#because i can’t stop myself from making new ocs

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt III. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut

word count: 9.9k

summary: the naughtiest of times bring about the greatest of healing.

pinterest board: vapor

warnings: punishment, spanking, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), a little bit of ass play, cum eating, raw sex, multiple orgasms, sex toy included, praise kink, jk smokes:), jk also reveals a past pain:(

note: nawt my best work, but i guess it's alright:( here it is, my loves—the very end to the steam series. i enjoyed indulging myself in this world and i'd like to thank all of you for allowing me to do that. thank you so much for all the love and support. i do all of this for you:) wink wink. this is pure smut and nothing else, and i hope you like this at least a little bit. i love you all so much, pwease give me your feedback, thank you. <3

Jungkook thought brushing his teeth with you in the morning while you wore his boxers and stole one of his white, ribbed tank tops was heaven enough. That was until he couldn’t lay his sleepy gaze off of you when you sat on his balcony with a cigarette between your two fingers and a cup of strong coffee in the other two and your thumb. 

Still can’t. 

He’s never been a morning person. To him, all mornings resembled some kind of hell that you suffer through until afternoon rolls around until you finally awaken. But seeing you like this, delighted, with two of your pleasures… he might become an early bird. Wake up each morning with joy just to see yours. Just to watch you be at complete peace, puffing out the smoke out into the sun-breathed air. 

The weather is a stark contrast to yesterday’s funeral of clouds. Not one is in sight, sun rays envelop the heavens in a golden light that spills through your hair—half done in a messy knot of some sort at the back of your head while wisps of shorter strands frame your face and your neck. He’s given you his spirally hair tie that he wore in his pre-military days. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he told you how long he let his hair grow because he knew shaving his head was inevitable and it served as some kind of strange preparation for him. You brushed your fingers through his hair, then, unbelief painting your face in cutesy colors. As if you tried to feel the long-gone memory of his long tufts of hair that curled at the ends. He was so touched by it—maybe it’s one of the reasons why he can’t stop looking at you now.

It’s dawning on him that you love him. That you’re his. It wasn’t a dream, after all. 

And you’re such a stark image of effortless beauty—even with your puffy eyelids and mouth, with your healthily flushed cheeks. How can he not look at you… he fears if he does, you’ll disappear into the thin air. He can’t afford that, not when he went through so much pain to get to this point. 

This is his reality now. It’s difficult to get used to. He’d never thought he’d get this lucky. Perhaps, heaven does care about him, wants to see him after all, because it blessed him with you, blessed him with freedom that he can indulge in hand in hand with you. 

Jungkook feels an inkling to find a church and kneel at the altar. Thank God for what he’s done for him. Call his dad and tell him that he found Him.

The thought of how happy he’d be fills him with vigor redolent of the last of the summer creeping in. There’s so much of it that Jungkook finds it hard to breathe, his lungs taut with all this joy and love that he feels. 

It seems as though this time he will, in fact, live his life happily. Get rid of his alcoholic habits, drink from the fountain of you instead—make that a brand new habit. Keep his paints. Keep the memory of your features and your sleep-tousled hair engraved deeply in his brain so he can transfer it onto his sketchbook. Eternalize you for generations to come. Clutch those papers tight to his chest when God does take him to heaven once his time comes. 

Happiness. How did he deserve such a thing? 

He sighs, watches you suck the last of your cigarette. The sunlight radiates you with a glow too grand for his eyes to take in and as you breathe out the swirls of smoke, he has to look elsewhere. Your full breasts pebble against his tank top, too stretched out for your small form, and it douses him with liquid tendrils of desire for you. All due to the fact you’re wearing his clothes, that you’re bare underneath them, that your nakedness brought about so much pleasure for him last night—due to the very memory that you didn’t wear your underwear for him because they would get in his way. Fuck, his cock tightens under his joggers, the ones that match those you wore to bed. He hasn’t eaten yet and he thinks you’re the perfect choice of breakfast for the day. 

You put out your cigarette in the ashtray he found for you in the cabinet, left behind by the tenants that lived here before him, and a soft smile curls your slumber-kissed mouth. Your irises flick across the width of his chest, across his crossed forearms and biceps and your smile deepens. You cradle your cup of coffee in both of your hands, slouching in your chair. He’ll never tire of the way it feels to be looked at by you. The tendrils of desire thicken in him, flowing rapidly in his bloodstream. 

“What do you wanna eat for breakfast?” you ask, and there’s something dangerous about your eyes now, mingling with the light and joy, dimming it little by little. He likes it so much, likes your question all the more, that he props his elbows on his knees and hooks his fingers around the back of yours, thumbs fondling the round bones. 

The way his boxers don’t even cover the apex of your thighs, having ridden up so high—he stifles the hiss rising in his throat. They suit you so much he might let you keep them. That is, after he ruins them. 

“You,” he murmurs, smirking, and you grin at him so luminously that the speed of his bloodstream slows down. Suddenly, the movement of your hand as you set your cup down is in slow motion—your fingernails provoking him by lightly scratching down his forearms, too. You study his tattoos as you do it, your gaze darkening fully. 

You root them at the place, where he’s holding you. Palms flat against the back of his hands. Lean closer to him until you nudge your nose against his. The close proximity will always mess him up, no matter what. He feels himself bespangled by your light, by your celestiality, bringing in the heat until it’s all he knows. 

You. 

“What if I want to eat you first?” you whisper, head angling to kiss him on his jawline. Oh, he’s already done for; body charged with electricity all over. Your mouth closes over that bone so, so slowly, your tongue licking over that place in the same tempo, causing the hair on his body to stand up to attention. 

“Eat what?” He laughs through his nose and you take after him—your giggles a warm rumble that sends tingles down his back, even though all his body longs to do is whimper for you. He knows what you meant, but he simply wants to hear you say it. The memory of the way you rubbed your face in such a private part of him, not just once—but twice, floods his brain and he’s so hard for you that it’s unbearable. 

If he doesn’t get his release any time soon, he might combust. 

He’d much rather it happens in your mouth. Like it did in the dressing room last night. Oh, fuck. Those winged fuckers are going at it again in his stomach, bringing about his madness for you. 

“Your nose first, then your dick.” 

It’s now that he lets out that sound—he can’t help it, can’t hold it back. Might need that cigarette of yours, even though he only smokes casually. This is what you do to him. 

And you like that sound. You like it so much that you rise to your feet, only to straddle him. And, leaning back, he pushes you towards him until you’re flush against his body. To make you feel how aroused he is for you, your little pussy sitting against his imprint. At the feeling of it through such a thin barrier, you press your hum over his nose, kissing the ball of it with a sweet, soft giggle. His madness evolves into a frustration again and he wonders at the whole concept of it. Now that he has you all to himself, his sexual need for you tends to be on such a raging base, full of yearning, full of frenzy. So intense, so thunderous, so deafening. The world might break apart, fall upon every head with its destruction, if that need remains unfulfilled. 

It’s spine-chilling. Absolutely petrifying. And irrevocably thrilling with all its bolts of power. 

He kneads your bum with both of his hands, unraveling that melodramatic concept of his titillation for you with the strength he uses to squeeze your flesh with. Jungkook goes as far as to lift you onto your knees, raise the fabric of his boxers to reveal your skin and, holding it taut in his fist, he wetly kisses the red imprint of his hand that he left behind. 

And his need flutters with something still yet forbidden. 

Yours does, too. And it’s you who voices it out, setting it free like a bird that has been caged for centuries. It touches him, immensely—a deep sea of feelings resurfacing in him, sloshing to and fro, threatening to spill over. 

“Spank me.” 

Lust and love. A peculiar concoction of it that doesn’t exist in the realm of words. He feels it, feels it with every breath he takes. 

“I should, right?” he rasps, dragging his fingernails down your carmine bum, sneaking his fingers around the squishy bottom of the flesh. He might drench his joggers—he didn’t wear his boxers to sleep; you’re wearing them for him. “For wanting to bite my nose off.” He clicks his tongue, squeezing, other hand wraps around your waist, holding you still. “I should spank you until it hurts. Until you cry.” 

The most gentle of a moan spouts out of your mouth and he twitches, his need growing—all because you want it as much as he does.

Jungkook lifts his hand in a promise he’s about to do it and you shiver in anticipation. 

“Please,” is all you say, but he’s not going to give it to you. He places his hand back in a soft manner, lifting it again to tease you and you wiggle your butt, his boxers still tucked halfway in between, the flesh rippling and he groans. A sight to die for. “I deserve it. Please, do it. I want it.” 

He sighs, a wet spot forming in the place of the joggers where his tip is, and he can’t see anything. Can’t see shit when he lifts you up and takes you inside. Can’t see anything but you and the surface of his kitchen island, which he sets you down on, spreading your legs. 

Confused by the swift motion, you rise to your elbows, but he pushes you right back down—holding your hips in the air, just like he did last night. You will see what he’s about to do to you, nonetheless. No need for you to strain your arms. 

And when he closes his mouth over your clothed pussy, you roll your eyes back, moaning his name so loudly that it echoes throughout the kitchen, rooting around his dripping length. And his arousal for you is so overwhelming, so sensitive that one thrust of his hips against the fabric of his joggers brings him such pleasure coursing through his body that he might as well come like this. 

Jungkook rids you of his boxers in a blink of an eye, throwing them somewhere out of his sight. No need for them, either. 

Burying his nose in your clit as he licks your slit and plunges his tongue inside, he narrows his eyes at you as yet another wave of pleasure comes down upon him. This time from having you for breakfast, at last. You mewl so sweetly that it drives him to thrust his hips again and he groans, groans so deeply for you. Needs you to know what you’re doing to him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he breathes out, lightly dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit before he swallows, hissing at the delight of your taste. You moan, trembling, barely able to take it. Fuck one day, he’s about to die now. “And you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a fucking boy. Is that what you want?” 

Jungkook flicks your bud, fleetingly, just to make your sounds shudder in the sudden intensity. You clench your small fists in the air, your tremor so terribly visible and rigorous, and with your breath hitching in your throat, he sucks that delicious part of you into his mouth. 

You stammer, badly enough that he begins to feel a sliver of pity for you, not enough for him to stop. He’s ravaging your little princess parts so hard that it takes a few tries for you to get the words out in a steady flow and he doesn’t help you. Doesn’t ease up for you, at all. Flicking, sucking, licking you up all over, rolling his tongue—he simply doesn’t stop, does it so fast that you lose yourself in it, submitting to it with all your being. 

And along with your submission come out your words. 

In perfect fashion.

“No, I want to suck you off.” 

And along with those your orgasm, too. 

Jungkook watches you take it, eyes lidded heavily, take all the pleasure he gives to you as it unfolds throughout your quivering body that he holds tightly in his grasp so you wouldn’t fall over. He sucks your clit until his mouth goes numb, opening it to drink you, not letting a drop of your nectar go to waste. You struggle to reciprocate the eye contact and he finds it so endearing that he wants to make you come all over again. 

Setting you down, he caresses your wet little pussy with his thumb, palm spread wide across his tank top clothing your tummy. And while you try to catch your breath, he sends rays of his affection down to her the more he looks at her. He loves her so much that he bends down and kisses her. Over and over. Kisses the hickey he left on your left fold, the one below your hip bone as well. And then, he glances at you. Flushed and glowing, a personification of light. A girl most satisfied. So beautiful.

You sit up and the feeling of the coldness of the marble against your sensitive seashell makes you let out a whine, biting your lip briefly before you enclose it around his. You moan into the kiss and Jungkook knows why. He deepens it, hands drifting down your full breasts, your stiffened nipples. The touch makes you hum and grind your pussy against the island, opening your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, playing with you, beckoning out your mouth-watering little whines. And when his fingers reach the hem of his tank top, he takes it off of you—your breasts bouncing, the wet spot in his joggers enlarging. 

In this position, you’re forehead to forehead. And this time, he doesn’t want to kiss you. No, he wants to talk. 

“You taste good, don’t you?” Jungkook husks, an allusion to the way you moaned into the kiss, fists on either side of your outstretched thighs. You bite your lip and furrow your brows, a hand sneaking around his neck. Such horny expression, scraping his madness raw. He’s greedy for more; wants to bleed for you. “Tell me. Tell me how good you taste.” 

You sink your teeth so hard into your bottom lip at his words that you whimper once you let go, the pillow so reddened, so cute. The wrinkle between your brows deepens and you grind your hips again. Oh, he’ll put his hand there, on your still needy pussy, as soon as you answer him. 

And you do—and his whole bloodstream lines with a river of flames.

“I taste so good,” you whine and he rewards you for your goodness, for that heat. Places his fingers flat underneath your clit, palm up. You immediately roll your hips forward and whisk your eyes back. That sensitive you are, after such an intense orgasm. He swears. Takes it as a sign to rub your bud and, pushing them back with one hand, he gathers your slick and smears it upon it, making it all the more pleasurable for you. Gusts of breaths emit out of your mouth, intertwining with the squeaky sounds of your juices and Jungkook almost drools, aching to eat you out all over again. The feeling of your parted lips, your slipperiness, the softness of your swollen bud—he grows desperate for it. 

But he wants you to come like this, too.

“Ride my fingers,” he whispers, just for you to hear and not the angels surrounding him, whose favor he gained. “Come on. Grind your pussy on them, sweetheart.” 

You mewl and you listen, straightening your spine. Use his shoulders for stability as you swing your hips back and forth. The silkiness of your flesh, the wetness that makes this a smooth ride for you—he moans, sucking in his breath each time. And then you become so terribly whiny, eyes squeezed tight, that he can’t help but to strum your clit as fast as he can. Your shudders begin again, your breasts rippling and he just thinks they’re asking for his tongue. 

A flick of the muscle on your nipple. You cry out, arching your back, halting the movement of your pelvis and he takes over. Takes merely a minute to make you come all over his hand and scream out his name. 

And then… then he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you in—almost nose to nose. A gesture to make you listen. To make you pay attention to the words he wants to say to you. 

“This is what you deserve,” he purrs, speaking of the former mention of punishment, studying the way your eyes grow bigger than they already are. “To come again and again for me—and what’s more, I’m not finished with you yet. That wasn’t your last orgasm.” 

You mewl and it seems that it’s all that you’re capable of uttering, the clitoral orgasm stealing all of your vocabulary. 

Or at least he thought so. 

“But I want you to spank me,” you say, your voice a satiny softness. “I want it so bad that I’ll do anything for it.” 

Jungkook doesn’t know what’s more stimulating—whether the beauty of your strength or the sinfulness of your craving. The flames in him reach higher highs, burning his skin in a way that unfussily forces him to give you what you want; give in to you, surely and wholly.  

“Is that so?” 

You nod, leaning over and closing your mouth over the side of his neck, sucking the skin, making his eyes roll back. And when you begin to focus on his ear, your fingers sinking in his hair, he truly just might submit to that specific craving of yours, even though he wanted to save it for the cabin. 

He might just give you a taste of it now. 

It looks like you’re ready for it, but if he finds that your healing is incomplete, he’ll take care of you, undo the wrongness, distract your thoughts and fold your emotions into a cocoon of his love. 

Pulling you away from him, he lifts you off the island and bends you over it. You giggle in triumph and the dulcet sound falters once he brushes your hair back and, pressing his length against your bare bum, he reciprocates the same treatment you gave to him. He doesn’t destroy your neck more than he already has—he barely has any space left to scatter it with hickeys and he doesn’t wish to cause you discomfort. No, he mouths your ear and kisses the very unmarked skin beneath it, nibbling it ever so gently. 

