuriatingly unreadable way that seems to be his signature look. The dim light in the trailer casts sharp shadows across his face that darken his gaze. “You enjoy yourself? With your new friend?” he asks, his voice raw, edged with something you can’t place. You stop short, narrowing your eyes. “Excuse me?” He steps closer, reaching past you to hang his hat on the hook by the door. “Took your time gettin’ back.” He says, his eyes flick over you, dark and assessing.

You’re acutely aware of the scent of the campfire on your shirt and beer on your lips. It swirls with his leather and bourbon musk like they were designed to enhance each other. His words sink in, cutting and daring. “What’s your point?” “Did you fuck him?” The bluntness of it knocks the breath out of you. Your mouth falls open. Shock and fury battling for control as you glare at him. “What did you just say to me?” “You heard me, sweetheart,” Joel says, his voice calm but razor-sharp. “Just wondering if that cowboy got what he was after.” It takes everything in you not to slap him across the face. “What the fuck,” you hiss, stepping closer, your fists clenched at your sides, “makes you think you’ve got the right to ask me that, Joel?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, but his expression remains cold. “Lookin’ out for you. Your dad’d kill me if I didn’t.” You laugh bitterly. “Bullshit.” His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond. Silence fanning the flames within you. “You aren’t my dad,” you snap, voice trembling with rage. “And you sure as hell don’t get to tell me who I can or can’t fuck.” Joel’s eyes narrow, his shoulders stiffening as he steps even closer. “That’s not what I—” “Save it,” you cut him off, word sharp as a whip. “I don’t know why you think I’m so weak or clueless all the time. Like I can’t handle myself. Like I’m some kid you’ve gotta babysit.” 

Joel’s expression hardens, his dark eyes flash with something that looks like hurt beneath his anger. “That’s what you think I see?” his words come out like a dangerous growl. “That’s how you’ve acted toward me since day one,” you fire back, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “If you don’t respect me, Joel, just stay out of my business.” His chest rises and falls sharply, his breath warm against your skin as the air between you thickens. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” he grits, voice tight with frustration. “Explain it to me then,” you challenge. Shaking with the force of everything you’ve been holding back. “Or stay away from me if I’m such a thorn in your side.” He works his jaw, and for a moment you’re glued to the corded muscle in his neck and the exposed golden brown skin of his chest. He glares at you, making no move to back off. His voice drops sinfully low and quiet. “You really wanna know?” “Yeah,” you breathe, heart pounding like it’s trying to break through your ribcage. “I do.” His hand moves fast, gripping your wrist—not rough, but firm enough to make your breath catch. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he accuses in a rough and uneven voice. You blink. “What?” “You heard me,” he rumbles, dark eyes locked on yours. “From the first day, you showed up here, lookin’ at me like you had somethin’ to prove.” Anger burns in your veins. “How does that make me your problem?” His grip tightens, his body presses closer. “You ain’t my problem,” he mutters. Guilt twists into his words, “Shouldn’t even be lookin’ at you like this. S’wrong.” He swallows thickly, only sharpening the edge in his voice. “But I can’t stop thinkin’ about you, and it’s pissin’ me off.” His confession hits you like a brick over the head. The trailer is silent, but the sound of the blood rushing in your ears, and your ragged exhale seems deafening. 

“Then stop,” you challenge, voice trembling with defiance. “If it’s so wrong, just leave me alone.” Joel’s eyes darken, his other hand settles on your hip, fingers digging into you. “Can’t,” he says,  voice so thick with frustration, it sounds like it hurts. “Don’t think I want to.” 

Silence stretches and time feels thick and warped. Your ragged breaths fill the space. His eyes search for a reason to stop, but he finds none. 

You don’t get a chance to reply before he drops your wrist to wrap a large hand around your jaw, pulling you into a feverish kiss. Nothing gentle about it. It’s raw and desperate, equal parts frustration and hunger. Your fingers curl into his shirt as if you could pull him any closer as your teeth scrape over his bottom lip, in a sharp, biting challenge that makes him groan low in his throat. He angles your face so he can kiss you deeper, harder, until your knees feel like they might give out. Your mind goes blank, flashing white with anger and need. All you can process is the hot slip of his tongue against yours and the sharp bristle of his facial hair against your tender lips. Your back hits the cool metal wall of the trailer before you realize your feet had even moved. Joel’s hips press into yours, pinning you against his body–solid and unrelenting. His lips trail down your jaw to your neck, the edge of his teeth scraping at your skin. The rasp of his stubble sends sparks to your core, and you dig your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. Pulling him toward you, needing him in a way that verges on painful. He lifts his mouth, breathing hotly against your damp neck. “This what you want?” he says, his tone matching the burning desperation coursing through you. “You want me to fuck it outta you? Til you can’t keep runnin’ your mouth at me?” “Shut up,” you snap, but the way your body arches into him betrays the hostility in your voice and the subtle stretch makes you keenly aware of how wet and needy you are already. He makes a low, guttural noise in his throat that makes your cunt throb. His hand slides down to grip your thigh, hitching it around his waist as he grinds into you. The hard ridge of his cock pressing into you makes you gasp. The sound you make sends heat ripping through him like wildfire. We can’t, he thinks, but the words die on his tongue. The thought of how wrong this is flashes in his mind, but it’s drowned out by the way you’re looking at him. The way your nails dig into his shoulders as you pull him closer, your breath hot and shaky against his cheek. He can’t think. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to. Not when you’re so soft and warm and furious beneath him. He’s helpless. His hand slips under your shirt, rough fingers brushing over soft skin, leaving a searing trail that grounds you as your mind spins. He pushes your shirt up, baring you to the dim light of the trailer. Time slips back into the warped, syrupy dimension as you absorb the unbidden lust and awe in his eyes. You’re the one exposed, but you feel like you’re seeing something just as naked in his face. Time catches up and you pull your shirt the rest of the way over your head, committing to sin wordlessly. You shiver at the sudden contrast between the heat radiating off of his body and the cool air hitting your flesh. “Joel,” you gasp, your head tipping back as his mouth closes over your nipple like a wet furnace. His teeth graze the sensitive skin causing you to spew breathy curses over the top of his head. They only spur him on. He sucks hard enough that you tug him off you by his hair, but he only switches to your breast, delivering the same delicious punishment as his fingers roll and pinch at the wet, puffy, flesh he abandons. 

It’s like he can predict your needs before your mind can, biting down harshly enough to pull you away from the angry, hissing thoughts and keep you desperate to stay lost in the physical sensations. He palms the full weight of your tits, gliding his thumbs over both, slick and shining with his saliva. He presses them together before releasing them. “Goddamn,” he murmurs, taken by the way they bounce more perfectly than he could’ve imagined. It’s wrong to have you topless and panting beneath him, but his name falls so sweetly from your lips that it doesn’t matter. The heavy-lidded look you have makes him feel confirmed. When you moan lowly as the pain melts into pleasure when he kneads your soft, slippery skin, his cock aches and weeps for you. He needs more. He needs everything. Needs to wreck you, to see you so fucked out the only thing you can say is his name. 

It’s an exquisite brand of torture. 

You hate how good this feels, how badly you want him to keep going. To show you every move he knows. To break you down with his hands and mouth. You should push him away, tell him to fuck off. But your body doesn’t want that. You don’t want that. You roll your hips against his, begging wordlessly for more, as you tug at his hair hard enough to pull a throaty groan from deep within him. The sound he makes nearly has you short-circuiting, but he doesn’t give you the respite to fall apart. His hands are everywhere, frenzied like he’s losing control. Hasn’t he already lost it? You wonder distantly. Slowly, you realize he’s littering dirty little threats and filthy promises into your warm flesh. You hate the way his words make you shiver, how much you crave every pledge he makes. “You’re gonna feel me for days, sweetheart,” he husks hotly, just behind your ear. It’s a commitment you unwittingly pray he keeps. Some part buried deep within you blooms at the idea of feeling every memory of his touch as you go about your day tomorrow. “Get to it then,” you snap, hands reaching for his belt with urgency. Joel doesn’t need any more encouragement. His hand slips between your legs, teasing you through the soaked fabric of your underwear, and the sound you make at the pressure—the breathless, needy, whimper—makes him forget how to breathe. All he knows is that he needs to hear it again while he fucks into your soft, warm cunt. 

He wrenches your jeans open and works them down your thighs as you tear at his shirt buttons. He’s barely able to let you go long enough to pull his shirt off; watching you kick your pants off the rest of the way makes him nearly trip over himself. 

The air between your naked chests is sticky and warm. He dips his hand beneath the hem of your underwear, fingertips gliding over the soft hair on your mound making his eyes roll back. 

The edges of your vision blurs when he prods two big fingers between your slick lips, but you’re glued to the way his dark eyes are nearly black now. He looks every bit possessed by a beast, and fuck if you aren’t driven by the sick desire to make him snap. 

“You like having me touch you like this, don’t you?” His voice drips with need underscored by the slick sounds coming from between your legs. 

“No.” You rasp, as you grind your clit against his palm. He pumps two fingers inside of you, curling them just right to make you moan. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he drawls, thick like honey. You grip the muscle flexing in his arm to steady yourself. His concentration and competence makes your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“You’re gonna come for me, right here.” He declares. 

You shake your head. “I’m not—fuck—I won’t.” 

“You will,” he interrupts. Dark and calm. His pace quickens, fingers focused on the spot inside you that makes you a mindless wreck. His thumb draws circles around your clit. 

“Can feel how close you are.” Your hips rock and your muscles all pull taut. “If you’d quit fuckin’ fighting me.” He somehow crowds even closer to you. You feel like you’re about to snap when he pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling empty and ragged. “But you’re too fuckin’ stubborn, ain’t you?” 

“Joel,” you whine, angry and devastated. “I hate you.” 

You grip the back of his neck with one hand, and both of you watch as he finally takes himself out of his jeans. 

The view makes you salivate. 

Everything about Joel is rugged and masculine. The muscles carved into his arms and chest. The trail of dark hair leading down his stomach that thickens around his base. The deep flushed color of his thick cock. The ragged inhale he makes when he presses the blunt tip against the drenched fabric that clings to your swollen folds. 

“Say it,” he growls, rubbing along your barely clothed seam. 

“I hate you,” you whisper unconvincingly, digging your nails into the back of his neck and arching off of the wall. 

“Tell me you want it.” You can’t tell if it’s a demand or a plea. This strain in his voice and the muscles tensing across his broad frame make you tremble.

“I don’t.” You lie. You snake one hand down your body, peeling your ruined panties to the side so he can slot his tip at your dripping entrance. You tilt forward, impatiently, stretching around him just enough to override your filter. 

“Oh, fuck,” you start. Unable to stop the stream of whispered curses from rolling off your tongue. 

“Yeah,” Joel rasps, inching deeper inside of your tight, warm walls. He feeds himself into you slowly, the overwhelming fullness as you adjust makes your thighs shake. He pulls out and you whine, unable to say a word before he’s moving, dipping you onto the thin trailer mattress and slipping your underwear down your legs. 

“Gonna fuck you full,” he mutters. You spread your legs, making room for him to settle above you. He draws his cock back through your lips, coating himself in your arousal before driving into you with a powerful stroke. 

Your lips part, sucking in air as he sets a pace. He fills you deeper than you’ve ever felt, relentlessly making room for himself as he saws in and out of you. It’s powerful and primal, but refined by his athleticism. Fluid rolling hips and his strong core make you see stars as he fucks into you.

“That’s right,” he rasps above you, and you realize he’s responding to you. 

“So good,” you’re murmuring, “so full.” 

“Taking it like you were made for it,” he says to himself. The intensity of your tight, warm pussy coaxing him deeper makes him spill his thoughts. Unfiltered. 

He sets a pace, slow and deliberate at first, each stroke filling you completely before pulling back, leaving you desperate for more. The friction is maddening, plunging his length into your sensitive walls as he pins you beneath his hard body.   

“You feel that?” His breath is hot against your neck. “Feel how deep I am? How I’m splittin’ you open?”  

You nod frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as you whimper his name.  

Joel’s control falters at the sound of it, his hips snapping harder, faster, as his desperation takes over. “Thought about this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse. “Fuckin’ hell, I’ve thought about this too damn much. But you’re better than I ever imagined.”  

His confession sends a jolt through you, but you’re too far gone to process it, your body tightening around him as pleasure builds again, sharper and hotter than before.  

“Joel, please.”  

“Fuck,” he chokes the word out, his pace faltering for a split second before he slams into you harder, deeper. “Say that again.”  

“Please,” you whisper, your voice breaking as your release breaks through you, leaving you gasping and cursing.  

Joel’s hips snap erratically, pinning you into the mattress with a tight grip, as he buries his cock as deep as he can inside of you. 

“Gonna fill you up,” he mutters, his voice ragged. “Every drop, sweetheart.” Make you mine, he barely keeps the last thought in his head. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chant as your body jolts with each collision with his. 

“Fuck,” Joel mutters, cock driving deeper and swelling at your words. “That’s it. Take it all, sweetheart.”  

Your release hits again, your body trembling violently. Or maybe it never stopped—he only drew it out of you in waves. 

Joel curses low, his hips slamming into yours one last time before you feel him pulsing inside of you, hot and thick. 

When he pulls back, his eyes linger on the mess between your thighs. “Look at that,” he mutters, his voice low and reverent. His wide hands slide up the back of your thighs, bending your knees to your chest so he can watch the mix of your releases glistening and dripping from you. 

He takes one hand and drags it through the mess, pushing it back up inside of you. You squirm, sensitive to the touch, but fixated on whatever is burning behind his eyes. 

You wait for him to say something characteristically Joel.

To dismiss you as naive, to rub it in that he broke you down. That he had you crying his name. That you shouldn’t have done that. 

But it never comes.

You’re convinced he was trying to put you in your place. To give you another reminder that he thinks you’re useless and clueless. You’re too wrapped up in the thoughts to speak or move. 

He doesn’t say anything at all which nearly makes it worse.

Instead, he pins you under a heavy arm, holding you against him until you both doze off. Succumbing to exhaustion.

-> PART TWO

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🤠🤎

tagging the usual babes in case you want some cowboy!joel for christmas too:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

[blog-o-meter]

25 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) decides to get her brother’s best friend’s attention and he’s more than willing to give it to her.

warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, brother’s best friend!nicholas, dominant tease/bratty submissive, slow burn, forbidden romance??, implied age gap but not by much tbh it’s mostly just power dynamic

required listening: 25 by Veruca Salt

word count: 7,742

a/n: ik I try to wait a week between fics but I’m sawriiii I just loved this one too much to not post immediately. I do have another fic in the drafts but honestly I hate it now so I don’t think I’ll post that one. anyway im already planning on continuing this one YUPPPPP 🙂‍↕️ i just love listening to my playlist and writing xoxo lmk if you’re a veruca salt fan

reblogs, likes, and replies are greatly appreciated and let me know if you'd like to see more!

I never meant to eavesdrop on my brother’s conversations with him — Nicholas. Their voices, along with the sounds of Call of Duty blasting through the tv speakers, always managed to spill through the Jack and Jill bathroom that bridged our bedrooms. I would catch myself lingering by the bathroom door, my book or phone in hand as a cover, pretending I just happened to be nearby. My brother would crack some joke, and Nicholas’s laugh would come through low and warm, and my skin would prickle at the sound. Or sometimes I’d even hear the salacious stories of Nicholas and his fling of the week. Either way, I listened intently.

Nicholas and my brother have been best friends for years. He just showed up to the house one day and just kept coming back, like what happens whenever you find your best friend for life, like how I did. But my brother and I don’t run in the same circles, not really; he has his friends, and I have mine — and they never mixed, not even at our backyard cookouts where we’d each invite a friend or two. We always found ourselves at opposite corners of the house, and it was probably because they were a little older than us.

As a result, I never bothered, or was too nervous, to exchange more than a few words with Nicholas other than the occasional polite conversation, but he always managed to get under my skin either way. It was like he knew, somehow, like he could see right through me, past all my attempts at being casual or indifferent.

I couldn’t control the way my heart skipped a beat every time Nicholas’s eyes flicked over to me whenever I’d pass by them in the living room or as we passed around plates at the dinner table, especially not when I’d pass by him in the hallway and he’d flash me that all-too-famous smirk. I guess that’s why I eavesdropped on them; it was the only way I got to know him without having to say a word to him.

So, I didn’t know what was so different about that night that I just had to get Nicholas’s attention somehow, even if for just a second. I wasn’t sure if I would’ve bumped into him in the hallway, or even the bathroom, or not, but I still decided to slip into the skimpiest set of pajamas I had — a delicate pair of shorts that barely reached the back of my thighs and a camisole that clung to me like second skin. My mom had told me to never wear it whenever there were people over; it was “too revealing.”

“(Y/N)!” My brother’s voice traveled through the bathroom, shouting over his TV.

Hesitantly, I rolled out of my bed, my sock-covered feet quietly shuffling across the floor over to the bathroom. Before I reached the door to his room, I looked down at myself and suddenly grew shy. Maybe I was trying too hard. Would Nicholas notice? Second guessing my sudden boldness, I carefully hid half my body behind the door frame when I cracked open the door to his room.

My eyes flickered to Nicholas, who was perched on the edge of my brother’s bed, controller in hand, leaning forward slightly as he focused on the screen. He didn’t look over right away, but the second I peeked through the crack of the door, his gaze shifted back and forth between me and the TV, his thumbs hesitating on the controller.

“Yeah?” I asked quietly, trying to sound as casual as possible, one of my feet cricketing against the other. 

My brother barely glanced at me, his eyes glued to the team deathmatch round they were playing. “Do we still have any snacks left in the pantry or did you finish them?”

I hesitated, feeling Nicholas’s eyes on me. His gaze lingered, scanning over what little of me was visible behind the door. His dark brown eyes were unreadable, but there was something in his expression, something curious, that made me feel both exposed and exhilarated.

“Yeah, there’s still some cookies and chips. I'm not a vacuum,” I said finally, my voice softer now and muttering the last part. I rested my cheek against the frame, my gaze flickering between Nicholas, the floor, and my brother.

“Could you bring us some?” My brother asked, his fingers violently attacking the buttons on the controller, the sounds of loud gunshots and footsteps responding to his every button mash. “We’re in the middle of a round.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice even. I pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the bathroom, catching the way Nicholas’s gaze dropped briefly, taking in more of me now that I wasn’t partially hidden.

I ducked back into my room, the air feeling heavier as I padded toward the kitchen. My heart was racing, every nerve in my body alive with the lingering awareness of his gaze. It wasn’t just my brother’s casual request that stuck with me, but the way Nicholas had looked at me — like I wasn’t just his friend’s little sister sneaking glances from behind doors.

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out the cookies and chips, my nerves bubbling as I anticipated the moment I’d walk into my brother’s room wearing this outfit. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected — maybe a quick glance and nothing more, but the idea was scintillating either way.

My mom strutted into the kitchen then, still in her work clothes. “I thought I told you not to wear that when people were over,” she smirked knowingly. I had a little bit of a tendency to defy orders.

I glanced over my shoulder, feigning innocence. “It’s hot out,” I shrugged my shoulders as I closed the pantry and scampered past her with snacks in tow.

I returned to my brother’s room with the snacks in hand, pausing at the cracked bathroom door before taking a breath and sheepishly walking in. I stepped fully into the room, my bare legs feeling more exposed than they ever had before. “Here,” I called, keeping my tone neutral, like nothing about this moment felt significant, even though my pulse told a different story.

My brother barely spared me a glance as I set the snacks down in front of them, his attention glued to the screen. Nicholas, on the other hand, wasn’t as discreet. He leaned back slightly, one arm draped over his knee as he finally looked up from the game. His dark brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make me feel like every inch of my skin was on display under his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t smirk or tease the way he usually did. My cheeks burned as I shifted on my feet, my fingers brushing against the hem of my shorts, unsure what to do with myself.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Nicholas said finally, his voice cutting through the tension. It was smooth, casual.

I smiled softly, more out of nerves than anything else, and started to retreat toward the door. “Don’t get used to it,” I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder. I cast one last glance at Nicholas. He was still watching me, his head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was suppressing a smirk. It was like he knew exactly what I was doing.

Now, I don’t know why I did it, maybe because I was so flustered that I didn’t notice or maybe I subconsciously knew what I was doing, but I left my bathroom door open just a smidge, enough for the soft light of my room to spill out and shine through the darkness of the bathroom, like a beacon in the night begging to be followed. Maybe it was a dare, or maybe I was just curious to see if he’d take the bait.

I threw myself onto my bed, stomach down, trying to calm my ever-racing heart as I replayed the moment Nicholas’s gaze lingered on me. I couldn’t bite back the smile forming on my lips as I pictured the look in his eye when I walked into the room. It sent a thrill through me. Did I finally manage to pique his interest as much as he piqued mine?

My heartbeat was unrelenting, so I reached for the book on my nightstand, hoping that reading a few pages might calm me. Of course, though, I wasn’t focusing on the pages. How could I? When my older brother’s hot best friend was right on the other side of that door?

Eventually, the sound of video games and laughter died down as the minutes ticked into the late night, replaced by muffled conversation before trailing off into complete silence. The only sound I could hear, now, was the occasional turn of the page and my thumping heartbeat, maybe the imperceptible hum of the lightbulb coming from my bedside lamp.

And on the other side, Nicholas could also hear the faint scratch of a page turning, too. He was lying down in his makeshift bed of blankets on the floor, quietly scrolling on his phone. The screen of his phone cast a faint glow on his face, but his attention wasn’t on the timeline of tweets he had planned on reading through. It was on that tiny crack of light spilling into the dark bathroom, the faintest view of my room on the other side.

He couldn’t sleep. How could he? The tight, little number I was bold enough to wear but still shy enough to hide behind the door frame, the way I glanced at him when I passed through to give them snacks, the subtle sway of my hips as I disappeared back into the bathroom to my room as if I hadn’t worn that number on purpose. And now, the crack in my door was basically daring him to walk through.

I didn’t know it, but it wasn’t the first time he’d noticed me. He always looked forward to seeing me scamper through the kitchen as quickly as possible whenever they took it over for whatever they were doing, and he was always equally curious about what would happen behind my door, especially when he could hear me laughing with my friends or my CD player blasting Veruca Salt.

His friend — my brother — was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. Nicholas glanced at him, then back at the door, then back at him, then back at the door. It was a bad idea; he knew it. I was off-limits. My brother hadn’t told him that explicitly, but he did express his distaste when Nicholas made an off-handed comment about me some a couple years ago and that was enough to deter him. But tonight, my brother was asleep, while Nicholas and I were still awake.

Nicholas turned his phone off then, quietly pulling the blanket off himself and standing up, padding quietly to the bathroom and closing the door to my brother’s room behind him. He tiptoed toward my door, taking a peek through the crack and hoping that maybe just indulging himself in the image of me would satiate him. But the moment he saw me on my bed — twiddling with the end of a braid or two or many as I laid on my stomach, propped up on my elbows as I read, my legs crossed at the ankles, the pajamas I wore barely covering anything — he knew just looking wouldn’t be enough.

My heart raced when I heard the faint creak of my door, but I didn’t look up right away, choosing to pretend I was so engrossed in my book that I couldn’t be bothered to see what had made the noise. What did make me glance over my shoulder, though, was the light clinking of glass.

I turned my head and saw Nicholas leaning against the doorframe curiously inspecting a nail polish I had left on the dresser that was near the bathroom door, a smirk on his face. That set my heart racing.

“Nicholas,” I spoke quietly as I closed the book in my hands, watching him as he continued to fiddle with the things on my dresser — nail polishes, bracelets, a hairbrush.

Nicholas didn’t say anything at first, just let his dark brown eyes sweep across my dresser one last time before they swept across my room, then finally landed on me and took in the scene — the book in my hands, the way I was sprawled across the bed, the faint flush on my cheeks that I couldn’t seem to shake.

He glanced over his shoulder back toward my brother’s bathroom door, still closed, before looking back at me. “Are you usually up this late?” he said finally, his voice low, like he was afraid of breaking the stillness of the moment.

I turned onto my side, giving him a better view of me in my pajamas. His gaze lingered on my torso, and I bit back a smile. “Sometimes.”

He dropped his arms and stepped in, his movements unhurried as he quietly closed the door behind him and looked around my room. I couldn’t believe it. He was in my room.

“Your brother’s out cold,” he said, almost like an explanation, as if I didn’t already know. He turned his head to look at the Heart poster on my wall, arching his back to stretch, his shirt riding up a little to show off the happy trail adorning his lower abdomen. I just about choked at the sight.

When he looked back at me, he had that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “You left your door open.”

“Did I?” I asked quietly, lying back down on my stomach but looking at him over my shoulder.

His smirk deepened, like he didn’t believe me for a second. “Didn’t you?”

My stomach flipped, the challenge in his tone making it impossible to look away, but I had to if I didn’t want him to see the heat rising to my cheeks. So I turned my attention back to my book but the words blurred together. I couldn’t focus, not at all. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

He stepped further into the room until he was at the edge of my bed looking down at me, still smirking. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

I shrugged, letting my fingers trail along the edge of the pages. I decided to give him an out, something that would test his resolve. “My brother’s gonna kill you if he finds out.”

He hesitated, just for a moment, before sitting down next to me. The mattress dipped under his weight, and I shifted slightly to face him. “I know,” he whispered as his eyes trailed my bare legs.

He slowly laid down on his side beside me, and it all started with a touch — his hand reaching out to rest on my thigh, his palm hot against my skin. My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I let my leg drift closer toward him, the faintest encouragement.

“I should go,” he murmured softly, his fingers brushing up and stopping just short at the hem of my shorts. His eyes flicked up to mine, gazing at me through his abundance of eyelashes.

I couldn’t look away from his dark brown eyes, the way they softened as they met mine, yet held something deeper — something that made my pulse race. I was quiet for a moment, savoring the heat of his hand on my hand, the warmth spreading all over my body. “Yeah, you should,” I whispered, my voice lacking any real conviction.

Neither of us moved.

Nicholas’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just watched me, his gaze flicking to my lips, then back to my eyes. His hand inched higher, stopping just at the edge of my shorts again, as if he were waiting for a signal. And I gave him it, letting my book fall through my fingers and shifting closer toward him.

That was all it took. He leaned in, his hand sliding up my thigh as his lips captured mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs. It was slow at first, like he was testing the waters, but it didn’t take long for the tension between us to boil over. Quickly, the kiss deepened. His hands roamed, pulling me closer as I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Tell me to go,” he murmured against my lips, his breath warm on my skin.

I tugged him closer, “Stay.”

Nicholas’s weight pressed into the mattress as he rolled me over, his hands sliding along the curve of my waist and down to my hips as our legs tangled together. My fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer as the world outside my room melted away. Every shift of his body against mine, every brush of his fingertips against bare skin, ignited a fire I couldn’t ignore.

His lips trailed down to my jaw, slow and deliberate, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. His breath was warm against my neck, and I arched into him instinctively, feeling his body tense in response.

I tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he obliged, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor. My eyes traced the lines of his shoulders, the way his muscles moved as he leaned back down, his delicate chain dangling over me, his hands framing my face like he needed to commit every detail to memory. My own hands wandered, exploring the warmth of his skin, the tension in his back as he pressed closer.

The cool air hit my skin as he slid the strap of my camisole off my shoulder, his lips replacing it with a trail of soft, heated kisses that moved to my collarbone. My heart raced as I looked up at the ceiling of my room, every sense heightened as his hands roamed lower, his touch firm but unhurried.