It’s only when you circle your hips against him that he rips that gentleness away and bites, making you groan out. 

“So that’s what my sweetheart wants,” he breathes, hands drifting to the crooks of those hips, right where your thighs begin, cooling the flames he spat onto that sensitive spot of yours. “Pain.” 

The collision of his palm against your cheek is what steals your breath and you whimper in elation. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” 

He does it again, a bit harder this time, just to hear those delectable words, just to make sure you’re comfortable, rubbing your skin to soothe the sting. And when you pinch your nipples and moan, he gets on his fucking knees for you. Such a good girl; a strong angel.

At your ever persisting service. Eternal. 

Spreading you apart, he catches your dripping slick with his tongue and pushes it back inside, thumbing your other tiny hole—pulling away momentarily to spit on it, smearing the lubrication there before circling it. Jungkook hears the soft thud of your head slumping against the kitchen island and you take it, take his abuse so well that he rewards you by flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Over and over until there’s another thing he hears. 

He hears your phone ring. 

His stomach drops. He knows full well who’s calling. And you prove his deduction right. 

“It’s Yoongi,” you sigh, a bit of vexation evident in your voice, and Jungkook buries his face in your pussy, humming into her, purposefully. “Vi-video calling me yet ah-a-again. Oh, fuck.” 

Pleased, he laughs. “Let it ring.” Doesn’t give two shits that he’s calling, but is a little annoyed that he keeps bothering you. 

It doesn’t lessen his fire, though. 

“But.” He withdraws to let you talk. Doesn’t take his eyes off of the glistening of your flesh. “If I tell him off and if he sees what you’re doing to me, he’ll stop calling me.” 

His fire thickens, thrilling tendrils absorbing it. Very well. “Such a smart girl. Go for it, then.” He punctuates his sentence with a curt spank and you jump, rising onto your tippy toes as you curl your back, moans echoing. He caresses your legs all over, mouth latching over your slightly reddened cheek. Thinks it’s a perfect place for another hickey. And as he sucks the supple skin, he sinks a finger inside your heat, your walls welcoming him in. 

You answer the phone with a moan. “I’m busy.” 

You’ve placed your hand to the edge of the island, so Jungkook has a perfect view of what’s currently happening. You’ve hidden your squished breasts behind your forearm—like you did the first time he’d laid his eyes on you via Yoongi’s phone. How the tables have turned is so mind-boggling to him that it drives him to twirl circles on your other tiny hole, eating your ass with such verve that you can’t contain your sounds, especially not when he begins to caress your sweet little spot with his curling fingers. 

Your legs begin to shake. 

Yoongi calls you by your name. “What the fuck is this?” 

“W-what does it look like?” you retort, grinning, looking back at Jungkook, catching his glance. He sends you rays of his love, eyes crinkling, the tip of his tongue finally penetrating inside. “I’m getting my ass eaten and you’re—” You suck a breath in, trying your hardest to remain calm and not succumb to the pleasure. Jungkook worsens it for you; he syncs his finger and his tongue, fucking you in one fast rhythm in both holes at the same time, and your stammer returns. “You-you’re disturbin’ me, oh fuck.” You pant, heavily, letting go of your phone and scratching your nails down the surface, trying to grab onto something, anything. Jungkook hums, endearingly, and catches both of wrists in his hand at the small of your back. Seeing you bound like this, bound in pleasure mainly, while on the phone with your ex-boyfriend almost makes him come in his fucking pants. “I don’t want to fucking come looking at your face. I’m not on your timeline, stop calling me.” 

Oh, Jungkook wouldn’t even let you—and the reason why he intensified your pleasure was to spite your ex-boyfriend. It seems as though it worked because Yoongi remains silent, at loss for words in most probability, and you consider your job done, tugging up your arm. 

“Let me hang up,” you whisper to him and Jungkook loosens his fingers for you, the sound of the call ending etching a smirk on his face. 

He straightens his form and, turning you around, he pins you against the island, his smirk only widening. The love, the proudness he carries in his heart for you, the freedom that oozes out of his every pore—he uses it to kiss you, tenderly. Fights hard to stifle his grin, to mold his lips into yours, but to no avail. You mirror his expression of joy, looking up at him, both of your wrists back in his hold behind your back. 

“You took your spanks so well, enjoyed them,” he murmurs his praise, his other hand clasping around your binding. “Didn’t even think once about the past. And to top it all off, you basically told your ex-boyfriend to fuck off. Moaned your lungs out. I’m in awe,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave lower, meaning every word. “I’m in awe of you. What a good girl you are. The best.”

The glint in your irises bursts and spreads all around, your eyes becoming two lighthouses that gain a new instinct to bring him home, whatever form that might spur into. You blush for him, taken aback by his praise, and your lashes flutter so prettily that he grows weak in the knees. His reactions are constant, never-changing when it comes to you and he finds so much beauty in them, in you that he feels as though it’s golden sand in his fingers and all he longs to do is finish his job like you did. You rouse the inspiration in him—you always have.

And listening to his body, he stumbles back into his former position. On his knees for you, at your ever fucking eternal service. And he makes you come with his fingers stuffed in your heat and his tongue flicking your clit until your knees give out as well and he has to take you then and there. Against the window on the other side, your pleasured body embraced, almost, by the golden aura that spills from the sunlight. And he opens it out, stretches it, with every word that trickles out of his mouth and into yours with every swift stroke. A bunch of rays of ‘You’re mine’, ‘My pretty, tight pussy’ and ‘Good girl, take it all, it’s all yours’ permeate your skin, lighting you up from beneath and when you come around his cock, your light doesn’t fade into his and leave you barren. No, it melts, a conscious, ever-flowing stream, into him and soaks him up. It’s still one singular light, but in two bodies. 

And the two loads he filled you up with caused weariness to drop so heftily on you that he bathed you in the tub. Scrubbed you clean. Washed your hair. Made you smell like him. Was extra careful when touching the hickeys he left behind on your body, the other unmarked parts of you handled with similar care. 

He didn’t even forget about your candle. Borrowed them your shared light and you kissed him quite sweetly for it. 

Even when he dressed you in his clothes. A pair of old baggy jeans that don’t fit him anymore and the same white tank top, a clean one, fragrant with the wholeness of summer he will perpetually connect with you. You pecked him so cutely when he tapped your waist, signaling that you’re all done. He knows it was the deepest thank you that you could’ve ever expressed to him. And he hugged you, hugged you so tight that you merged into him, bunching your wet hair in his fist. 

It didn’t dry up until he parked by the cabin. Having curled into winsome waves, he couldn’t stop touching them when he lead you towards the front door and, most peculiarly, it ached when he had to let go in order to unlock the door. 

His clinginess to you constringes the longer he spends time in your presence and because you’ve graced him with such freedom, he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. You show no signs of being irritated by it and it causes him to think that, perhaps, when God made you, He put some mechanism in you that needs it. Just like he planted those roots of clinginess in him—for no one else but you to receive, to carry, to take care of. 

It’s what he thinks about when he makes you lunch while you smoke on the balcony, having finished with the fresh drinks you made for yourself and him. Elderberry with lemon and ice, with funky, colorful straws once again left behind by the past tenants, ready on the dining table. This time you will actually sit down to eat and Jungkook won’t get kissed on the face by the strong knuckles of his once-close friend. 

An emotion stirs within him as he flips the meat on the small indoor grill. Tears prick in his waterline because despite the fact he enjoyed spiting him, he still wonders how he’s handling this. Mourns the loss. Probably will for some time. There’s a certain freshness to it that won’t let go of him. 

Those liquid feelings almost dissipate when you wrap your arms around him from behind and kiss his spine. He’s not matching you that much—is wearing the only clean laundry he had. A white oversized tee, a zipper hoodie of the same color with jeans. But he feels the love you press onto his back as if your lips touch his bare skin, singing the two layers through and through. 

Jungkook reckons you’re saving him as you’re lingering there with your face buried between his shoulder blades. Saving him from spilling. 

“I can’t wait to visit the pond once we’re finished with our food,” you murmur and Jungkook hums in response, placing the rest of the meat onto a plate. 

“It’s done, we can eat now,” he croaks out, his voice touched by the residue of his emotions and you rub his belly with your hands. He smiles, fondly, at the gesture. You just keep on saving him.

“Do you think the water is cold?” 

Considering the rain that would not leave for days, the water is anything but suitable for swimming. And when he turns around, he meets your mischief, playfully toying with your features. A curled smirk, lifted brows, light flickering in your eyes, reflected in your lashes. He might let you dip your toe in. Just one. 

Only because you depict such distinct beauty and he can’t resist it. Can’t resist you, even if he tried his hardest. 

“Too cold,” he says, however. Just as playfully. “Freezing.” 

Helping him with the plates, you sit down to eat and before you dig in, you thank him once again in the form of a peck. Oh, he might spill, ultimately. In a much different way. Melt into liquid love for you—a putty at your disposal. He’s never come across someone as sweet as you. 

“My sweetheart, enjoy your food.” 

A sliver of comfortable silence hangs in the air as you finish your food and once he downs the drink you made for him, a different type of hunger itches in his throat. 

A hunger for a cigarette. 

He watches you as you take his plate and bring it into the kitchen, never forgetting to at least graze one part of your body as you depart away from him, his clinginess a full blown, ceaseless stream and when you come back to him and take his hand, he remains seated. Looks up at you. Is probably giving you a nasty set of puppy eyes, he can’t tell. Doesn’t really care. Interlocks his fingers with yours and brings your knee in between his. Just because. 

“You know what I want right now?” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, and you smile down at him all excitedly. “A cigarette.” 

You squeal and he didn’t expect such sound to come out of you, such display of joy at such mindless thing. You quiver, taking his other hand and pulling him to his feet. Grab your pack and lighter and drag him out to the balcony. 

And with a cigarette of your own hanging from your lips, you sink the butt of the spare one between his, your lighter ready in your hand, flicking it to life. Then, a sudden gust of wind blows your hair in front of your face in a grand, sublime way, the clouds shrouding the sunlight, a layer of grayness dispersing across the atmosphere. Jungkook is mesmerized, completely, strands of your hair tickling your cheeks as you focus on lighting his cigarette, such serious expression coating you. 

He almost forgets to suck on the cigarette when you cup the lighter, protecting the flame from the breath of the autumn slinking in. How can someone be so beautiful, so caring? He could’ve lighted up his hunger himself, but no—you wanted to do it. 

And because of that, he steals your cigarette and grabs your cheek in one hand, careful not to break it. Taking a delightful drag, he opens your mouth and puffs it inside. Watches you swallow it down, your eyes narrowed in a foreign pleasure, and to reward you, he kisses you deeply. But at the taste of his hunger on your tongue, the kiss grows tempestuous. He devours your mouth, makes it puffy all over again, and something else grows hard in tandem. 

Something in his pants. 

And the way you kiss him back—he has to physically pull himself away from you in order not to take you right here, in order not to bend you over this railing and bury himself so deeply inside you that all the animals in the forest scurry away at the sound of your squeaks. Much, much different ones. 

His body tingles, looking at you panting, longs to kiss you again—bring that notion into reality. It’s not merely you who’s become aroused because one swift glance over your body clad in his clothes reveals that you have, too. Your stiffened nipples protrude through his tank top and he has to hold onto that railing and take a deep drag of his cigarette in order to stick to his composure like his life depends on it. 

Perhaps, it truly does. 

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he comments, mirroring your former actions—placing the cigarette between your lips that willingly open for him, lighting it up. “It’s crazy. I can’t spend one minute in your presence without wanting to fuck you brainless. What are you doing to me, huh?” 

You blush, but he didn’t mean it as a compliment. Thinks he should change his ways and call you beautiful more often, so you learn what a true compliment is, despite the fact how hard he finds it. His lungs constrict, choking the life out of him that you gave him—an unfond memory clouding his sight.

A blond set of hair swishing past. A roll of eyes as he threw that compliment in her way. The dismissal that still lives in him.   

“You sure it’s me?” you retort, angling your head to the side, two fingers widening slightly as you suck on your cigarette. You tossed the memory away and cuddled his headspace. “Maybe you have a problem.” 

Oh, he remembers this feistiness of yours. Missed it, dearly. Makes his cock needy. Even more prominently so now—now that you clothed him in healing. 

“True, one taste of you and I’ve become a nymphomaniac,” he says with a mighty, peculiar easiness. Clicks his tongue. “I guess I should go to therapy.” 

Your blush deepens and you hide your laughter behind your busy palm. Jungkook shakes his head, not believing something like that could flush your face like this with such rosy, radiant color. He pulls you towards himself, squeezes your bum. Takes a drag, loving the burn in his throat. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, fondling the sweet color of your cheek with his thumb. The smoke from his cigarette curls around your wavy hair. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?” 

It’s you who shakes your head and you place your palm flat on his chest. A gasp leaves your mouth when he spanks you for your disagreement. Then, your mouth ends tip. 

Jungkook laughs, softly. “Run. And if I catch you, I spank you again. On your bare bum this time.” 

He pushes you and you squeal, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs down that lead to the pond. He could run after you to make you happy—it doesn’t matter he’s wearing his home slides. He’s danced with them, even barefooted, so this is no big deal for him. But he wants to give you the thrill of the chase, so, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray, right next to yours, he slides his hands into his front pockets and waits until you’re halfway there at the pond. Then, then, he slowly makes his way down. 

You’ve stopped, however. Half turned, you watch him as he chases you down Michael Myers style. And when he’s at arms-length distance away from you, you begin to run away and this time your feet acknowledge themselves with the wood of the dock that floats above the surface of the still water. There’s nowhere for you to go and he fears you’ll jump into the water. Or, maybe you just want to get spanked that badly. 

He’s about to find out. 

Gray shadows envelop you, choking out your squeals again when you see Jungkook running after you and you edge dangerously close to the end, bum leaning against the ladder going down. 

He lifts his palm, signaling you to stop right there. 

And you surprise him. You kick your feet into momentum and as you run and collide into him, you throw him into the water. 

The iciness of the water stings and his breath lodges in his throat, submerged. Paralyzation takes a hold of him, but not enough for his body to emerge to the surface. He rubs his eyes as he inhales deeply, shaking off the water from his hair like a dog, his eyesight slowly unblurring and he sees you laughing. The trees bend at the sound, sighing along and the wind, once again, stills. 

You even have the nature wrapped around your finger, not just him. And he can’t be mad at you, not when your girlish giggles spark up a joy in his heaving chest, ridding him of the coldness he feels. 

But that doesn’t mean he won’t punish you for it. 

You asked for it. 

He swims to the dock and pulls himself up. The ease he did it with, his wet clothes that cling to his body and accentuate his muscles, it causes your dulcet laughter to falter, little by little and you back away from him. 

That aches a tiny bit. He relaxes his face, in case that’s what drove you to do that and he unzips his hoodie, throwing it at your feet. His T-shirt comes next and you swallow, dryly, your eyes drifting along his pecs and abdominal muscles. 

You hiss at the cold sensation of his knuckles against the fine sliver of skin of your stomach, the dip between the hem of his tank and his jeans as he unbuttons them and harshly tugs them down. You let him, placing your hands on his shoulders once he kneels and lifts both of your feet, folding the denim and flinging it onto the pile of his sopping hoodie. Your socks and his boxers follow along, leaving behind only his tank top. 

Bunching it in his fist, he tightens his mouth in a narrow line and pulls you in. More to cover you from the cold than to soak you and he raises his palm until it levels with your shoulder blade before he spanks you. The slapping noise vibrates through the canopy of the trees and he likes to think the weeping willow in his peripheral vision trembled at the reverberations. 

“That’s for me catching you.” 

Another spank. On the other cheek. Just as hard. 

“That’s for the way you pushed me into the water.” You don’t make a sound, only tiny little breaths spill out of your mouth as your big eyes ogle his dripping face. Taking it so well that his cock, achefully, hardens even more. “All this fucking forest all around and you decided to get on here, on this dock. Push me in.” A spank. “In the freezing.” Another one. “Fucking water.” Another. 

You moan, swaying on your feet and he straightens you, grabs your wrist and wraps it around the nape of his neck. 

“And this.” Jungkook licks his fingers, sneaks them between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it rapidly. “This is for the way you enjoy it. Enjoy being spanked. Being punished. Enjoy being a bad little sweetheart.” 

You moan, a wrinkle between your brows, and your legs begin to quiver, your orgasm fast approaching. And the fire in him, created by your playfulness and his own words, he becomes it. Like you’re the personification of light, he’s the flames that keep it warm. An oxymoron most profound, most perfect, unseen by the world. 

He rips your orgasm away. Spanks you. Kneads your ass. You whine so terribly that it beckons his pity. Enough for him to creep his thigh in between yours, grasp your hips and make you ride it. 

“You wanted me wet, so get off on it,” he orders, unlatching his hands, taking off the tank top and fisting your hair, trusting you to hump him well enough on your own. “I know you like it cold, so grind that pussy on my thigh. And don’t stop until you come.”

It’s fast, the way you move your hips and bring yourself to the absorption of your climax. You look at him the whole way through and Jungkook nods with his bottom lip between his teeth, encouraging you to ride out the wave. 

“Good girl, coming so fast. Get on your knees.” 

He takes off his even more drenched pants. You wait for him with an open mouth and he senses the welcoming embrace of death. 

When he plunges his length into that salivating hole, it’s his fire that he feeds you. Despite the coldness, pearls of sweat adorn your forehead and Jungkook grips your hair and fucks your mouth, not letting you be in control, uttering his guttural moans lowly. 

“That’s what you get, my love.” 

You swallow around him in response and his life flashes before his eyes. Pictures of you, pictures of this cabin dressed in all of the seasons and he halts his thrusts. Pushes your head, instead. Back and forth until he can’t fucking take it anymore. 

Your spit trickles down onto the wood. Tears line your vision. Hard, shiny cock in your face. He tells you what he thinks of the sight. 

“So beautiful. Look at how hard and wet you made it. You deserved every inch down in that pretty throat of yours.” 

It’s a start. Still has a demon on his own to conquer, one that sits around somewhere deep in his chest, where a string of his past relationship makes dents in his lungs. One that he doesn’t want to admit he still has. One that he’s learned to forget about. 

But he is changing his ways. For you. 

You moan and scratch your nails down his thighs, the fire forming into an animal in you. A feral, little thing that knows what it needs. And he’s going to give it to you, mind already working on the forgetting. 

“I love your cock. It’s all mine.” You mouth it, glide your puffy lips upon its length and despite the pleasure he gets from it, he pushes you away. 

Straddles your hips. Turns you onto your tummy. Knows the personal cock time was too brief for you, but he can’t risk having his orgasm like this. 

“Yes, my love, all yours. And I’m gonna fuck that brain out of your head with it.” 

You mewl. “Yes, please.” 

In contrary to your words, you try to crawl away when he sinks himself inside, your nails making pretty music on the wood. He brings you right back to him. Presses you down flat with his hand on your back. All while still inside of you. You sputter out your moans and, licking his thumb, he circles your other hole, making them grow in volume. 

“No, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. You can take it. Believe in yourself the way I believe in you.” 

The strokes he gives you are hard, engraving your rose tattoos made of hickeys onto the dock and he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. He desires to have everything he owns smell like you, look like you and carry remnants, memories and keepsakes of you for generations to come. And so he fucks you not only harder, but faster. 

Thinks your back is awfully bare and missing the rest of the marks. 

Jungkook bites onto the skin above your shoulder blade and you catch him off guard. 

“Jungkook, I’m gonna come like this.” 

He hums, fondly. How quickly your walls have gotten used to accommodating him. “Not yet, my love.” 

Swiveling you, he hooks your knees onto his shoulders, sinking back into you this way—sinking back home. 

And it begins to rain. 

Jungkook hears the touch of the droplets upon the surface of the pond first before the same ones pelt down his back. And the briskness that affects him, the conjunction of an autumn kissed by the last of summer—it drives him to crush his lips onto yours with such vigor that he hopes the autumn, at the sight of it, will be here to stay, in all its wholeness. No more triggers of the past seasons. Newness, only. Singularity. 

He doesn’t carry you away from the rain. No, he hides you with his own body. Takes every hit from the ruthless downpour for every lash across your heart, for every scar etched for all eternity on its flesh. Hands cradling your head, the broadness of his back a cover for the top half of your body and you keep him there with your hands gripping his hair, holding on for dear life. It stimulates him enough to fuck you just as hard, imprinting the lines of the wood onto your back. 

Not so bare anymore. 

You could never be an empty canvas. Not with him. 

Not when you care for him in the midst of the pleasure. 

“Jungkook, ah, you’re go-gonna catch a cold.” 

He kisses you for it, terribly touched. “But it feels so good.” A languid stroke, the squelching of your pussy; he rolls his eyes back, sucking in a breath. “Come for me and I’ll get you inside.” 

He picks up the pace, seizing your pleasure. But then you start moving your hips up and down and he feels you fill up every dent in his heart with each movement, each moan, each squeeze of your walls. And when you make yourself come on his cock, he considers himself strong enough to tell you all about it later. 

Carrying you inside while hiding your head from the rain in the crook of his neck, he takes you up to his room and sets you down like the princess you are underneath the ivory canopy above his bed. Senses your irises digging little pursed pecks into his back as he rummages in his dresser, fishing out a pink bottle of lube and a dildo. Smaller than his length, but almost the same as his girth. Skin-like. With balls attached. 

He’s smirking as he swivels, joy evident on his face. He’s eager to watch you ride it and your two lighthouses for eyes divulge to him just as how excited you are yourself. 

You spread your feet for him once he’s an inch away from you, smiling from ear to ear. “Fuck me with it,” you purr, wrapping your legs around his torso. 

Even the most solemn man in the world wouldn’t be able to not grin at this moment. Too bad he wouldn’t let him near you. His heart pounds, aches to say no to you, but he simply wants to watch you ride it. 

“No, sweetheart. I want to watch.” 

You frown. “But you haven’t cummed yet.” 

He caresses your small pout and you kiss his thumb. His smile widens. “That’s okay.” He might be throbbing, but watching you bounce on a silicone dick will bring him a great deal of pleasure, nonetheless. 

“Then, touch yourself for me.” 

He hums, his heart lodged in his throat. The turning of tables must be in the script to this movie that he considers his life shared with you. And he likes it more than he’s able to comprehend amidst his intense arousal. 

“You have to ride it well, then.” 

You suck on his thumb momentarily, a smirk quirking your lips. “I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you will.” 

Pecking you shortly, he squirts a ton of lube on the dildo and all around your princess parts, rubbing your clit to tease you. The gasp you let out causes him to laugh softly in endearment and then…

Then, he leaves you to it. 

Sitting back in his rocking chair, he fists his cock, the leftover lube making a squeaky sound on his skin. You get on your knees, line yourself up and Jungkook tugs down his foreskin for you, allowing you to see the drops of his male essence oozing out. It turns you on to the point that you moan and bite your lip, sinking down on the toy and he’s breathless. 

“Fuck, it’s not as big as you,” you whine, sitting down on it, fully, maintaining eye contact with him. His heart thuds in harsh staccatos. “I barely feel anything.” 

A sly remark about your ex-boyfriend’s length is on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. Doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He’s not a constant presence. Not anymore. So why bring him back? 

And what’s more, you’re lying. Because when you begin to bounce, tentatively, your eyes whisk back and you pinch your nipples, the squelching sound of your pretty little pussy driving him to fuck his fist just once. He knows if he keeps going, he might miss the whole experience, plagued by the shadow of his pleasure. He palms his balls instead, his cock protruding from the crook between his fingers and his thumb. Still wet from you. 

“Harder,” he commands, squeezing his balls when you listen and he hisses, fights with all his strength not to flutter his eyes closed like his body is begging him to. He can’t miss this. It’s too good to miss. He bites down on his lip. 

“Jerk off that cock, please,” you plead, your breasts bouncing and he bites down harder, the fire in him burning off his skin. “It doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.” 

He swears and begins to move his hand, gliding up and down, pressure hard. “Are you imagining it’s me?” 

“Yes, oh my God. I’m riding you and it feels so fucking good, Jungkook.” 

He moans, focusing on his sensitive head. Tips his chin up. Doesn’t break the eye contact. “Good girl. You’re doing so well.” 

The praise gets to you and your fingers sneak to your clit, rubbing fast little circles—and just like that he nears to the edge. Whimpering for you, he fucks his cock harder. Hot flashes surround your flushed face and you mimic his sounds. 

That’s his very fucking undoing. 

Getting on his feet, he paints your breasts and tummy white and you begin to shudder, his orgasm coaxing yours. You pinch your little hard nubs—and it’s almost like you’re milking him dry, spurts after spurts making new tattoos on your torso, white roses to mingle with your red and purplish ones. 

And his woozy brain can’t help but to look forward to see them fade to yellow. 

He kisses you so hard that he doesn’t feel you breathe and when he pulls away, he collects his cum and feeds it to you. Can’t have it go to waste when he knows what he’s planning for you. 

“That was so good,” he whispers, sealing such an intimate moment with another ravenous kiss. 

He doesn’t let you respond—he pins you back. Ass up, face down. Squirts lube all over that deliciousness and when he glances over at the ruined dildo, he whistles. Pearls after pearls of your girlish essence trickle down the length and he shows it to you. Hard all over again. 

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises and your eyes widen in that familiar way he likes, mouth parting, blush deepening. “Stick out your tongue.” You listen, so fucking well, and he plunges the silicone tip inside your mouth, circling it around that willing muscle. “That’s it, lick it up, sweetheart.” 

You look up at him as you do it, making smacking sounds, so terribly fucked out. Jungkook has to grip your hair in order to hold on to the last of his composure, and when you begin to suck on it—he can’t take it anymore. 

He fucks you with it. Fucks you into the mattress. Punishing you for the things you do to him, for the fire that grows hotter and hotter in his veins. And he loves you, dearly, with the entirety of his being, that his fingers cannot physically stay away from your little sopping clit. 

Neither can they when you come and gush out your arousal. Neither can they when he switches the dildo with his cock, raises you in the air and fucks you so hard, whispering little praises and sweet little nothings—“I’m getting you used to taking it from behind, my love. You’re doing so good. You’re so beautiful. So damn pretty.”—that you and he both, completely and wholly, fall apart when you come together. 

He loves you dearly enough that he can’t stop falling apart even in the shower. 

He tells you of the demon living in his chest. 

“When we’re together, I feel you healing me. I feel you giving me chances to live on with my life, do the things I’m scared of or wary of. Like today, when you didn’t believe me when I’d told you you were beautiful. I felt that fear I had in me for years, but saying it to you made it seem like nothing. There used to be a girl I was in love with. Whenever I would tell her things like this, she’d scrunch up her nose. It wasn’t enough for her. Her pride was too big for my words. I kept giving and giving and it was never enough. But when I give to you, you take it and you live with it and I can see it on you. I can see you wear it proudly. I can even see it now. And it’s so beautiful. So healing.” 

You kissed his scars. Kissed his hands. His neck. Washed him clean. Hugged him under the hot downpour of the shower. Reminded him of the way he healed you. Told him all the small details he never knew—and it only proved his words, tightened his love for you. 

He knows from this moment on that you will be the mother of his children. He’s not letting you go. Not until the day he dies. 

And the first shower he shared with you… Jungkook sketched it down that very night as you and him sipped on wine, listening to music. And he brimmed with the longing to bring it onto a canvas. Splatter it with colors. Purples and reds, with tiny hints of yellow that are about to appear on your body. 

And he will. Hang it up in this very cabin. The eternal keepsake of the movie that his life has become. 

It has been several months of living this cinematic life with you. Weekends spent at the cabin, the weekdays spent separately, save for the regular dates. Dinners, trips, sight-seeing. A slow life filled with brand new art supplies, a pile of sketchbooks adorning the walls of his bedrooms. Both at his own apartment and the cabin. And another adornment has come to live with you and him, one of life-long permanency. 

He sealed your exclusive relationship with a matching tattoo. 

“Sweet” lines your left rib whereas “Heart” lines his—right above the mole you’ve come to love so much. Red ink, an illusion to your red roses, the dress you’ve worn for him on several occasions. Visiting him out of the blue in the middle of the week with black lingerie underneath and a trench coat to cover you up. Mindlessly at the cabin one weekend when drinking wine, smoking together on the balcony, listening to the whispers of the willow tree. And once on the last warm day of autumn, during which he paid you back for the way you had pushed him into the water of the pond. Just like he’d done the first time, he tossed you in, joining you right after, fucking you in the dress. He had eternalized it that very night, sitting by an easel. Paintings of you, some of both you and him, hang on the walls of the cabin. In the living room, in the bedroom. Everywhere one looks, one finds the scenes of your movie—and it brings him joy unlike any other. 

Yoongi… he hadn’t called you since that fateful day. You’d made the arrangements to see him after a month or so. Found out he was seeing a therapist. 

Quite literally. 

He’s banging his male therapist.

The information enveloped you in a dimmed glow. You were shocked, first and foremost, because you had no idea Yoongi liked men. Jungkook did, so it wasn’t a surprise to him—what was more of a groundbreaking surprise to him was the fact you didn’t know. That he never cared to tell you. 

And he never pushed it aside. As a matter of fact, he told him off about it the first time he saw him after everything. 

Yoongi cared very little because he considered the chapter finished. A similar light swathed him tautly, one he’d never seen on him, and Jungkook agreed. The chapter is finished. No need to get all hot again. 

Yoongi forgave him. Found love. Found healing. But he didn’t maintain his relations with you. Neither did he with Jungkook.

And while it hurt for a little while, Jungkook figured that maybe it was meant to be like this all along. 

He and you. A singularity. 

The nonexistent gap between the word sweetheart. 

No third party. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

So Soon || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by @claramaximoff DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Leyla is in denial that she may be blessed with another child again so soon after giving birth to her third child.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Can’t you make it any tighter?” Leyla groans as her closest handmaiden, Alyssane, struggles to tighten her dress . “Not if you want to breathe, my Lady” She chuckles before going back to work.

The young hightower lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t understand-“ “Perhaps, sister, you have been blessed again” Alicent pipes in, her eyes looking up from the book she was occupied with. Leyla turned her head to her older sister’s direction. She chortled at the suggestion.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sister. I just had a baby” She said in a matter of fact tone, her hand resting on her stomach. She honestly couldn’t imagine having another kid so soon. Only being eighteen and possibly having four kids already? There was no response apart from a simple hum. Leyla looked at herself through the mirror. There could be a possibility but there was no way she was pregnant that soon.

~

“That bastard should be fed to Caraxes for thieving in our bedchambers!” Daemon fumes as he paces infront of the breakfast table where Leyla sat, a 10 day old Aegon in her arms as Alyssa and Baelon played with their wet nurse.