My breath caught in my throat as Nicholas’s lips continued their slow descent, every kiss igniting sparks along my skin. My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as I arched into his touch. His hand slid under the hem of my camisole, his fingers splaying over my ribs as he paused to look at me, his dark brown eyes asking the silent question.

I nodded, and his lips were back on mine in an instant, the kiss growing more intense, as he bunched the fabric in his palm and pulled it off of me, leaving me bare-chested. He pulled back and drank the sight of me in, his jaw going tight as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against mine.

For a moment, I grew self-conscious, thinking maybe he would pull away completely now that he’s seen me half-naked. Maybe I didn’t measure up to the girls he’s been with. “Is something wrong?” I quietly asked.

Nicholas shook his head almost immediately, his forehead still resting against mine as he let out a shaky breath. His hands moved to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks as his dark brown eyes opened to meet mine. They were softer now, but no less intense.

“No, fuck no,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to find the right words and failing. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his brown eyes locking onto mine. “You’re perfect, (Y/N). That’s the problem.”

The raw honesty in his tone made my breath hitch, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I swallowed hard, my gaze dropping for a moment before flicking back up to him. “Then why did you—?”

“I needed a second,” he interrupted softly, his voice almost strained as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin. “You’re just—you’re making it really hard to be the good guy here.”

His words sent a rush of heat through me, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched his face. “I’m not asking you to be the good guy,” I whispered, my voice trembling slightly.

“You sure?” he murmured against my lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because if we do this, there’s no going back. Your brother’s gonna kill me if he finds out, and I don’t—” He broke off, his jaw tightening as he pulled back to look at me again. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

I reached up to frame his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as I held his gaze. “I want this, Nic,” I said softly, my voice steady now despite the chaos in my chest.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure out if I really meant it. Then, with a quiet curse, he groaned quietly, like he was fighting an internal battle, before he leaned down to kiss me again. This time, it wasn’t tentative or testing — it was all-consuming.

I gasped softly into the kiss, my hands gripping his shoulders as he pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine with a heat that made it impossible to think straight. His hands slid down my sides, his touch rougher now, less restrained, like he was done holding himself back.

Nicholas’s lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I couldn’t bite back the quiet moan that escaped me. He groaned in response, his fingers gripping my hips tightly as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesus, baby, you’re gonna wake the whole house,” he muttered, his voice rough and muffled against my skin.

I let out a breathless laugh, tugging on his hair to make him look at me. “You’re the one talking so much,” I shot back, my voice barely above a whisper.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “Oh, is that right?” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re the one moaning like you don’t give a shit if your brother hears us.”

My cheeks burned, and I glared at him, my hand smacking lightly against his chest. “You’re an asshole,” I muttered, but the smirk at the end of my lips betrayed any conviction I’d intended to convey.

Nicholas caught my wrist gently, grinning and clearly pleased with himself, and pinned it against the pillows above my head, “And you’re a fucking tease,” he whispered, a teasing glint in his eyes. He planted a wet kiss on my lips, murmuring, “Okay, we both stay quiet then, deal?”

I bit my lip, narrowing my eyes at him, the corner of my mouth twitching with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but dripping with playful defiance.

Nicholas’s grin deepened, and he leaned down, brushing his nose against my own before pulling back completely and resting back on his heels as his fingers trailed down to the waistband of my shorts. His fingers lingered, his touch light but deliberate as his dark brown eyes locked onto mine. His teasing smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, something that made my heart pound harder than I thought possible. He hesitated for just a second, like he needed one last confirmation, and I gave him a small nod, my breath catching in my throat as I lifted my hips slightly.

He exhaled softly, almost like he was steadying himself, before he slid my shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving me completely bare beneath him. The air felt cool against my skin, and I had to fight the instinct to cover myself. Instead, I forced myself to hold his gaze, my cheeks flushed and my heart racing.

Nicholas’s eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every detail to memory. He let out a quiet curse, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he leaned down to rest his forehead on my stomach and leaving lingering kisses near my navel.

My fingers instinctively found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as I looked down at him. He rested there for a moment, his breath warm against my skin as he closed his eyes, like he needed a second to process everything.

I let out a soft laugh, the sound trembling slightly as I tugged gently on his hair. “You’re so dramatic,” I teased, my voice light but full of warmth. “Are you sure you’ve seen a girl naked before?”

He shot his head up, his eyebrows flared in surprise, and for a split second, I thought I might’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returned, sharper now, and he grabbed both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head as he shifted to cover me completely. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that,” he growled playfully, his voice dropping an octave as his free hand skimmed down my side, his touch light but promising.

I squirmed under him, trying to hide the way his teasing touch was already getting to me. I don’t know what it was about Nicholas that brought out this side of me — teasing, defiant — but I loved it.

“You’re such a—” My words cut off in a gasp as he pressed his hips against mine, the sudden pressure of his sweatpants against my bare self making me lose my train of thought completely.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “What was that, baby?” he murmured, his tone smug. “You were saying something?”

I glared at him, my cheeks burning, and wriggled my wrists under his palm, “Nic, the longer you’re not inside me, the more time you’re giving my brother to wake up.”

Nicholas froze, his dark eyes widening for just a second before narrowing into something almost predatory. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips turned wicked, and his grip on my wrists tightened slightly as he pressed his forehead against mine. But then, he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Fine,” he murmured, his tone dropping even lower, sending a shiver down my spine.

He released my wrists, and I immediately brought my hands to his chest, letting my fingers trail over the defined muscles before sliding them down toward the waistband of his sweatpants. My heart raced, my cheeks burning as I hooked my fingers under the fabric.

Nicholas shifted slightly, propping himself on his elbows as he watched me, his dark eyes hooded with intensity. The faint smirk tugging at his lips remained as I hesitated for a moment, my fingers gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and steady, as if he were daring me to go further.

Slowly, deliberately, I tugged the fabric down his hips, the soft material sliding against his skin. His muscles tensed slightly beneath my touch, and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched as his length slipped out — ready and aching. The tension between us was palpable, the room heavy with anticipation as I pushed his sweatpants lower until they pooled around his knees.

Nicholas’s hands found my hips, his grip firm but not rough as he leaned down to kiss me again, his lips capturing mine in a way that made me forget everything else. His body pressed against mine, the heat of his skin sending a rush of warmth through me as his hands trailed up my sides, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath my ribs.

For a moment, we just stayed like that, our breaths mingling as we stared at each other, the unspoken tension between us reaching its peak. Nicholas’s gaze was intense, his dark eyes searching mine as if he were asking for permission one last time.

I didn’t bother nodding. Instead, I reached to wrap my hand around his length and guide him in, to which Nicholas responded by burying his head in the crook of my neck and muttering a quiet, “Fuck,” before reaching to replace my hand with his own. “You’re so wet already.”

The air seemed to still, the only sound in the room being the soft rustle of sheets and our breathing — ragged, uneven. Nicholas moved slowly at first, his grip on my hips tightening as he inserted himself into me. I let out a whimper as I felt every inch of him, the way he stretched and filled me, his warmth burning into me like a fire I never wanted to put out.

My hand found its way to his back, my nails digging lightly into his skin as I arched beneath him, a quiet gasp slipping past my lips. “Nic…” His name came out in a breathy whisper, and the sound of it seemed to spur him on. His hips moved, deliberate and measured, and every movement sent shockwaves through me.

“Baby,” he murmured into my neck, his voice strained and breathless. “You feel so fucking good.”

The heat pooling in my stomach grew with every roll of his hips, my body responding to him in a way that felt instinctual, like I had been waiting for this moment all along. His hand slid down to grip my thigh, pulling it higher around his waist as he angled himself deeper, drawing a sharp cry from me that I quickly muffled with my free hand.

“Shh,” he teased softly, his lips brushing against my ear as he chuckled, though his voice was tight with restraint. His breath was warm against my skin as he added, “You don’t want your brother barging in, do you?”

I shot him a glare through my haze of pleasure, but it was useless. Nicholas was in control now, and he knew it. The rhythm of his hips changed, slower but impossibly deeper, making it even harder to stay quiet. I bit down on my lip, my hand reaching to clutch at the sheets as waves of heat rolled through me with every deliberate thrust.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his lips brushing over my jawline before capturing my lips again in a kiss that was just as demanding as the way his body moved against mine. His free hand trailed up my side, his thumb grazing over the sensitive skin just below my ribs, making me shiver beneath him. His hand trailed further down, pressing down on my lower abdomen as if he could feel himself moving inside.

The added pressure made me gasp, my head tilting back as pleasure rippled through me, sharp and consuming, and quickly I covered my mouth again. Nicholas groaned in response, the sound low and guttural, and I realized just how loud he was getting. My heart raced, panic and desire tangling together as I reached up and pressed my other hand over his mouth, muffling the next moan that slipped from his lips.

His dark eyes widened in surprise for a split second before narrowing, a flicker of something mischievous and dangerous sparking there. His hips slowed, the deliberate roll of his body against mine making my own breathing hitch. He didn’t protest my hand, though — instead, he leaned into it, his tongue flicking out to trace along my palm teasingly, his eyes locked onto mine as if daring me to keep him quiet.

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was useless. Every movement of his hips, every flick of his tongue against my skin, was breaking me down piece by piece. He shifted slightly, angling deeper, and I bit down hard on my lip to stop the moan that threatened to escape.

I peeled the hand I had over my mouth, “Nic,” I hissed under my breath, my voice shaking as I glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He grinned against my hand, his dark eyes hooded and filled with heat as his hips rolled again, drawing another muffled gasp from me. His free hand slid up my thigh, gripping firmly before pulling my leg higher around his waist, allowing him to press even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and my fingers flexed against his face as I tried to stifle my own sounds.

Nicholas groaned again, louder this time, and I pressed my hand harder against his mouth, shooting him a warning look. “Shh,” I whispered harshly, my voice trembling as I struggled to keep my own composure.

He nodded slightly, his lips brushing against my palm in silent agreement, but the way his hips moved told me he had no intention of slowing down. If anything, his pace quickened, each thrust more precise, more deliberate, as if he were testing just how far he could push me before I completely unraveled.

My hand stayed over his mouth, but I could feel the vibrations of his muffled groans against my skin, each one sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me. My free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin as my body arched beneath him, helpless to the rhythm he’d set.

The tension between us was unbearable, every movement, every touch pushing me closer to the edge. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as I fought to stay quiet, to stay in control. But Nicholas wasn’t making it easy. The hand he was using to press down on my lower abdomen slipped between us, his fingers brushing against the sensitive spot where our bodies met, and I couldn’t stop the sharp cry that escaped me.

His eyes flicked up to mine, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as they remained muffled against my hand. He pressed his fingers harder, circling with just enough pressure to send me spiraling. My body tensed, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure crashed over me in waves, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. That’s when he let go of the thigh he had wrapped around his waist and guided his hand over my mouth, pressing down to muffle my sounds.

And now, we were both there, covering the other’s mouth with our hands, trying so hard to fight back our moans. All we could hear was the sounds of skin and our labored breaths blowing through our nostrils.

The room was thick with tension, every sound amplified as we moved together, muffling each other as if the act itself were part of the thrill. Nicholas’s hand covered my mouth firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine as his hips drove deeper, more deliberate. Each thrust sent waves of heat rippling through me, my body trembling as I teetered on the edge of control.

My breaths were shallow, uneven, my free hand clutching at his shoulder as the tension in my stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His other hand slid down my thigh, pulling my leg higher around his waist to angle himself deeper, and the sensation was overwhelming. My head tilted back, the cry building in my throat muffled against his palm.

I was close — so close it felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. Nicholas must have sensed it because his pace quickened, his movements more erratic as he chased the edge with me. His lips curved into a smirk against my hand, but the dark intensity in his gaze told me he was just as affected.

When the tension snapped, it was like a dam breaking. My thighs trembled around him, my breaths coming out in sharp, uneven bursts, as I arched beneath him, a wave of pleasure crashing over me so powerful it left me shaking. Nicholas’s hand pressed tighter against my mouth, muffling the sharp cry that escaped me as I clung to him, my nails digging into his back. He groaned in response, his movements faltering as he watched me fall apart beneath him, my hand covering his mouth falling limp over my forehead.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough and strained. His hand stayed firmly over my mouth, his other sliding down to hold my hip as his pace grew erratic, desperate.

I barely had time to catch my breath before I realized he was close too. His movements grew rougher, his control unraveling as his own breathing turned ragged. The hand covering my mouth loosened slightly, and I took the opportunity to nip at his finger, earning a low growl from him as he pulled it away.

Nicholas’s eyes snapped to mine, wide with surprise. “What the hell—” he started, but I cut him off with a fierce whisper.

“You better pull out,” I hissed, my voice sharp despite the trembling in my tone.

Nicholas’s jaw tightened as my words registered, his dark eyes narrowing with a mix of frustration and urgency. His breath hitched, and I could feel the tension radiating off him as he fought for control, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “I’ve got it,” he muttered, his voice strained and low, almost as if he were trying to reassure himself as much as me.

“Nic,” I pressed, my tone firm despite the lingering haze of pleasure coursing through me. My nails raked lightly down his back, urging him to listen, to not lose himself completely.

He nodded, his movements becoming deliberate, careful. His hand shifted to grip my waist tightly, steadying himself as his breathing grew heavier. “I’m not gonna—” His words cut off with a guttural groan, and I felt his body tremble against mine, his restraint fraying with each passing second.

At the last possible moment, Nicholas pulled out with a strangled curse, his hand reaching down to finish himself. His dark eyes fluttered shut, his jaw clenched as his release spilled across my stomach, warm and lingering. The sight of him unraveling like that, the raw vulnerability etched into his features, made my chest tighten.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing, his body still hovering above mine as he tried to catch his breath. His head dipped forward, his lips brushing softly against my temple as he whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, my voice catching slightly as I answered, “Yeah, I’m okay.” My hands found his shoulders, grounding both of us as he shifted to sit back on his heels. His gaze softened as it roamed over me, searching for any sign of discomfort or regret.

“I didn’t—” he started, his voice hoarse and unsteady, but I cut him off with a small smile.

“You didn’t,” I reassured him, reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. It wasn’t rushed or heated like before; it was gentle, filled with a quiet kind of affection that made my heart ache. When he pulled back, his fingers brushed lightly across my stomach, his touch careful and almost apologetic.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmured, his voice soft as he reached over to grab a discarded shirt, maybe mine, from the edge of the bed.

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching in amusement as I watched him carefully clean me up, his movements surprisingly gentle despite the teasing smirk still tugging at his lips. When he was done, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to my stomach, his lips lingering for just a moment before lying  down beside me, pulling me into his arms without hesitation. His body was warm and solid against mine, his breathing still slightly uneven as his fingers traced idle patterns on my shoulder.

The silence that followed was thick but not uncomfortable. Nicholas’s fingers moved gently across my skin, as if he were trying to map every inch of me. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath my ear. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, even as a thousand unspoken thoughts swirled between us.

It felt natural, lying there with him. His hand slipped to my hair, tangling in the strands softly, and I let out a contented sigh. Neither of us said anything for a long time, the stillness interrupted only by the sound of our breaths syncing together.

Nicholas was the one to break the silence, his voice low and husky. “What time is it?”

I blinked, my mind still clouded from everything that had just happened. I tilted my head toward my bedside table, squinting at the digital clock. “Almost three,” I mumbled.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face while tightening the arm he had around me briefly before letting out a resigned sigh. “Your brother’s gonna wake up in a few hours.”

“Exactly,” I muttered, untangling myself from his arms and sitting up, “which is why you need to get out of here.”

Nicholas smirked as he sat up as well, his dark brown eyes watching me closely. “Kicking me out already?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “I’m starting to feel used, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, climbing out of bed and walking past my dirty camisole that was discarded on the floor to reach into my dresser and pull out a clean shirt, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’re the one that asked me to stay,” he quipped, leaning back on his hands as if he had all the time in the world.

I shot him a warning look, but it only seemed to amuse him further. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I grabbed my shorts from the floor as I walked back over to the bed and tossed them in his direction. “If you’re so eager to hang around, you can help me get dressed. I think that’s the least you can do after fucking your best friend’s sister.”

Nicholas froze for a moment, his smirk faltering as his dark eyes widened slightly at my words. A laugh escaped him, low and incredulous, as he shook his head. “Wow, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed my shorts from where they landed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he beckoned me closer with a playful glint in his eyes. “Alright, princess. Let me help.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I stepped closer, though the flush creeping up my neck betrayed my nonchalance. Nicholas patted his thigh, gesturing for me to stand between his legs. His hands were warm as they slid up my calves to my thighs, holding me steady as he crouched slightly to help me into the shorts.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he guided the fabric up my legs. He tugged the waistband gently, his thumbs brushing against my hips before snapping the shorts into place. His dark eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the teasing glint softened into something quieter, something that made my heart stutter.

I reached for the clean shirt I’d left on the bed, but Nicholas beat me to it, picking it up with a smirk. “Arms up,” he instructed, his tone mockingly authoritative as he held the shirt open.

Rolling my eyes but unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips, I raised my arms, letting him slip the shirt over my head. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted the hem, smoothing it down over my waist. When he leaned back on his hands to admire his handiwork, his smirk returned, but it was softer now.

“There,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “Good as new.”

“Thanks,” I said softly, my stomach fluttering. I bent down and reached for Nicholas’s clothes and tossed them to him.

Nicholas caught the bundle of his clothes easily, the smirk on his face growing as he stood to pull his sweatpants back on. I watched as he stuffed his dick into his sweats, my cheeks growing hot as he then slipped into his shirt. The chain around his neck glinted faintly in the dim light as he adjusted it, his dark eyes flicking back to mine.

Nicholas smiled softly, running a hand through his tousled hair as he stepped toward the bathroom door.

I followed him as he reached for the door, keeping my voice low. “Please don’t tell anyone about tonight.”

He turned to face me, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe as his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Relax, baby. Your secret’s safe with me.” The teasing lilt in his voice was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity that made my chest tighten.

I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. “Good.”

He pushed the door open slowly, peeking into the bathroom to make sure it was still quiet on the other side. Just as he stepped through, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk returning in full force. He winked, disappearing into the bathroom with a quiet click of the door.

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door as the reality of everything that had just happened settled over me.

My skin still tingled everywhere he’d touched me, his hands, his lips, the way his voice had dropped when he whispered my name. It all replayed in my head, over and over and over. With a deep breath, I turned back to my bed, doing a horrible job of biting back the smirk on my lips.

I should’ve been panicking — thinking about what my brother would do if he found out, but all I could feel was a heady mix of excitement and disbelief. I had just slept with Nicholas, my brother’s best friend.

[thef1diary]

How would dirtbag!danny react to you sending him some risqué photos 😏

— that is a dangerous game, nonnie 👀 I’m imagining him miles away, where he can’t come over right away so he’ll have to make do with the photos you sent him, after degrading you on a call that is. 18+ content below

Your phone buzzed almost immediately after you sent the picture—a few sultry shots of you sprawled on your bed, wearing the tiniest scrap of lingerie you owned. The text was simple, just a playful “Thinking of you ;)”, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

Daniel’s reply came in fast.

Holy shit, sweetheart

Another buzz.

You really wanna do this to me right now?

And then your phone rang. You barely had time to speak before his voice came through the line, low and rough. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

You smirked, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “Am I?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Sitting there looking like that, knowing damn well I can’t touch you. You’re cruel, you know that?”

The sound of him shifting—the rustle of fabric—caught your attention, and your breath hitched.

“Bet you’re feeling real proud of yourself, huh?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Sending me photos like that and leaving me sitting here hard as a fucking rock. You’re lucky I’m not there, or I’d have you on your knees, choking on my cock until you’re begging for mercy.”

Your smirk deepened as his words poured through the line, every filthy syllable winding you tighter. You shifted on the bed, your thighs clenching instinctively, and you couldn’t help but tease him back.

“Oh, is that right?” you murmured, dragging your fingers along the edge of your lace panties. “All worked up just from a picture? Thought you could handle me better than this, Danny.”

He let out a low, mocking laugh, the sound rough and filled with promise. “Sweetheart, if I was there, you wouldn’t even have time to be a smartass. I’d already have my hand wrapped around that pretty little throat of yours, reminding you exactly who’s in charge.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words igniting something deep inside you. “Big talk for someone miles away. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, you think distance is gonna stop me?” His voice dropped even lower, laced with that dangerous edge that always made your knees weak. “Sweetheart, I don’t need to be there to control you. You’re mine, remember? And you’re gonna do exactly what I say, no questions asked.”

Your breath caught, a mix of anticipation and defiance bubbling in your chest. “And if I don’t?”

“Oh, you will,” he shot back smoothly. “Because you know what happens when you don’t listen. And after these little photos, you’re already in trouble.”

The casual threat sent a shiver down your spine. “Trouble?” you repeated, feigning innocence.

“You think I wouldn’t notice the time? Sending me that when you know damn well I’m busy?” he asked. “That’s gonna cost you. Next time I see you, I’m gonna put you over my knee and spank you until that ass is covered with my fucking handprints. Then, maybe you’ll think twice before teasing me like this.”

You swallowed hard, the image vivid in your mind, and let out a shaky, “Danny…”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said smugly. “Now, here’s what you’re gonna do. Slide those panties off—slowly. I want you completely bare for me. Then, I want you to touch yourself, but don’t you dare cum. You’re gonna edge yourself for me, sweetheart, keep yourself nice and ready for when I get there.”

You hesitated for a second, the teasing smile on your face faltering. “And if I don’t?”

His laugh was dark, almost amused. “If you don’t? I’ll make you regret it. I’ll tie you up and make you watch me get myself off instead of giving you what you’re begging for.”

The thought sent a rush of heat through you, and you found yourself complying, your fingers sliding under the waistband of your panties. “Happy now?” you murmured, your voice breathless.

“Not yet,” he said, his tone sharp. “I want proof. Send me a video—of those pretty little fingers working. Let me hear you whine for me, say my name like you mean it. But don’t even think about cumming. That’s for me to decide, not you.”

You bit your lip, already feeling the ache building as your fingers brushed over your slick heat. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.

“And you love it,” he shot back. “Now be a good girl and show me exactly how much.”

He ended the call and with a shaky breath, you propped your phone up and hit record, knowing full well that this little game was far from over—and the consequences would be everything he promised and more.

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[magnagaruzenmon]

This Christmas (I'll burn it to the ground)

Merry Christmas to all of those who love Zombies, Kpop, and MTG as much as I do. (I have been playing to much Dead Island 2) Here's hoping I can pull it all together.

I finally made it to the guesthouse, my boots crunching against the gravel as I pushed the door open. Relief swept over me for a fleeting moment—until I realized I wasn’t alone.

There was someone already there, and she was changing.

The soft rustle of fabric froze me in my tracks. She turned sharply, startled, and our eyes locked. Her wide, expressive eyes—big and doelike—struck me like a thunderbolt. There was something in them, a blend of innocence and unspoken intensity, that made my heart stutter. A weird mix of emotions bubbled up—guilt, curiosity, and something warmer that I couldn’t name but tried to smother immediately.

She was standing there, clad only in a simple bra and panties, her cheeks flushing as my presence registered.

“I—uh—” I stammered, tearing my gaze away as quickly as I could. My hand shot up to shield my face. “Venus told me to come here to cool off. I’m not trying to do anything… improper,” I managed to say, my voice more strained than I liked.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by her shaky, “Okay.”

I backed into the doorway of the next room, needing to give her space and myself some time to calm my racing thoughts. The guesthouse smelled faintly of lavender and wood polish, a strange comfort in the chaotic world we were surviving in. But any solace was shattered when I saw movement at the barbed fence outside.

A zombie was clawing its way through, its grotesque face contorted in hunger. With a sigh, I unsheathed my dagger and slipped out. With a quick slash, the dull squelch of the blade met decayed flesh, and it was over. Cleaning the dagger on the zombie’s tattered shirt, I slipped back inside, shaking off the tension.

The girl was still there.

She had finished changing, now wearing one of Venus’s sundresses. It fit her perfectly, the soft fabric draping over her in a way that felt… natural and unfairly captivating. For a moment, I forgot what I was doing, but I quickly bit my tongue. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

She was watching me, her expression thoughtful, almost calculating. There was no trace of the earlier shyness—just a quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from her now.

“You’re Dinozen, right?” she asked, her voice steady but with a hint of curiosity.

I nodded hesitantly. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She broke into a smile, her lips curling into a smirk that sent an odd shiver down my spine. “I’ve heard stories about you. A slayer from Hel-La with a heart of gold.” Her tone was teasing, but there was something sharper beneath it. “I didn’t expect you to be so… mundane,” she added, her smirk growing.

Her teasing caught me off guard, and I blinked, unsure how to respond. Just like that, the power dynamic shifted.

She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with amusement—and something more. She extended her hand, her movements fluid and deliberate. “I’m Chowon.”

I hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, but instead of shaking it, I pressed my lips to the back of it, the gesture more instinctive than calculated.

Her smile widened, clearly pleased. “Oh,” she said, her voice low and a touch amused, “a ruthless gentleman. I like it.”

There was a spark in her eyes now, one that hinted at danger, playfulness, and intrigue all at once.

Chowon corners me, her lithe fingers brushing against my jawline with an almost teasing delicacy. The sensation sends a spark through me, subtle but undeniable. Before I can react, we tumble onto the couch together. Her movements are graceful, deliberate, and unrelenting as she straddles me, settling herself on top with a kind of predatory poise.

Her lips curve into a mischievous smile. “So, why do they call you Dinozen?” she asks, her voice low and sultry. “Because I don’t actually think that’s your name.”

Our eyes lock, her gaze playful yet searching, and I feel a sudden weight in the air between us. She bats those impossibly long lashes, weaponizing her doe-like eyes with a kind of innocent cruelty. I know I should deflect or say something clever, but I can’t. I’m too drawn in.

I swallow hard before answering. “People like to say I’m like an apex predator—instinctually at the top of the food chain, basking in its state of zen,” I explain, my voice low, barely audible. “My love of dinosaurs made the nickname stick. So… Dinozen.”

Her smile deepens, her teeth catching the faint light. It’s the kind of smile that’s both knowing and inviting. She leans in, closer now, her breath brushing against my lips, and I catch the faint scent of gooseberries and lilac. The fragrance is intoxicating, too perfect to be real, as if she’s wrapped herself in some kind of spell.

But then I see it—a faint bite mark on her shoulder, just peeking out from the neckline of her dress. My gaze lingers for a second too long. She notices, of course. Chowon’s eyes follow mine, and when she meets my gaze again, she’s smiling.

“Oh, you figured it out,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of pride and challenge. “Yes, I’m a slayer like you.”

I blink, taken aback.

She leans closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, “I was reborn helping my girls get out of New York when the zombies came.”

Her words are heavy, laced with memories and something deeper. A hunger begins to build between us, a feeling I can’t quite name but can’t ignore. It’s electric, primal, and utterly overwhelming. She closes the distance between us, our faces now inches apart.

“Are you in a state of zen?” she whispers, her breath warm and soft against my skin.

Her words feel like a spell. My eyes flutter shut for a moment, and when I open them again, it’s as if something inside me has been unlocked. Or unchained.

I feel it—the shift.

The part of me I’ve spent so long burying, controlling, suppressing—it rises to the surface, clawing its way free. Imperio Rex. The name feels like fire in my blood, and as it takes hold, my entire perspective changes. My focus shifts from protecting, from doing right, to simply taking what I want.

And what I want is sitting right in front of me in that flirty sundress, her body close enough to touch, her lips almost brushing mine.

Chowon doesn’t flinch. If anything, she leans in, her breathing hitching slightly as her eyes glint with something darker, something wilder. It’s as if she welcomes this shift, as if she’s been waiting for it.