“He didn’t steal anything of value, Husband. Besides, he’s locked up now-“ “But what if you were there when he came in hm?” Her voice was cut off by his. “W-what if the children were there, especially if Aegon was there sleeping-“ “Which he wasn’t. Daemon, it’s alright. The children are alright. And you know that they are always accompanied.”

Leyla takes ahold of Daemon’s forearm as he looks down at her. “If something ever were to happen to our children and I wasn’t able to help it, I would never forgive myself.” He stares intensely at his wife. “Nothing is going to happen to them” She gives a reassuring smile before looking down at Aegon.

Daemon’s face softens as he looks down at his son in awe. “Breakfast, my Prince, my Lady” A maid curtsies as plates of food were placed in front of the couple. Leyla’s face scrunches in disgust. “Is there a problem?” Daemon questions noticing her twisted face.

She didn’t know what overcame her but the smell of the food was overwhelming her and making her sick in the stomach. “I-God I feel like I’m going to throw up” Leyla abruptly stands up passing Aegon to the wet nurse and leaving the room.

“Children,” Daemon calls out. Both Alyssa and Baelon look at their father, “Come here and eat breakfast while I check on your mother” He simply says before following his wife.

“Leyla?” Daemon knocks on their door to the their bedchambers. Silence greeted the prince before footsteps could be heard. Leyla opens the door with an awkward smile. “Are you alright?” Daemon raises an eyebrow at his wife as she nodded. “Quite. I think I just need water” She brushes past him without saying another word.

~

Not even a month later, everyone at court were whispering about speculations that Leyla and Daemon were expecting their fourth child. Their theirs child, Aegon, had only been born a mere twenty days ago.

When Leyla walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, whispers stopped as they glance at the young mother. She had no idea that it had spread around, and was the topic of everyone’s conversation. But she could wrap her head around why.

Maybe it was because she just had Aegon not even two weeks ago? Maybe it was simply because they were shocked that she was expecting another child only at the age of eighteen with three children under her wing. People would have never expected Daemon to be father of four children, let alone one

“I think I’m with child again, sister” Leyla holds Alicent’s hands in hers as she sniffled, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh but that is such good news Leyla-“ She stops mid sentence as she notices Leyla’s unhappy face.

“Why aren’t you happy then? You love your children plus-“ “Of course I love my children Alicent!” She snaps, “I love them, truly, with all my heart but I just dread-“ Leyla takes a deep breath calming herself down slightly and takes a seat beside Alicent.

“It’s not the children that I hate, God of course not” She lightly chuckles at herself, “It’s the pregnancies I have to endure for nine unbearable months” Leyla sits there fidgeting with her fingers. Alicent opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

She had no idea her sister felt that way. “Can you imagine swelling up and everyone whispering behind your back? Whispers about how I’m carrying Daemon’s child at this age or how I’m incapable of raising children.” Tears slowly fall down Leyla’s cheeks before Alicent embraces her younger sister in a much needed hug.

“I am so sorry. I never knew you felt that way Leyla” Alicent quietly spoke as she rubbed her sisters’ back in comfort. The younger Hightower pulls back, wipes her tears, and gives a small smile. “Father would be happy wouldn’t he?” She laughs to herself as Alicent frowns.

“Leyla you shouldn’t care about what Father thinks,” Leyla knew that. She really shouldn’t. After all, he was the main root of this all. Forcing her to marriage the Prince only at fifteen and ever pressuring her to bear his children so quickly. But deep down she did want Otto’s approval. “I know.”

~

tike-skip to the end of Second Choice ~

“Daemon?” Leyla starts, “Hmm?” Daemon hums, busy with peppering your hand with kisses. “I’m pregnant.” He pauses his actions as he stares at his wife in shock. “Say something, please.” Leyla grows anxious.

Next thing she knew, Daemon made his way to her and kissed her. “That is wonderful news, sweet girl. Our family only keeps growing” He says softly as he looks at their children. Leyla says nothing but just smiles.

“Are you not happy?” The Prince looks down at her as he notices her silence. She pulls him down to sit beside her. “Of course I’m happy Daemon-“ “But?” He interrupts.

Tears started forming in her eyes once again. “It is just so soon, Daemon.” She shakes her head, Daemon stays silent and listens. “I’m blessed to be carrying your child, truly, but I just had Aegon, not even a month ago. This is all happening so fast, I’m eighteen and now I’ll be mother to four?” She furrows her eyebrows, her gaze on the fireplace infront of her.

“Being pregnant is nothing but draining, Husband.” Leyla finally looks at Daemon. He doesn’t utter a word but instead, he pulls Leyla in for a hug. “iksā sīr kostōba se nēdenka, nyke gīmigon kostā gaomagon bisa. iksan kesīr tolvie dekuragon hen ñuhoso” He whispers in his mothers’ tongue. Something Leyla had mastered to understand. (you are so strong and brave, i know you can do this. i am here every step of the way)

“I’m so grateful to have you with me as my Husband, and father to our darling children” She cracks a smile. Her gaze once again drifting to her beautiful children.

~

and the first one shot to the dear motherhood series is done!! let me know if you enjoyed it, i can’t wait to write more of these :) lmk if u wanna be in the taglist for this series

taglist

@bellstwd

[7ouls]

im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓

(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)

fem! reader btw

Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.

Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.

You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.

He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.

Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.

At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.

As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.

Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.

“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.

“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.

“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.

“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.

“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”

IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying

[gor3sigil]

What being trans means to me

I love being trans. I love transitioning. The thing is, most of the time, I read about other trans people experiences. And I just can’t relate.

I have plenty of tattoos and piercings, and if I have to be 100% honest with y’all, I see transitioning like a bodmod. To me, getting top surgery was one, as I wanted to at least get my nipples removed before I even knew top surgery was an option.

I see HRT as much as a bodmod. A few years back, I wasn’t so sure I even wanted HRT, but after thinking it through and doing a lot of research, I decided to do it. And I never looked back. I’m close to 2 years on T, which isn’t a lot, and I don’t even know if I plan to stay on T for very long, maybe I’ll stop at some point. Who knows.

It goes hand in hand with the everlasting identity crisis I’ve been having since I was born, basically. I was a different person before, and she was so tired, so she left the body to some dude, and he got tired, and they fused, and it was me, and I’m in a trans body, I’m trans, I take T like I paint my nails, I take T like a cigarette, I take T like a hot bath. It’s comforting, it makes me feel good, it makes me feel at home in this body.

I got surgery because I wanted my silhouette to be mine. I changed my name because since I was little, and that’s the only point for which I can say confidently I knew since I was a kid, I never understood why we couldn’t name ourselves. To me, a name was so intimate, so personal, that I couldn’t understand why it had to be someone else’s choice. So I took a new one and changed it.

And now I look at myself in the miror and I’m Cyan, and I got a flat chest, and I have a deep voice, and I’ll do my T shot on friday just like I do every 14 days since almost 2 years, with the same pleasure, with the same smile on my face, the same rush I ever have when I’m excited for my shot.

Close to the feeling I get when I get a new piercing, when I up the size of my lobes, when I feel the first tingles of the needles that tattoo me.

I didn’t “always knew” I was trans. I remember being a kid with a shit ton of OCs, and names for myself that I couldn’t choose, and whose dream was to live a thousand lives before I died. I don’t know who I will be in 3 years. Or in 6 months.

It says on a letter that I suffer from gender dysphoria, and by all means it was true before top surgery. Not so much now. I still am insecure about my body a lot of times because there’s some things missing to my chara design and I am fatter IRL lmao, but with this body I cum, I eat good food, I get drunk, I smoke, I feel hot and fresh water, I swim, I sing, I write this. Even when it’s half broken and it’s raining and my joints ache and I feel like I’m already old, I love this body. I’m not the type of people who will be like “your body is a temple, you HAVE to exercise and eat only fresh veggies” because if I have to be here let me at least have fun. I take care of myself though, maybe not as much as I should, but the best I can.

If I hadn’t overcome everything I did in my life, maybe I wouldn’t have transitioned. Or maybe I would. I don’t care. I don’t need a reason, and neither do you.

This is what I mean when I say that everyone should do whatever the fuck they want because, I wasn’t born trans, or at least I don’t think so. But does it make my transition less valid ? No. I’m better in my skin that ever, even when the low self esteem hits, and I know I would feel way less good if I hadn’t transition. That’s all that matters.

[glamdringwlv]

Unchain my heart: Part 5. Lose control.

Unchain my heart series. Logan Howlett x oc!fmale Summary: Mia Green has grown up in a lab, subjected to numerous experiments due to her status as a mutant. When she manages to escape, Charles Xavier takes her in at his mansion, giving her a new life and helping her regain her memories. However, the arrival of a new resident at the mansion threatens to destabilize everything she believed.

Warnings: Violence, foul language, a mix of various canons, X-Men movies, X-Men animated series, X-men comics.

When she returned to her room, it felt empty. Everything she had just seen, the man's words... it all echoed in the walls of her battered mind.

She was still damp, though the warmth from the fireplace and Logan had shielded her from the cold of the lake. The warmth from Logan. She hugged herself, trying to comfort the pain of not being in contact with him. It had been his presence that pulled her out of that whirlwind of anguish and pain.

Her head throbbed, and she could still feel the ghost of electrical impulses at her fingertips. With a heavy heart, she dragged herself toward the bathroom connected to her room, but when she touched the doorknob, the rustling of the sheets stopped her.

She felt selfish for not wanting to face what was coming, but she didn’t have the strength.

“Oh God, Mia, what happened to you?”

She didn’t turn around; she only glanced over her shoulder as Scott got out of bed, hurrying toward her.

“Nothing, I was sleepwalking and ended up in the lake, that’s all.”

“The lake? What…”

She squeezed her eyes shut as he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. A thought flashed through her mind. I’m tired of not being able to see what’s in your eyes. She pushed it away immediately, because it wasn’t fair to him.

“I just need a hot shower, Scott. I’m exhausted.”

“Mia, you can’t show up soaking wet and expect me not to worry.”

She raised her hands to put distance between them and saw his face contort in pain. She knew she was pushing him away, and her actions were creating an abyss between them.

“I’m really fine. Logan helped me out of the water, so he’s…”

“Logan?” His voice turned cold, distant. “What the hell was he doing there with you?”

Saving me from myself while you didn’t even notice I was gone. She bit her tongue, not wanting to say it, but she couldn’t stop.

“He saw me leave the house, and when I didn’t answer his calls, he got worried.”

“Worried?” The venom in Scott’s words made her frown. She didn’t know where this was coming from. He crossed his arms, and a look of disbelief spread across his face.

Mia rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache that was making it hard to be more understanding with her partner.

“Scott, I can’t deal with this right now. I don’t have the energy. Please. I’ll deal with your jealousy tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line when she realized what she had said. She had no control over her words and didn’t understand where this bitterness was coming from. He just wants to understand and help.

“My jealousy… Sorry I don’t understand what’s happening. This guy shows up, confronts you in your classroom, and then turns up saving you when you’re fainting and pulling you out of frozen lakes. Mia, you don’t even know him. What’s going on?”

She felt weak for a moment as the truth in his words hit her. Tears filled her eyes, and she felt foolish for wanting to cry while arguing with someone she cared about. The silence that followed her words was worse than any shout. In that emptiness, everything was falling apart. And when she finally found her voice, it was broken.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. And it terrifies me.” She struggled to find the words to describe what she was feeling. “There’s something… inside me that isn’t right, Scott. I can’t control it, I can’t rein it in, and I’m afraid it’ll come out and destroy everything.”

Scott’s features softened, and he tried to reach out to her, but she recoiled, as if fearing her own pain was contagious. She saw something break in his eyes.

“I’ve tried to tell you, to explain that I’m not myself anymore and that Charles isn’t giving me answers, and your stance was to defend him. You didn’t even consider that I might be right.” The dam holding back her tears broke, and she began to sob, hurt. “I tried to come to you, and you downplayed it.”

Scott’s face darkened again.

“Mia, I didn’t downplay it. I just said you had no reason to distrust Charles. He’s never given you one. But you throw yourself into the arms of a stranger.”

The mutant’s frustration caused the lights in the room to flicker. Inside her, a surge of anger and rage ignited, feeding her wilder side, the one that had shattered the lake ice in a burst of power. She felt the atmosphere grow heavy and the ghost of energy in her limbs.

“You’re an idiot, Scott. You’ve always been the Professor’s lapdog. You’ve never even considered disobeying him. ‘Cyclops, do this,’ ‘Summers, handle that,’ ‘Scott, keep the broken girl occupied.’”

“What? Mia, Charles never told me… What I feel for you is real.”

She knew it was true and that she was being cruel to him, but she couldn’t stop. Once again, she had lost control that night.

“If I’ve thrown myself into someone else’s arms, it’s because they didn’t treat me like a damn broken toy. Like something to be cared for and manipulated carefully for fear of it breaking. Scott, I’m not who you thought I was.”

The lights flickered again, and he tried to approach her, but he stepped back when he felt a small shock pass through him.

“We’ll fix this, we’ll find the answer, together. Just like always, okay?”

She wanted to say yes, to stop everything and hug him. She really wanted to trust his words. But the one now trying to break free was her, seeing everything from within, unable to access her body. The beast had taken control and was trying to spread the same pain she felt. She pounded against the wall that held her back but couldn’t return.

“There’s nothing to fix, Scott. I’m not the person you fell in love with anymore.”

“Mia, you’re always going to be that person, no matter what. I don’t understand how everything changed in less than two days, how…”

He saw her eyes light up with an unnatural color, and the words died in his mouth. He somehow knew he was no longer speaking to his girlfriend, that something else had taken her place.

“It didn’t change in just two days, and you thinking that proves me right.” Small flashes of light streaked across her body, wild and uncontrolled. “I’ve always been holding back who I really am to fit into the image you’ve designed for me, but I’m tired of feeling weak.”

He couldn’t respond, unable to find the words to bring her back, to ease her pain.

“Because you think I’m weak, don’t you, Scott? Always being a half-person, always exhausted from keeping part of myself locked away, away from everything so I don’t hurt anyone. Fainting at the slightest provocation because I don’t have the energy to be who I am.”

He extended a hand toward her and wanted to pull back, though she didn’t. Despite everything, he still believed the girl he loved would never hurt him.

“Well, I’m going to show you just a tiny part of what I feel.”

He sensed Mia’s presence in his head. Raw, wild, and damaging. He clutched his head as if trying to soothe the pulsing pain it was causing, and when he finally let it in, the air tasted of fear. His breath caught when terror and confusion struck him. He felt a bubble of anguish in his chest threatening to burst and destroy everything in its path. And beneath it all, an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He fell to his knees in front of her, and tears he couldn’t hold back appeared beneath his glasses.

Mia thrashed within her own mind. She hammered against the mental barrier trapping her and with one final push, she emerged into the light. She immediately cut off the connection with Scott and knelt with him on the floor. Gently, she hugged him and let the spasms of her crying overtake her. With mechanical movements, the mutant wrapped her arms around him, still in shock from what she had felt.

“I had no idea…”

She shook her head, not wanting him to say anything. She clung to him, but didn’t find the peace she had found in other arms. She remained a whirlwind of fury and pain but swallowed it.

“I’m so sorry, Scott. I can’t… I’m not able to… Not anymore.”

He nodded, trying to understand what had happened in such a short time. A clear name appeared in his mind, the one responsible for all the unleashed chaos. Logan.

The room fell silent after Mia’s words, her apology’s echo hanging in the air like a heavy presence. They both remained motionless, her on her knees in front of him, Scott still holding her as if that physical contact could mend what was broken between them. But the electricity in the atmosphere made it impossible.