“That’s not the gaze of a hero,” she teases, her voice soft but sharp, a taunt wrapped in velvet.

Her words only fuel the fire inside me. My gaze roams over her, drinking her in. Her figure is exquisite, every curve and line a masterpiece of temptation, but it’s her eyes that hold me. The softness, the doe-like innocence—gone. What stares back at me now is the gaze of a lioness, her hunger matching my own.

Two predators, circling.

Neither of us speaks. The air between us crackles, charged with tension and unspoken desires. Whatever happens next, it feels inevitable, like a collision neither of us can stop—or wants to.

Here’s an expanded and detailed version of your scene, adding more depth to the emotions, tension, and connection between Dinozen and Chowon:

Chowon moved first, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. Her lips crashed against mine, fierce and deliberate, like she had decided the moment and wasn’t going to let it slip away. The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was raw, electric, and unrelenting.

And then, I felt it.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was something deeper, more profound. Our energies shifted, intertwining in a way that left me reeling. For the first time in my life, I felt seen. I felt reciprocation.

Her soul was a mirror of my own—a churning storm of anger and loneliness, a fire that refused to be extinguished. I felt it all: her hunger for mayhem, the thrill of violence, and the exhaustion from constantly holding back for people who expected so much, demanded so much, without ever asking what we needed in return.

It was a soul as bruised and battered as mine.

When she pulled away, her lips just inches from mine, her breathing uneven, she searched my face with those predatory eyes. “How were you reborn?” she asked, her voice low and steady, a sharp contrast to the chaotic energy between us.

I hesitated, the memory of that moment clawing its way to the surface. “I was saving my dad from a zombie,” I said, my voice tinged with bitterness. “I got bitten… and when the chaos hit, my family left me during their escape.”

The words came out heavier than I expected, dragging old wounds into the light. I could feel my anger rising, simmering alongside something darker, something hungrier.

Chowon’s breath hitched, her heart rate spiking—I could hear it, feel it. Without a word, she pulled me into another kiss. This one was different—just as hungry but tinged with something else, a silent acknowledgment of the anger, the pain, and the raw, unfiltered truth we shared.

When we finally broke apart, her gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unyielding. There was no teasing now, no coy smile. Just a woman who saw all of me and wasn’t afraid.

“Always the hero,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Well then… tonight, don’t play the role. Be who you are.”

Her words hit me like a jolt, cutting straight through the layers of control I had spent so long building. There was no judgment in her tone, no expectation. Just an invitation. A challenge.

I didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, I let the mask slip. I let the carefully constructed image of Dinozen fall away, piece by piece, until only the raw, unfiltered truth of who I was remained.

And she welcomed it.

For the first time, I felt no need to hold back. No reason to hide. No fear of being too much, too intense, too broken.

Chowon didn’t flinch. If anything, she leaned in closer, her presence steady and unyielding. In that moment, I realized we weren’t just kindred spirits—we were two sides of the same coin, drawn together by the weight of what we’d endured and the unshakable hunger to embrace what we truly were.

Whatever came next, it wouldn’t be quiet. It wouldn’t be safe. But it would be real, but before we could do anything we heard more growls of zombies encircling the party. Chowon and I get up from the couch before slipping out of the guest house

The guesthouse door creaked as we both stepped outside, the cool night air crackling with the distant groans of the undead. The swarm had breached the perimeter—a mistake they wouldn’t live long enough to regret.

Chowon twirled her machete lazily in one hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade. She gave me a look, her smile sharp and playful. “You ready to let loose?”

My dagger felt steady in my hand, but my heart pounded for an entirely different reason as I met her gaze. “I think you’ve got more to prove than me,” I shot back, grinning despite myself. As we walk over the zombie I had previously slain.

She laughed, a sound both sweet and unnerving. “Let’s see who makes the bigger mess.”

Then the first zombie stumbled into view, and all hell broke loose.

We moved like a deadly symphony, two parts of the same chaotic whole. Chowon darted forward, her blade slicing through rotted flesh with precision. Her movements were graceful, almost balletic, as if every kill were a carefully choreographed dance.

I wasn’t as elegant. I was raw power, using my knife and my fists when needed, each strike fueled by a deep well of frustration and hunger. The undead fell in heaps around me, but every now and then, I caught a glimpse of Chowon—her lithe figure spinning and twisting, her sundress smeared with blood but her expression radiant, alive.

The horde was relentless, but we were more so.

At one point, we ended up back-to-back, surrounded. Her voice was low, teasing, even as she hacked through another zombie. “Still feeling zen, Dinozen?”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “More like… alive,” I admitted, plunging my blade into another corpse.

Her laugh rang out again, wild and unrestrained. “I love it.”

As the swarm thinned, something shifted between us. We weren’t just fighting anymore; we were feeding off each other’s energy. Every shared glance, every brush of her arm against mine as we moved, heightened the tension between us.

Blood streaked her face, her doe-like eyes now alight with something feral. She caught me staring and smirked, slicing through a zombie with a flourish before turning to me. “What, admiring my form?”

I wiped sweat and blood from my brow, unable to resist the way my lips quirked upward. “It’s decent,” I teased, though my voice betrayed how much more I thought.

She stepped closer, her chest rising and falling as we stood amid the carnage. Her machete dangled loosely at her side, forgotten for a moment as her eyes locked onto mine. “Decent?” she repeated, her voice a whisper now, tinged with mock offense.

“Better than decent,” I admitted, my voice rough from exertion.

Her lips curved into a genuine smile—one that made the world around us fade, if only for a moment. We head back to the guesthouse our bodies electric as we can't deny the attraction we felt anymore.

I tear off that sundress that hides her delicious curves and I tear off the lingerie that hides her from me. She did the same and as we stood bare before each other she pounced on me. Her hands claw into my back but I don’t feel pain only invigorated She claims me with another bit on my other shoulder further linking us now both virally and emotionally I follow suit and bite her other shoulder. Our bite marks now creating mirror pairs, but now I need her carnally I see her eyes yelling “take me make me yours!” So I do just that. I violently thrust my cock inside her. Chowon moans as her insides welcome me. I fit perfectly inside of her, something she makes very clear by saying

“Oh fuck your cock. It’s so good.” I smile and begin to suck on her massive tits. She moans out as I thrust and suck on her tits like a man dying of thirst. Chowon coos as her body reacts violently. Her back arches towards me as I lightly nibble her nipple. She grabs my face and brings me in for another kiss. Fire runs through both of veins as we copulate. I continue thrusting into her and she continues fucking herself on my cock. our moans echo throughout the room as we desperately mate. I feel Chowon's walls clench around me as if to milk me and it works i spew cum into her womb like a volcano, uncontrolled and violent. She moans as her orgasm hits soon after. she smiles then says,

"Fuck!" her eyes narrow and she says "you are mine and I am yours." I nod as our vision goes black before we pass out.

The sun peeked over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the remains of last night’s chaos. The yard outside the guesthouse was a battlefield—a mosaic of dismembered zombies and smeared gore, with the unmistakable stench of death hanging thick in the air.

Venus, the hostess of the party, stepped outside cautiously, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She froze mid-step as she took in the carnage. Around her, other survivors began to stir, their sleepy murmurs turning to gasps of horror and confusion as they joined her on the porch.

"What the hell happened here?" Donny asked, stepping outside and immediately covering his nose with his sleeve. His eyes widened as he surveyed the wreckage.

"Was there a raid? A bomb or something?" Haseul ventured, her voice trembling.

“No,” Venus said slowly, pointing toward the barbed-wire fence. It was still intact, albeit stained with black blood. “No breach. Whatever did this… was already inside.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances. They all knew the stakes of staying here, but no one had heard any alarms or screams during the night.

“Look at those slashes,” Donny's said, kneeling next to a fallen zombie. Its torso was nearly split in two, the edges of the wound clean and precise. “This wasn’t some lucky survivor swinging a baseball bat. This was…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Venus crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. “A professional.”

“But who? No one here—” Donny's voice cut off as his gaze lifted toward the guesthouse.

The survivors followed his line of sight. The door to the guesthouse was slightly ajar, the faintest tendrils of smoke curling from a makeshift firepit just outside, where a few zombie skulls were charred black.

Inside the guesthouse, Chowon and I lay tangled together on the couch, both still wearing faint remnants of the night’s battle on our skin—smears of black blood on my jawline, a shallow cut on Chowon’s shoulder that had already begun to heal. The only wounds not healing were the bitemarks from our original infection and each other.

The room was warm with the morning light streaming in, highlighting their serene faces. Chowon’s head rested on my chest, her fingers loosely curled against mine. my arm was draped protectively around her, our breaths rising and falling in sync.

Raph pushed the door open wider, and Venus peered in behind him. The scene they found was at odds with the carnage outside.

“Are they… cuddling?” Raph whispered, dumbfounded.

Venus frowned. “They didn’t leave with the rest of us last night.”

“You think they did all that?” Jihyo asked, jerking her thumb toward the yard.

Venus didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked toward the bite marks on Chowon’s neck and the scratches on my arms. She noticed how our wounds seemed almost healed, despite being fresh hours ago. There was something unsettling about the stillness of our sleep, something off about the peace we exuded.

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t the wind,” Venus muttered, stepping back outside.

As the survivors gathered on the porch, hushed debates about what had happened swirled through the air. Meanwhile, in the guesthouse, my fingers twitched slightly, as if dreaming of the fight, my grip tightening around Chowon for a moment.

She stirred, smiling softly in her sleep, her voice barely audible as she murmured, “Always the hero… even when you’re not trying.”

And the two apex predators, satiated and at peace, slept on.

Jonah stared at the pair on the couch, his jaw slack. “I don’t… What am I even looking at right now?”

Venus crossed her arms, her brow furrowed as she studied Dinozen’s protective arm draped around Chowon. “You’re looking at two people who somehow turned the yard into a zombie graveyard and then decided to take a nap.”

“They’re covered in blood,” one of the other partygoers whispered, their voice trembling.

“Yeah, but… they look so normal,” Jonah said, shaking his head. “Like, I’m half expecting them to wake up and ask if breakfast is ready.”

“They weren’t normal last night,” Venus said sharply, her eyes narrowing. “They stayed behind when we all took cover. And now, this.” She gestured toward the carnage outside.

Another voice chimed in. “You’re telling me those two—just the two of them—took out all those zombies? That’s insane.”

“Look at the wounds on those things,” Jonah said, his tone grim. “Clean cuts, precision kills. Whoever did that knew exactly what they were doing. That wasn’t panic. That was… art.”

“Art?” Venus scoffed. “Try predation.”

The group fell silent, staring at the serene scene before them. Dinozen shifted slightly, murmuring something under his breath as Chowon nestled closer against him, her hand curling around the fabric of his shirt.

“They look so peaceful,” someone said quietly.

“Yeah,” Jonah replied. “Like wolves after a feast.”

Venus took a step forward, her boots creaking on the floorboards. “Whatever they are, they’re not just survivors. Nobody walks out of a night like that without a scratch and sleeps like this.” Her voice dropped lower. “We need to figure out who we’re dealing with. Because if they’re on our side? Fine. But if they’re not…”

Jonah hesitated, glancing back at the open door. “What do you even do against people like that?”

Venus didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped back outside, leaving the others to exchange uneasy glances.

I woke up slowly, the soft morning light filtering through the guesthouse window. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, my mind foggy from the chaos of the night before. But then I felt the warmth against me, the steady rise and fall of someone breathing, and it all came flooding back.

Chowon.

She was curled up against me, her head resting on my shoulder, her arm draped lazily across my chest. Her hair smelled faintly of lilac, with something sweeter I couldn’t place. It was comforting, grounding me in the moment, even as everything else felt surreal.

Her eyes fluttered open, and when she met my gaze, a lazy, mischievous smile spread across her lips. “Morning, hero,” she said, her voice soft but carrying that teasing lilt I was starting to recognize.

I huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Not sure ‘hero’ is the right word after last night.”

She stretched, her fingers brushing against my chest, sending a spark of something electric through me. “True,” she said, her smirk widening. “Maybe ‘beast’ fits better.” There was something in her tone—pride, maybe, or amusement.

Before I could respond, a knock at the door startled both of us.

“Hey, uh… are you two decent?” Jonah’s voice called from the other side, awkward and unsure.

Chowon raised an eyebrow at me, leaning in close to whisper, “Do we want to be?”

I gave her a look, shaking my head despite the smirk pulling at my lips. “Yeah,” I called out. “We’re decent.”

The door creaked open, and Jonah stepped in, looking half-relieved and half-terrified. Behind him, Venus lingered in the doorway, her arms crossed and her gaze sharp as a blade.

“So…” Jihyo began, scratching the back of her head. “Crazy night, huh? Any chance you want to explain how you two managed to… you know…” She waved a hand toward the window, where the yard beyond lay strewn with carnage.

Chowon tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Oh, did something happen?”

Jihyo just stared at her, clearly out of her depth. Venus stepped forward, cutting to the chase. “Don’t play dumb,” she said coldly. “The yard looks like a battlefield. And you two…” She gestured at us. “You look like you didn’t even break a sweat.”

I met her gaze evenly. “We did what needed to be done,” I said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m just not sure what to make of you two.”

Chowon her tattered clothes did little to hide her body and this tide of possessiveness raged within me with anger at how they looked at her. I caught Jonah’s eyes dropping to her shoulder before they shot back up, his face pale as a ghost. “Uh… what’s that?”

“What’s what?” Chowon asked, her voice all mock innocence.

Jihyo pointed, and my stomach tightened. Her bite scar.

“Wait,” Venus said, her voice low and wary. “Is that… a bite mark?”

Chowon rolls her eyes dismissively, "you know we were both bitten already," she says her tone even hoping not to anger the rest of the group.

Venus eyes us and says, "Yeah we knew. about the other one but why do you have two now?

Sighing, I rolled up my sleeve, revealing the scar on my forearm. “Yeah,” I said flatly. “We’ve been bitten.”

The room fell silent, everyone staring at us like we’d just sprouted fangs. Raph broke the silence, his voice shaky. “But… you’re not… you didn’t turn?”

Chowon smirked, glancing at me. “Nope. Guess we’re special.”

“Special?” Venus repeated, her tone laced with suspicion. “Or infected differently? How do we know this doesn’t mean something worse?”

“Because we’re still here,” I said, my voice firm. “If we weren’t immune, you’d all be dead by now.”

Donny's eyes darted between us, his expression torn between awe and unease. “Still… something’s different about you two. It’s not just the scars. You… feel different.”

I didn’t have a good response for that, and neither did Chowon. She just shrugged, brushing past Venus with that same breezy confidence. “Well,” she said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

I followed her toward the door, the rest of the group trailing behind us hesitantly. I could feel their eyes on the scars, like they were trying to piece together some unspoken truth.

As we stepped outside, the aftermath of the night’s rampage hit me in full. Zombies torn apart, blood and gore staining the ground, and a mess of destruction that could only be described as primal.

Chowon and I walked through it like we belonged there, side by side, as if the carnage was some twisted monument to what we’d become.

Behind us, I heard Jihyo whisper, “They’re not just immune, are they?”

“No,” Venus replied, her voice grim. “They’re something else.”

I glanced at Chowon, catching the faint smirk on her lips. Maybe Venus was right. Maybe we were something else..

I stepped out into the bright morning sunlight, stretching my arms wide as though shaking off the stiffness of sleep. My muscles ached, but it wasn’t a bad ache—it was the satisfying kind, the reminder of a job well done. Beside me, Chowon followed, tying her hair back in a loose ponytail. Her steps were deliberate, calculated, but she carried herself with the kind of grace that seemed to melt away suspicion.

Venus and Jihyo were standing by the remains of the fire pit, poking at the charred logs with sticks, while Jonah and Donny scouted the edges of the yard. Raph sat perched on a broken log, flipping his knife over in his hands, his gaze shifting between us and the destruction.

The tension was still thick in the air, coiled tight like a spring, but I could feel it loosening the moment we appeared. The group’s eyes darted to Chowon first, and then to me. I made a point of smiling—easy, warm, the kind of smile that always worked to smooth over rough edges.

“Morning, everyone,” I called, forcing a yawn into my voice to make it seem like we’d just woken up. “Looks like we missed a hell of a night out here.”

Jihyo gave a dry laugh, her arms crossed. “You can say that again.”

Chowon stepped forward, folding her hands in front of her like some picture of innocence. Her head tilted slightly, her expression soft but curious. “Are… are you all okay? No one got hurt, right?” Her voice was quiet, almost fragile, and I saw the way it disarmed them instantly.

Raph scoffed but didn’t press. Donny’s shoulders eased. Even Venus, who had been glaring daggers at us earlier, seemed to falter just a little.

“We’re fine,” Jihyo said, her tone softer than before. “No thanks to the circus act that went on out here.” She gestured vaguely to the carnage surrounding us.

I rubbed the back of my neck, letting out a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, about that. I guess things got… a little out of hand.”

“A little?” Venus muttered under her breath.

Chowon sighed, her gaze sweeping across the yard, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We just… we wanted to make sure everyone was safe. That’s all.” Her tone carried just enough guilt to sound believable, as if she was genuinely ashamed of what we’d done.

I stepped in, my hand brushing lightly against her shoulder in what I hoped looked like reassurance. “We had to make a choice. They were getting too close to the house. We couldn’t risk it.”

The group exchanged glances, their unease cracking just a bit under the weight of my words.

“It’s just…” Donny started, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just crazy how you two pulled that off.”

“Luck,” I said quickly, waving a hand. “We’ve had… practice.”

Chowon looked down, biting her lip like the very thought made her uncomfortable. “It’s not something I like doing,” she murmured. “But I couldn’t just… I mean, what if they got to you guys? What if someone got hurt?” Her voice cracked slightly, and that was the nail in the coffin.

Jihyo’s face softened, and she stepped forward, placing a hand on Chowon’s arm. “Hey, you did what you had to do. I don’t think anyone’s blaming you for that.”

Chowon nodded, her expression a perfect mix of gratitude and humility, and I had to bite back the smirk threatening to pull at my lips.

“Besides,” I added, my voice light, “it’s over now. We can clean up, regroup, and figure out the next steps. No use dwelling on it, right?”

The group nodded, their focus shifting away from us and toward more practical concerns. The tension broke completely when Donny called out from the edge of the yard, waving a hand. “Hey! I found a couple of intact water bottles over here!”

The moment their attention turned, Chowon glanced at me, her lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. Her eyes gleamed, just for a moment, with the same predatory hunger I’d seen the night before. I mirrored it, my own mask slipping for just a second before I tightened it back into place.

The group didn’t need to know what we really were. They didn’t need to see the predators that had taken up residence inside us. Not yet.

For now, our masks were enough.

And for now, we were satisfied.

The caravan was loud with the sound of engines sputtering to life, the groan of doors swinging shut, and the rustle of last-minute supplies being stowed. I leaned against the side of one of the battered SUVs, watching the group finalize their preparations. Chowon stood a few feet away, tossing a bag into the back of her vehicle. Her hair caught the morning sun, a streak of gold against the drab gray of the world around us.

She glanced over at me, and for a moment, we shared a look. Her lips twitched upward in that lazy, knowing smirk of hers—the one that always made something primal stir deep in my chest. My fingers flexed at my sides involuntarily, the urge to be near her gnawing at me. But then Nayoung’s voice cut through the moment like a jagged blade.

“Uh… I was thinking,” she began, hesitantly, her voice just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “Maybe it’d be better if Chowon and Dino rode in separate cars. You know, just to… spread things out.”

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy and awkward. I felt the heat rise in my chest, the pulse of anger flashing through me. My jaw tightened. My fists curled at my sides. I wanted to snap, to tell her to mind her own business. Who was she to decide that I couldn’t ride with my equal—my mate? The thought of Chowon being apart from me, even for a short drive, felt wrong, like something vital being torn away.

But I couldn’t show that. Not now. Not to them.

So, I forced a grin. “Sure, Nayoung,” I said evenly, as if her words hadn’t scraped against every nerve in my body. “Whatever makes everyone more comfortable.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though she still didn’t meet my eyes. “It’s just… you two seem, uh, close. And maybe some space would be good—for the group, I mean.”

Chowon, to her credit, didn’t rise to the bait. She just raised an eyebrow and gave me a small shrug, like it was all a joke to her. “Fine by me,” she said, her tone light but carrying that edge of amusement. “Just don’t get too lonely without me, Dino.”

My lips quirked into a smirk that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’ll manage.”

Internally, though, the possessiveness burned. I hated that she was being shuffled off like we were some kind of threat, that Nayoung—or anyone—thought they had the right to dictate where we stood. We’d done more for this group in one night than most of them had done in weeks. And yet, here I was, swallowing my pride, because that’s what the “hero” would do.

Chowon climbed into the SUV without another word, her confidence radiating even as the door slammed shut. I turned to my assigned vehicle, forcing my feet to move even though every instinct screamed to follow her instead.

Venus stood near the driver’s seat, her sharp gaze tracking my every move. “You okay with this?” she asked, her tone as neutral as she could manage, but her eyes betrayed her suspicion.

I shrugged, slipping into the seat next to her. “What’s there to be upset about?” I said, my voice smooth, practiced. “It’s just a car ride.”

She didn’t reply, but her silence felt loaded, like she was waiting for something to slip.

As the caravan rolled out, the world outside blurred into a haze of trees and broken roads. I kept my eyes on the SUV ahead of us, knowing Chowon was inside. The thought of her alone, without me to watch her back, sent a low growl vibrating through my chest. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus on the rumble of the engine beneath me instead.

The predator inside me snarled, furious and restless. But I breathed through it, letting the mask settle back into place. For now, I’d play the part. For now, I’d keep the peace.

Because the truth was, Nayoung wasn’t entirely wrong. Chowon and I together—unchecked—was something none of them were ready to face.

Not yet.

And maybe that was for the best.

For now.

I would find out later that Chowon felt the separation anxiety even more than I had.

The steady hum of the engine filled the car as Chowon sat quietly in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Nayoung was behind the wheel, her hands gripping it tightly, her knuckles pale from tension. She glanced sideways at Chowon every so often, the silence between them heavy and awkward.

“I’m glad we’re finally moving,” Nayoung said, her voice overly bright, like she was trying too hard to keep things light. “Being stuck in one place felt… dangerous.”

Chowon nodded, offering a shy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, it’s good to get some distance,” she said softly. “Safety in numbers, right?”

Nayoung relaxed slightly, her grip on the wheel loosening just a bit. “Exactly,” she said, though her voice still carried an edge of nervousness. “And, um… spreading everyone out for the ride made sense, too. Gives people some space.”

Her words made Chowon’s stomach churn. Space? From Dinozen? Her instincts roared against the idea, the predator inside her snarling at the separation. It was wrong, unnatural. She and Dinozen were a unit, two halves of a whole. Being apart from him felt like losing a part of herself.

But on the surface, Chowon’s expression didn’t falter. She tilted her head slightly, her smile remaining soft and understanding. “Of course,” she said gently. “You’re just looking out for everyone. That’s really thoughtful of you, Nayoung.”

Nayoung glanced at her, her expression easing a little at the words. “I just… I’ve seen how close you and Dinozen are, and I couldn’t help but worry, you know? I mean, after last night…”

Chowon felt a flare of anger deep in her chest, sharp and hot. She kept her hands folded in her lap to hide the way her nails dug into her palms. Last night had been perfect—a primal, untamed connection between her and Dinozen. No one had the right to question it.

But she kept her voice light and her expression calm. “I get it,” she murmured, her tone tinged with bashfulness. “It probably looked… intense. I didn’t mean to scare anyone. Dinozen and I just… trust each other. That’s all.”

Nayoung glanced at her again, a hint of doubt in her eyes. “Trust, huh?” she said cautiously. “It just seemed like… I don’t know. Like you weren’t even afraid. You and Dinozen… you acted like—”

“Like what?” Chowon asked, her tone quiet but curious, encouraging Nayoung to continue.

Nayoung hesitated, her fingers tightening on the wheel again. “Like you weren’t human,” she finally said.

Chowon’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she wanted to laugh. If only Nayoung knew how close to the truth she was. But instead, she lowered her gaze, letting a faint blush rise to her cheeks. “I guess you stop thinking about fear when people are counting on you,” she said softly.

Nayoung nodded slowly, though her grip on the wheel remained firm. “Maybe,” she said, her voice uncertain. “I just want to make sure everyone’s okay. Including you and Dinozen.”

Her words were meant to reassure, but they only fueled the frustration simmering beneath Chowon’s calm exterior. She and Dinozen didn’t need Nayoung’s concern. They were stronger than anyone else in the group. Stronger together.

But Chowon’s smile stayed in place, warm and disarming. “Thanks, Nayoung,” she said, her voice gentle. “That means a lot. You’re a good leader, you know. You’re always thinking about what’s best for everyone.”

Nayoung blinked at the unexpected compliment, her cheeks flushing faintly. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said, her voice flustered. “I just… try my best.”

“And it shows,” Chowon said kindly. “We’re lucky to have you.”

The rest of the ride passed in relative silence, Nayoung visibly relaxing while Chowon’s thoughts churned. Her gaze remained on the road ahead, but her mind was with Dinozen, riding in another vehicle somewhere behind them. The separation gnawed at her, an ache that only grew with each passing mile.

Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, her nails pressing into her skin as she fought to keep the frustration from surfacing. Let Nayoung think she’d done the right thing. Let her believe Chowon was the shy, caring leader she wanted her to be.

For now, Chowon could wear the mask.

But when the time came, when she and Dinozen stood side by side again, nothing—not Nayoung, not the group, not even the world—would keep them apart.

Mikey and Chaehyun’s safe house was a welcome sight—tucked into a quiet, wooded clearing, with high fences and a sturdy-looking building that practically screamed, This place is safe, or as close to it as you’ll get. Still, I felt uneasy as we pulled up, the faint scent of decay still lingering in the air despite the relative quiet. Chowon and I had been separated during the ride, and now, as we stepped out of the vehicles, that distance lingered like an ache just under my skin.

Sakura was quick to approach, clipboard in hand like she was already mentally assigning jobs. “Alright, let’s get this place fortified,” she said briskly, her sharp gaze scanning each of us. “Mikey and Chaehyun did well setting this up, but it’s not perfect. We’ll need to check the perimeter, strengthen weak points in the fencing, and clear out anything that might attract trouble.”

I caught Chowon’s eye as she hopped out of the other vehicle, her movements fluid and easy despite the long ride. She looked my way for the briefest moment, her expression unreadable, before Sakura stepped between us.

“Dinozen,” Sakura said, her tone firm, “you’re on perimeter patrol with Leo. Chowon can help Mikey with the fences.”

My jaw tightened at the way she separated us so deliberately, as if we couldn’t be trusted to work together. I felt that familiar heat rise in my chest—possessive, primal, protective—but I swallowed it down. These people didn’t understand us, not yet. Maybe they never would.

“Sure,” I said coolly, shrugging like it didn’t bother me. “Perimeter patrol sounds fun.”

Leo sidled up to me, his usual easygoing grin replaced with something more cautious. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip just a little too tight. “Let’s go, man,” he said. “Got to make sure nothing sneaks up on us.”

Chowon was already moving toward Mikey, her gait relaxed, but I caught the flicker of tension in her movements—the way her fingers curled slightly, her nails brushing against her palm. She wasn’t happy about this either, but outwardly, she wore her usual bashful smile.

“Come on, Mikey,” she said cheerfully. “Let’s see what needs fixing.”

Sakura watched her go before turning back to me and Leo. “Keep your eyes open,” she said. “And stay focused. No distractions.”

I nodded, biting back a sarcastic remark. Instead, I glanced toward the house where Chaehyun stood by the door, her arms crossed, watching all of us with a mix of curiosity and caution. This wasn’t just about fortifying the safe house; it was about fortifying the group’s trust—or lack thereof.

Leo led the way toward the treeline, his machete in hand, while I trailed behind, scanning the perimeter with practiced ease. My thoughts, though, were elsewhere—on Chowon. On the way her scent had lingered in the car even after she was gone. On the way her absence felt like a missing piece of me.

“So,” Leo said, breaking the silence as we walked, “you and Chowon seem… close.”

I glanced at him, my expression neutral. “We’ve been through a lot together,” I said simply.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, though his tone was cautious. “But some of the others are… worried. After what happened last night.”

“They’re alive because of us,” I said, my voice sharp despite my efforts to keep it level.

Leo nodded quickly. “I’m not saying they aren’t grateful. Just… things looked a little intense, you know? People are still trying to figure out what to make of it.”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence stretch between us. Let them worry. Let them guess. As long as they stayed out of our way when it counted, that was all that mattered.

Meanwhile, I could hear Chowon’s voice in the distance, faint but distinct, as she talked to Mikey about the fence. She laughed at something he said, the sound light and airy, but I could feel the tension beneath it like a wire pulled taut.

By the time we circled back to the others, the sun was starting to dip lower in the sky. Chowon was standing by the fence, her hands on her hips, inspecting the repairs. Mikey was chatting animatedly beside her, but her attention shifted the moment she saw me.

Sakura stepped in again, her timing almost comical in its precision. “Good work,” she said briskly, addressing me and Leo. “Now let’s see if we can reinforce the house itself. Chowon, you stay with Mikey and Chaehyun for now.”

Chowon’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the faintest flicker of something in her eyes—annoyance, maybe, or a quiet defiance. She nodded, though, her demeanor as shy and accommodating as ever.

“Of course,” she said sweetly. “Whatever you think is best.”

I turned away before anyone could see the irritation creeping into my features. It wasn’t the right time to push back, not yet. But as we worked through the evening, I couldn’t shake the feeling that separating us wasn’t just about safety.

It was about fear.

They were afraid of what we were—what we might become. Which saddened me more than it should have.

I was leaning against the safe house’s patched-up railing, enjoying the quiet for once. The group had settled in for afternoon , the tension that came with a new place giving way to a cautious calm. I was sharpening my dagger, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against the whetstone grounding me, when Leo, Donny, and Raph approached.

The three of them shuffled awkwardly, like schoolboys about to ask the teacher for help. I didn’t look up at first, letting them squirm. Finally, Leo cleared his throat.

“Uh, hey, Dinozen,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “You got a minute?”

I glanced up, deliberately slow, then tucked the my dagger and stone into my belt. “What’s up?”

Donny hesitated, his cheeks already a little red. “We, uh… we kind of need some advice. Relationship advice.”

My grip tightened for a split second, a surge of something dark and possessive rising in me. Tensions among them could work in my favor, I thought. Distract them, make them look at each other instead of us. But outwardly, I kept my expression calm and curious, tilting my head like I was genuinely interested.

“Relationship advice?” I asked, the corner of my mouth quirking up in a faint smile. “Didn’t think I was the type to give it, but sure. Shoot.”

Leo spoke first, his voice low. “It’s about Sakura. I mean, I think she might be interested, but she’s so… focused. Every time I try to talk to her, she brushes me off. I don’t know if she’s not into me or if she just doesn’t notice.”

Donny chimed in, almost cutting Leo off. “And Venus. She’s… intense, you know? But I think there’s something there. I just don’t know how to… approach her without looking like an idiot.”

I caught myself before I laughed aloud. Venus and Jihyo had been paired off since before I joined this group. The two of them might not have announced it outright, but the signs were there—the subtle, protective touches, the way they moved in sync, the private looks.

Donny’s chasing a ghost, I thought.

Then Raph added his voice to the mix. “And Haseul… I think maybe she’s been trying to… you know, drop hints? But I’m not sure if she’s just being nice or…”

Now that’s a smarter path, I thought. Haseul had been hovering near Raph more often lately, her gaze lingering when he wasn’t looking.

I leaned back against the railing, crossing my arms. Internally, my mind was already weaving threads, possibilities. If Leo and Donny turned their attention to their own pursuits, they’d have less time to focus on Chowon and me. Better yet, if things went wrong, the tension could splinter the group further. It was almost too easy.

But outwardly, I played the part of the helpful friend. “First off,” I said, “you’re all overthinking this.” I pointed at Leo. “Sakura’s the kind of person who respects directness. If you keep skirting around what you want, she’s going to assume you don’t mean it. Be upfront with her, but keep it simple. Ask her to take a break with you—something small, something that lets her focus on you for a few minutes. She’s busy, yeah, but she’s not unfeeling. Give her a reason to look at you.”

Leo nodded slowly, his brow furrowed like he was committing every word to memory.

Then I turned to Donny, keeping my voice even. “As for Venus… look, man, I hate to say it, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Venus and Jihyo? They’ve got their own thing going on. It’s quiet, sure, but it’s there. You don’t want to put yourself in that situation.”

Donny blinked, his face falling slightly. “Oh,” he muttered.

I clapped him on the shoulder, offering a faint smile. “Don’t take it too hard. You’ll find someone who’s actually looking back at you. You’ve got the charm—just pick the right target.”

Finally, I turned to Raph, my smirk softening. “And Haseul? She’s already looking at you, man. Don’t overthink it. She’s not the kind to play games. If she’s giving you her time, it means she wants you to notice her. Just talk to her, like a person. Don’t make it bigger than it is.”

Raph’s expression shifted from nervous to thoughtful, his lips pressing into a determined line.

“Think you can manage that?” I asked, my tone light, like this was all casual advice from a guy who had it all figured out.

“Yeah,” Leo said after a moment. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Same,” Donny added, his voice firmer now.

Raph nodded as well, his eyes flickering with something like hope.

They all thanked me and wandered off, their heads already buzzing with plans. I watched them go, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips. I’d given them real advice, sure—good advice, even. But I’d also planted seeds. If Leo focused on Sakura and Donny redirected his efforts, the tension in the group might shift in ways that kept Chowon and me out of the spotlight.

And if Raph managed to connect with Haseul? Well, that was one less pair of eyes watching us.

I turned back to my dagger, picking up the whetstone and resuming the steady, calming scrape of blade against stone. They didn’t need to know how much I’d wanted to laugh at their nervousness or how little their problems mattered to me in the grand scheme of things.

As long as they stayed distracted, we could stay safe.

The late afternoon had settled in, and the house was quieter than usual, with most of the group winding down or keeping busy with last-minute chores. I’d done my part, but I couldn’t ignore the pull inside me—the pull to find her.

Chowon.

She’d been busy all day, just like everyone else, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the need for solitude. Neither of us could. So, when I noticed she’d slipped away, I didn’t think twice. I followed.

I found her in a small room at the back of the house—just a storage space, really, but it offered the kind of privacy we both craved. She was leaning against the door, her breathing shallow, like she had something weighing on her. When she saw me, her lips curved into that soft, bashful smile of hers. It made the beast inside me stir.

“You knew I’d come,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I didn’t reply at first. I couldn’t. It was one of those moments where everything else faded away, and all I could focus on was the way she looked at me. Like she wanted more but was scared of what that might mean.

Slowly, I crossed the room, my every step measured, like I was stalking prey—but she wasn’t prey, not in the way the world would think. She was mine. In a way no one else could understand. My equal. And there was a fire inside me—an unquenchable hunger—that flared every time she got close.

When I reached her, our gazes locked, and the space between us seemed to shrink. I could feel the raw energy crackling between us, a constant push and pull. Her fingers brushed against my arm, sending a pulse of electricity straight to my chest.

The mask we wore—the one that kept us from slipping into our darker instincts—was slipping. I could feel it. And it felt so damn good.

I leaned in, closer than I should have, letting her feel the heat of my breath on her skin. “You know, you’re not asking for permission, Chowon,” I said, my voice low, tinged with something dangerous.

She swallowed, a slight shiver running through her. I knew what she felt—the same thing I did. The pull, the need to break free of everything we were supposed to be.

“Maybe I’m not,” she said, her voice barely audible. Her fingers slid up my chest, and I had to bite back a growl. Everything in me screamed to take control, to claim what was mine. But I held back—just enough to let her make the choice.

The door creaked open behind us. I tensed, instinctively pulling back.

“Chowon?” Nayoung’s voice, uncertain and high-pitched, broke the moment.

Chowon immediately stepped away from me, her face flushing with embarrassment. She cleared her throat, trying to act casual, but I could feel the weight of the interruption on her, too. She had wanted this as much as I had.

Nayoung stood there, wide-eyed, staring at the two of us. I didn’t care what she saw. But Chowon… she was still trying to maintain her composure. “I was looking for you,” Nayoung added, her voice awkward.

I shot her a glance, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s fine, Nayoung. Just give us a moment.”

Nayoung hesitated, glancing between us with that familiar uncertainty, then nodded and stepped out of the room. I didn’t miss the look she shot Chowon before the door clicked shut.

Chowon sighed, letting her shoulders drop as she leaned back against the wall. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure, but I could tell she was still shaken. It was just like her—trying to act like nothing had happened, like the hunger between us wasn’t real, wasn’t something she craved too.

“You’re not the only one who’s good at hiding things,” I muttered under my breath, stepping closer again.

She met my eyes, her lips curling into that soft, rueful smile. “I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“Of course you weren’t,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm. But there was an understanding there too—an acknowledgment of what we were. “Neither was I.”

She looked away, but I caught the flash of something darker in her eyes, a fleeting reminder that we were both far from innocent. “Later,” she said, as though trying to pull herself together, smoothing down her clothes like she wasn’t just moments away from devouring me.

I nodded, though I wasn’t so sure “later” was going to be enough. We both knew the truth now.

We stepped out of the room together, the weight of the moment hanging between us, unspoken but undeniable. As we walked back into the chaos of the house, I couldn’t help but glance at her, the bond we shared undeniable.

And as we rejoined the others, I knew that whatever happened—no matter how much we tried to fight it—this hunger, this need, wouldn’t be so easily ignored.

When Chowon and I returned to the group, the air shifted instantly. It always did when we walked into a room together. It wasn’t something we tried to do, but people noticed. Their eyes followed us, their postures stiffened. It was the kind of attention predators gave to other predators when they didn’t know whether to trust them—or run.

The others were scattered around the central living room, doing whatever passed for relaxation these days. Leo and Sakura were hunched over a map, marking supply routes with careful precision. Donny was fiddling with a makeshift antenna, muttering about improving the safe house’s radio signal. Raph and Haseul were by the window, whispering about something that made Haseul’s cheeks flush pink. Venus and Jihyo were on the couch, arms brushing but pretending not to notice.

When we stepped into the room, all those little pockets of activity froze.

Leo glanced up first, his expression unreadable but his shoulders tensing just the same. “Back already?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with an edge I couldn’t ignore.

Chowon was quicker to answer. She plastered on one of her signature soft smiles—the kind that made her look like she couldn’t hurt a fly, even though everyone here knew better. “Just needed a breather,” she said lightly, brushing past me and settling into an empty chair near the couch. “It’s been a long day.”

“Right,” Leo muttered, exchanging a quick look with Sakura, who didn’t bother to hide her wariness.

I stayed standing, leaning casually against the doorway, but I could feel the weight of their stares. My own mask slipped into place—a practiced air of calm and control. It wasn’t hard. They expected me to be the composed, dependable one. The one who kept things steady. If only they knew how thin that line was sometimes.

Donny broke the tension first, glancing up from his antenna with an awkward grin. “Hey, uh, we were talking earlier about fortifying the south side. Might need some extra muscle for that tomorrow.”

“Dino can handle it,” Chowon said easily, her voice as sweet and warm as honey. She shot me a quick, playful glance. “He’s good at heavy lifting.”

I gave her a small smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach my eyes but was enough to keep the tone light. “Only if you’re supervising,” I said, my voice low enough that only she could hear the double meaning.

She caught it, of course. Her eyes flicked to mine for a brief moment, something dark and knowing passing between us before she turned her attention back to the group.

“Speaking of tomorrow,” Jihyo chimed in, clearly trying to steer the conversation to safer ground, “we’re low on water. Someone’s going to have to scout the area for another source.”

“I can do it,” Chowon offered quickly, and I felt my chest tighten. The idea of her out there alone, even for a short trip, sent a wave of protectiveness through me that I barely managed to suppress.

“No,” Leo cut in, his tone firm. “We’ll go in pairs. It’s safer that way.” His eyes flicked to me briefly, then back to Chowon. “You and Nayoung can take that one.”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay still. The idea of her paired with anyone but me felt wrong, even if I knew it was irrational. Still, I kept my tone even. “Sounds like a good plan,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.

Chowon didn’t even flinch. She nodded gracefully, folding her hands in her lap like she had no objections. But I knew her well enough to see the flicker of annoyance behind her eyes. She didn’t like being told what to do any more than I did.

As the group settled back into their routines, the tension in the room began to ease. Or at least, they thought it did. I stayed where I was, watching and listening, every sense attuned to the shifting dynamics. Leo and Sakura were still wary, still on edge. Venus kept glancing at Chowon and me when she thought we weren’t looking. Even Donny, with all his awkward charm, seemed less sure of himself around us lately.

It didn’t bother me. Not really. If anything, it kept them predictable. Distracted. As long as their tension was pointed at each other—or at us—I could keep control of the situation.

Chowon caught my eye again from across the room, her expression unreadable but her gaze lingering. The bond between us hummed like a live wire, even in the middle of this crowd. They could separate us for now, keep us at arm’s length. But it wouldn’t last.

We’d always find our way back to each other. And when we did, the masks would slip again.

I wanted to be better.

That thought was loud in my head as I dragged a sheet of metal across the safe houseyard, the makeshift panel screeching against the dirt. My muscles burned from hours of hauling supplies and hammering nails, and the sun overhead felt like it was doing its best to break me. But I didn’t stop.

This was my way of trying to help, of proving that I wasn’t just some unpredictable wildcard in their midst. I could be useful. I could be part of the group.

The others were scattered across the property, all busy with their tasks. Leo was up on the roof with Sakura, patching holes and reinforcing weak spots. Jihyo and Venus were inside, organizing supplies. Raph and Haseul were working on reinforcing the gates. They all seemed comfortable in their little pairs, moving together with an ease that came from trust and familiarity.

And then there was me. Alone.

It didn’t take much to notice the patterns. They didn’t ask me to join in their conversations or include me in their plans. Even now, when every hand mattered, they made a point of keeping me separate. “Dino, can you move those over there?” “Hey, you’re strong—get this done first.” Commands, not invitations.

It shouldn’t have bothered me. I wasn’t new to being treated like an outsider. But the weight of it all settled on me like a stone, pressing harder with every glance that lingered a little too long, every whispered conversation I couldn’t quite hear.

I was halfway through dragging another sheet of metal when it hit me—harder than it should have. A memory, unbidden and sharp as broken glass.

The day I was bitten.

I could still feel the fever that had burned through me, the way my limbs had gone weak, my vision dimming as my body betrayed me. My family had been there—faces pale with horror, tears streaking their cheeks. I had reached for them, begging them to stay, to not leave me alone.

But they had.

The memory of their retreating backs as I collapsed still burned. They had been afraid of what I’d become. And even though I’d survived, even though I wasn’t like the others, that fear had never really gone away.

It was the same fear I saw now, in the way Leo watched me like I might snap at any moment, in the way Venus kept her distance, in the way Jihyo avoided meeting my eyes.

I straightened, the metal sheet dropping from my hands with a thud. My fists clenched at my sides as my breaths came in slow, measured gulps.

I wasn’t one of them. Not really. And maybe I never would be.

I forced myself to focus, to shove those thoughts into the darkest corner of my mind. I picked up the metal sheet again and continued working, but my movements felt heavier now, like I was dragging more than just supplies.

And yet, in the back of my mind, the thought lingered: They’ll never trust you. Not fully. No matter what you do.

Still, I kept going. Because what else was there?

I stepped away from the group, needing space, air, something to calm the gnawing inside me. The predator was stirring again. It always did when I felt cornered—when the isolation, the sideways glances, and the unspoken distrust piled too high.

I found a quiet spot by the treeline and leaned against a weathered trunk, closing my eyes. My chest heaved as I tried to steady myself, my claws itching to come out even though I kept them buried. I wasn’t going to let it win. Not now.

The sound of the wind rustling through the trees should have been soothing, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the voice in my head: They don’t trust you. They never have. They never will.

I dug my fingers into the bark, splintering it beneath my grip, and forced myself to breathe. One… two… three…

Then I heard it—the screams. Distant but unmistakable.

I cursed under my breath, sprinting back toward the group, the predator surging forward like it smelled blood.

When I reached the clearing, the fight was already over. The bodies of infected littered the ground, and the group was huddled together, shaken but mostly unharmed.

All eyes turned to me as I approached, their expressions a mix of relief and suspicion.

“Where the hell were you?” Venus demanded, her voice sharp.

“I stepped away for a minute,” I said, my tone tight.

“A minute?” Donny’s voice cut through the tension, his face flushed with anger. “We were fighting for our lives, and you were just—what? Taking a stroll?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he wasn’t finished.

“I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you,” he said, jabbing a finger in my direction. “You slayers are always so selfish, so worthless in a group setting. All you care about is yourselves!”

The words hit harder than they should have, and something inside me snapped.

The predator roared to life, surging forward with a ferocity I couldn’t contain. My vision blurred, and a low growl escaped my throat before I even realized it.

I stepped toward Donny, my muscles tensing as every instinct screamed for recompense. His scent was sharp—fear, adrenaline, something that only fueled the hunger clawing its way up my spine.

“Dinozen,” Chowon’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding.

I froze, my gaze snapping to hers. She stepped between us, her hand lightly brushing my arm, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just her.

“Hey,” she said softly, but there was steel beneath her tone. “We all need to take a breather sometimes. Let it go.”

Donny’s mouth opened, but she shot him a glare that silenced him immediately.

She turned back to me, her eyes searching mine. “Come on,” she said, taking my hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

I let her lead me away, my chest still heaving with the effort of keeping the predator at bay. She didn’t say anything until we were far enough from the group that their voices were just a faint murmur.

When we stopped, she turned to face me, her gaze steady.

“Let it out,” she said, her voice calm but firm.

I shook my head, backing away. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m here. I can handle it.”

Her words broke something in me. The predator surged forward, and I let it. My head tilted back as a roar tore from my throat, reverberating through the trees. It was raw, primal, and louder than I’d ever allowed it to be.

When the sound finally faded, I slumped forward, breathing hard. Chowon’s hand was on my chest, steadying me.

Her eyes softened, and before I could say anything, she leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was grounding, pulling me back from the edge.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered against my lips.

I rested my forehead against hers, closing my eyes. The predator was still there, but it had quieted, content for now.

The living room was lit with a warm glow, the crackle of a fire providing the soundtrack to our makeshift Christmas celebration. Despite everything—the attacks, the tension, the unspoken fears—we had found a moment to gather as a group. A small tree sat in the corner, decorated with scavenged ornaments, and under it were gifts, most wrapped in patchwork paper or cloth.

Venus stood up first, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she held out a small, carefully wrapped box. “Alright, Dinozen,” she said, her voice teasing, “you’re up.”

I blinked, surprised that she’d drawn my name. When I took the package, the weight of it felt solid but unfamiliar. With the group’s eyes on me, I peeled back the paper and froze.

Inside was a revolver-shaped dice chamber. The bullets, each intricately carved into polyhedral dice, gleamed in the light.

“You mentioned liking D&D and guns,” Venus said, her tone nonchalant but her gaze curious, watching for my reaction. “Thought I’d combine the two.”

I turned the revolver chamber in my hands, feeling the weight of it, the craftsmanship. For a moment, the predator inside me stirred, sensing the symbolism of the weapon. But as I looked at Venus, I pushed it down and smiled—genuinely. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

Venus gave a small nod, and I caught a flicker of something—maybe trust—cross her face before she sat back down.

My turn. I reached into the bag beside me and pulled out a small box. “Nagyung,” I said, holding it out. “This one’s for you.”

Nagyung’s face lit up as she unwrapped the gift. Inside was a handheld gaming console I had found and fixed up, complete with a charger. Her eyes widened as she turned it over in her hands.

“You got it working?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.

“Yup,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “Thought you could use something to pass the time when things get quiet.”

She grinned, her excitement contagious. “This is amazing. Thank you!”

As she admired the gift, I noticed something in her gaze—a quick glance toward Donny, then back to the console. The pieces clicked.

“Hey,” I said, standing suddenly and catching everyone’s attention. “Hold up.”

The group stilled, confused, but I ignored them, focusing on Nagyung. “You like Donny, don’t you?”

Her face flushed red, and she stammered, “I—what? I don’t—”

Donny, equally flustered, muttered, “What’s he talking about?”

I raised a hand, cutting off the denials. “Look, it’s Christmas. If there’s ever a time to be honest about how you feel, it’s now.” I looked between the two of them. “Talk. Now.”

The room was silent as Nagyung and Donny hesitated, but then Nagyungtook a deep breath, standing. Donny followed her lead, and together, they walked out of the room, whispering to each other.

When the door closed behind them, the tension in the room shifted. The group looked at me, their expressions softening. For the first time, I saw understanding in their eyes.

“Guess you’ve got a heart after all,” Venus murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Don’t push it,” I replied, but there was no heat in my voice.

The gift exchange continued, the atmosphere lighter now. When it finally ended, Chowon tugged on my sleeve, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“Come on,” she whispered, her voice soft but insistent.

I didn’t need to be told twice. We slipped away from the group, moving through the quiet hallways until we found a secluded corner.

Chowon turned to me, her eyes dark and predatory, but there was a tenderness there too. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I smirked, stepping closer. “Takes one to know one.”

Her hand slid up my arm, her touch grounding and electrifying all at once. “They’re starting to see you, Dino. The real you. It’s working.”

I tilted my head, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You make it easier.”

The predator in me stirred, recognizing her as my equal, my mate. And for once, I didn’t fight it. As our lips met, the masks we wore for the group slipped away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered bond between us. In between messy hungry kisses, Chowon said, “You have no idea how angry I was when Donny came after you. I should have let you tear into him. We should have torn into them all,” Chowon said as her inner lioness sheds its meek mask. Her eyes shone with that familiar hunger. I feel imperious come out and Chowon purrs in satisfaction. “There’s my partner in crime. My equal.” She moans as she goes in for another kiss. we spend the rest of the night together cuddling and enjoying each other's presence.

The moonlight filtered through the cracked blinds of the safe house as Chowon moved silently through the halls. The group had settled in for the night, their murmured conversations and quiet laughter fading into the background. But her focus wasn’t on them. It was on Donny.

She found him sitting alone near the back entrance, fiddling with the straps of his boots. He looked up when he sensed her presence, his posture stiffening.

“Chowon,” he said, his voice cautious. “Something you need?”

Her usual mask—kind, bashful, unassuming—was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was an intensity in her eyes, something primal and dangerous that froze Donny in place. She stepped closer, and though her movements were slow and deliberate, there was an undeniable power in them, like a lioness stalking her prey.

“You’ve got a lot to say about my equal,” she began, her voice low and sharp as a blade. “Too much.”

Donny blinked, his mouth opening to respond, but no words came out.

Chowon leaned in, her face inches from his, and the predatory edge in her gaze made him shrink back. “Listen to me carefully, Donny,” she said, her tone steady and calm, but laced with the unmistakable promise of violence. “If you ever come after Dinozen like that again, I will tear your throat out.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, and for a moment, Donny was too stunned to react. He could feel the weight of her presence, the raw, animalistic power she usually kept buried beneath her quiet demeanor.

And then, just as quickly as it had surfaced, it was gone. Chowon straightened, the warmth returning to her eyes as she tilted her head and gave him a gentle, almost apologetic smile. “You should get some rest,” she said sweetly as if nothing had happened. “Long day tomorrow.”

She turned and walked away, leaving Donny sitting there, still trying to process what had just happened.

As Chowon disappeared into the shadows, the predator within her purred in satisfaction. Her equal was safe, and the balance had been restored. For now.

We were nearly ready to leave the safe house, the group moving like a well-oiled machine, though the unease of what lay ahead was palpable. I busied myself with the perimeter, scanning the tree line and listening for any sound out of place. The air had a weight to it, a sense that something wasn’t right, but I chalked it up to nerves.

Then the ground started trembling.

“Everyone, on alert!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the bustle.

The first thing I saw was the treeline parting as a massive creature—a hulking monstrosity of decay and muscle—lurched forward. It shouldn’t have been able to move so fast, but it did, each step shaking the earth. And then it opened its mouth and breathed fire.

“Scatter!” I roared, drawing my weapon and placing myself between the group and the beast.

Chaos erupted as flames licked the edges of the safe house, forcing the others to dive for cover. My heart pounded, the predator within me straining against my control, but I couldn’t let it take over. Not now. Not in front of them.

The monster charged, and I met it head-on, weaving past its fiery breath and slashing at its joints. My strikes landed, but this thing wasn’t going down easy. Every swing of its massive claws forced me back, each roar rattling my bones.

“Dino!” Chowon’s voice reached me, frantic and desperate.

“Stay with them!” I barked, not daring to look at her. “I’ve got this!”

But the beast had other plans. Its massive claw lashed out, wrapping around me like a vice. I thrashed, slashing and kicking, but it was no use. The world tilted as it yanked me off the ground, dragging me away.

“Chowon!” I shouted, but I couldn’t see her anymore. Only the burning horizon and the sound of the group retreating.

Sakura grabbed her arm. “Chowon, we have to go!”

“I’m not leaving him!” she snarled, her voice raw with emotion.

The group hesitated, torn between their loyalty to Chowon and their survival instincts. Finally, Leo spoke, his voice heavy with regret. “We don’t have a choice. He wouldn’t want us to die here.”

The group began to retreat, dragging Chowon with them. She fought them every step of the way, but eventually, she relented, her eyes never leaving the direction Dinozen had been taken.

An hour later, Chowon sat alone by the charred remains of a tree, her knees pulled to her chest. Her mind raced, torn between worry for Dinozen and guilt for letting the group leave without her.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her tense, her hand instinctively going to her knife. A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man with dark eyes and a calm, almost disarming smile.

[l-starsz]

a/n: i know christmas was yesterday and this is probably a very silly little fic but oh well🙂

christmas day. i woke up excited. i was spending the day with my family, and billie had left me some presents to open. i was most excited to give my family their presents and to open my presents, especially the ones from my girlfriend. we spent the morning opening presents and just spending time together.

billie got me the most beautiful presents, i made sure that she didn’t get me loads or anything expensive because honestly the perfect christmas gift would’ve been just spending the day with her and the people i love. i wanted to get her presents though, and she argued that if i was getting her presents then she should be allowed to get me some.

we couldn’t spend christmas together since we were gonna be with our families all day. although i loved spending time with my family, i missed my girl. i wanted her there. i’d been so happy all day, but a tiny part of me just felt slight sadness because i missed her. and that feeling started growing larger as the day went on.

after a long day, i was sat in a quiet area on my own, i was exhausted, and a wave of sadness washed over me. why did i feel like this? i’d had such a good day and i still felt sad. i was surrounded by so many people who loved me, yet i still felt so lonely. i stayed there thinking about my feelings for a little while before i couldn’t take it any longer.

i quickly walked out of the room, rushing upstairs to the bathroom and letting small tears run down my cheeks. my makeup was getting ruined. how did i feel so sad on such a good day? why? i just let the tears run down my face until i was sobbing. that was when i decided i needed her. i’d needed her all day, but i was at my breaking point. i couldn’t take the feeling any longer.

i opened my phone and went to billies contact as quick as i could. once my thumb was hovering over the call button, i hesitated. i didn’t want to ruin her day just because i was sad. what if i ended up ruining her whole christmas. i didn’t want to do that. but she told me to call her if i needed anything. i didn’t know if this counted. i didn’t want to disturb her time with her family.

i sat there for almost 10 minutes trying to make up my mind, but in the end i called. i couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, and i couldn’t show my face while i was crying, the only way to help was to talk to her. small sobs left my mouth as the phone rang. i didn’t think she’d answer since i knew she was busy. but after a few rings, i heard her voice down the phone.