Mía was frozen, every fiber of her body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and regret. But beneath that wall of emotions, she felt something else: an abyss, dark and unknown, a growing chasm between who she was and what she was meant to be. She knew there was no turning back.

Scott was the first to move. He rose slowly, loosening his grip on her and stepping away. The weight of disappointment was unmistakable on his face, despite his attempts to mask it behind his usual firmness. He didn’t say a word as he took a step back, and she felt the coldness seep into the space where his warmth had been.

He took a deep breath, as if searching for strength to continue. Then he spoke, his voice tense and barely controlled.

“I don’t understand what’s happened to you, Mía. I don’t recognize you anymore…” His voice trembled, frustration and pain struggling to break through. “I thought we were in this together, that we could get through anything. But every day you seem further away. And now…” Silence enveloped him, unable to finish the sentence. He turned completely, facing away from her, as if he couldn’t bear to face her any longer.

She watched him in silence, knowing that any words she said would only make things worse. She had come too far to turn back, and though a part of her wanted to scream at him not to leave, another part knew this was the end. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when her inner world was falling apart. She had lost him, and with him, she had lost a part of herself.

“I need time, Scott. I need to find out who I am… before it’s too late.” Her voice came out in a whisper, almost imperceptible, but the words were final. She knew there was no going back.

He nodded, though he didn’t look at her.

“Find out who you are in Logan’s arms,” he replied finally, his voice now empty, lacking the warmth it used to have. “Maybe you need to separate from me so the guilt doesn’t eat you up inside.”

Mía felt her heart sink at his words, but she said nothing more. The distance between them had grown too great, and she didn’t know how to bridge it. He stood still for a moment longer before walking toward the door. He paused at the threshold, his hand on the doorknob, and turned his head slightly, as if about to say something. But the words never came. Instead, he left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click, leaving Mía alone in the dim light.

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of solitude pressed down on her like a leaden slab, crushing her. She tried to hold back her tears, but the tension and sadness overwhelmed her. She sobbed, letting her body shake under the pressure of everything she had been holding back. But the tears didn’t last long; there was something deeper that tears couldn’t heal.

The flickering of the lights returned, a constant reminder of her inability to control what was happening inside her. Sparks flew through the air, small discharges racing around the room, mirroring her inner turmoil.

She slowly got up, stumbling towards the window. The view offered a white, cold, empty landscape, just like how she felt inside. She had broken something in her relationship with Scott, she knew, and now she had to face what came next. Her mind turned to Logan. The memory of his warmth, his unyielding presence at the lake, his ability to understand her without even needing words. But even that was uncertain.

The icy wind stirred the bare branches outside the mansion. A shiver ran down her spine. She was tired of feeling incomplete; she wanted to feel as strong as she had at the lake, needed more. She couldn’t stop the feelings that surged in her head and overwhelmed everything. Once again, she saw her world from a third-person perspective, as if her body didn’t belong to her. I’ll find answers, one way or another. There was that wild, raspy voice that she struggled to recognize as her own. She howled a denial, but she couldn’t stop that beast.

She wiped her tears away with a swipe and took a deep breath, feeling the cold from the window giving her strength. With determined steps, she left the room. She walked through the empty hallways of the mansion, her mind focused on one thing. She tracked the minds in the mansion until she found the one she was looking for. That uncontrolled tangle of thoughts that oozed pain. She followed it to its source.

She reached the door leading to the wing where Logan usually stayed. She hesitated for a second before raising her hand and knocking, her other side struggling to regain control. The hollow sound reverberated in the silence, and she waited.

“Come in,” Logan’s deep, gruff voice called from inside.

She entered the room, closing the door behind her without a word. Logan was there, sitting on the edge of the bed, extinguishing his cigarette with a casual gesture. As she walked in, he noticed a change in her posture, in her expression. Mía’s gaze, usually intense but controlled, was now fierce and determined, as if a storm was about to break inside her.

“Let’s get started,” she said, her voice rougher than usual, carrying an urgency that brooked no argument.

She advanced towards him with determination, but inside, the conflict was palpable. The voice of reason ceased to fight for a moment, distracted by the almost magnetic attraction she felt towards him. Her darker side, now governing her thoughts, lulled her in the deepest part of her mind, using the mutant’s presence to silence her. The desire to find answers in Logan’s memories, to dig into his mind, was irresistible. But to do that, she had to envelop him, capture his full attention.

Logan frowned. Something in her tone, in the energy emanating from her, made him hesitate. He stood up, as if trying to assert his presence and regain control of the situation.

“What’s going on, Mía?” he asked, trying to stay firm.

But before he could react, her darker side had already taken control. She gently pushed him onto the bed, straddling him, her legs wrapping around his sides, her body taking possession of his. The closeness, the warmth of her skin, the scent that seemed to envelop everything around him… it all washed over him like an unstoppable wave.

Logan tried to speak, but his words drowned in the tense air. His mind, always alert, began to fade under the weight of the sensations. The touch of her skin, the warmth of her body on his… it was as if, for the first time in a long while, something inside him relaxed. Suddenly, he felt Mía’s presence in his head, persistent. This time, it wasn’t painful, but rather the opposite.

As she delved deeper into his mind, her presence in the space grew more intense. Her essence, her scent, everything that was Mía, amplified in his head, surrounding him completely. Logan began to breathe harder, his body tense. The bond between them was rising to a level he had never experienced with anyone. He didn’t just feel Mía’s mind in his, but also her physical essence, every beat of her heart, every emotion that coursed through her skin.

The scent of rain, an electric buzz in the air, the heat of her presence. He closed his eyes, fighting to stay grounded. What he’d initially felt for her was now mingling with something deeper, a connection that overwhelmed him, something he struggled to handle. He knew he shouldn’t let things progress, but the intensity of what was happening had him on edge.

His muscles tensed; the control he’d always maintained over himself was slipping away with the touch she had begun to trail through his hair. He felt her in every sense, wrapping around him, making the need to touch her unbearable. He couldn’t focus on anything else. Mía’s mind was a storm in his own, and his body was responding to it in a primal, urgent way. It wasn’t just physical attraction; there was something about her calling to him in a way he couldn’t rationalize.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his self-control was cracking. But beneath all that comfort, something wasn’t right. There was something in the way she looked at him, how her hands rested on his shoulders—it was too... intense. There was more in her eyes than simple attraction. It was a dangerous mix of desire and control.

Logan, confused, let the moment wash over him, but when his thoughts briefly wandered to Scott, something didn’t fit.

“What’s up with Summers?” he asked abruptly, trying to snap back to reality, his words slicing through the silence. It didn’t seem like Mía to be with him like this, at least not while she was still with Scott. But he got no answer. Her gaze darkened, her expression hardened for a moment, as if something inside her had broken. That lack of response made him realize there was more behind this moment.

“Scott?” she finally replied, her voice barely a whisper, running her nails through her hair. She tried to look innocent and almost smiled with satisfaction when she noticed a growl escaping from his throat. She almost had him.

That brief pause was enough for a spark of doubt to ignite in Logan. Something inside him, buried under the layers of sensations Mía had invoked, began to awaken. The question about Scott had started as a casual curiosity, but now, in light of her lack of response, it began to take on a different form in his mind. This wasn’t like her, and for the first time, he started to think that her state wasn’t the result of a simple decision.

The air between them grew thick.

“Mía...” he tried again, this time in a softer tone, trying to reconnect with the part of her he knew.

But she wouldn’t let him finish. She couldn’t lose this battle now, not when she could feel his memories at her fingertips. She leaned in, her lips barely brushing his, and Logan felt the clash of his desires mingled with a darkness that enveloped him. The warm breath on his skin drove him mad, shattering the chains with which he had held back the part of him that had been yearning for her since the first time he touched her in the Danger Room. His body reacted before his mind could sort things out. It was a kiss charged with everything she could offer, a kiss that ensnared him in the same darkness she was falling into.

Logan closed his eyes, letting the emotions engulf him. For a moment, everything felt right. Feeling complete, feeling needed—something he had never fully experienced before. But... there was something else. A bitter aftertaste to it all, as if behind that fullness lay a trap. Anger began to rise from deep within him, but it wasn’t directed at her—it was at what was happening.

Logan struggled to turn his head away, breathing deeply, trying to regain some control.

“This isn’t you, Mía...” he said softly, with that deep yet reassuring voice he always had.

The anger bubbled inside her, tired of people telling her who she should be. For a moment, both versions of her agreed on something—the frustration of being told who to be. She didn’t even know the answer herself; how dared they think they did.

Mía kissed him again, this time with more force, with a passion that came from the depths of her being. She bit his lip with intensity, and Logan had to stifle a groan. He pulled her closer, feeling that the contact between them wasn’t enough. He needed more. The kiss was intense, raw, as if every cell in her body was pouring its desire into him, pushing every boundary.

Through the mental link they shared in that moment, Mía allowed Logan to feel what she was feeling. She wanted him to see her desire, to understand that she wanted him, that this wasn’t just manipulation. But in her haste, in her desperate attempt to distract him, she made a mistake. Unintentionally, she loosened her grip on her rational side, and the girl’s awareness let slip an alert to the mutant, despite the fact that she was enjoying the moment as much as he was. It allowed him to glimpse, even if for a second, that yes, she was using him. That part of her, the part struggling to control everything, saw him as a means to her own ends.

Logan, bewildered by the torrent of emotions and sensations, tried to process it. He felt Mía’s burning desire, but also the cold sting of betrayal. The mix of both shook him, but before he could react, Mía intensified the moment. She used her powers to dig her nails into his back, opening wounds that healed immediately. Logan gasped, enveloped by so many sensations. The blend of pleasure and pain clouded his judgment, and he was on the verge of giving in, of letting his more primal side surface as well.

Finally, with all the willpower he could muster, Logan pulled his face away from hers, breaking the kiss. His breathing was ragged, and his body trembled, still responding to the storm of sensations Mía had unleashed in him. With a low growl, he managed to gently push her back, breaking the physical contact that kept him tethered to her.

“Mía, stop...” His voice was rough, but there was a mix of pleading and determination in it. The look he gave her was intense, a mix of desire and suppressed anger. He couldn’t deny that what she was doing affected him, tempted him, but Logan wasn’t someone who would be dragged along easily.

She looked at him with frustration in her eyes, almost defiant, but there was something more. She knew Logan had seen part of the truth. She knew that, despite her desire, she had let him see her other side, the one that used him for her own ends. And that threw her off balance.

Still trembling, she tried to maintain control over herself, over the situation. She brought a hand to her face, as if trying to remove an invisible mask that was choking her. She wanted to continue, to hold on to that control, but she was now aware of how difficult it was becoming.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice breaking, but her hand trembled as it left his back and stroked her hair. Logan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He knew there was something profound between them, but he also understood that she was torn between her desire and that part of her that controlled her, pushing her to do things she didn’t fully understand.

“You don’t need to do this,” he murmured, placing his hands over hers to stop her. There was no aggression in his gesture, just a firmness indicating that he wouldn’t be dragged along.

The weight of those words fell on them with an intensity he hadn’t expected. She felt his darker side slowly retreating, but not because she wanted it to, but because Logan was demanding it. It was hard to maintain control. It was like an internal current fighting to take over, but every time he looked at him, with eyes full of pain and understanding, something inside her broke a little more.

“It’s easier this way...” she whispered, not sure if she was speaking the truth or just trying to justify what she had done. But the phrase sounded hollow even to her own ears.

“It’s not, Mía.” Logan’s voice was firm, though there was a trace of vulnerability in it. It pained him to see her like this, caught in that internal struggle, and it moved him to want to help her, not just because of the desire he felt, but because of something deeper. A connection that, though he couldn’t explain, he couldn’t ignore.

She finally gave in. She couldn’t keep fighting, not against this. She felt she was losing, not just the internal battle, but something more valuable. The control she had longed for was slipping away, and with it, the darkness that had dominated her every move began to dissipate, slowly, painfully.

Tears started to flow from her eyes before she could stop them. Everything she had tried to hold back was now spilling out. She sobbed uncontrollably, burying her face in Logan’s chest, seeking refuge in the only place she had left.

Logan held her without saying a word. There were no words that could comfort her in that moment, but his warmth, his presence, were enough. He felt Mía’s body shaking, her breathing slowing, until gradually, exhaustion overcame her.

And there, in the mutant’s arms, Mía fell asleep, as he held her close, determined not to let her sink any deeper into the darkness that tormented her so much.

[quibbs126]

So I was doing a bit more sketching of stylized Cookies, though to be honest, the only ones from today and not my original run are Werewolf and Smoked Cheese

I’m having trouble coming up with eyes right now, as well as just figuring out who I want to draw. Also heads. And how much I want to take creative liberties

Okay so actually I’m kind of struggling with all of it, but I still want to do it! I just need to figure out how

I stopped because I didn’t like how these ones were turning out, but to be honest, those old ones are perfectly fine, aside from maybe Financier, but I think I also drew her like, super early in the morning. Or at some other time, as the comment suggests, I don’t really know

I remember a couple of the concepts, like that Pomegranate doesn’t have a mouth. She does still speak and such, she just doesn’t have a visible mouth. Then with Knight, it’s supposed to be that he looks semi-intimidating with his helmet on, but without he looks pretty normal

Also I decided later that Fire Spirit’s head is just floating around, no neck

I feel like I made Werewolf look a bit silly, but I also kind of like how he looks. I might need to expand on him more

I also drew him and Dark Choco kissing just because darkwolf was on my mind. I remembered that I had previously drawn Dark Choco and Red Velvet kissing, so let’s just say polycule or something between them. Or not, since I still don’t have a definitive answer as to who I like to ship Dark Choco with

This is why I keep trying to make OCs to ship Dark Choco with, because I want him to be with someone, but I also don’t know who. But then the OCs never get fully designed because of some curse or other, or I end up putting them with a different character, so I keep trying again and again

I know ace Dark Choco can be a thing, and I mean canon wise, I can kind of see it (and also for his dad), but at the same time, I would be very happy if he got a canon love interest and just someone to love him, so I still want to ship him with someone, I just can’t decide who!

*ahem* sorry about that tangent, it’s just been on my mind. I have recently become interested in shipping him with Avocado, but I also would like them as just friends or QPR as well, so I don’t know if that’ll stick. Might make a fankid at least though

But yeah, uh, just Smoked Cheese left I guess. Originally I was going to draw Avocado but couldn’t figure out her eyes, and then it was Elder Faerie but same problem, so now it’s Smoked Cheese. But I really don’t know if he turned out well, he might need a new design too

I think I just need a list of characters I want to stylize, so I don’t just try to stylize random characters and end up making things harder for myself

Anyways yeah, I guess that’s it. Hope you like it and sorry for that shipping tangent

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 8. A Talk with Joel

Happy Friday! And Double Posting of this fic Day! :)

Chapter Warnings: cursing, angst, smut, masterbation - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!OC Plus Size Reader

Chapter Summary: Joel and you finally have a proper conversation. 1.4K

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8. A Talk with Joel

It’s a couple of days after Ellie came by and you’re doing your new nightly routine. Drinking your sleepy time tea that the coffee and tea house in downtown traded you for some help with bagging their tea leaf concoctions while working in the library. Putting on your night face cream that you got for finding a steamy romance novel for the lady who makes lotions and ointments in Jackson. And lighting the pine candle you got as a gift from Maria and Tommy when you moved into your own place. There’s a loud knock at the door that startles you. You quickly pull open the door to see an exasperated Joel Miller.