“hey angel, how’s things going? you having a good day hm?” her voice was gentle and caring, which made me miss her more.

“billieee.” i cried out as i tried to calm myself down, fingers playing with the fabric of my shirt.

“oh baby, what happened? why are you crying?” she spoke even softer, trying to comfort me through the phone.

i took a deep breath in and managed to calm down a little as i spoke.

“i feel really lonely billie. and i don’t know why. i’m surrounded by people who love me yet i still feel so sad and lonely. i wish you were with me.” i sniffled.

i was starting to get calmer since i was hearing her voice and it felt like she was here. it felt like she was closer.

“if you need me to come and pick you up right now you know i will.”

“but i don’t wanna just randomly leave when i’m meant to be spending time with my family. and i don’t wanna disturb your day by being sad.” i mumbled.

obviously i wanted her to come and get me, but i felt guilty.

“you are not disturbing anything. you can’t help feeling sad. you didn’t choose to feel this way my love. i just want to be here to give you all my love and support. how about we change our plans a little, yeah?”

“thank you.” i whispered, my voice breaking again as i spoke, “and what do you mean? how?”

“do you think it’ll help if i come and pick you up a little later tonight? then people will be leaving and you’ve spent time with them, i’ve spent time with my family, and then you can come here and spend the rest of your night with me and my family. does that sound good?” she spoke calmly down the phone.

“are you sure bil? will your family mind? do you mind?” i didn’t even realise i was asking so many questions.

“i wouldn’t of said it if it was a problem baby. i promise you that we want you here. i’ve been missing you all day too and i’d love if you could come over.”

i thought about it for a minute and then happily accepted. how could i say no? we spoke for a few more minutes before ending the call. i looked in the mirror to clean my makeup up a little bit, making myself look presentable once again before going back to where everyone was.

we all spoke for a little bit before i quickly told my mum that billie would be picking me to soon. surprisingly, she said that was fine, and although it felt like i was waiting for years, she showed up soon enough. as soon as i opened the door, i practically jumped into her arms and buried my face in her neck. she spun me around and held me close, making me giggle.

she came in to speak to my family for a little bit, then we went outside to her car. once we were in, we just sat there for a minute.

“i’ve missed you so much billie.”

we hadn’t had much time to see eachother that week. going from seeing eachother everyday to barely for an hour a day was difficult. it was only for the week of christmas since things were so busy for both of us, but it was still difficult.

“i missed you way more angel.”

“that’s impossible.” i mumbled as she began driving us to her house.

once we got there, i greeted her family and then we went to her room for a little bit. we laid in bed together as i relaxed in her arms. my head was hiding in her neck. my hands were holding on tight to her shirt. we stayed like that for a few hours, talking the whole time. everything felt peaceful with her.

eventually, maggie walked in the room.

“hey do you girls wanna watch a movie with us?”

i looked up at billie, then at maggie and i nodded. obviously billie agreed too and we went downstairs. i had a blanket wrapped around my shoulders to keep me warm. we cuddled up in the corner of the sofa as the movie started. throughout the movie, everyone chatted a little quietly to eachother, and before i knew it i was fast asleep in billies arms whilst the movie was still playing. i didn’t feel so lonely now.

(unfortunately yes i did still feel incredibly lonely on christmas even though i was surrounded by people who love me so um yeah that’s what gave me the inspiration for this😶)

[anonyme-glace]

Christmas Gift

Spending Christmas break with my dad, which I’ve done tonnés of times before.

Except ever since I’ve gotten older, I can understand more and more why my friends call him a DILF. He’s built, trades man, thick legs and strong body, tall and, I can’t believe I notice this, hung.

Three weeks ago I was with him for the weekend and got to his house earlier than normal, he was showering. I couldn’t help myself, I peeked in, curiosity driving me, and maybe a bit of lust. Foggy shower door, his groans, and his hand down low. I knew what he was doing. I felt my stomach flutter.

His groans were so loud; his deep voice ringing out in the shower, talking to himself.

Fuck that feels so good baby….

Oh my god.

Keep going….

Oh my god he’s dirty talking.

You’re making daddy feel so good…

Oh my god.

…Carly.

Holy shit. What.

…

Hey Carly, sweetie, how’s it going?

I snap my head towards him, coming out of the memory.

It’s going good, dad, thanks for asking. I’m super excited to exchange gifts later, I’ve got the perfect thing for you.

Aw sweetie you didn’t have to get me anything.

I felt his eyes on me.

You’re gift enough.

I know Daddy.

…

I’ve been planning this for weeks. Now that I know he feels the same way about me. I’m gonna be the best little girl for him. I went out lingerie shopping with the girls a few weeks ago, they think I’m trying to impress Jack from fifth period. What the fuck am I doing.

Standing in my doorway, red lace plunge bra, matching panties, handcuffs in hand. He’s sitting on the couch, watching some stupid movie. I call out.

Turn that off, I’m coming out with my gift, close your eyes.

They’re closed sweetie.

I walk out, keeping my steps light, shivering with excitement. I stop in front of him.

Hands out daddy.

He laughs, a husky, sharp, inhale. Okay.

Quickly I place the cuffs on him. His eyes shoot open and I step back. He’s speechless, eyes trialing up and down my body, and I see his pants get a little tighter.

Do you like your gift daddy?

Fuck baby what are you doing? He breathes out and moves to get up. I push him back down and straddle him.

Mhm I heard you in the shower, daddy, you want me.

I don’t know what you heard sweetie, this is wrong, and illegal, and you need to get off of me. I trail my hands down his chest. You need to get off me, honey, you can’t be doing this. I’m your dad.

Daddy I can feel you. I lean into him and whisper, against my cunnie. Let me take care of you, this is your gift.

Not that he put much fight up in the first place, but his resolve loosens, and he leans back. I slide off his lap, knees hitting the floor.

I rub my hands all over him, my face rubbing his crotch. You gonna let me have it daddy? Yes baby, take daddy’s cock out. I reach for his pants but change paths and quickly unlock his hands from the cuffs before resuming.

Fuck daddy, it’s so big. I take it in my hands and begin to lick up and down, taking his balls in my mouth, and using my thumb to play with the tip. Yes baby just like that. Why don’t you take it in your mouth? I suck on the throbbing head, maintaining eye contact with him. I go deep as I can, choking myself on him, until he grabs my hair and takes control.

I can’t believe I raised such a slut. Where did you learn this slut?

I’m so sorry daddy, I’ve been with other boys.

Oh wow, you’re such a whore, you couldn’t even save yourself for me. Well I’ll just have to fill you up until you forget them, won’t I?

Yes please daddy, please give me your cock, I need it.

Good begging, come lay down and spread yourself for me. I do as he says, taking off my panties, laying back, and spreading my legs open for him. He slaps his heavy cock against my cunt before laying it on my stomach.

Look how deep I’m gonna go. Just about hits your belly button baby. I gasp and look down, just as he lines himself up with my pussy.

You’re gonna take it so well baby, all of it, all for me, forever and ever.

[lunajay33]

Suppose to be You

•🖤🍑🏹🧟‍♀️•

Summary: You’re Shane’s girlfriend but when the apocalypse hits you find him changing and find yourself leaning more towards the only person who gives you the time of day, also you’re Rick’s younger sister

Pairing: Shane x f!reader, Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Shane’s a cheater obvi, harsh words, Merle

•Masterlist•

I first met Shane when my older brother Rick first started bringing him around the house, I never thought much of him but as we got older he started flirting and we only started dating when I turned 22, about a year ago, it’s been fun but then I lost my brother and then the world got taken over by walkers and that leads to now, camped out in a quarry on the outskirts of Atlanta

We took my sister in law, Lori and my nephew with us but after being here for a while Shane’s been treating me differently, like I’m just a burden to him

Sitting around the fire I’m sat across from Shane as he’s right next to Lori, I understand him wanting to console her her husband died, but he was my brother and I’m Shane’s girlfriend I just thought he’d try to console me even just a little

“You alright sweetie?” Dale asks from next to me

“Oh I’m fine thanks for asking though” I smile trying to brush it off but inside I’m hurting deeply like I’m loosing everything

“I think I’m just gonna head to bed early” I say standing up to leave, all Shane did was glance at me before his eyes went back to the fire, Carl got up and gave me a quick hug

“Night auntie y/n” he smiles, he’s always been the sweetest kid

“Night honey” I walk away as the cool of the night started to envelope me, instead of going back to the tent I went down to the quarry shore, I knew how to take care of myself around walkers I just need to be alone

I sat down feeling all the pressure weighing down on my chest, I lost my brother, then the world ends and now my boyfriend treats me like garbage, what else do I have…….whats the point

Finally letting the tears fall I let it all out before I hear branched snapping behind me, I turn nervously wiping the tears away sighing in relief when I realize it’s just Daryl Dixon, thankfully not accompanied by his ass of a brother Merle

“What’re ya doin down here alone” he asks his eyes squinted at me but for some reason he didn’t make me nervous

“Ummm just needed to get away, what’re you doing down here?”

“Just came back from a hunt saw ya down here……wanted ta check on ya”

My heart skipped a beat, something I haven’t felt in a long time now

“Come on let’s get ya ta bed” he huffed motioning back towards the path, it was a silent walk up to the camp but it was a comfortable silence

I got to mine and Shane’s tent when I hear his fast heavy footsteps heading our way

“The hell are you doing alone with Daryl Dixon” he groans gripping my arm and roughly pulling me away from Daryl

“Shane that hurts, he was just keeping me company” I look back at Daryl and I swear if looks could kill Shane would definitely be dead on the ground

“Get lost Dixon, go back to your dick of a brother” Daryl’s eyes landed on mine and I could see them soften before he left, the further the got the more I wanted to run to him instead of being near the person I should be safe with

“The hell were you thinking”

“Like you’d care” I sigh looking down to the ground

“What’re you talking about you’re my girlfriend of course I care”

“I can’t do this right now Shane I just wanna go to bed, I think I’m gonna stay with Carl tonight, Lori can stay with you bet she’ll love that” I brush him off and walk past him to the smaller tent Carl and Lori stayed in, thankfully they were still out so I could just finally have a moment of peace

How could I feel more peace and safety around a redneck man that I barely know, than my boyfriend I’ve known almost my whole life

I quickly drifted off to sleep welcoming the darkness

•

I woke up early the next morning to the subtle chirping of birds, I quietly left the tent trying not to wake up a still sleeping Carl

Looking around there wasn’t anyone up yet so I went at sat at the camp fire that still had some embers burning

“Hey, what’re ya doing up so early” I hear next to me seeing it’s Daryl again, usually he’d have a snippy attitude with the others in the camp but lately he’s been nice to me and I honestly didn’t care why I just needed someone to cheer me up

“Just couldn’t sleep much I guess, I’ve got a lot on my mind” I say poking at the fire

“Here” he grunted handing me a granola bar he must’ve gotten from his stash

“Thanks”

Then he was gone dissapearing through the thick tree line most likely going for a hunt again

Slowly people started to filter out of their tents and start getting ready for the day, I see Shane making his way towards me with his typical scowl that he never use to use towards me, I look away and turn my back to him

“Have you calmed down since last night” I scoff looking up at him as he towered over me trying to scare me asserting his dominance

“Just leave me alone, you only act like I matter when someone else is giving me attention, tell me do you even love me anymore?” He paused for a moment before answering

“Of course you just gotta stop being selfish I’m trying to console a grieving widow”

“Yeah well he was my brother Shane, did you forget that, just get away from me” I brush past him going towards the trees for some peace and quiet but when I’m deeper in the woods I feel him behind me squeezing my shoulder and he pushes me against a tree

“Shane what are you doing let me go”

“You better watch your mouth don’t forget who saved you when all this started” now he’s trying to guilt trip me

“I could’ve made it on my own, I probably would’ve been happier alone” he raised his hand before a bow zipped between us landing on the tree next to us

“You touch her like that again don’t think I would beat your ass down” Daryl growled coming closer taking my hand and putting me behind him as he stared down Shane

“You think you could take me Dixon, you may be a filthy redneck but don’t think I won’t take YOU”

“Shane just go away, why don’t you go check on poor Lori” I say holding onto Daryl’s arm tighter out of fear, a fear I’ve never felt around Shane before

He huffed before tromping off back towards the camp, when he was far enough away I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I let all the emotions flood me

“God Daryl I’m so sorry to get you mixed in this, I don’t…..I don’t know why he’s like this, he never us to treat me like this and I’m…..I’m scared to be around him now” he takes both my shoulders in his hands and makes me face him gently

“It ain’t yer fault peach, I’ve been around my share of angry men and he’s a ticking time bomb, ya can’t be stay around him”

“If you can’t tell I don’t have no where else to go” my chest felt like it had a thousand bricks on it

“Ya can stay next ta me, we got an extra tent”

“Are you sure, what about Merle won’t he be mad”

“I can deal with that grump, come on let’s get ya settled” I’ve never heard Daryl speak so much but I can’t complain he’s like my saviour right now

•

We got the little tent sat up next to him that was a bit further away from the others but I didn’t care much, the further I am from Shane the better

“Thanks for all this Daryl” I say as we both finally settle down around the fire he sat up since night was falling

“Look at this, my lil bro got himself some tail” Daryl was cut of before he could speak by Merle’s grating voice as he plopped down across from us at the fire

“Merle give it up”

“She staying here now, good ta know we got some action right next door” he grins that sends unsettling chills down my spine

“I’m not doing that Merle for the thousandth time, I just needed some space”

“Finally figured out yer cop boyfriend is cheatin on ya?” My heart stopped, suddenly everything made sense, why he always stayed with Lori, why they’d both dissapear at the same time, why Lori could barely look me in the eyes

“Oh my god I feel so stupid how did I not notice I must look so pathetic to everyone” I groan as I drop my head in my hands

“He dont deserve ya, he’s the pathetic one” Daryl said softly as I heard Merle’s steps retreating into his tent, Daryl must’ve shooed him off

“You know why my brother first got shot I was a mess, couldn’t leave his side I was always so filled with anxiety I was basically wasting away but one day Shane convinced me to take a day to myself so I did, I went home and cleaned up and everything, the next thing I know Shane is busting in dragging me to the truck telling me everyone is dropping like flies and my brothers dead, then suddenly he treats me like a piece of trash, only Lori mattered, and…..he almost hit me today, that’s not the man I knew something’s wrong with him, sure he’s always been a bit hot tempered but this is different and all I can think about is……what is he comes after me again but no one’s there to help me” I sigh finally letting everything off my chest

“Ya ain’t goin no where alone anymore, I’ll protect ya” he said gently placing a hand on my back for a moment before it was gone again

“I can’t ask that of you, I’m not your problem”

“Believe it or not, yer the only person in this camp that doesn’t drive me up the wall, I’d like ta keep ya around a lil longer” he smiled as his words cheered me up a bit, I’ve never seen him genuinely smile and it’s making me feel all light headed

“Let’s head to bed……it’s been a long day” I stand up heading to my little tent as he did his next to mine

“Night D”

“Night Peach” his gaze stayed on me for a moment longer before he entered his tent, only making me think what life would be like if I had met Daryl first maybe I’d me happier

•

Part 2 is on its way!! Lmk how you liked this chapter

[vmqires]

sorrow. (l.hs)

pairing. ex! hee x fem reader ❦︎ exes to lovers ; non-idol au, a bit of angst n fluff. wc. 986 synopsis. heeseung’s forced to break up w u but the two of u never move on from each other.

a/n: this took so long, i was seriously debating deleting this and quitting forever LMAO but thankfully the amazing @soadparker (aka vic) gave me some ideas n that encouraged me to finish it >< this was obviously inspired by sorrow - flyleaf, which i totally recommend to listen to while reading.

sometimes life seems to quiet into paralyzing silence.

“what do you mean? you want to break up?” your eyes start to tear up.

“y/n.. it’s just not working out anymore.” heeseung looks away, fidgeting with his hands.

“what? what happened? what went wrong?” you stare at him in disbelief. just a few days ago he was in your arms, whispering that you’re his safe place and now he wants to break up?

“nothing went wrong. i just.. i need some time, for myself.” he gets up from the couch, looking at you one last time before leaving.

truth is heeseung didn’t want to break up with you. but after a very long argument with his very strict family, they forced him to. it broke him seeing you like that.

someone so perfect, heartbroken all because his family couldn’t stand the sight of you and him together.

i’ll take this piece of you, and hope for all eternity.

his parents constantly introduced him to girls that they thought were absolutely perfect for him. every time he went on a date with one of them, they all seem to fall short compared to you.

he misses you, a lot. hoping for one day his parents will back off, also hoping you don’t find someone new, someone maybe even.. better.

after a month since he broke up with you, you went to your best friend who comforted you.. just in a different way.

“get up, let’s go to the club.” she says, looking at you crying.

“the club? seriously? i’m heartbroken and you’re suggesting the club?” your friend rolls her eyes.

“he’s just a bump in the road amongst other bumps you’ll encounter. it’s not the end of the world.” you scoff, holding your pillow tighter. “he’s not a bump, he’s a mountain i can’t cross over.”

she sucks her teeth at your dramatic response. “girl shut the fuck up.”

he knew each tear before it came.

few months pass and you feel like you’re healing. seeing a new guy and although deep down somewhere in your heart you wish he was heeseung, you settle.

“babe! ready to go?” your new boyfriend yells from the kitchen. “just a sec!” you grab your keys and phone. today’s heeseung’s birthday, your calendar app reminds you.

as your boyfriend drives, you can’t help but think about heeseung and the many birthdays the two of you spent together. one specific comes to mind.

“open your eyes.” heeseung whispers in your ear. when you do, you’re met with a fort made of blankets, pillows, your favorite snacks and a projector playing your favorite movie.

that week had been hard for you. your manager at work on your ass, fighting with your parents again, grades falling behind, all you wanted to do was lay in his arms and the best of all, he knew that.

he knew you like no other. you tear up, and heeseung wipes it away as he cups your face.

“i know you had a hard week and i just want you to relax for your birthday so, i completed a few homework assignments and i called your parents.” you immediately pull him into a hug, a much needed hug.

just like the one you need right now. instead of heeseung, the wind wipes your tear away and your new boyfriend glances at you as he drives.

“everything okay?” you lift your head, giving him a weak smile.

“yeah everything’s fine.” he nods and smiles at you too.

if it were heeseung he would’ve already pulled over and pulled you onto his lap to whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

and we kiss each other one more time.

heeseung was drowning. he needed an out and now. he wanted to text you, to see you again. god his heart ached every time he thought about you.

how the two of you would have fights but would never go to sleep angry at each other, how much he fell for you everyday, how you would snuggle closer to him.

the thoughts become overbearing and soon enough, he chooses you. over his family, over everything because you are his everything. he finally leaves home without a word or a letter.

as he settles into his new place, he debates calling you.

you, on the other hand, end up breaking up with your boyfriend after realizing maybe a part of you is still in love with heeseung. (you totally are.)

the week after that breakup, you head out to the city. window shopping, walking around, just to clear your head.

heeseung just so happened to be doing the same thing. minding his own business, going about his afternoon. then he stops in his tracks, eyes widen with tears threatening to spill out.

“y/n…” he lets out in a whisper, now almost sprinting towards you. you notice him, as soon as he takes you into his embrace. your world narrows down to just to two of you, like it used to. you pull away first.

“heeseung?” he immediately tears up again.

“i’m so sorry y/n. im so sorry for leaving you.” his heart is on fire, praying you’d take him back. “please let me make it up to you. let me explain everything.”

your own eyes start to water, smiling at him. “please..” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

without a doubt, you wrap your arms around his neck and pressed your lips on his. the kiss is gentle, full of warmth and love. your love.

“so is that a yes?” he murmurs against your lips then you laugh softly, pulling back. “yes. it’s a yes.” you reply, knowing your heart will always and forever be his, his alone.

just like his heart is yours.

[yaut-jaknowit]

T’a’yta says he has to hold himself back, I gotta hold myself back mc has way more self control then me. I would've taken him to the bedroom the second he said I didn't have to break a sweat. He wined and dined so much the first date that no other dates are required we're officially married the second he gets me against the closet door. All this to say I hope there's a part 2 and that you never have trouble sleeping dear writer.

Strangers Part 2

Character: T'a'yta (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3538

Summary: You meet up with Ze'se to recap everything you've been through with T'a'yta. And boy, is she happy to hear how good the date went. She forces you to text him that moment to go on a second one. T'a'yta agrees. Now, for a second date!

Author Note: I completely agree with you. If any Yautja like him did that do me, I'd propose to him that moment. Thank you so much for the love!

Part 1

Masterlist

Ao3

After your first date with the handsome and endearing T’a’yta, it was love at first sight. He had your heart already. No, ifs, ands, or buts about it. T’a’yta had stolen it right out of your chest and posted it on top of a throne. Truly. The Yautja treated you like royalty. You felt it. The first date sealed it in with him.

Of course, as any normal human, you were nervous to go head first. All of your past relationships have clearly failed. Here you were. With what you seemed to be the perfect gentlemen. T’a’yta even told you to take your time. He’ll wait. The way he said it to wasn’t even creepy or disturbing. He’s letting you take control. To take control of such a beast of a man. You internally swooned at the thought. Your cheeks flushed hot with heat.

That was two days ago. Your friend who set him up with you wanted to know all about it. She had called you the morning afterwards, begging for you to meet up with her. Ze’se is an amazing friend. So, despite work draining you during the day, you agreed to a dinner meet up with her. Which Ze’se happily agreed to said place and threatened harm if you didn’t show. That… you didn’t know if she was joking or not.

With the threat of harm hanging over your head, you threw on some comfy clothes. This was a causal outing. No reason to be all dolled up to see your friend.

Being the person Ze’se is, she invited you to a nice, sit down restaurant with good food. You didn’t need to show up in a dress or anything of the sort. That didn’t mean you could show up like a slob. Just down the middle. Perfect. Just how you like it. Like always, Ze’se will pay as well. Never has she ever let you pay. Not even when you try to sneak or be quick. Nothing escapes her watchful eyes.

The building is welcoming when you walk in. It’s not a large food joint but the place is packed with the lobby full of waiting customers. You stroll up to the host stand and greet a man standing there. Poor thing looks a bit overwhelmed and tired.

“Hi. I’m with the Ze’se reservation,” you told him with a gentle, easy going smile. His dark blue eyes dart down to the screen in front of him. He scrolls through a list before his eyes lit up. The host steps out from behind the stand and motions to follow him.

“Follow me.” You comply and shadowed behind him. Further into the restaurant, you see just how full it was. Completely understandable why he has that look in his eyes.

Your eyes look through the crowd and find the only Yautja here. Her towering form sitting on a chair designed for someone of her size. A few people are giving her looks but she’s not caring one bit. Humans are still getting a feel about having Yautjas around normally. People still aren’t fully used to alien walking among them. You’re not one of those.

Ze’se bright gaze lit up when she spot you through the crowd. The host finishes up the guide and departs with a forced smile. You take your seat across form hers. She is immediately scanning over your neck with observant eyes. You knew what she was looking for, know she would find nothing. To her disappointment.

That sharp gaze of hers narrowed when she came up empty handed. “Did he not impress you?” Ze’se asked with her voice filled with suspicion. You rolled your eyes with a small smirk then looked down at the menu.

“Oh my god, Ze,” you groaned. Yautjas. They are so fast about life. That’s one thing you find ironic about the different lifestyles. They act like they have no time in the universe. Yet, their life expectancy is over a thousand years old. While humans are the opposite. Acting like we’ll live forever and taking all the time in the world with doing stuff. There are outliers in each species. But, that’s one thing you’ve come to notice around Yautjas.

“Just because we didn’t fuck doesn’t mean I don’t like him!” Thankfully, no one was paying attention to the two of you. That would’ve gained some nasty glances. Specially from the parents nearby.

The suspicion in her gaze doesn’t go away. You sighed and bowed your head. “I would think he’d at least give you a temporary mark. You do have his scent on you though.” Ze’se seemed pleased about that though. Yautjas and their scenting. You sneaky sniffed the air but didn’t catch anything different.

Content with her findings, Ze’se changes her expression to a softer look. You forced down the heat in your cheeks to disappear before meeting her bright eyes again.

“But, to let you know, everything went well. He took me out for a dinner date. A wonderful date.” You flicker your gaze down at the menu while talking. “Just like you, he paid for everything and didn’t even give me a chance.” T’a’yta kind of reminds you of Ze’se. Was it customary for Yautjas to pay? Because it wasn’t gendered, clearly.

A server popped up and greeted the two of you. “Welcome in guys! My name is Sarah. Today we have a special going on for our soups.” Waters were placed down with a carbonated drink in front of Ze’se. “Are we ready to order? Or do we need some more time?”

Since the two of you have been here far too many times to count, you already knew what you want. You looked up at the server. “We’re ready, thank you. Could I get the long ham sandwich with a fries on the side? And a Pepsi to drink?” Ever since you tried that sandwich, you fell in love with it. Whoever is back there, working their magic knew what they were doing. It was delicious.

On the other side, Ze’se made her order. The server wrote all of it done before scampering off to other tables. Busy day.

One thing the two of you loved about this pace was it cater to Yautjas as well. One of their cook’s was a Yautja himself. Authentic Yautja Prime food. The first time you tried a dish… regret. Ze’se must have known how spicy it was. You were dying.

Once the server left, the two of you fell back into the conversation.

“We went to my favorite restraint in the city. T’a’yta had surprised me by renting out the whole place!” Truly, you couldn’t believe he had done that for you. “It was just the two of us.” Then, a certain memory popped up. You tapped your hand on the table.

“Oh my god! When I tried to order a simple salad because I didn’t want to spend a fortune on a meal, he bought every appetizer on the menu!” From there, you finished up the story. You recapped it to her. All the way to when he took you home and pinned you to the closet door. Ze’se had a grin on her face. “I said I would love to go on another date with him.”

The sparkles in her eyes were scary.

“When’s the next date?” she immediately asked afterwards. By now, the food had arrived in the middle of your recap. Busy or not, they knew how to get their food out quickly.

You shook your head. “Not yet…” Ze’se face darkened amidst her eating. “I-I was going to talk to you about it.” Then, you ducked your head down to hide away from her piercing gaze. “Plus, work has been busy!” And it had. You’ve been going to work and coming home just to sleep. Rinse and repeat. You were lucky to get time to have that date with T’a’yta.

Ze’se growled your name and put down her form gently. “Do not let a good thing such as this slip away. “ The tone of her voice was evident with seriousness. She truly didn’t want you to lose this opportunity. You sighed again but nodded timidly.

“Pull out your phone and text him now.” You jerked your head back before following her demands. The food was temporarily forgotten about. As you typed away at the screen, you would glance at her staring you down. Each time she caught you, your gaze snapped back down to the phone.

Sent. You flipped the device around so she could read it. The message pleased her. All you wrote about how you had a goodtime and enjoyed his company and kindness. You also would like to go on a second date. Not that you believed it was fully needed since he’s given you all the green flags in the world. But you wanted to take it slow and easy. You had to remember, he’s alien with different cultures and views.

By the time you two finished up your meal, it had become dark outside. You stepped out onto the sidewalk first with Ze’se following afterwards. Anyone nearby cleared a large bubble around the two of you.

Strong arms wrapped around your torso and brought you close to her warm body. You returned the gesture in full before pulling back. “I’ll let you know about he says, okay?” you promised Ze’se. Not only does she care you and your love life. Ze’se wants to make sure you are safe as well.

She pointed a stern finger at you. “You better. I know where you live.” Anyone else would’ve ran for their lives at that threat. Not you. Instead, you laughed and nodded your head.

“I promise.” Then, the two of you spilt ways. You returned home, back to your apartment.

Walking through the front door gave you a reminder of that evening with T’a’yta. You had almost let him in. Almost.

As you go to se down your stuff on the kitchen counter, your phone buzzed. Instantly, your head started to race.

It was a message from T’a’yta.

And he wanted to on that second date.

Both of your arms were thrusted into the air with a loud cheer. You danced around the living room before responding back to him. You already had a place in mind on the weekend. Which now couldn’t come any sooner. Only three days away and you wanted it right now. You wish you didn’t have to work, let alone in the morning.

With the knowledge of having plans for Saturday, the work week decided to drag on at a snails pace. Plus, everything that could go wrong, went wrong. All of the work to fix it fell onto your lap. To the point they tried to make you stay for overtime. You put your foot down and gone to your midday date with T’a’yta.

A smalls hop was set up inside the mall. Not many notice it. Unless work of mouth got around. That’s how most people know about it. A pottery shop you’ve been dying to go to. Work either has you too busy or no one wants to go. They have a cute little dragon you were excited to paint on. You had the idea to painting it like T’a’yta.

Up front, stood T’a’yta in all of his glory. It was good to finally see him again. It felt too long to go without seeing him after the first time. T’a’yta had made such an impression to you.

A bright smile plastered onto your face when you first saw his brown scales. He was easy to spot with what little people occupied the shop. You quickened your steps towards him, adding a pep with each step.

T’a’yta instantly noticed the moment you turned the corner. A watchful eye was kept on you until you reached the shop. His lumbering form turned towards you. You peered up at him with a warm smile.

“I’m so glad you could make it, T’a’yta. I hope this didn’t throw a wrench in any plans.” You didn’t know what his schedule was like. If he had any plans outside of this. He wasn’t from here and probably had people he wanted to see. Or even a hunt or something on those lines.

His massive head shook side to side. T’a’yta slowly reached out and brushed his knuckles against your cheek. He most likely felt the heat that boiled your skin alive at this point. “No, no. I had nothing going on,” he reassured before the two of you walked up to the front counter. A young man waited for the two of you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you decided to start up a casual conversation with him. The man was quick to answer any of your question about this whole process.

It wasn’t long until the two of you are at a table. In front of you was the adorable little dragon you craved to get. T’a’yta got a miniature house. The two of you picked out your colors and put them on a palette. Ready for use. You were beaming at T’a’yta with sparkles in your eyes. Finally, you were here. Not alone. A future romantic partner. The idea excited you.

“What had you been doing between our last date and this one?” you asked and picked up a paint brush, adding color to the tip. T’a’yta seemed a little out of his element with the arts and crafts. But, he followed your lead.

“I’ve been mainly ready to pass the time,” he answered and dipped a brush into some green paint.

Reading?! A man who liked to read? Could he get any better? You were thankful that Ze’se had introduced you to T’a’yta.

The paint brush in your hand lowered a little to focus on him. “Oh? What do you like to read?” The two of you might have different genres but still. To find a guy who enjoys reading is unheard of. Imagine if the two of you combined your libraries together! Fuck, you’re already thinking about the future.

He starts to paint the side of the house with a green. “I have a vast variety for my own library.” There were plenty of stars in your eyes just at that. “Currently, I’m reading…” he says something that your human brain couldn’t understand. That sounded alien. That only made you realize how much you didn’t know about his culture. Only to want to know more about it, about him. “Are you a book worm?” If only he knew.

“A lot. When you come by again, I’ll show you the library in my apartment,” you offered to him. Your paint brushed created brown base along the dragon as the starter. The brown nearly a match to T’a’yta’s scales. “I’ve got so much that it overflows into the living room.” T’a’yta looks up from his mini house. His blue eyes reflected the sparkles in your own.

“Would you have time later today to show me?” he asked you. “I can show you my own whenever you want. It’s on my ship.” On my god, his ship? You’ve never stepped foot off of earth before. Would he take you at least into the atmosphere of earth? That… that would be a dream come true.

“I would happily show you.” Next, you added the lighter tan color to the dragon’s chest and belly. “I might have a few book you may want. I would be more than happy to let you borrow… if you let me borrow some,” you teased him with a sly smile. His mandibles widened into his own smile.

He let his paint brush stop for a moment. “Name a time. I’ll make it happen.” You nodded your head rapidly. T’a’yta chuckled and returned to his paint job.

“Next weekend?” Not tomorrow. Even though you have it off. Like you’ve said before, you wanted to take this slow. You’ve learned your lesson before to go slow in a relationship. It’s a safer route. Next weekend offers plenty of time to recuperate after today. Work is the only think that gets in the way.

“it’s a date.” No one could wipe off the smile on your face. Another date. It’s already planned. For trading books and seeing an alien space craft up close and personal. That couldn’t come quick enough.

This date continued on. The two of you painting at what trinkets you’ve picked. Light conversation flowed between the two of you. It was nice to get to know him some more.

At the end of the date, you both take your pieces up to the counter. The same young man is there again and helps you with the checkout process. Before you had a chance to slip your card into the reader, T’a’yta beat you to it. You huff with a pout.

The worker estimated a week and half until you could come back to pick up the figurines. You wished to be able to pick them up now. Because the little dragon was adorable while it was unfired.

If T’a’yta was a dragon, your figurine would be a perfect march to him. All the way down to his gorgeous blue eyes.

Both of you walked out of the strip mall shop and stood on the side of the sidewalk. Those that meandered around the city gave the bulky beast a wide berth. You stepped closer to him, wanting to take in the unique scent of his. How you were going to miss it over the week away from him.

It was unique to him. Alien if you had to put a name to it. But it made up T’a’yta.

Softly, you placed a hand on his clothed chest and stood on your tippy-toes. Even then, you didn’t reach his shoulders. As if he could read it on your face, he bends at the waist. This close to his face, you saw all the small details that made up his features. To the light scars, to the dark speckles in his blue eyes, to the wrinkles that showed his age as a skilled elder. You reached with your free hand towards his cheek and cupped it gently. It gave him all the time in the universe to pull away if he wanted. Instead, T’a’yta leaned into your touch, eyes slowly closing.

“I wanted to thank you for all of this. You don’t have to pay for me though. I can pay for my own stuff,” you told him in a voice above a whisper. What’s with Yautjas and wanting to spend their money? The next time, you had to beat him to the punch. No matter what.

T’a’yta’s eyes opened quickly. The brown Yautja stood back to hid full height. Your hand snapped back, surprised by his sudden movement. But, he caught it before you had a chance. You were pulled into his space, closer than before. “You don’t pay for anything. I pay. I have told you this before,” he growled deep from his chest. Something about it wasn’t scary or terrifying. It was a statement. He wouldn’t let you win this.

The unfamiliar feel of his skin against your was a stark reminder. You felt a shudder run up the length of your spine. “I’ll provide for you. This is my way of showing that to you. I’m an elite hunter. I provide.” Shit, and he did that on the first date. He really, really did. And he kept doing it too.

You took a shaky breath in and released it. Yet, you were a stubborn creature. More than a mule on a bad day. As much as you wanted to tell him no, you knew that wouldn’t work. He’s just like you. You could see it in his eyes. With another deep breath, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged him down to your level. For a moment, you hesitated, trying to figure out how you’ll do this. Then, you pecked your lips on his upper, inner jaw. His body tensed under your touch the second your mouth made contact with his. Then, his hands gripped your hips and tugged you closer.

“I’ll take this as you agree.” Damn him.

“I’ll get you one of these days,” you retorted at him. T’a’yta chuckled and rubbed his eyebrow to your forehead. A sign from him in Yautja that he returns the affection.

“Let’s go to my apartment. I still need to show you my library,” you offered to him. His fingers clenched on your hips for a second before he released you.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he agreed before stepping back and giving you space to breathe. His scent still filled your nostrils and almost overwhelmed you.

The two of you began to walk down the side walk, ignoring everyone’s eyes on you. They were judging you. But, you could care less about what they thought. If your love was to an alien, who cares? He treats you like royalty.

Like a guardian, T’a’yta walked in step with you. All the way back to your apartment. Unlike last time, you let him in and showed him what your home looked like. The library was a plus.

[kybercrystals94]

Of Scene Breaks and Plot Twists

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 2256 | Summary: The members of Clone Force 99 have an unwanted guest.

A/N: For Christmas, I wrote an entirely unserious, indulgent little fic because I can…so I did.

I am totally making fun of myself with this fic…apologies to the characters for not always (read: rarely) having a plan when I write.

I dedicate this story to every fanfic writer I know and don’t. May you never cease to amaze with your creativity and dedication to the art…you are a gift to the communities you partake in.

“Alright, boys, settle down,” Hunter says, walking into the cockpit. “We’ve got our next mission.”

“Do we actually get to blow something up this time?” Wrecker asks, sitting up in the seat he was slouching in.

Crosshair takes out his toothpick and flicks it at Wrecker, the sliver of wood bouncing harmlessly off the giant’s shoulder. “Or shoot something?”

“We have been on three consecutive data retrieval missions with no enemy engagement,” Tech states.

Echo points out, “Which is a good thing. It means we did our job well.”

“It means they were boring!” Wrecker declares.

Tech and Crosshair nod.

“I won’t promise anything,” Hunter says, grinning, “However, there is a high probability of explosions and shooting taking place this time around.”

The news receives reactive sounds of approval from most of the members of Clone Force 99. However, Echo isn’t fooling anyone with his eye roll. He’s been craving action as much as any of his brothers.

“So, what is it?” Echo asks.

“What’s what?” Hunter asks.

Echo frowns at him. “The mission?”

Hunter looks down at the data pad in his hand. “I…I don’t know. Nothing’s come through.”

“But you just said–”

“Sorry, sorry! That’s my fault,” I say, pushing myself up from the wall I was leaning against. “I’m sorta writing this as I go. I have no idea what your mission is yet. The keyword here is yet, because I’m sure it will come to me as we go.”

I’m honestly not sure what sort of reaction I expected, but five blasters pulled on me was not on the agenda. I put my hands up, heart battering in my throat. “Woah, woah, hey!” I cry, “Don’t shoot!”

“Who are you and how did you get on our ship?” Hunter growls, blaster still carefully poised to take me out if I make any wrong move.

I swallow. “I’m a fanfic writer. I’m the one writing this story.”

Oh. This is my story. Ha, sorta forgot that I can just…

The Batch lower their weapons with bewildered expressions, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“What just happened?” Wrecker asks. “Why’d we all lower our blasters like that?”

“I told you, I’m writing this story. I’m a fanfic writer,” I say, and, bolstered by my own abilities, I walk over and take a seat in behind Tech, turning the chair to face my darling characters. Aww, they look so sweet when they’re confused.

“You’re using some sort of mind trick,” Tech tells me. “You’re a Force user.”

I laugh. “I wish, but no. I’m just a humble fanfic writer, I promise.”

“You obviously know we don’t understand what that means,” Hunter says, and he sounds so annoyed. A little Crosshair-like, if I’m being honest. “So explain it. Now.”

Bossy.

“Fine,” I sigh, reaching in my back pocket and pulling out my phone.

Tech’s eyes light up, and I can tell he wants to ask about it; however, a sharp look from Hunter makes him settle back in the pilot’s chair. I make a mental note to show it to him once I’ve calmed everybody down.

For the sake of my gentle reader, I won’t get into the vaguely detailed explanation I gave the boys. It did not go well, and nobody calmed down. After all, how do you explain that someone’s reality and existence is fictional in your reality…without giving them spoilers for their futures? Then you would have to get into fix-its and canon and head canon and all that complicated jargon. Suffice to say, I had to again utilize my writing power to make them sit down and shut up for two seconds while I assured them that their lives were very much “real”, and that I am just trying to share one of their stories with my world…and also that I am making it up on the fly.

“I would like to study these works of fiction,” Tech says.

I ensure my phone is locked and secured in my pocket. “Mmm…maybe later.”

“So, basically,” Crosshair says, and somehow he manages to sound genuine and sarcastic at the same time, “you are calling all the shots and we have no freewill.”

I guess it does sound bad when he puts it like that.

“How about a compromise,” I say, “I’ll let you boys ‘call the shots’, and I’ll just write it down…if you stop threatening to shoot me out of the airlock. Deal?”

They collectively look unimpressed.

I continue stubbornly, “I’m not going anywhere until I have my story. I’ve been suffering from writer’s block for weeks, and this is the first decent idea I’ve had.”

“Half-baked is more like,” Echo grumbles. “Kriffing idiot.”

“See?” I say, splaying a hand at the cyborg, “If I were controlling everything, would I be letting y’all verbally assault me?”

“Let me shoot you with a blaster, and I’ll be convinced,” Crosshair says with a menacing flash of teeth that I think might be some sort of smile.

Suppressing a shudder, I roll my eyes. “The sooner I finish this story, the sooner I’ll get out of here. Then I’ll never bother you again…”

…In person.

I love internal dialogue.

“Fine,” Hunter agrees after a long, long bout of silence. “What’s our mission then?”

Oh. Right. That’s what started this whole mess in the first place.

Scrambling to come up with something, I say, “Alright, you should have a mission on your data pad now.”

Hunter looks down at his device. “It just says data extraction mission from blank.”

“Hey!” Wrecker objects, loudly, “I thought there was gonna be explosions and shooting!”

Tech takes the data pad from Hunter. “Not to mention the parameters of the mission are unfathomably vague.”

“Alright, alright,” I say, putting up my hands. “How about now?”

“Dangerous data extraction mission from insert planet name here,” Tech reads aloud.

Echo groans. “You have to give us more than that!”

“I don’t usually have to come up with all the details.���

“You’ve given us literally nothing,” Crosshair says, “Less than nothing.”

“You are making it very difficult to believe that anyone reads your stories willingly,” Tech says.

I narrow my eyes.

**

“What just happened?” Hunter asks.

We are in hyperspace, coordinates safely secured in the nav computer, boys fully aware of the mission parameters.

My work here is done.

“That, my friends, is called a scene break,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Now, tell me about this mission.”

“Why would we go over it again?” Crosshair asks, annoyed. “We’ve been arguing strategy for the past hour.”

“So I can write it down.”

“What do you mean so you can write it down? I thought that’s what you were doing!”

I shake my head. “No, see, that’s the point of a scene break. I can skip writing all the monotony and just give readers the jist of it. So, give me the summary of the mission and I’ll write down the important bits I care about.”

Echo gapes at me. “You mean to tell me you still don’t know what the mission is?”

“Which is why you’re going to tell me,” I tell him patiently.

The boys exchange glances. I can see in their microexpressions that they’ve come to some sort of agreement that I am not going to like. Now wait a minute…

“Don’t tell the writer anything, boys,” Hunter says, turning back to the nav computer. “They get to come along for the ride, just like they wanted.”

“You can’t do that!” I cry.

“We just did, di’kut.” Crosshair begins polishing his rifle, the item having appeared during the scene break. “We’re in charge now.”

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going,” I implore weakly.

“Classified,” Echo says.

“Is it still a data extraction mission?”

Tech has the audacity to shrug. He’s scrolling through my phone. How…when…?

“Hey, give that back,” I say, lunging forward to snatch it from him.

He evades me easily, and I go sprawling across the durasteel floor.

Rolling over, I glare up at the commandos grinning down at me. “I’m still the writer,” I say, “I can still do whatever I want and know whatever I want.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Crosshair taunts.

I must not be completely over my writer’s block after all, because nothing comes to mind. Somehow, the characters are in charge. Kriff.

“Tech,” I say, returning to the topic of my phone, “you can’t be looking at that stuff.”

“These tags are concerning,” Tech mutters, continuing to scroll as if I hadn’t said anything. “Hurt forward slash comfort? Angst? Fluff? Whump? What do these mean? That is, what is the context?”

I hate to do it, but I use my writing ability to put the phone back in my hands before Tech hurts himself emotionally. “Some things are better left unknown, Tech.”

“I swear,” Crosshair growls, “if any of those fanfics are sappy, I will shoot you out the airlock. I don’t care about our ‘deal’.”

“I’m not the only fanfic writer, okay? There are thousands of us.”

“Sounds like a nasty infestation,” Echo says.

“I’ll have you know,” I tell him primly, “we are a lovely community.”

Wrecker, the sweet boy, offers to help me to my feet, putting a hand out. I grip it and he hauls me up a little too roughly, nearly dislocating my shoulder. I grin at him nonetheless. “Thanks, Wreck.”

“Sure thing, writer,” he tells me. He leans in. “In those fanfic thingies you write, do I get to blow stuff up a lot?”

“Uhm, well,” I say, sitting back down, “it depends on the purpose of fic, really.”

“Whadda you mean? Aren’t they all just missions you make up for us?”

Crosshair huffs. “Or pretend to make up?”

“Listen,” I say, leaning around Wrecker to glare at the sniper, “I have writer’s block. Most of the time I think of legitimate missions.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one.”

“Well, one time, you were on this planet getting intel and the building that Echo and Tech was in collapsed and the rest of you had to dig them out.”

“What planet was it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What was the intel?”

“Important.”

“So you just make whatever the kark you want up and people actually read it?” Echo asks.

Offended by the oversimplification of my work, I retort, “Well, I like to focus more on character development than missions. But that’s just me. Other writers are a heck of a lot better at writing mission stories.”

“Then how’d we get stuck with you?” Crosshair asks, throwing his wadded up polishing rag at me.

I wish I could say I caught it, but it hits me in the face.

“You know what,” I sputter, tossing the rag aside, “Scene…”

**

“...break.”

We are standing in the middle of a hall, surrounded on both sides by droids.

“Would you stop doing that?” Hunter shouts at me over the din of blasterfire.

I crouch down next to Tech at a control panel. “Hey, can I borrow one of your blasters?”

“Write yourself one,” he says, deadpan, keeping his focus on hacking into the Separatist system.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

Tech rolls his eyes and passes over one of his blasters. “Please take care not to shoot one of us.”

“I think I can handle it.”

I cannot handle it. My first shot goes wide and high, taking out a light in the ceiling. Before I can try again, someone snatches the blaster out of my hand.

“Give me that before you hurt yourself.” It’s Echo.

“If that’s a legitimate risk, let them keep it,” Crosshair calls out.

“Aw, don’t hurt yourself, little writer person,” Wrecker says, scooping me up under one arm, “I’ll protect ya!”

I kick my legs and flail my arms, dangling haplessly in his grip. “Put me down!”

“Not until we’re out of here,” Hunter orders.

Fine then.

**

We’re back on the Marauder. The boys’ dark armor is covered in spatters of dried mud, and the right lens of Tech’s goggles has a crack in it.

“What happened to you?” I ask, sitting comfortably in the pilot’s chair, unscathed.

“You’d know if you stuck around to find out,” Crosshair growls.

“Apparently, I was just in the way back there. So I skipped ahead.”

“You’ve been in the way this whole time,” Hunter mutters.

Oh. Those are fighting words.

I smile, and I hope it appears as devilish as I feel. “Plot twist.”

**

I’m not sure what the creature is, but it’s ugly. It’s covered in some sort of goo and it smells putrid.

And it’s gnawing on the Marauder. Don’t worry, it doesn’t have teeth, so the ship won’t be damaged, but it will leave a residue that probably won’t be fun to scrub off later.

“What in the universe is that?” Wrecker asks.

We’ve moved outside of the ship, and we’ve discovered that the creature simply absorbs blaster bolts and is completely unfazed. The boys will have to distract it somehow, lure it away.

How inconvenient.

“This was uncalled for,” Tech says, turning to glare at me.

“Did you see it coming?” I ask. When I am not dignified with a response from any of them, I add, “Plot twist successful.”

“How are we supposed to get rid of it?” Echo asks.

I shrug. “Maybe you boys will figure it out by the next chapter.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘next chapter’?”

“And this is what we writers like to call,” I say, smiling sweetly, “a cliffhanger.”

TBC

A/N: Will I ever actually finish this fic?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

‘Tis the nature of fanfic, isn’t it? ;D

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Tag List!

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump @skellymom

[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Langue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?

To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years, to be honest, she had me broader line obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching place and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history with someone—sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust, that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked, fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten, and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket, and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor. I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf, but then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I declare, bending down—Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking—You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Were did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave—he’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get his back; This man—the love of my life. There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bone it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. “Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour is interrupted when my mom speaks. “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone—How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence—and it wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through our families, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Dissasoiating—the word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost. All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandler, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day; what a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bounding to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earth quack, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply—they appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I can check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remakes, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filter out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch. I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own—and maybe I speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise. We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulder to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lip and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor. I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob, “Oh Bee—” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mourful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb of my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[shartletswritings]

Prove to me

Non-Canon one shot set within the You've Dug Your Own Grave story

TW: Smutttt and not much else Happy holidays!! I wanted to make you all a little, sinful, christmas present. I do hope you enjoy!! I wrote this like… immediately after writing the first chapter of YDYOG because I needed a break from all the angst I was about to write (and because I’m a whore). Thank you all for the endless support, I know I say it every time and I sound like a broken record, but it genuinely baffles me how many of y’all read my stories and engage with my content. All my love and enjoy!!

            You stand with your back to the kitchen door; your full attention is on the jars of tea in front of you. You’re beginning to believe that this is the hardest decision you have ever had to make: mint and licorice or chamomile? Absentmindedly you pull on your bottom lip with your fingers as you deliberate. Would a combination be bad? It can’t be that bad.

            It takes a few minutes of rummaging through various drawers to locate a steeper among the mess of utensils. “Found you, fucker,” you whisper to the ball of metal. You decide a scoop of each is appropriate for one mug. After pouring the water into your mug you plop the steeper unceremoniously into the water, a small splash lapping over the rim.

            You spin on your heels to look for a snack to take back with you to your room when you notice that the lights on the far end of the kitchen have been switched off. Another black out? We just had one the other night. You sigh, you’ll be out in a few minutes anyways and you have plenty of candles waiting in your room if the power does go out. You fill a small bowl with some corn-puffed snack sitting on a far corner and put it on a tray next to the mug. You smile at the paint on the side which had been done by Aster a few weeks back. The memory of her chubby little hands smudging greens and purples onto the previously gray surface.

            Another noise catches your attention; something slams close behind you and you whip around but only see the door to the mess hall hanging open slightly. It must be the wind. You chide yourself for being so nervous. Just as you are about to pick the tray up and leave when the hair on the back of your neck stands up. This time you are certain someone is behind you, which is odd because you don’t remember hearing someone come in.

            You start to turn slowly when a low, harsh voice bites out, “Don’t.”

            You let out the anxious breath you were holding, a smile spreading on your face, “Scar, you scared the sh-”

            You are cut off by a hand clapping down on your mouth. He shifts slightly behind you, and you suddenly feel his breath, hot and deep in your ear, “You’re lucky it’s me here, Kir,” the bite in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, “what have I told you about letting your guard down?”

            He releases his hand just enough for you to speak, “I can handle myself. We’ve talked about this,” you put your hands down on the counter in front of you, bristling at his need to protect you.

            “We have,” his breath still tickles your ear, “and yet I was able to get all the to you before you even realized I was in the building.”

            “That’s not fair, you’re quieter than most people. And besides, I’d sense their… aura or something; I’d know if there was someone out to get me.”

            “You aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are,” Scar sounds unamused and you can’t really blame him, it wasn’t the smartest thing to say.

            You go to turn towards him again but his hand clamps down on your jaw to keep your head forward, claws pressing into the soft skin of your cheeks. “If you don’t want me to coddle you, prove to me you can handle yourself,” he all but growls, “I’ll give you a two-minute head start… now run.”

            It takes you a few seconds to process what he says before it clicks. It takes you a few more seconds to decide whether or not to indulge him; on the one hand you don’t need his damn oversight on your safety, you sure as hell aren’t weak or incapable. But on the other hand… it is really fucking hot.

            The pressure that had been gradually building in the pit of your belly finally snaps and you feel electric. As if sensing the change in your chemistry, Scar releases your jaw and takes a step back, giving you the room needed to bolt.

            The darkness filling the empty kitchen makes your escape more difficult than it should be, but something inherent in your blood directs you back out into the courtyard of the hideout. Dust kicks up under your boots and the only light available to you comes from windows with half-drawn blinds. Figuring out where to go is the hardest part; you know that the first spots to pop into your mind are undoubtedly what Scar will also think of. Any place shrouded in complete darkness is marked off immediately on your imaginary list due to his godsdamned eyes which eliminates about half of the places you could reasonably get to in the constricting two minutes he’s given you. Your hoverboard is also inaccessible from where it sits back in your quarters which means you’ll need to find somewhere to hide in the base and fast.

            You turn towards the tree, scrambling up the scaffolding of the mural and onto the balcony of Ekko’s workshop. Mercifully, it is both empty and unlocked. You slip inside, crouch under one of the tables, and wait. It’s dark in here, sure, but there is enough of a glow from the courtyard that you can make out everything in the room with some sense of clarity; at least he won’t be able to sneak up on you.

            Your skin feels electric and every sound has you jumping. The fear is primal, something innate within your core. You’re not scared of Scar of course, but right now you’re fucking terrified and it’s exhilarating. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been waiting. Five minutes? Ten? Time passes strangely.

            The door opens slowly and for a moment you don’t think it’s Scar with how gentle the nob turns, but the second you see the toe of his boot your heart leaps into your throat. You stick a hand over your mouth to try and muffle your breathing as you press yourself further back into the shadows under the table. He takes a few more steps into the room, turning his head, searching for you.

            You let loose the breath you had been holding as he turns, thinking he’s finally leaving, when he whips his head back around at the sound. “I know you’re in here, Kirranari.” Damn it all. You realistically have about five seconds before he pinpoints your location under the table. It takes you three to make a decision. Sure, you could run again, but where’s the fun in that?

            You rocket out from your hiding spot and rush him, slamming your weight into his chest. He stumbles back and into a wall, thankfully missing the shelf of Ekko’s glass scientific instruments. He lets out a low oof and looks down at you and your forearm pressed into his chest, almost impressed and you feel a rush of pride despite yourself.

            The moment is ruined by his clawed hands wrapping around your wrist and twisting you around to slam you into the wall. His chest presses against your back and your face smushes into the wooden wall. “Not good enough, Kir,” his voice rumbles deeply against your body and a new wave of heat flushes through you. He must know what he’s doing. From the way his breath puffs hot against your ear, you can tell he knows exactly what he’s doing. Asshole.

            With a huff, you drop low despite the wall scraping against your face and push yourself back under his legs. Before he can react, you jump up behind him and clammer onto his back. He bucks like a wild animal, but the bruising grip of your arms around his neck and legs around his chest keeps him from throwing you off. A knife slips down from your sleeve, and you allow the glint of the metal to catch in the faint light from the window. The blade is pointed away from him, but he can see that you weren’t unarmed, even in the relative safety of the hideout.