Joel walks past you into your small kitchenette area. “Come in, I guess…,” you question. “What’s this I hear about you takin’ on patrol duty?” Joel says as if it must be a joke. Instead of answering you move into your bedroom space leaving Joel in silence to continue your night cream application. “You know, I was actually in the middle of something when you so rudely barged your way into my home.” You say into the small mirror above the nightstand by your bed. Yeah, my home, asshole, the one I was forced into by you.

Joel, with a heavy sigh, walks to the door frame opening to your bedroom and leans against the it with his eyes on you. You continue to look at yourself just sparing him a cursory glance every now and then. “Tommy said you asked to be added to the patrol schedule.” He says quietly, likely dreading your response. “Yeah, I did,” you huff at him. “I want to contribute like everyone else in this town.” Joel scoffs, actually scoffs at you. God, fuck this guy.  “S’too dangerous. It’s not happening. I told Tommy I’d come here and set it straight with you.” You stomp your foot, and you know you look like a brat, but you don’t care because you’re just so over his bullshit. You walk over to him and with your voice raised say, “And why shouldn’t I? People older than me do it, people less capable than me. And what do you care if it’s dangerous? You don’t even speak to me, unless it’s to tell me what I can or can’t do.”

Joel shocks you by walking past you and sitting near the end of your bed. After a few moments of silence, you go and sit next to him. “Joel, what do you want from me?” you ask so quietly. He doesn’t answer so you continue. “Really, what is it? You took me in, you took care of me. You held me through my nightmares, and you… you kissed me. But then you sent me away. And you wouldn’t even look at me. Now, I’m trying to contribute, trying to make a place for myself so I’m not incredibly lonely all the time and you’re here just to take that away from me too? Why?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you try to stop them as best you can.

Joel finally speaks, without looking at you, “I’m sorry.” You close your eyes when you hear it, I’m sorry is probably the last thing you thought you’d hear Joel Miller say maybe ever. You speak quietly, looking at his big sad beautiful brown eyes, “Okay, but still, why?” He looks so lost, this big broad man, so defeated when he says, “I don’t deserve to be here, in Jackson, alive at all, maybe. I’ve done horrible things, and I try and stay away, or push you away, but I’m weak and I come back because… look I just, I know that I should stay away, because when I am around, I’m just a thorn in your side.” It’s your turn to sigh now, “Joel, honestly, I’d rather have you as a thorn in my side than not to have you there at all.” He looks at you, seeing the tear run down your cheek, he uses his thumb to wipe the tear away and it’s like it set your skin on fire. He takes his hand back and looks away too quickly. “You shouldn’t want me around, Darlin’. I don’t think anyone should. I’m just a burden. I know it, I’m a burden to Ellie, to Tommy, even to you.” You slowly reach your hand to Joel’s broad shoulder, shaking slightly, you touch him. And just like always, it electrocutes you in the best way possible.

“Joel, I’ve done terrible things, most of us have. I’m guessing you did them to survive, to protect people? And you’re not a burden, Ellie and Tommy, you’re their superhero.” He chuckles at that, and you take your hand off him and shoulder check him instead. “Shut up, I know it’s corny but it’s true. Ellie and Tommy love you so much, Joel. You need to let them.” You look at him now until he returns your gaze. “You might be a little annoying, but a burden, never. And you literally saved my life, so you’re kind of my hero, too. Just don’t get a big head about it.” Joel stands up suddenly and you’re reminded how big and broad he is. It feels like he fills your entire room. He finally speaks, “Alright, if you’re going on patrol, you sure as hell ain’t going without me.” You look him in the eye and nod sharply. Joel’s lips turn up just slightly at the corners and then he sees it.

The black wolf that he carved and painted and hid in your box of things when you left his house. It sits where it always does, on your nightstand. He picks it up, its small in his big hand, and he says looking at the wolf, “You know, I painted it black that night when you told me wolves were your favorite.” “I know,” you respond almost too quickly. He looks at you and you lock eyes. It feels like time stands still, until he severs the moment, putting the wolf back where he found it and walking out of your home. As the door shuts, you release a breath you don’t know how long you’ve been holding. And suddenly everything comes to a head. Joel was just in your room, and now it smells like him, vanilla, musk and pine, like your candle.

Something takes over your body as you grab the wolf and hold it close to you. It’s still warm from Joel’s touch. And you lay your head down where he was seated on the bed, feeling the warmth there too. You bring your legs up to rest toward your pillow and before you can think about what you’re doing, you’ve got one hand grabbing at your breast beneath your t-shirt. And you bring the howling wolf statue between your legs and start to rub in into your clothed core. You still have sleep shorts and underwear on but they’re both thin and the shape of the wolf hits your clit so perfectly. You know it should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. Something he made with his own hands and gave to you is as close as you can feel to him right now and you think you’d do almost anything to feel close to him. The pressure from the wooden carving between your legs is enough for you to start to feel your arousal soaking through the layers between your sex and the wolf. So, so quickly, you start to moan out loud and call out Joel’s name into the night until you come completely apart.

Breathe heaving, and body trembling you finally start to come down from your high. Replacing the wolf where it belongs, on your beside table. And suddenly a sob rakes through you. Guilt, shame, hope, you’re not sure what it is you’re feeling but you know this isn’t the end of the journey with Joel, it might still be the beginning. What you don’t know, is that Joel doesn’t leave right away when he closes your door. He stands there, trying to catch his breath until he hears you whimper. And then moan. And then call out his name in ecstasy. And he can’t help but put his ear to the door and listen to every perfect, beautiful sound you made. He leaves with a rock-hard dick in his pants for his walk home, before he can hear you start to cry.

Taglist: @somedayheaven @elegantduckturtle @indiegirlunited @guelyury @cheekychaos28 @ghostofzion @harriedandharassed

[hochsleep]

Chapter 1: Just survive somehow

• Era: Season 1

• Warning: profanity, typical TWD violence.

• Summary: You and your little sister Lottie have to escape from the walkers in the forest. You both almost become lunch for the living dead, but suddenly you are rescued by a stranger, and thanks to persuasion you manage to get to his camp in the quarry. But it seems that the relationship between you does not work out. You will have to find an approach to him, because otherwise you will not survive.

• Word count: 4k

• A/N: Well, I've written...something. I actually have no idea how I'm going to combine this fanfic and the Daryl Dixon x OC fanfic on ao3 (there's a link in the pinned post on my profile page if you're interested), but I'm going to try. Yeah, I literally wrote in an introductory post a couple weeks ago that I wouldn't be writing big works on Tumblr and where are we now? I haven't been very consistent in what I've said. Anyways, posting the first chapter now.

I know it might be a bit boring in the beginning now, I'm not a big fan of the first episodes or chapters in series and books myself, but you have to start somewhere. I'm still just getting into the subject of Y/N fanfics, so I'll be learning as I write the work. What I can say now.

Please correct me in the comments if you find mistakes! Of course, I double-check my work before publishing, but something could still slip through. Especially since you, as an English-speaking audience, will be more attentive to turns of speech, slang and so on. Let me remind you that English is not my native language and I use a translator (you can read more about it in the attached post in my profile). So feel free to make corrections, I am always open to help and constructive criticism!

Oh, and also, congrats to everyone on the release of TWD: Daryl Dixons season 2!

Enjoy reading!

Then.

"Come on, Lottie, hurry up!" - you shouted to your little ten-year-old sister, who ran after you between the trees in the forest.

“Y/N!” a little girl shouted, following you but lagging behind every now and then.

A few walkers was getting closer, and it was like Lottie could barely move her legs. She had to run faster. She should have saved herself. But could you blame a ten-year-old girl? She’d had to lose her family and friends in the last few days, and there were the living dead walking the earth. The world has changed at the snap of a finger. Lottie probably still hoped it was just a bad dream.

You too.

You had to watch your neighbor across the street, Mrs. Faulkner, pounce on your mother and start biting chunks of skin off her neck without much effort. That's hardly realistic. But that's life now. All those radio warnings about a virus spreading in Europe turned out to be true. That it was incurable. That the dead will rise up and walk the earth again. That their bite would kill you and make you come back to life after a while. It all seemed so distant and unrealistic that you, like most Americans, just changed the channel on the TV or radio when you heard the news of the virus again. After all, there's been a lot of crap and "incurable" diseases throughout human history. If a plague in the Middle Ages couldn't kill the entire world's population, why would some disease do it in 2010 when medicine is booming almost everywhere in the world? Bullshit.

Where are you now? Running with your little sister through the woods while at least four walking corpses are chasing you? This whole thing really does feel like a cheap horror movie. Or a scary dream. A scary dream in a cheap horror movie.

“Lottie! You can’t stop!” you screamed while your little sister looked back and slowed down at every opportunity.

You had a hard time running yourself. Not that you’ve been a fanatic about physical activity in all the years of your life. Yoga and Pilates were your max and only on feel-good days. But the adrenaline in your blood was doing its thing and it allowed you to run faster and longer. Which was not the case with your sister. The girl was tired and breathing hard. She kept looking back to see how close the walkers were to the two of you, even though you had forbidden her to look back.

“Y/N, they’re close! They’re going to catch up with us!” shouted Lottie panting.

You started frantically looking around for a place to take cover. Apparently Lottie wouldn’t be able to run for much longer. You were breathing hard, too, and your legs were sore from the exertion. You had to hide. But where the hell could you hide in the middle of the woods? In the long run, you could hide behind a large tree, but the walkers had already spotted you and were following you, so that option was no longer viable. Climb a tree? You could if you knew how to climb trees. But even so, how long can you and Lottie stay in a tree? You’d have to come down sooner or later, and walkers don’t feel tired or weak, so you couldn’t expect them to give up and fall asleep at some point. No, they’re going to wait until the food comes down from the tree. And again, you can’t climb trees. But Lottie can. What are the chances she’ll agree to climb a tree while you distract the walkers? What’s the chance you’ll survive? How’s she gonna get back down and survive in the woods alone? She’s barely ten years old, for goodness sake, and she didn’t get out into the wild until the last few days! You're all she's got. She's all you have. So it’s just the two of you hiding and surviving together.

“Come on, sweetie, just a little more!” you grabbed your sister’s hand and dragged her forward.

Now.

“Carl! That’s not fair!” shouted Lottie as the boy stuffed the last five hazelnuts into his mouth and grinned cockily.

“It’s all fair, whoever got there first takes it all,” Carl said with his mouth full.

“I’ve just turned my back and you’ve already eaten it all! We’re out of nuts!” frowned Lottie.

“Daryl will find more when he goes hunting,” Carl only shrugged innocently.

“Then you’ll have to ask him yourself,” Lottie snorted and got up from the plaid she and Carl were sitting on.

Lottie approached Carol and Sophia, who were ironing clothes. Sophia’s father was a cruel man as far as Lottie could tell. He had forbidden his daughter from playing with the other two children at camp simply because he had decided to. And now the creepy man sat on a folding chair with a bottle of beer in his hand and strictly made sure Sophia stayed close to her mother and helped her with her “women's responsibilities” as he called it. It sucked.

“Hi, Sophia,” Lottie smiled at the girl, “and Mrs. Pelletier,” she nodded to Carol.

“Hello, honey,” Carol smiled gently at the girl. Sophia looked at her father warily and not noticing the vehement objection on his face, she smiled and nodded to Lottie.

“Carl ate all the nuts, but I brought you what I managed to salvage,” Lottie pulled a few hazelnuts out of the pocket of her jean shorts and held them out to her friend.

“Thank you,” Sophia said quietly and quickly tucked the nuts into her pocket while her father turned away.

“When can you play with me and Carl? Maybe tonight?” asked Lottie hopefully.

“Maybe tomorrow?” answered Carol for Sophia when she saw her head lowered frustratedly. “I’ll talk to Daddy, honey,” said the woman to her daughter, stroking her back.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Lottie sighed and went on to find something else to do besides playing with Carl. She was still mad at him a little about the nuts.

You were on duty on the roof of Dale’s motorhome, a kindly older man who tried to change you every twenty minutes and told you to go get some rest. But the duty was actually a rest. You just sat on a folding chair on the roof of the car and watched the surroundings. Dale and Glenn were basically doing the same duties, only with a shotgun in hand. Just in case. You weren’t trusted with a shotgun. It didn’t make much sense since you couldn’t shoot. And you weren’t very good at close combat. So you just had to keep an eye on the area around the camp and warn them of possible danger. It’s no big deal. Except that the merciless Georgia sun was as hot as anywhere in Africa. It seemed that way to you, anyway. You were sweating in every part of your body, your hair sticking to the damp skin on your back, your clothes wet with sweat, and you were as tanned as if you’d gone to a tanning salon. The only thing that kept you warm was the powdered lemonade Dale had made, some old nature magazine from the glove compartment of Shane’s jeep, and the cowboy hat Andrea had lent you. Even though you've spent the last ten years of your life in Georgia, you've managed to hide from the heat until this day. Whether at home in your stepdad's garage under a fan while he blames his barely living car. Or at work in the supermarket by the house. There were old air conditioners that you thought were your age, but you didn't complain as long as they worked. Especially hot days you spent in a cozy old cafe from the 50's, where your mother worked as a waitress and let you lounge for hours in the coziest booth close to the fan. In general you had no need to sit under the sun in such hellish heat without a hint of shade. How could there be any shade on the roof of an old mobile home? You have to melt like a piece of butter on toast.

You heard someone climbing up the ladder to the roof. It definitely wasn't Dale, you'd have realized from his static grunts. It was Lottie. Her old pink cap appeared before you saw your sister.

“Hey,” you smiled at your little sister, “I thought you were hanging out with Carl and Sophia.”

“Carl’s a jerk today, and Sofia can’t play with us, her dad won’t let her,” the girl snorted and sat on your lap, because sitting on the sun-hot roof of the car wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Hey, I’d take a swear jar from you right now,” you tried to look at Lottie with a stern big sister look, but it never really worked. It looked ridiculous and hardly got any respect from the kid.

“Sorry,” the girl sighed, “but Carl is really behaving badly today. He ate the last of the nuts while I was distracted and didn’t even have a chance to protect them…”

“Are you really upset about the nuts?” you chuckled.

“No, more of an injustice…I was hoping we’d split the nuts fairly between the three of us, but Carl ruined it,” Lottie rested her head on your shoulder sitting on your lap.

It was so damn sweet. The way Lottie loves you. There’s often tension between sisters, but not in your family. Charlotte was born when you were 13 and that’s a really big difference, but you always wanted a brother or sister. And even though sometimes you had to miss seeing your friends to take care of Lottie when Mom and your stepfather, your little sister’s father, were working late, you still loved Charlotte with all your heart. Although it’s hard not to love her. She had a mild-mannered personality, rarely acted cranky, and sometimes acted like a little adult. At least you were a more rambunctious child at her age, according to your mother and other relatives. Only as you got older did you become a calm and peaceful person, and as a child you could afford to kick the asses of the boys who hurt you in junior high school. Charlotte, on the contrary, preferred to solve conflicts peacefully and disliked violence already at the age of ten. The age when children can be really violent, but your sister was not. Now, however, she seems to be really angry with Carl. But it’s probably because of all the stress you’ve both been under for the past three weeks. Everyone’s been on edge right now. That’s the way the world is now.

“I’ll find you some new nuts in the woods,” you said, stroking your sister’s soft hair.

“You’re afraid to go into the woods,” sighed Lottie.

“I’ll ask Glenn or Amy to come with me.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to ask Daryl? “Lottie looked at you in anticipation.