            You bring your mouth down to his ear, “Still think I can’t handle myself?” He stills for a moment, a snarl forming on his face, and you fight the urge to smile. With a quick nip to his ear you drop back to the ground, leaving him motionless for another second before he spins back towards you, his face a mix of lust and aggravation.

            “You got lucky,” he looks down at you, and you have to fight the urge to cower under his gaze. You aren’t afraid of him, of course, but you haven’t gotten this far in the undercity without a healthy amount of innate caution.

            “Right. Cuz it’d kill you to say that I did something correctly.” He opens his mouth to protest but before he can say anything, you sweep a leg towards his knees. Not expecting the blow, his knees buckle, and he crashes to the ground under his own weight.

            Unfortunately, before you can get a healthy amount of gloating out, you feel an arm wrap around your wrist to pull you down on top of him. He pins your arms to the ground, forcing you to lean over his head. You pant as you stare down at his blown-out pupils, “I only let you do that cuz you’re hot. Just so ya know. If you were anyone else, it’d be a different story.”

            He looks up at you in silence, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Suddenly, claws make their way into your hair and pull, bringing your face up to his. Your lips only meet for a moment before his tongue presses its way into your mouth. He pulls back for a moment, “Would you let anyone else do this?” His voice is slightly hoarse, thick with lust.

            You hum thoughtfully, “Who’s to say really. I have such a hard time making up my mind, but I can think of a few I’d let kiss me.” You’re taunting him, you’re absolutely aware of that. But the dark, fierce eyes he looks at you with twinge something deep in your gut and you find yourself unable to stop. “Maybe if Ekko or Jordyn asked me nicel-”

            He growls and flips your bodies to cut you off, pinning you under his weight. “Sounds like I’m not doing enough to keep you around, then.” You grin mischievously, “It sounds like I need to remind you how much you mean to me.” He grabs one of your hands and reaches it down to cup the growing bulge in his pants and your breath catches in your throat. It’s his turn to grin as he lowers his mouth to your neck, assaulting it with nips kisses.

            You arch your back into his chest, a breathy moan ripping through your throat. “You think I’d be doing this for anyone else?” he asks, his lips attacking the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. He bites down when you don’t answer, “I asked you a question,” he chastises with a shockingly level voice against your pathetic cry.

            “N-no,” you breath into the darkness of the room and you can feel him smile against your skin. How does he always manage to reduce me to an incoherent mess, you think distantly as you struggle aimlessly against his weight.

            His hand releases your wrists and pushes the hem of your shirt up to your collarbone, tugging the band around your breasts down to lay loosely around your stomach. Painfully slowly, his lips make their way towards the hardened peaks of your nipples, but he doesn’t touch them directly. Instead, he focuses his attention on the soft skin of your breasts, eliciting a cry of frustration from your lips. You can feel the bastard smile against your skin again and you begin to get impatient. Bringing your free hand to his hair you pull, forcing his head to angle towards you.

            His top lip curls into a sneer as he is ripped away from his efforts at teasing you, you smile innocently at him. In a burst of movement you slither out from under him once more and hop to your feet, pulling your shirt back down to cover your chest. He looks up at you for a moment, still kneeling on the floor. “Did you think the game was done?” you ask, sweetly.

            Before he has even brought himself to his feet, you are already halfway to Ekko’s balcony. You pause for an instant to glance back behind you to lay eyes on a very angry looking Scar. Electricity pulses through you once more as you swing down from the balcony and onto the ground of the courtyard. A few moments later, you hear the heavy thud of Scar’s boots hitting the ground behind you. A terrified laugh rips from your chest as you take off in a sprint towards the gym.

            You make it nearly the entire way there before Scar tackles you from behind, sending the two of you tumbling towards the floor of the hallway. He pants hard in your ears, “There’s the rat I know.” You pause for a moment at his use of your nickname in your own tongue and he chuckles over you. He crushes down harder on top of you as you work to wriggle out of his grasp and into the gym like you had planned. “You think I’d let you get away again?”

            His threat sends blood flow exactly where you don’t need it, and you find yourself unable to come up with a useful escape plan. Nearly his entire weight is pressing you down onto the ground below with his hands wrapped securely around your upper arms and you can feel the weight of his hardened cock against your ass.

            “You’re pressing into my arms, Scar, it hurts,” you cry out breathlessly. He lets up immediately, mumbling an apology. You push yourself up and back into a run towards the gym, yelling to him over your shoulder, “You’re too fucking gullible.”

            He tackles you again almost as soon as you burst through the door, this time on a mat, and hisses into your ear, “You’re beginning to test my patience, Kir.” Before you can even react, he is yanking your pants down below your hips, “such a fucking tease,” he mumbles, an animalistic strength coursing through his veins.

            You arch your ass closer to his face, “I’m just doing what you asked,” you reply as innocently as possible.

            He growls and yanks your underwear down to lay with your pants at your ankles, one hand still pressed firmly against the small of your back. Fingers trail down to the wet heat of your slit, “Soaked already? You like being chased?” He rubs a finger against your throbbing clit, and you press your face to the mat below you to muffle your mewls of pleasure. “Fuck… you like being hunted down, don’t you?” You feel primal. You feel terrified. You feel fucking amazing.

            Lifting your head just enough, you answer him with a pathetic sounding whimper, “mmm-yes.” You cry out again in dismay as he removes his hand from your cunt. He shifts behind you and the squelch of his hand working your slick up and down the length of his dick fills the room. You arch you ass higher, desperate to be filled, and he only laughs.

            “That needy?” He presses the tip slowly into you and you sigh. Unfortunately, the bastard has other plans and quickly pulls back out and rocks his slick covered cock between your ass cheeks. You mumble incoherently and he laughs again, “Not so funny when you’re the one being teased, is it?”

            “S’not the same,” you mutter, one cheek squished against the mat distorting your words.

            He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls, lifting your head up from the ground slightly. “I can’t understand you when you whine like that. Why don’t you tell me what you need?” If you could glare, you would probably be lighting the room on fire with the intensity of your frustration, unfortunately all you can do is cry out at the lack of stimulation where you need him most. “I can’t hear you, Kir, what is you want?”

            This asshole is gonna make me say it? “Wan’… fuck… m,’” is all you manage. Jannah I’m pathetic.

            He adjusts himself ever so slightly so he can rub his cock against your clit, coating it further in your wetness, “You gotta give me more than that,” he whispers into your ear before nipping at the cartilage. Fuck if he keeps going like that… Another yank on your hair pulls your attention back to the present.

            Sucking in a breath, you finally say, “Fuck me, please…”

            It’s all he needs to hear to sheathe himself within you completely in one stroke. Your breath catches in your throat as you nearly choke at the complete fullness… the deliciously painful stretch of your cunt around him. Your legs are still pressed together by your pants and his weight bears down on you as he fucks you into the mat, making you tighter than normal. From the ragged breathing in your ear, you aren’t the only one affected by the position, which brings some amount of triumph to your cock-drunk brain.

            A hand wraps around your hips to pull your ass higher, crushing your head farther into the ground and rendering you almost completely immobile. All you can do is fucking take it as he bottoms out into your needy cunt, squeezing helplessly around his dick. You manage to cry his name desperately, the sound mixing with the squelch of your wetness and the clap of his hips meeting your ass.

            His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your naked skin. A distant, far away voice in your head tells you to be a bit more weary of the fact literally anyone could walk in and see the two of you, but teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck cleanses the last shreds of logical thought from your mind.

            “F-fuck you’re so tight,” he bites out in between thrusts, “you like this? You like being fucked on the ground?” All you can do is cry out and clench harder around him. “Gonna split my cock in half,” he warns into your ear, but you can’t help it.

            “M-more, please,” you murmur into the floor, praying he could hear you over the noise your bodies make.

            Scar laughs breathlessly over you, “Never satisfied, are you?”

            The hand that had been tangled into your hair travels down your back and onto your other hip, pulling you up to your knees. Your arms lay uselessly on the ground and you turn your head to see Scar as he thrusts into you from behind. Between your legs, you can make out the wet form of his cock in the darkness as it hammers into your greedy hole, pants pulled down below his waist just enough to free himself. His brows furrowed in concentration and eyes dark with lust pull your attention from the movement of his body.

            Your once wet mouth goes dry at the sight of how seriously he takes your pleasure. Almost like he loves m-. He catches your eye and smirks, bringing a hand around to press into your throbbing clit and you turn your head back to the mat to muffle the sounds of your cries.

            “You gonna cum for me? Huh?” He digs his claws into your hips, and you begin to twitch.

            “Yes!” you’re barely audible, but from the way he grips you, you can tell he heard you well enough.

            It doesn’t take long for you to finish; the pressure of his finger on your clit, the unforgiving rhythm of his hips, the sound of his barely silenced groans of pleasure, it all becomes too much. When you do shatter, it’s nearly world ending. Tearing a hand up, you desperately attempt to cover the sound of your screams as your legs shake and finally give out.

            “Just like that… T-that’s my girl.”

            You collapse down to the floor and clamp down on his cock like a vice. He stutters for a moment but resumes his thrusts to fuck you in your now prone posture through the waves of pleasure.

            His own release comes soon after and you can practically feel the pressure building deep in his gut. He presses a hand to the top of your back, anchoring you to the floor as he chases his own pleasure. The only signal he gives you is a shout that sounds almost like your name before he pulls out. You feel him spilling onto your back, painting the soft skin with ropes of thick, hot cum. His head drops back to your shoulder, and he stills, panting, arched above your still twitching form.

            After what feels like ages of comfortable silence, he finally presses a kiss to your neck, tongue smoothing the swiftly reddening marks in the unmistakable shape of his teeth.

            “You take me so well, always so good for me,” he whispers against your skin. Pulling his tank over his head, he begins to mop up the puddle of cum on your pack; pressing gentle kisses into your back as he cleans you up, murmuring your praise the whole time. Once he is satisfied that you are taken care of, he tucks himself back into his pants.

            Just as you gather the strength to pull yourself up from the floor, the door to the gym opens. Your eyes go wide as they meet with Geo’s and you squeal, hands moving to cover your chest.

            “What the fuck?” He asks, his face going red and a hand shooting up to cover his eyes. Scar whips his head around to glare at the unfortunate man. “Are you kidding me? You’re… here?” His voice is about two octaves higher than normal.

            “Get out,” Scar growls and you fight the urge to slap him. The two of you are so obviously in the wrong here it hurts. You wriggle your pants over your hips and hop to your feet.

            “Don’t. We’re leaving,” you grab Scar by the hand and march out of the room, too horrified to look Geo in the eyes. He mumbles something at the two of you but you’re already halfway down the hallway.

            “Fucking asshole,” Scar mutters, his cum-soaked shirt balled in one fist. You wheel around on your heels to glare up at him.

            “We were the problem there,” you retort, a hand going to your hip.

            “He coulda knocked.”

            “We were fucking in the gym! What were we thinking?” You run an exasperated hand down your face, “What the hell are you doing to me, Scar?” He looks hurt for a moment, brow furrowing in concern. You roll your eyes and press a finger into his bare chest, “I am not the kinda girl that fucks people in public, and yet you have turned me into this horny…” you search for the right word, “monster!”

            His worried expression cracks into a smug grin, “You’re the one that ran to the gym. We coulda stayed in the workshop.”

            You let out an exasperated noise, “And have Ekko walk in on us? No fucking way. Geo is one thing, but him? I’d rather die!”

            He shrugs shamelessly, “Guess we can just go back to your room then.”

            Your eyes widen as you shoot him a dubious look, “Back…more?”

            His smile is all sharp teeth as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, a hand resting on your ass, and takes off towards your quarters, “You thought we were done? I’m just gettin started, Kir.”      

Tag List: @kiannaf @awenthealchemist @calciferthelivingfire @bakugokatsuki18-blog @ariwolfsstuff @mcaats  @radflapkidsludge @honeym0chi @veggiesoupdumpling @vicki--mouse  @im-jasmine @bearinthesnow

[littlespacereader]

Merry Christmas!!💚❤️🎅🎄🎁

Happy Holidays everyone! Thank you to everyone who voted on the Christmas fic idea. I really hope you enjoy this fic! I wrote a lot more than I was expecting but I couldn’t stop myself, I truly fell in love with writing this story! Thank you for an amazing year! I hope you, your friends, family and loved ones have a great holiday season! - Clara💞

Blues Clues Christmas💙🐾

Caregiver! Steve Burns & GN Little! Reader (SFW!)

Tags- Christmas fluff, hand holding, being picked up, forehead kisses, searching for clues, dog licks, and typical blues clues fluff!

My eyes start to flutter open to a frosty Christmas Eve morning. Wait… ITS CHRISTMAS EVE!!! I jump up and look outside and it’s still snowing!!!

I turn and shake Steve to wake up, “Steve!! Steve!! It’s Christmas Eve!!”

I hear him chuckling before he stretches, starting to wake up. “Someone’s excited for Christmas.”

“I am! I can’t wait to-.” I’m interrupted by Blue, jumping into the bed and licking my face. “Blue! Good morning! Merry Christmas Eve!”

Blue smiles to me and barks, just as excited for the day ahead. I hold her in my arms, turning as we look to a disheveled Steve sits up in bed.

“You two are wide awake,” he chuckles, “Come on you rascals. Let’s get some Christmas Eve breakfast.”

Blue jumps from my arms and heads towards the kitchen. But before Steve and I go, he leads me to the bathroom first, “Come on little one, let’s get you changed and ready for the big day.”

With a quick pit stop to the bathroom, brushing our teeth, getting changed into our outfits, we set off to the kitchen hand in hand.

“Bonjour Y/N!” Mr. Salt comes to the edge of the countertop.

“Good morning Steve!” Mrs. Pepper joins him.

“Good morning!” I say to put, taking a seat at the table next to Blue.

Steve grabs a cup of tea for himself and a sippy cup of fruit juice for me. Then we settle in and have a small breakfast together with Blue and the spice family.

“So what’s the plan today Steve?” I ask, eager to get our Christmas Eve started.

“Well,” he put his tea cup down, “I was thinking we could stop by and give out invitations to Christmas, maybe some cooking…”

“Leave the cooking to us.” Mrs. Pepper winked.

“But what about tonight? The night before Christmas?” I ask again.

But this time it’s Blue’s turn. She barks and spins around before putting a blue paw print on the table.

Steve and I gasp. “BLUE’S CLUES!!!”

“That’s a great idea Blue!” Steve smiles, “We’ll play Blues Clues to see what we should do tonight after dinner.”

“So we need to keep our eyes out for three clues!” I cheer from across the table.

“Yes! And I have a very important job for you Y/N.” He reaches into his pocket and takes out his handy dandy notebook. “I want you to be in charge of my notebook today.”

I’m speechless taking the notebook carefully. I stare at it in disbelief, “Y-You want me to hold onto it?”

“Sure! I could use your help today finding all of Blue’s clues. Are you up to the task my little sidekick?” He winks.

“Yes!! Yes!! A million times yes!!” I almost jump from my seat.

“Then let’s starts our adventure!” Steve finishes his tea and I finish my juice before we set out to the living room.

“Alright. Now on top of finding Blue’s clues, we also have to give out our Christmas invitations. We have three stops.”

He holds out the cards, “One is for Magenta, one is for Josh, and one is for Joe. We’ll need to make sure we stop at everyone’s house so they know they’re invited tomorrow. I’ll have you be in change of holding onto the cards.”

He hands me them and I look at the cards in awe, “You want me to be in charge of the cards too?”

“Of course! I know you can do it! But if you’re feeling overwhelmed or like it’s too much responsibility, you let me know okay?” He reassures.

“I will but, I’ve got it.” I smile back to him.

“I knew I could trust you! Now, let’s head out.” He goes to open the door but I stop him smiling, “Steve wait.”

“What’s wrong little one?”

“We need our coats, hats and gloves.”

With a small gasp he nods, “You’re so right. How could I be so silly? You’re so smart!” He praises. “Let’s get our winter gear.”

“First we’ll put on our coat…” he puts on his green stripped coat that matches his usual shirt. He turns and grabs my coat, helping me put each arm in the sleeves, then zipping it right up.

“Great. Next we’ll put on our hats…” he grabs his green hat and puts it on, then does the same for me. “Comfy?” He asks getting a nod from me.

“Finally we’ll put on our mittens.” A green pair for him of course, then a pair for me. “Let me see their hands.” He waves his hands up like crazy, I giggle and follow suit.

“Alright! Looks like we’re all set. But first, do we need anything else before we leave? A snack, a quick trip to the bathroom?”

I pause, thinking it over. “Bathroom?” I say shy.

“Good idea. Let’s make a quick stop before we go.” He takes my mitten hand in his mitten hand, heading back to our bed room. After taking care of business, we’re right back to it!

“Okay! Are you all set? Ready for our Christmas Adventure?” He smiles.

“Yes! Let’s find out what Blue wants to do tonight after dinner!” I squeeze his hand.

“Great! Let’s go!”

~~~

We step outside to our frosty front yard. It snowed a few days ago and everything still looked so beautiful, like a winter wonderland.

We leave our little yellow house and start walking down the street, saying hi to those who pass us. I stick close to Steve, holding his hand as we approach our first stop, Magenta’s house.

“Would you like to ring the bell or would you like me too?” He ask, looking over to me.

“Can you?”

“Of course I can.” He leans forward ringing the bell. We wait maybe a minute before Magenta runs to the door and right over to us.

“Magenta!! So good to see you!” I giggle as she jumps up and licks Steve and I.

We follow after her into the house and find Blue sitting at a coloring table with Magenta. “Oh hi Blue!”

Blue smiles and barks back, but then I see it.

“STEVE! A clue! A clue!!!”

“I know Magenta really flew!”

“No!” I giggle shaking my head to Steve, “A clue!” I point to the blue paw print on the piece of paper.

He gasps. “A clue!! Great job Y/N!! You found our first clue! But…what is it?”

“It’s paper Steve.” I giggle some more. He’s so silly sometimes.

“Ah! You’re so right, it is paper. You know what this means, we need our Handy Dandy…”

“Notebook!” I hold it out for him.

“Notebook! That’s right. Thank you sweet one.”

He takes the notebook, pushing the crayon through the top and flipping to a new page.

“So our first clue is paper. We start by drawing a straight line at the top, then a line down, then another line at the bottom and one up to connect at the top. There, paper!”

He stops and thinks looking over to me, “But what could Blue want to do after dinner tonight with paper?”

“Maybe she wants to draw some more?” I offer.

“Maybe…but we better find more clues to make sure.” We nod together.

“Here,” he hands me the notebook again, “for safe keeping.”

I turn and put the notebook back in my pocket. But then I remember our second mission!

“Magenta!” I grab the invitation from my backpack and hand it to her, “You’re invited over for Christmas tomorrow!”

Magenta lights up running around and barking. She runs over to me and licks me as a thank you. “Oh! You’re welcome! I can’t wait to see you tomorrow!” I smile back.

“Alright! You two have fun! We have more invitations to send out!” Steve holds his hand out to me which I gladly take. Together we wave goodbye to Magenta and Blue before leaving.

Then we’re back to it, making our way down the street to the next house. “Uncle Josh!!”

“Yeah! Next is Uncle Josh! I’m sure he’ll very excited to come over.”

We walk up the steps to the blue house which belongs to Josh. “Would you like to do the honors this time?” Steve asks and I quickly nod, reaching forward and ringing the bell.

Soon Josh arrives at the door, his face lighting up to see is. “Y/N! Steve! What a wonderful surprise!”

“Uncle Josh!” I run forward and give him the biggest hug.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!!” He wraps his arms around me, hugging me just as tightly. With a kiss to my forehead, we break apart.

I stick close to him, resting against his side. He notices this and wraps an arm around me. “So what brings you two here?”

“We’re looking for Blue’s Clues!” Steve replied.

Josh gasp, “Special Christmas Eve Blue’s Clues! This must really be important!”

“Have you see any around?” I ask.

“Not that I know of but-.” He looks around, “maybe another set of eyes could help!”

He takes my hand in his, leading me into his living room with Steve following behind.

“Actually I could use the two of yours help.” Papers laid all over his living room.

“You see, there was a mistake at the print shop and now all of my stories are messed up. Can you help me tell which is the real story.”

“Yeah!” I bounce beside him.

Josh smiles, squeezing my hand, “Great! Okay here’s the first one. Is it Little Bo-Peep lost her sheep or her cows?”

Steve and I think for a moment. Then it hits me, “It’s her sheep!”

“Ohhhhh.” Josh and Steve say in unison. “You’re right! It is her sheep!”

Josh smiles back, “Good job Y/N!” He puts the paper in a pile. “Okay here’s the next one, Little blue or red ridding hood?”

Again, we all stop and take a moment to think. “Red or blue…red or blue…” Steve says to himself.

“Red!” I chime in.

The two again, look in awe of me. “You’re right! It’s Little Red Riding Hood. Amazing Job!” Josh praises some more, putting the paper in the pile.

“Alright! Last one, Old MacDonald had a mansion or a farm?” Josh reads the papers.

Again, we all take our time to think it over.

“I’ve got this one!” Steve chimes in, “But…just to be sure, what do you think Y/N?”

“I think it’s a farm!”

“I think so too!” Steve cheers on.

“Great job you guy!! You helped me put my stories back together!”

I cheer us on but then pause as my eyes hit upon Josh’s pile of stories. He must’ve seen it at the same time as me because Josh and I turn and look at each other at the same time.

“A clue!!” We say in unison.

“A clue?! Where?” Steve leans over.

“On the stack of stories.” Josh points out.

“So our next clue is a story…” I think.

“You know what this means, we need our Handy…Dandy….” Steve smirks.

“Notebook!!” I hold it up.

“Wow!! Steve let you hold his notebook! He must really trust you Y/N! What a big honor!” Josh praises me making me blush.

“Thank you.” I smile, handing the notebook to Steve.

He takes the crayon out and flips to the next page. “So our next clue is…stories. We’ll make a square with some squiggly lines in the center for writings. Then we’ll repeat this on the other side so we have two pages. There! A story!”

Steve lifts his head and looks to Josh and I. “But what could Blue want to do tonight after dinner with paper and a story?”

The three of us sit and think for a minute. “Oh!” Josh suddenly says “Maybe she wants to make her own stories!”

“Ohhhhhh.” Steve and I say in unison.

“But we better find the last clue, just to be sure.” I remind them as Steve hands me his notebook back.

“Definitely!” Josh smiles.

Mail time! Mail time! MAAAAAAIIIIILLLLLL TTTTIIIIIIMMMMEEEEE!

Steve and I gasp! “The mail is here!!”

Before we run out the door I stop, grabbing my backpack and pulling out Josh’s invitation. “Here Josh! It’s your invitation to Christmas tomorrow at our house.”

“Really?! I’d love to go! I’ll see you then Y/N.” With one last hug from Josh, I’m sent off with Steve back home for the mail!

We put our stuff down by the front door as Steve starts to sing, “Here’s the mail, it never fails, it makes want to wag my tail, when it comes I wanna wail, mmmmaaaaiiilll!!!”

I giggle, joining Steve on the mmmaaaiiilll part.

We take out seats on the thinking chair. Steve in the center of the chair while I sit on the arm. Mailbox comes in through the window with a Christmas hat on.

“Mail’s here! Mail’s here!!” He happily cheers.

“I thought the post office is closed on holidays?” I ask Mailbox.

“It is! That’s very smart of you Y/N. The post office is closed on major holidays, but this arrived this morning for the two of you.” He opens up and inside of a red and green letter.

“We just got a letter, we just got a letter, we just got a letter, wonder who it’s from.” Steve smiles, opening the letter. He pauses and gasps, looking at me. “It’s from Santa.”

My eyes widen and I gasp as well, “SANTA?!”

“Yes! It says:

Dear Steve, Blue and Y/N,

You’ve all been very good this year. I look for to visiting your house tonight. Make sure not to stay up too late and please leave out some milk and cookies if you can.

Sincerely yours,

Santa Claus❤️”

I beam with excitement. “Santa’s coming tonight!!!!”

“Yes he is! We need to figure out what Blue wants to do tonight so we get to bed at a good hour and don’t accidentally see Santa Claus.”

Just as Steve says that Blue runs by. “Follow that dog!” I giggle, grabbing my backpack by the door and running after her.

“Wait up Y/N!” Steve calls after me.

Blue stops in front of a picture of Joe’s present shop. She barks a cute little song before she…goes into the picture?!?! I stare in disbelief.

“Where’s Blue?” Steve asks catching up.

“She…she’s in the picture.”

“Ohhhh she skidooed into the photo.”

“Skidoo?”

“Yeah! We can do it too! All you have to do is rock your leg and arms with me. Ready?” I nod following his lead.

“Blue skidooed we can too!” Suddenly we shrink and go into the picture frame!! Where once we were in our house, now we’re in the picture, or more specifically, outside Uncle Joe’s present shop.

“Wow!!” I smile to Steve, “That was awesome!”

“Isn’t it?” He smiles back. We turn and look to the present shop. “It’s my brother Joe’s present shop!”

“He’s the last invitation we need to hand out!”

“You’re right! Let’s head in and see what he’s up to.”

Inside the present shop was busy! Presents being wrapped and sent in all sorts of directions. Joe usually helps Santa out with the wrapping this time of year and it seems like this year was no different!

There, in the center of it all is Joe, making sure everything is in working order.

“Uncle Joe!!” I run into the shop and right over to him.

He immediately lights up seeing me, opening his arms and holding me in a tight hug. “Y/N!! Sweetheart!! It’s so good to see you!!”

He lifts me into his arms, holding me on his hip. “What brings you here today?”

“Well we’re on the hunt for Blue’s Clues.” Steve says as he joins us.

“Special Christmas Eve Blue’s Clues huh? What have you got so far?”

“We’ve got paper and stories.”

“Paper and stories…” Joe starts to think, “Now I wouldn’t want to say anything until you have the third clue, but…have you thought about maybe Blue want to make her own stories?”

“That’s what Uncle Josh said!”

“Really? So he copying me now?” Joe smirks.

“You’re copying him silly!” I giggle.

“Am I now? Am I?” He spins me around making me giggle more.

“How are the presents coming by?” Steve asks.

“Everything is going according to schedule. Santa should be ready to head out as soon as tonight!”

Suddenly my eyes catches something, I look closer and it’s….

“A clue!! A clue!!”

“A clue?!” Josh and Steve say in unison. “Where?”

“There!” I point to the square box cutter. “It’s a clue!!”

The two gasp, “You’re right Y/N! It’s one of Blue’s clues!! Good eye.” Joe praises

“The final clue is a square!” Steve examines the clue.

“Notebook!” I hold it out to Steve.

“Our handy dandy notebook! Thank you Y/N.”

“You’re holding Steve’s notebook? That’s such a big honor. Steve must really trust you.” He praises.

I beam with happiness, “Yeah! It’s a big honor.”

“So, the shape of a square. We’ll make one line at the top and equal size lines going down the sides and one at the bottom. There, a square.” Steve explains, showing the two of us the drawing.

“It’s our last clue!!” I cheer.

“Our last clue?! You know that that means, it’s time for our thinking chair!!” Steve cheers.

Joe sets be back down but before Steve and I go I stop and grab my backpack. “Uncle Joe! I almost forgot!”

I hand him the invitation, “You’re in over for Christmas tomorrow!”

“I am!” He looks at the invitation, “I’d be honored. I’ll see you tomorrow kiddo.”

I take Steve’s hand and wave goodbye to Joe. Once out of his present shop we skidoo back to our house. Then it’s off to the thinking chair!

Steve and I sit in our thinking chair. I hand him the notebook and we start to go over our clues. “So now that we’re in our thinking chair, let’s think. What does Blue want to do tonight after dinner? What was the first clue?”

“Paper!”

“That’s right! We saw the clue at Magenta’s house. But…what was the second clue?”

“Stories!”

“Yes! We saw the stack of stories at Josh’s house.”

“And the final clue is a square at Uncle Joe’s present shop.”

“So, what does Blue want to do tonight after dinner with paper, stories and a square?”

We sit and think…and think…

“What if…” Steve starts out saying, “she wants to write Christmas cards and put them in a box?”

“But then what would be the clue about stories?”

“Right…you’re so right….” Steve goes back to thinking.

There’s a moment of silence as the two of us think. Blue runs over and joins us as we think and think.

“I’ve got it!!” I suddenly say. Steve and Blue look to me. “She want to read a storybook after dinner! That would explain the paper as pages, the stories in the book and the square shape is the book itself!”

Steve lights up with the realization. We look to Blue who barks and spins around with conformation.

“You did it Y/N! You figure out Blue’s Clues!” He wraps his arms around me and picks me up, bringing me into a tight hug. “You are so incredibly smart! I am so proud of you Little one.”

I giggle and hold him close. “Couldn’t have done it without you Steve.”

“Aw! You’re sweet but I think the smartie here is you.” He smiles back, holding me in his arms.

“Steve! Y/N! Dinner is ready!” Mrs. Pepper calls from the kitchen.

“Oh! It’s dinner time! Come on, let’s go.” Steve carries me into the kitchen where everyone is seated at the big table for Christmas Eve dinner. Everyone is there, side table, slippery soap, the whole spice family, even mailbox.

We all have a nice tasty dinner together. Laughing and having fun with friends and family around.

Then like Blue ask, we all gather in the living room together. First we set out some milk and cookies for Santa along with some carrots for the reindeer.

Steve and I cuddle close together on the couch, Blue in my lap and a Christmas book in his hand. With his arm wrapped around me he begins to read, “‘Twas the night before Christmas…”

Somewhere in the story I fall asleep against Steve. With a kiss to my forehead, he picks me up and brings me into the bedroom.