Oh, that’s right. Daryl. Well, that was a bit of a problem.

Then.

You tugged at Lottie’s arm, who was stumbling at almost every step. The walkers were coming faster and faster. Your courage and confidence were running away from you just as fast. But you did not let go of your sister’s hand and kept moving forward.

“Y/N!” the little girl’s shrill cry echoed throughout the forest.

You turned around and saw one of the walkers grab the hood of Lottie’s sweatshirt. A tall man with a rotten open wound near his collarbone, with gray cadaverous skin, white eyes, and rotten teeth and nails. Death itself came closer than ever to you and your sister. And you had no idea what to do.

“No! Let her go!” you screamed in panic at the walker as if he could understand you.

“Y/N!” large tears flowed down the little girl’s cheeks.

You closed your eyes, preparing for the worst. You knew it would happen sooner or later. From the moment your neighbor ate your mother. From the moment your stepfather John set himself up to feed the walkers two days ago so you and Lottie could escape. Since the world died. You knew you were going to die, too. And your ten-year-old sister, who didn’t have time to live. It has to happen, whether you’re ready or not. But you are ready. Death has taken over the world now, and who are you to fight it? You just hoped that you and Lottie wouldn’t have to suffer and…

With a dull thud, the arrow pierced the forehead of the walker that had grabbed Lottie and he finally fell to the ground dead. Lottie threw herself into your arms without thinking, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist and sobbing into your chest. You looked around in incomprehension until you saw a man with a crossbow. He put down the remaining three walkers with the remaining arrows. Clearly and without missing. Like he’d done it every day before the outbreak.

Man paused, looking at you and Lottie sobbing in your arms, and then without a word walked over to the corpses to pull his arrows from their skulls. Right now, however, you didn’t have the strength to say a few words. You didn’t have the strength to say a barely audible “thank you” for saving your life. The man looked at you, chewing his lower lip and without saying anything, lowered his head and walked away as if nothing had happened now. It would have been nice to stop him. But you were still standing still.

Now.

Daryl was sitting on a log outside his and Merle’s tent on the outskirts of the rest of the camp. He was cleaning squirrel blood off his arrows and hunting knife. Well, thanks to him, the camp wasn’t starving. Lottie and Sophia didn’t like eating something cute like squirrels, but there’s no choice. And while you weren’t thrilled about it either, better squirrels than the inedible berries you and Lottie had been poisoned with before you got to camp at the quarry. It was… unpleasant. You almost silently approached his “Dixon den,” as Shane called the tent of the brothers who preferred to stay away from the main group. But for an experienced hunter and tracker like Daryl, it wasn't hard to hear the branches crunching under your feet. Of course he noticed. Daryl turned toward you, where you froze for a moment between the bushes and snorted.

“What do you want, girl?” he asked, staring again at the dirty arrow in his hand..

“Hey,” you smiled shyly and moved a little closer, not noticing the vehement protest on his part. “Am I interrupting you?”

“If I tell you what you’re doing, will you leave?” Daryl didn’t look away from his work, still not looking at you.

“I don’t know…I guess?” you shrugged uncertainly. You didn’t want to annoy him, but you had promised something to your little sister. And yourself too.

“So what do you want? A chat? That’s not for me,” Daryl shook his head.

“I wanted to ask you for help to be honest,” you pursed your lips as you always did when you felt uncomfortable.

“Try it,?” Daryl finally lifted the piercing gaze of his gray-blue eyes to you and you felt even more uncomfortable.

“Take me with you on your next hunt,” you blurted out, deciding it wasn’t worth beating around the bush. Not with Daryl Dixon.

“No,” he answered immediately and went back to cleaning his weapon.

“Daryl, please,” you insisted. Not that you expected him to answer any differently. “I need to learn at least the basics of wilderness survival. You probably remember the state you found me and Lottie in in the woods…I can’t let that happen again.”

“Why? You’ve warmed up to a camp with people who can handle weapons. Just stay close to them,” Daryl snorted.

“I’m not stupid, Daryl, I realize this isn’t forever and sooner or later we’re all going to have to separate. When that happens, there’s no one to protect Lottie but me,” you sounded more determined than usual. Of course, it took a few days to pull myself together. “So I’m asking you to help me. Teach me how to track prey and how to tell poisonous plants from edible ones. Please.”

“Look, you’re sure of yourself, huh? Coming in here and making demands like I owe you,” Daryl was starting to get annoyed, it was obvious. He didn’t like the way you were being pushy, asking him for something like you had a right.

“I’m not making demands, I’m asking for help,” your confidence began to wane after his words. Daryl didn’t know you well. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have had the nerve to call you cocky. Or just at least a little bit of confidence.

“I’ve already helped you out on my own head…I won’t do it again, you’re not a goddamn charity case here,” Daryl chuckled.

“Okay, then what do you want in return?” you asked firmly.

The question wasn’t about your curiosity about wildlife, your life and your little sister’s life depended on you. Your only family. This is not a case where you can afford to back down and give up.

“As if you have anything to offer,” snorted Daryl dismissively.

"What would you want?" you asked, hugging yourself tighter around your shoulders in a protective gesture.

Daryl's right. What the hell could you offer him? In this current world, money has no value. Not that you had a lot of it, but it was the first thing you thought of out of habit. Then what? Daryl is an excellent hunter who has all the necessary survival skills and is good with a gun. That's why you asked him for help and not anyone else. Shane could teach you how to shoot, which would undoubtedly be very useful in the current circumstances, but it's not enough to survive in the woods without a group. Not without someone like Daryl, who is as well adapted to life in the wilderness as you could tell from a week of knowing him.

Back to the question, what could you offer him? What would Daryl Dixon want?

"I want you to talk less and get back on your own," Daryl squinted looking at you for a few seconds and then lowered his head again. The conversation wasn't going well.

"Why did you save me and my sister in the forest? Why did you bring me here? We might live a little longer being in a group, but when this is all over, we're both going to be eaten, so why did you have to build up to this moment?"

Daryl was silent. Like that day a week ago before he brought you to camp. Really, why did he do that? He felt sorry for Lottie. A dirty little girl, messed up to death. You didn't look like you really tried to save her during the walker attack and Daryl wondered why. How scared were you? Didn't believe in your own strength? Did you want to die? He didn't know. But he knew for sure he wasn't going to let a child be eaten alive by a rotting reanimated corpse. Not in this world. Would Daryl have helped you if you were alone in the woods? He wasn't sure. You seemed resigned to your situation and didn't try to escape, so why would he rescue you?

He already did anyway. And dragged you both to the camp. And then that same night he had a fight with Shane, who wasn't sure about the idea of leaving you here. And he got a good laugh from Merle, who thought he was being too kind to someone in the Dixon family. But you don't need to know that. You're lucky it was Daryl and not Merle who came across you in the woods. You'd be wandering around the woods now, rotting from the inside out, wanting nothing more than to eat anything alive. Just like your sister.

"Your sister needed a place and I helped you, that's the whole story," Daryl only nodded his shoulder.

"Why?" you persisted.

"Damn it, girl, what are you babbling about! I helped you, who cares why?" Daryl frowned and abruptly stood up from his seat in a flash of anger.

"I just..." you cringed at his loud tone and backed away slightly.

"Stop bugging me with this, okay? I saved you and your little girl, that's it! That's all you're gonna get from me, you understand? I don't want to teach you anything, I don't need you, save yourself!" Daryl waved his hand, yelling at you and you didn't even realize why you pissed him off so easily.

You looked at him frowning in incomprehension. Why the hell is he yelling at you for no good reason? And looking so angry, like you'd done something terrible to him. You didn't understand Daryl Dixon and his mood swings. That's why you tried to stay away from him, especially the first couple days. You were grateful to him for saving you, but he didn't seem like someone you'd easily connect with. And Daryl had just proven that to you again. You only came to him with the request because no one else could handle it but him. But apparently he's really not interested in this at all. You didn't want to and couldn't force him. You just hoped that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as rude and aloof as he seemed at first glance. After all, he wouldn't have saved you if he was the way he showed himself to others. You'd just have to find a way to approach him and then maybe something would work. But now you weren't so sure.

"Well?! Don't look at me like that, get out of here!" he shouted one last time, turning away from you.

You snorted disappointedly, and after staring at his back for a few seconds, you turned around and hurried back to camp. You were mad at Daryl, that was for sure. Just like Lottie was mad at Carl, but you had a better reason than a handful of nuts. And you might have wanted to yell back at him, but not that it made sense. You'd learned to control your negative emotions a long time ago, and you weren't about to let years of self-discipline go down the drain because of Daryl Dixon. That's on him. Maybe you'll try again later when you've both cooled down, but definitely not in the next few days.

Daryl was difficult, but you have to find an approach to him. Not for your own sake. Certainly not for him. For Lottie. For the chance to prolong her life as long as you could.

Then.

“Hey!” you followed the stranger after a few moments of daze.

You almost lost sight of him, but he wasn’t trying to be quiet, and you could still hear the sound of his footsteps on the leaves on the ground. So as soon as your body began to obey you again, you followed him, holding Lottie’s hand tightly in yours. The man didn’t stop no matter how many times you called out to him. How rude. But in the present world, one didn’t think much of it. And you didn’t know him, but he wasn’t exactly friendly before the end of the world. And yet, you stopped the man from grabbing his wrist when you caught up with him. He turned around and looked at you with a frown, immediately pulling his hand from your barely perceptible grip with force. You seemed to have hit something wrong.

“Thank you,” was the first thing you said when he finally paid attention to you.

“Forget it,” wheezed the man with the familiar Southern accent you never got in the ten years you’d lived in Georgia.

“What’s your name?” you persisted.

“Go where you’re going,” the man snorted and turned away again to walk away.

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” you said before he could get a few steps away from you and Lottie, “I…I mean we have nowhere else to go.”

The man stopped for a moment without turning around, as if thinking about something.

“Do you live somewhere? Somewhere with people? You’re the first person I’ve seen in a week…I mean of living people,” you stared at his back without stopping to speak.

Hope flared in you. If there are still people alive, then you and Lottie have a chance.

But the man didn’t answer, only turned to glance at you. Your tangled hair, tied back in a low ponytail, your dirty knit sweatshirt over your once-white T-shirt, your mid-thigh jean shorts that were also dirty and torn on the side of your left leg, your broken knees with blood on them, your worn and dirty yellow sneakers. He looked at the little girl next to you. She had big eyes like yours. And while yours looked at him with weariness and a mute request you still hadn’t spoken aloud, hers were full of fear. Her long hair, braided into two pigtails, was also disheveled, and twigs and dry leaves were sticking out of it from the fact that she had been on the ground under the walker that had tried to eat her. Her denim overalls were stained with the rotting blood of the living dead, and the hood of the sweatshirt she wore over the rest of her clothes was now torn off. There was only one rubber boot on the girl’s feet, the other having come off in the process of escaping from the walkers. The man thought it must be very uncomfortable to run around in rubber boots. The girl held your hand and appeared behind your back, gingerly looking at her savior.

“Y/N, I’m scared…” said Lottie quietly, pressing her cheek against your hand.

Y/N. The man mistook you for this girl’s mom. A very young mom. But it seems that wasn’t the case. Although the two of you had enough outward similarities to think you were related to each other.

“Do you have a place to stay? Please…we’ve been walking through the woods for three days without food or water,” you asked quietly.

The man looked at you with a piercing stare and was still silent. But he didn’t stay silent for long.

“Please,” Lottie said even more quietly, looking out at him from behind you. And then he gave up.

How could he refuse to help a little hungry girl in one rubber boot.

“Follow me,” he said, looking into your eyes for a second, and then turned and walked on, expecting the two of you to follow him.

Of course you both did. Now the hope in your heart is much brighter.

[rose-of-oz]

𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗟 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 𝗕𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘𝗦

Given the recent sort-of resurgence of Marvel OCs in this community, I found my own inspiration revived and decided to make some myself! I actually will very likely be properly introducing all of these (as well as elaborating on my MCU rewrite that actually includes mutants and more comic-accurate stuff, which they all exist in), but for now you can still feel free to ask me questions about any of them!!

Cheryl “Cherry” Marsden a.k.a. Cherry Bomb, she/her, no ship, Margot Robbie FC. A mutant with the power to manipulate energy and use it to create small, brightly-coloured bombs. Surrendered to the Xavier Institute when she was only eleven after showcasing her powers because her parents hated mutants, but ran away at sixteen and started grifting for a “living” because she was too chaotic and pretty much everybody in the mansion hated her. Eventually became a vigilante in Brooklyn, using her powers to take down criminals and corrupt rich people, before she’s approached by the Avengers (completely Tony’s idea, is anyone surprised) because there was a chance she could help them out as a part of the team. Promptly becomes the chaotic aro-ace rep the Avengers needed, inserting herself into their little found family and causing mischief all the while. Incredibly wild and chaotic and takes very little seriously, but incredibly loyal, a good fighter, and a lot smarter than most people assume. Basically she’s just here to save the world and have a good time doing it, and we love that for her.

Raina Lombardi, she/her, Natasha Romanoff (recasted as Jessica Chastain) ship, Monica Barbaro FC. A legacy S.H.I.E.L.D. employee (her great-grandfather was a scientist in the SSR and at least one member of her family has held a job in S.H.I.E.L.D. ever since), but never wanted to become an agent like both of her parents, so she chose to become a combat trainer at the Academy and teach new field agent recruits instead. Has admired Natasha from afar for years, but actually gets to know her after Fury finally convinces her to guest-teach a hand-to-hand lesson at the Academy and they start talking. Never actually goes out on any missions, but does interact with Coulson’s team on occasion and is a big fighter when it’s revealed that HYDRA’s invaded S.H.I.E.L.D. Generally a very serious person who’s incredibly loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. and dedicated to her job (doesn’t really know what to do with herself after the agency collapses, but eventually becomes an MMA instructor), but also has an unexpected wry sense of humour and, despite her slightly intimidating facade, can be very warm and friendly. (Also a big fat lesbian who goes a little bit speechless whenever Natasha does something cool even after they start dating, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Henry Archibald a.k.a. Foresight, he/him, Sharon Carter ship, Tom Payne FC. A mutant with the power of precognition who only gets his visions in dreams, and thus suffers from fairly bad insomnia because they so often scare him and he wants to avoid them. Approached by S.H.I.E.L.D. because Fury thinks his powers might be useful, and Sharon is placed in charge of sort of keeping an eye on him the way she was with Steve, to make sure he doesn’t completely break down. Very reluctant to get close to anyone because he has a tendency to get horrible visions about those he cares about, but he can’t stop himself and eventually they become a really cute couple. Incredibly anxious, quiet, and closed-off due to his powers, but also has a very good heart and would do anything for the people he cares about. Also becomes really good friends with Maria Hill, Bobbi Morse, and most of Coulson’s team, especially Fitzsimmons and Skye.

Apollo Huang, he/they, Bucky Barnes ship, Harry Shum Jr. FC. A sorcerer (a born one, different from a mutant or witch) who moved to Budapest a few years before Bucky runs there after his magic almost gets found out back home in New York, and Bucky finds himself drawn to their stall of luck charms (that don’t actually work), while he finds themself drawn to him because he can sense the pain and dark energy from the past swirling around him. Over the year that Bucky’s hiding out, they find themselves spending more and more time together and falling in love, enough so that Apollo is even willing to reveal their magic and use it to help Steve prove that Bucky didn’t bomb the Sokovia Accords signing (he also almost uses it to kill Zemo later, but that’s a different thing). Playful and humorous, but also gentle and loving and would not hesitate to do anything at all for Bucky or anyone else they care about. Also an incredibly powerful sorcerer and not at all afraid to show off his magic to anyone who will watch.