~~~

It’s Christmas morning!!! I jump awake and shake Steve to wake up. “It’s Christmas morning!! Santa came!!”

Steve laughs and yawns waking up. “Good morning Little one, merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Steve.” I smile back.

Blue jumps up into the bed and licks the two of us. I giggle, “And merry Christmas to you too Blue!”

We get out of bed and go right to the tree. True to Santa’s letter, we have plenty of presents under the tree!! I gasp, grabbing Steve’s when pulling him along to the tree.

The morning is spent unwrapping and exchanging gifts with everyone in the house. Then company comes over right after. First Magenta runs in and plays with Blue.

Then Josh and Joe come over. “Where’s my favorite Little?” Joe calls from the door. I come run over and reunite with my uncles. “Y/N! Thank you for inviting us!” Josh adds, the two smiling.

The rest of Christmas Day is peacefully and fun. Spent with loved ones and family alike.

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.” Steve wraps his arm around me, kissing my forehead. Blue jumps up and kisses the two of us, ending the best Christmas ever!

[ashyjingles]

Jason Grace and Cicero Parallels

(And Octavian and Catiline Parallels)

Okay so this is the start of me. Blogging my research experience I guess? I’m looking into Roman history starting with SPQR – A History of Ancient Rome by Mary Beard. It’s for my fic of Jason’s life at Camp Jupiter pre-swap (from the Heroes of Olympus Series by Rick Riordan) but also for fun. And depending on how much I talk about Jason this may or may not be comprehensible even without any knowledge of that.

I figured going chapter by chapter would help me organize my thoughts the best so I dont forget everything I wrote down by the end of the book. I mean like I have an abysmal amount of sticky notes in the book itself already but doing it this way will also keep my motivated I think

I’ll try my best to make this comprehensible in case anyone wants to follow along, but I think most of this is going to be for myself lol so I don’t have to reread the entire book for a single piece of information (hopefully)

The prologue was just a mention on how the book will be centered on the history of the city of Rome and Roman Italy because getting into the history of Roman everywhere is a bit too big of a project for one book (page 18). and I agree because SPQR is already over 500 pages already lmao

The other thing the prologue mentioned that I noted down was that SPQR is the acronym for “Senatus PopulusQue Romanus,” which means “The Senate and People of Rome.” (page 16)

Chapter 1 is titled Cicero’s Finest Hour and takes place in 63 BCE (Before Common Era). Despite Rome being founded seven centuries earlier, the Romans didn’t start recording their own history until the events of this year. As Beard put it, “Roman history, as we know it, started here,” (page 23) and is the reason she chose to start her book with the events of this year.

To summarize, Catiline (Sometimes Catilina) was a bankrupt aristocrat who tried running for one of two consuls which were the highest political positions in the city (This was before any emperors came along). He came from a distinguished old family who had a successful earlier career but was close to bankruptcy in 43 BCE and was dealing with a failing reputation. He advocated for debt relief which was “one of the most despicable forms of radicalism in the eyes of the Roman landed classes” (page 28). 

Cicero came from a wealthy family as well, but it was outside Rome and thus he was considered a ‘new man’ without any political experience in the city which was looked down on. His climb to power rested on the shoulders of only his own skills — specifically his skill at speaking to a crowd. It won him the election of 63 BCE.

Some time after the election, Cicero got wind of a plot of Catiline’s to burn down Rome. Catiline was also building an army outside of the city. Cicero called a meeting in front of the senate and gave a famous speech that he later wrote down and spread copies of. Catiline then left town after the defeat in front of the Senate. Cicero continued to try and expose everyone left in the operation and succeeded because the conspirators had tried working with a group of Ghauls “who had come to Rome to complain about their exploitation at the hands of Roman provincial governors” (page 34) and provided names of everyone involved.

Cicero rounded up everyone that had evidence against them and without giving them a trial, executed them all. “Triumphantly, he announced their deaths to the cheering crowd in a famous one-word euphemism: vixere, ‘they have lived’ — that is, ‘they’re dead’.” (page 35) Eventually Catiline’s forces were defeated with Catiline on the front line. Cicero had many supporters after this defeat of terrorism, but soon his previous act of executing citizens without trial got him run out of town. He spent some time in North Greece before he came back to Rome, and his career never fully recovered.

Okay. Now I’m here to talk about Jason and how I think he and Octavian (and Reyna) parallel Cicero and Catiline because it was literally ALL I could think about while reading this chapter.

Like Catiline, Octavian comes from a long lineage of reputable people, whether politicians or soldiers or prophets, with him being a distant ancestor to Apollo. While he isn’t at risk of going bankrupt, he does have a certain want for power that leads to him vying for the position of praetor so much that in Heroes of Olympus he repeatedly seems hostile toward Reyna. (And Percy, but given his sudden appearance, greek vibe, and Percy’s own distrust of Octavian, I wouldn't say it’s unwarranted. Plus, at this point, Octavian had already been preparing to aim for the position of praetor now that Jason was gone.) Because we never really saw him interact with Jason, I can’t say anything about his canon relationship with him. So far, Octavian parallels Catiline in his aim for power.

Catiline attempts to stage Cicero’s assassination, but it’s unsuccessful. While it’s not entirely confirmed, what Frank points out leads the audience to believe that it was Octavian that tried killing Gwen. 

Then he noticed the marks engraved into the wooden shaft of the pilum: CHT I LEGIO XII F. The weapon belonged to the First Cohort, and the point was sticking through the front of her armour. Gwen had been speared from behind — possibly after the game had ended.  Frank scanned the crowd for Octavian. The centurion was watching with more interest than concern, as if he were examining one of his stupid gutted teddy bears. He didn’t have a pilum. – Page 142, The Son of Neptune

Of course, with the doors of death being opened she lived, but both instances were an attack on a Roman from a Roman. Catiline also turns to an outside source like the Ghauls, while Octavian turns to outside sources like monsters. The monsters don’t act as a double agent toward a character playing Cicero, but they are double agents and end up being on Gaea’s side. Granted, Octavian’s enemy at that point were the Greeks, not his fellow Romans.

While this is a much looser parallel, Catiline was run out of town and killed on the front lines of the army he amassed. Octavian died in the catapults in the battle on Camp Half-Blood after being ridiculed by the protagonists. Is this a strong enough parallel for me to heavily consider it? No, but it crossed my mind and given his previous parallels to Catiline I thought it was at least mentionable.

Jason, to me, parallels Cicero. His dad is Jupiter, so while similarly to Cicero he has the background for the positions he fills, he doesn’t quite have as much experience as other candidates. Of course, he was brought to Camp Jupiter incredibly young and started building skills just as early as Octavian, but for the sake of the parallels, just go with me here. 

While Cicero relies solely on his speech skills, Jason is clearly a formidable fighter. We don’t have many instances of him using his verbal prowess, but I think that to be as good of a praetor he seems to be described as, it wouldn’t be nonexistent. Plus, while facing off against large threats such as that one giant in The Lost Hero, he has an entire speech ready on the tip of his tongue without him even having to do much to remember it. 

“I'm the son of Jupiter, I'm a child of Rome, consul to demigods, praetor of the First Legion. I slew the Trojan sea monster, I toppled the black throne of Kronos, and destroyed Titan Krios with my own hand. And now I'm going to destroy you Porphyrion, and feed you to your own wolves."  – Page 510 of The Lost Hero

While this isn’t a political speech, the rest of his lines throughout the series give his words a bit of a sophisticated feel, especially in comparison to Leo’s comedic feel. Considering he grew up in Camp Jupiter from an early age and was probably taught Cicero’s works just like many people in later years (until even now) used his works in various classes from learning Latin to studying the rhetorics of speech. Jason would have most likely seen his works growing up in various settings, so I wouldn’t think it too far-fetched to say that he probably modelled his own speeches around Cicero’s. (This is something I would like to incorporate in my fic, so if anyone has any good recommendations for specific pieces/books/sources of his speeches to read I’m open!)

While this is a sillier and much looser parallel, they both turn to either Greece or Greek culture. Cicero flees to North Greece after he’s shunned for executing citizens without trial, and while it is nowhere near the same magnitude of villainy, Jason leans toward Greek culture after his amnesia-drenched months spent at Camp Half-Blood and is shunned for becoming ‘too Greek’ along with the Argo II bombing New Rome and him going to the old lands. He does return to Camp Jupiter though as Pontifex Maximus after giving up his title as praetor to Frank when the zombies spawned by Diocletian's Scepter deem him too ‘Un-Roman’ to command them. Cicero does the same and returns to Rome a year after his exile, but while Jason flourishes (for however short of a while) his career never quite recovers.

Now, I mentioned Reyna as another Cicero parallel, did I not? Her family was long established with and favoured by Bellona, though she and her sister were her first children to be born into her line. Unlike Cicero, she had the experience and background.

However, Octavian rivals with her much throughout the series. It’s her orders he defies, it's her he tries to overthrow, and they don’t have a very friendly relationship overall no matter how professional they manage to act with each other. Her quotes speak to her eloquence (pun intended) and her ‘step too far’ as Cicero was travelling to old land against rules and counsel. Granted, I think her parallels are not as strong as Jason’s, but I think combined, she and Jason make a good Cicero parallel to rival Octavian’s Catiline.

Between all of these, I wonder if these parallels are intentional on Riordan’s part. We know that he’s used parallels before, given all of the original quests in the PJO series that Percy goes on and Silena and Clarisse’s explicit parallels to Achilles and Patroclus. It is also entirely possible I’m just reading into it too much.

Of course, there could be plenty of other parallels to myths that could fit better. I just haven’t gotten there yet. But this is the one I’m noticing now, and it’s strong enough that regardless of whether it seems to be intentional in the books, it’s one I think I’m going to be including in my fic. Foreshadowing Octavian’s plans in HoO by paralleling him and Jason/Reyna to Catiline and Cicero is something I’m really interested in doing tbh. 

If anyone’s still with me, thoughts? I’m choosing to post this to share my ideas and possibly receive some discussion on them, so feel free to support or debate any of them lol, whether it’s a small detail or the topic itself entirely. I still need to reread HoO for this project, and I’ve also never really shown this much of an interest in history so this is a little new to me lol.

For future posts regarding my thoughts on this book I'll be using the '#SPQR' tag. Anything for the fic but not specific to the book will use '#SPQR fic' just for some sense of separation. I'll also link posts for future chapters on this post so their easier to find.

[phattiepheeder]

The holidays are the best and worst time for a gainer/feedee. I don’t have a feeder but I’ve been letting loose and having my own proper stuffings—sometimes twice a day. In the past month I’ve put on 14lbs and I can not longer fit my jeans over my thick thighs, let alone squeeze that button closed over my big belly. But I love food and eating and feeling full.

The only thing is that my diet is so unhealthy: laden with carbs and fatty food. So many cakes and cookies and breads and meats and cheeses that I’ve been bingeing on. But I haven’t been having enough fiber, if you know what I mean…

I have not gone to the bathroom in three days. My bowels are clogged with a huge amount of hard constipated shit. The first day was fine, but the morning after I felt so swollen and lethargic. I figured maybe that heavy food needed a bit more time to move down to my exit. But then the second day came…and the third…

After every stuffing, I’d get more and more full. I had hoped maybe if I ate something greasy and fried, it’d lube up my guts and I’d be able to go, but I tried that and it just gave me a massive gurgling belly ache. After every meal, I’d sneak off to the bathroom and heave until my hole was bulging and my brow was covered in sweat, trying desperately to relieve some of this filth in my bowels.

I have Christmas dinner tonight, and I already know everyone is gonna expect me to have a big helping of everyone’s dishes. I’m dreading how full I’m gonna be, considering I’m already overpacked. I’m gonna take some psyllium husk before going and hope that I can still eat at least three plates.

I also have such bad gas from all that rotting food, and it smells horrible. Idk if I’ll be able to clench my asshole without letting any farts out at the party without giving myself a horrible belly ache since that’s the only thing relieving pressure right now. Every time I need my poor swollen belly , I leak a large amount of rumbling gas.

Maybe my New Year’s resolution should be to eat more vegetables so I can have daily bowel movements. I’m such a fat stuffed hog, and I keep paying for my gluttony. Hoping to empty some of this stuffing soon.

[mystwrites]

Snowed In (Squealing Santa 2k24)

Summary: Akutagawa doesn’t have fond memories of snow, but luckily for him, Atsushi is there to remind him that being snowed in isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

A/N: @squealing-santa gift for mango!anon!🥭💞i really hope you enjoy this fic w/atsushi cheering akutagawa up. also, i had a drawing from months back so here’s a little addition to your gift!😁

Much to the shock of everyone in Yokohama, there was a rather nasty snow storm that had rolled in. For the past few days, it’s been snowing hard, resulting in everyone being confined indoors. Most loved it, Atsushi even expressed his happiness with being locked indoors with Akutagawa until the storm blew over but Akutagawa didn’t necessarily share the same sentiment.

He wasn’t against spending time with Atsushi. He loved being around his boyfriend. The problem was the snow. First of all, there was way too much snow, keeping everyone indoors. Akutagawa had wanted to go out and do some last minute shopping but the weather had other plans.

Secondly, Akutagawa hated the snow, specifically heavy snow storms. It reminded him of living life in the slums as a child who was ignored when he was seen begging for scraps of food or digging in the ground for roots and bugs to munch on. It was a horrible reminder of how he was one insignificant person out of a billion people on this planet.

Deciding that his day was ruined in more ways than one, Akutagawa flopped onto the couch, grumbling to himself as he buried his face into the cushion. When he heard Atsushi ask if he was okay, his mumbling stopped and he huffed in annoyance, choosing to ignore his boyfriend who innocently just wanted to know if he was okay. A part of Akutagawa felt horribly guilty, remembering that he vowed to work on his horrendous communication skills but his pride kept him from giving in and giving Atsushi a decent apology.

Much to his shock however, Atsushi drew the curtains closed and sat next to Akutagawa in silence, moving his feet so they could sit together. This prompted Akutagawa to sit up and switch his position, his head now replacing where his feet previously where. As a hand gently ran through his hair, Akutagawa sighed, wishing that Atsushi would do something in an attempt to make him turn off his brain for a few minutes.

“Ryuu, I know you might not be in the mood,” Atsushi began, gently running his fingers through Akutagawa’s hair. “But can I attempt to make you feel better?”

As if the gods answered him, Akutagawa nodded, deciding that he didn’t care what Atsushi did. As long as it meant he could forget about the snow storm and his past involving snow storms, he would be fine with it.

“Also, do you mind telling me what’s bothering you?” Atsushi gently ran his thumbs along Akutagawa’s cheeks, the mafioso sighing with content at the sensations.

“I’d prefer not to delve into my past, Weretiger.” he replied, closing his eyes as Atsushi began to stroke his hair again. “Maybe once I’m feeling better, I’ll confide in you.”

“That’s fair.” Atsushi then playfully tried to pull his lips upwards into a smile. “Can I at least see you smile?”

“No.” Akutagawa said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t feel like smiling, Weretiger.”

The touches on his head ceased and Akutagawa whined at the loss of touch. He loved whenever Atsushi played with his hair. However, he jumped in shock when he felt fingers tickling the sides of his neck.

“That’s okay, I’ll just make you smile myself!~” Atsushi giggled, now tickling his lover with gentle scribbles. “We both know you’re starting to enjoy receiving tickles!~”

Akutagawa swatted Atsushi away, ready to yell at him and tell him to screw off, but deep down, he knew Atsushi was right. Ever since Atsushi grew brave enough to tickle him, Akutagawa slowly realized that being tickled wasn’t so bad, it just depended on who did it and how it was done.

He also remembered his tickling seemed to cheer Atsushi up every single time he witnessed him down in the dumps. Maybe it would work for him as well and maybe…just maybe Akutagawa wanted to laugh and be at Atsushi’s mercy for once. Maybe he just wanted to forget about his past and have fun with his favorite person.

“Wow! You normally never let me tickle you!” Atsushi giggled, tickling the sweet spot below Akutagawa’s chin, receiving a sweet giggle. “May I keep going?”

Sighing as his neck was left alone, Akutagawa was about to nod but froze. He suddenly felt really shy. Deciding to make Atsushi work, he got up and bolted, heading to the bedroom.

Atsushi gave chase, easily catching up and grabbing Akutagawa around the middle. Together, they went crashing down onto the bed, both young men giggling as they fought for the upper hand. Eventually, Atsushi won, sitting beside Akutagawa and holding his shoulders down to the bed.

“Y-you have my permission.” he finally said, cheeks flushing as Atsushi gave him three more kisses. “But I’ll admit, it’s pretty difficult to make me laugh out loud, especially when I’m not in a good mood. Are you up for the challenge?”

A grin formed on Atsushi’s face. “Oh, I’m up for it alright! Prepare yourself because you are gonna start laughing in no time!~”

The tickling started on Akutagawa’s stomach, the sensations very gentle compared to the tickling Akutagawa normally gives Atsushi. It felt nice though, the touches threatening to make him giggle, yet we’re quite tolerable, nearly relaxing depending on where Atsushi tickled. As Atsushi’s fingers danced along his waist, Akutagawa squirmed a little more, his cheeks heating up as he pursed his lips together. His waist was more ticklish than his stomach, that’s for sure.

Now things were becoming difficult. Akutagawa was more sensitive around his hips than his waist, the light tickles on his hipbones threatening to make him laugh. Atsushi seemed to sense this as well and surprised Akutagawa by squeezing at the squishy flesh just below his ribs.

Shaking his head, Akutagawa rolled to the side and tried to curl up, his face now plastered with a huge smile. Willing himself to not laugh was even more difficult now, Atsushi tickling at his more ticklish spots. The tickles under his ribs now changed to his thighs, Akutagawa weakly squirming and finally dissolving into soft fits of giggles that became louder as Atsushi squeezed the spot above his knees.

“Aahahahahaaa!! Nohoho!!” Akutagawa cried, reaching out to grab the tickling hands. “Nohohot thehehere!!”

“Aww! I found a tickle spot!~” Atsushi cooed, laughing as Akutagawa cackled upon getting his thighs squeezed. “Ryuu, are you boy crazy? If you’re ticklish here it means you’re boy crazy!”

“I-I’m nohohot!!” Akutagawa protested, slapping Atsushi’s hands away with a squeal. “Dohohon’t tehehease mehehe like that!!”

“But it must be true if you’re laughing this much! Or maybe you’re crazy for me?~” Atsushi got off briefly and resorted to lying against Akutagawa, grabbing a foot and gently scribbling. “See? Look, you’re laughing so much!~”

Akutagawa’s feet kicked out and he started to scramble for purchase, doing his best to squirm away from Atsushi. He was getting too ticklish to stay still, laughing harder with each passing second as Atsushi kept tickling his feet.

“Ihihi’m gohohonna…AAAHHAHA!! K-kihihill you…NOOHOHO!!!” Akutagawa rolled onto his side and kicked out, unsure if he wanted to kick Atsushi in the face or let him keep going. In the end, he resorted to allowing Atsushi to keep going.

It all became even worse, Akutagawa arching his back with a howl as he felt Atsushi lie on top of him and lift up one arm, threatening to tickle his armpit. Knowing he was screwed if Atsushi tickled there, he used his free hand to protect himself, pushing Atsushi’s hand away each time it drew near.

“Come on, Ryuu.~” Atsushi sang, laughing as Akutagawa refused. “Come on! Let me tickle you here!~”

“Absoluhuhutely nohohot!!” Akutagawa argued, laughing even more as he defended his armpit with his free hand. “Nohohot thehehere!!”

“Where?~”

“My ahaharmpits…WAAHAHAHA!! NO! NOHOHO!! AHAHTSUSHI!!”

Knowing he made a grave error, Akutagawa covered his face with embarrassment. He fell for a trick he normally would’ve used on Atsushi! The weretiger was stealing every trick he had used on him in the past! Now, all Akutagawa could think about were the relentless scribbling fingers tickling his worst spot.

Atsushi dug his fingertips into Akutagawa’s armpits a little more, the mafioso responding by shrieking with laughter and rolling from side to side. Seeing that the squirming became slightly dangerous for him, Atsushi got on top of Akutagawa’s taking a seat on his waist. Unable to stop Atsushi as his arms raised up over his head, Akutagawa let out a snort, practically howling as Atsushi kept tickling him gently but relentlessly.

The tickling became unbearable as Atsushi kept his fingers underneath Akutagawa’s arms. Each scribble left the mafioso in stitches, his face and stomach hurting from laughing so much. As Atsushi suddenly used his thumbs to rub deep circles into Akutagawa’s armpits, the man finally broke, his eyes filling with tears of mirth and his lungs aching for an ounce of oxygen.

This method worked wonders. Akutagawa for a split second had no idea why Atsushi started to tickle him and had no clue as to why he was being so gentle yet so merciless all at once. When he finally did remember, it was only when the tickling became too intense, Atsushi’s fingers staying at the hollows of his armpits for way too long.

“AHAHALRIGHT!!” Akutagawa wheezed, cackling as Atsushi used both hands to tickle his armpits. “IHIHI CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IT!! I SURREHEHENDER!! MERCY!!”

“Are you begging, Ryuu?~” Atsushi teased, alternating between tickling Akutagawa’s lower set of ribs and his armpits. “Are you begging for me to have mercy on you? That’s so unlike you! Am I tickling you good?~”

Akutagawa nodded, snorting and laughing, squealing and screaming as his armpits and flanks got tickled relentlessly. “YEHEHES!! AAAHH! OKAY!! OKAHAHAY!! MEHEHERCY!”

Hearing the plea for the tickling to stop, Atsushi slowed to a stop, but not before he gave Akutagawa’s neck a raspberry, tickling his armpits for good measures. When he was satisfied, Atsushi released him, Akutagawa sighing with relief and satisfaction.

“Breathe for a minute then tell me.” Atsushi said, running his fingers through Akutagawa’s hair. “Take all the time you need.”

After a few minutes, Akutagawa looked into Atsushi’s eyes. “I…I hate snow storms.” he began. “They remind me of the nights I struggled to keep my sister and friends alive…and I always remember how people looked at us, making everyone, especially me feel insignificant.”

Before Akutagawa continued to ramble, Atsushi suddenly pressed their lips together, Akutagawa reciprocating and kissing back with an eagerness neither knew he had. He felt relief from not only explaining what was going on, but knowing Atsushi would never make him feel insignificant.

“You’re the most important person in my life, Ryuu.” Atsushi whispered, kissing Akutagawa’s cheeks as quickly as he could, giggles beginning to spill. “And I’m gonna make sure you know that anytime it snows like this!~”

Akutagawa let out a giggle as Atsushi kissed down his neck, flinching when he felt fingers dancing along his belly. “S-so yohohou’re going to tihihickle me during snohohow storms?”

Everything paused. “Only if you want me to.” Atsushi replied, sitting upright. “If you wish for something else, I won’t tickle you.”

“N-no…I…uhhh…I-I would love it if you tickled me during these moments of insecurity…” Akutagawa stammered, his cheeks now bright red all over again. “It makes m-me feel like you want me…”

“Of course I want you!” Atsushi exclaimed, suddenly pulling Akutagawa’s arms up over his head, forcing his laughter to return. “And I’ll prove it by tickling you from your ears…” Atsushi nibbled on Akutagawa’s earlobes, making him laugh. “All the way to your toes.” Atsushi reached back and gently tickled the underside of his lover’s toes, Akutagawa throwing his head back and howling.

“NOOHOHOHO!!” he laughed, gasping as Atsushi stopped and pinned his wrists out to the side.

“I’ll do that only if you want me to though.” Atsushi said, releasing Akutagawa’s arms to cup his bright red face. “I’ll never tickle you if you don’t wish for me to.”

Akutagawa smiled a genuine smile and knew what he wanted. Atsushi could sense it too and he grinned. “I…I want you to do it.” he admitted.

“Whenever it snows or at any point?”

“Whenever you sense that my past is coming back to haunt me, Atsushi.”

The weretiger smiled at the use of his first name, Akutagawa smiling back at him as they kissed again before Atsushi pulled away and started to leave the bed. Getting up to check outside, Atsushi made his way over to the window and slid the curtains aside.

Despite having been playing around for a while, it was still snowing, the snow falling with more intensity than it had been before. Seeing this, Atsushi rushed back over and grabbed Akutagawa’s ankle, the mafioso letting out a scream as fingers began to dance all over his right foot.

“It’s still snowing rather hard.~” Atsushi said, giving Akutagawa’s ankle a tug and bringing him to the edge of the bed. “Think you can handle more?”

Akutagawa thought about it, but he didn’t want anymore tickling. His lungs would explode. He did smile but shook his head, Atsushi instantly releasing him, but Akutagawa had something else in mind.

“No tickling…but,” he grinned as Atsushi instinctively leaned down upon his shirt being rugged on. “I wouldn’t mind a kiss or two.”

Atsushi giggled and pushed him down, leaning over him. His lips pressed against Akutagawa’s, making the dark haired man sigh. As Atsushi helped him up, he pulled them both back down, Atsushi laughing as he suddenly was launched to the left. Akutagawa grabbed Atsushi and grabbed his sides, making Atsushi burst into laughter instantly.

“N-no! NO, YOU LIHIHIED TO MEEHEHEE!!” Atsushi shrieked, cackling as Akutagawa straddled his waist.

“No, I did receive that kiss I wanted. I just think it’s time for you to reap what you sow.” Akutagawa replied, more than happy to flip those positions for a few minutes.

Despite the howling storm outside, all Akutagawa could hear was Atsushi’s adorable laugh. Maybe being snowed in wasn’t so bad after all and maybe, just maybe his bad memories would slowly be replaced with memories such as having Atsushi tickle him to pieces and him getting his revenge soon after.