Sabrina Devereaux a.k.a. Snowbird, she/her, Steve Rogers (recasted as Glen Powell) ship, Minka Kelly FC. A mutant with the ability to create and manipulate ice, snow, and frost, who was sold to a mutant trafficking ring by her parents when she was only thirteen and forced to fight other young mutants for entertainment. Finally ran away and lived on the streets until she was discovered by Clint a few years after he found Natasha and she begged to be brought to S.H.I.E.L.D. and made into an agent once she realized who he worked for, because she wanted to help people the way she and her fellow trafficked youth hadn’t been helped. Created her own suit and codename as an homage to the bird-themed name of the man who’d saved her, and becomes one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best agents. Brought into the Avengers on Clint and Natasha’s suggestion shortly after the Battle of New York, and quickly becomes close to everyone on the team, as well as falling in love with America’s golden boy. Can be quiet and closed-off because of her past, but also has a lot of inner strength and is incredibly bold and not afraid to speak up for what she believes. Becomes really good friends with Thor and Bruce, and also a very sweet bisexual who has a big crush on Natasha for, like, a solid week after meeting her.

Harald Aamirson, he/him, Loki Laufeyson ship, Dev Patel FC. A knight in Asgard’s Royal Guard who’s been pining for the younger prince from afar since they were both young, hating the way Odin treated him and favoured Thor over him. When he gets assigned as Loki’s new personal guard, they finally start getting to know each other and connecting and even share a kiss, only for it to be revealed that Loki was planning to banish his brother and kill Odin. Thus begins the most complicated on-and-off relationship in all the Nine Realms, but throughout it all there is genuine love and heartbreak and so much care between them. Harald is incredibly dedicated and loyal, the perfect guard, but also a little bit feral (he’s in love with Loki, how could he not be), and isn’t afraid to bend the rules for the sake of the people he cares about. Eventually becomes one of Thor’s most trusted companions, which is definitely funny when you consider how much he used to resent him (they’re cool now, though).

Caroline “Carrie” Flores, she/her, Wanda Maximoff (recasted as Gratiela Brancusi) ship, Melissa Barrera FC. The daughter of one of the HYRDA scientists who had moved to Sokovia to perform human experiments, and although she was never allowed to interact with the subjects, never forgot Wanda and Pietro and the obvious aptitude they showed for abilities before the scientists ever got their hands on them. Due to her rage at her father and the atrocities he committed, became an assassin who hunted down the former HYDRA employees who had gotten away from the Avengers, all the while trying to figure out the secrets of the twins’ powers. Once she’s finally figured out their true parentage and the fact that Wanda is an Omega-level mutant, she finally approaches the Avengers, and through spending time with Wanda, who actually remembers her as well, they eventually fall in love! Carrie has a lot of rage and trauma due to her father’s abuse and the things she did over the years, but she has a lot of love in her heart and desperately craves to be loved the way Wanda loves her. Also, like, Probably Too Comfortable with being covered in blood, but luckily for her Wanda’s kind of into that.

Raymond “Ray” Nakamura a.k.a. Menagerie, he/him, Peter Parker ship, Ryan Potter FC. A mutant with the power to transform into any animal he wishes, who plays off the green hair that comes with his mutation and mostly just tries to fly under the radar, but eventually gets inspired by Spider-Man and decides to take to the streets as his own kind of vigilante named Menagerie - only to accidentally run into a maskless Spider-Man one night and discover that the insect-themed vigilante is actually the awkward guy who sits beside him in English. Ray decides to reveal himself to Peter as well and becomes a Friend of Spider-Man, and eventually they also fall in love and become a really cute superhero couple. Very sarcastic and blunt, but with a heart of gold, and incredibly brave and always ready to fight for what’s right and for the people he cares about. Also becomes besties with MJ, and they have fun judging people together.

Callisto, they/she pronouns, Peter Quill (recasted as Jensen Ackles) ship, Felicity Jones FC. A half-human, half-Asgardian hybrid who grew up with their Terran mother on Xander, until she was killed by a small Kree militia group during an attack and Callisto was taken to become a Kree battle slave at the age of eleven. Ran across Yondu’s band of Ravagers during a Kree mission, and Yondu, being reminded of his own past, decided to take her in, so she grew up with Peter until he left to strike out on his own and Callisto stayed with the Ravagers, and actually started to resent him for what they saw as him leaving her behind. When Peter steals the Orb, Yondu decides it would be best to send Callisto after him since they already have a grudge against him but will still bring him back alive - of course, she doesn’t expect Rocket, Groot, and Gamora to also be there and winds up shipped to the Kyln with the rest of them, and over the course of the group’s adventures actually starts to want to punch Peter less and less. An incredibly good fighter who’s amazing with almost any weapon, and the best sharpshooter in Yondu’s Ravager band. Very fierce and intense and, on the surface, a lot like Gamora, but actually has a chaotic streak much like Peter’s that they’ve tried to tamp down, and at the end of the day just wants to be loved and not left alone like she was before. Actually becomes really good friends with Rocket, and eventually the whole team comes to dead the shenanigans they get up to when left alone together.

Tagging the Marvel moots: @dancingsunflowers-ocs,

@ginevrastilinski-ocs, @xoteajays, @gabbysdawsons,

@stelstellakidd, @come-along-pond, @juliaswickcrs,

@asirensrage, @themaradwrites,

@goldheartedchaoticdisaster.

[hayleylatour]

Finding Peace 🕊️

content warnings- none really, cocky Noah, talks of sex but none as of right now.

Summary- Mia is a 24 year old new bookstore owner who got pregnant by a one night stand with Bad Omens front man Noah Sebastian. Deciding to stay friends and raise their daughter together. What hardships and challenges will they face?

Parings- Baby daddy! Noah Sebastian x OC Mia

Chapter five ~ Mia’s pov

~ 3 days later~

Noah never had to call the guys, with the tour canceled they were able to come home. Jolly called the next morning to tell us they were coming home and to ask how I was and how the baby was. Noah and I decided to take the opportunity of the guys being out to lunch to set up the reveal. We were telling them that we’re having a girl, Ophelia. Noah was hanging a pink banner above the fireplace pink balloons scattered around the living room. the white cake sitting on the kitchen island. they should be here soon and are going to walk into a pink wonderland

“I think it’s enough angel, they’re going to get the surprise. Theres a giant pink banner that says it’s a girl” Noah says stepping down from the ladder.

“Everything has to be perfect. We’re telling them her name tonight too right? Or should we wait till shes born?” I Fidget with the hem of my shirt. Running my hand along my belly tapping my fingers as I go. Ophelia kicks in response. Shes already so loved, she has a whole family that cares about her so much and she doesn’t even know it. I’ve stayed in Noah’s room since the accident. He is still on edge that something is wrong with her, even though my doctor assured him she’s fine and is right on track for a 20 week pregnancy.

“Whatever you decide, I’m sure that they will love her name. It may keep them from calling her a little bean” Noah says pulling me to a hug.

When the guys arrive the excitement is clear on their faces. A choir of voices can be heard throughout the house. This is what family feels like.

“So Mia, do you guys have a name picked out?” Jolly asks sitting down next to me on the couch. I’ve been thinking all night if we tell them her name now or wait till her birth.

“We do but I think we’re going to wait to tell everyone for just a little bit. One surprise at a time.” I laugh as jolly nods. I make eye contact with Noah from the kitchen. Smiling he grabs my cup and makes his way to the living room.

~10 weeks later~

Everything hurts or is starting to hurt. My clothes no longer fit, living in oversized shirts and sweatpants is completely horrible and it doesn’t make me feel any better, as sweet as Noah is to me it continues to piss me off. He doesn’t quite understand that I can do things for myself. He doesn’t understand that his daughter is kicking me in the ribs and bladder at the same time. I can’t look in the mirror without seeing a different person. None of my clothes fit so I look like a slob most of the time. And god dammit I’m frustrated, sexually speaking but emotionally speaking too.

“Noah I really need you to stop fussing over me. I am fine please let me be.” I sigh pulling the glass of water from him and setting it on the counter. He huffs. “I’m grown I can get up and make myself a glass of water and my own lunch. I can walk upstairs without you right behind me, I’m not a child I need you to stop babying me! Christ Noah I’m pregnant I’m not dying!” Tears welling in my eyes.

“Alright what is your fucking problem lately? You’re really starting to piss me off!” Noah says pulling at his roots.

“You wanna know what my fucking problem is? Huh! My problem is I’m so frustrated and tired. My feet are swollen my hips are killing me. I’ve got a foot in my ribs and your daughter is head butting my damn bladder! I can’t see my feet anymore! I’ve got stretch marks in place i didn’t know I could get them! I’m horny beyond belief, and I can’t just ask you to fuck me because god know that you can’t find this attractive anymore! None of my clothes fit right and maternity clothes look like they were made for old people! God Noah I’m not trying to be a bitch but i don’t feel like myself anymore! I cant look in the mirror anymore. I mean fuck man!” I say tears now streaming down my face Noah’s features soften

“I’d still have sex with you, i just didn’t wanna hurt her or you. I find you incredibly attractive. Angel I will have sex with you. Will that make you be nicer to me, you need me to make that attitude change with some dick?” He says stepping into my space as his hand cup my face sliding one hand into my hard. His lips so close I can taste to mint on his breath. Whimpering I close the space enveloping his lips. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip and I immediately grant him access. I don’t fight him for dominance, at this point id gladly give it up for him.

Pulling away he smirks “that’s all it took for you to be slightly nicer. Huh? I’ll have sex with you angel all you have to do is ask baby. I still find you sexy as hell Mia.” He says before lowering his lips to mine once more.

“Upstairs, please Noah” I whisper as I step away pulling him to the staircase. Laughing he scoops me up bridal style taking the steps two at a time before kicking the door shut and laying me on the bed.

[mrs-snape5984]

“Oh, breathe, just breathe…”

“'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable. And life's like an hourglass glued to the table. No one can find the rewind button, girl. So cradle your head in your hands and breathe, just breathe…” (“Breathe (2AM)” by Anna Nalick)

Sometimes, you just have to accept, that there are things, that can’t be changed or fixed anymore…at least not right now. I guess, I’m more and more coming to terms with this insight, considering the fact, that it just doesn’t make sense to wrap my head around the reason for my disease ME/CFS.

I can’t alter my previous decisions. For the past two years, I’ve blamed myself for catching Covid on an Open Air concert of my German favourite punk rock band “Die Ärzte”…especially viewed in the context that I avoided social gatherings since late 2019 because of my medicinal immune suppression. But when I got these tickets as a gift in 2022, my brain must have shut down and I started to belittle the potential risks of catching the virus by telling myself, that I would stand in the back of the crowd, beneath the open sky. This was also the first occasion, when I didn’t wear my mask…after enduring being bullied and mocked for wearing masks everywhere and rejecting every single invitation to parties and simple get-togethers.

Well…only one week later, my life- as I knew it before - came to an abrupt halt. I don’t want to go into detail about my current situation in this post. Whoever knows me and also my prior posts, is probably already fed up with my complaints about ME/CFS and its results for my life.

So, all I can do now, is to breathe. Deliberately slowly…breathing in…and breathing out. Calming my nerves…soothing my troubled mind with my fantasies of Severus and my absolutely self-inserted OC Jules…

I’ve commissioned someone new for this project. Someone different from all those lovely artists of Snapedom, who I regularly contacted for my usual coping mechanism of commissioning artworks of Sevy and Jules.

This time, I reached out to @pinklovecharm, an incredibly kind and understanding artist, who made me speechless with this drawing. I asked her to help my imagination of Severus and Jules, being on a walk in the forest, come to life.

I can’t tell you, how much I’m missing this simple activity of enjoying the autumn sunshine and some fresh air on a walk in the woods. In my fantasy, Severus would apparate us to a secluded path in the middle of the forest, wrapping his arm around my waist to support my steps. We wouldn’t talk much…but Severus would remind me of the importance of breathing…and he would exercise it with me…patiently waiting for me to eventually calm down. He’s my safe haven…my home.

My dear Sadie, you can’t imagine, how much you soothed my soul with your mesmerising art and your kind-heartedness. You really achieved to put me into my OC Jules…with all her emotions and physical attributes….and you even integrated my cane into your drawing! Normally, I don’t show my reference pictures publicly, but I’m too impressed by your dedication to the details of my appearance, that I can’t stop myself from presenting them here. Thank you for everything, you wonderful person! I hope, we’ll stay in touch and that I may commission you again.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy and Jules🖤

[spencerfuckngreid]

· T H E A R T O F G E T T I N G T O K N O W | S P E N C E R R E I D · PT 4

· Pairing: Spencer Reid/OC · Category: Fluff, Angst · Warning: None · Words: 1902 · Parts: Pt 1 · Pt 2 · Pt3 · Summary : Eli, a psychology expert and old friend of Luke's, joins the UAC as a consultant and quickly bonds with Spencer Reid. As they delve into a complex case, Eli and Spencer find themselves drawn to each other on a deeper level. · Note about Eli: Her neurodivergence (She is autistic) is implied but it's never really said.

· Spanish on Wattpad. English isn’t my first language, be kind!

· Masterlist

· P O V E L I ·

I was exhausted. My hands were shaking as I went over the reports again and again, looking for mistakes that weren’t there. Everything in my life seemed like chaos. The new job demanded more from me than I could give, my colleagues were still strangers, and dealing with two jobs at once… it was too much.

On top of that, there was Spencer. His presence affected me more than I was willing to admit, and the tension between us only seemed to grow. Every word he said, every look he gave me, left me reeling, as if the ground beneath my feet was slowly disappearing. He had sent me a message a couple of nights ago, and it made me feel good, but… Nothing seemed to have changed between us.

Today, however, everything exploded. I was alone in the office. Everyone had gone home, and I stayed because I didn’t want to return to the silence of my house. Deep down, I was afraid to face my own thoughts, what I was feeling, the stress, the exhaustion. “I can’t do this anymore… I can’t… no, no, don’t think like that, of course, you can…” I was so drained and overwhelmed, so mentally agitated that I couldn’t sleep. I flipped through the pages, reviewed the notes, and saw nothing, nothing in those damned reports that would help me, not even a pat on the back. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t help it. The tears started falling uncontrollably, and within minutes, I was sobbing. The damn Niagara on my face, I had to be heard throughout the office. Not even watching “Hachiko” made me cry like this. “What’s happening to me?”

I tried to cover my face with my hands, as if that could hide my vulnerability, the feeling of being completely useless, but it was no use. I felt broken, exposed.

Then, I heard footsteps.

—Eli… —It was Spencer. His voice pulled me out of my thoughts, but I didn’t have the strength to lift my head.

I stayed silent, trying to hold back the sobs, but only managed to cry harder. God, how ashamed I was for him to see me like this.

Spencer didn’t say anything else. Instead, he approached slowly, and soon I felt his hand on my shoulder. It was a gentle touch, almost hesitant, but at the same time comforting. Without a word, he sat next to me. I could feel his presence, the closeness of his body, and far from calming me, it made the tears flow even more intensely.

—You don’t have to pretend —he whispered warmly, making me feel safe by his side, his head close to mine in a comforting gesture.

—I'm not… —I tried to say something, anything, but my voice cracked.

Spencer didn’t push. He just stayed there, in silence, letting me release everything I had been holding in. And without realizing how it happened, I leaned into him. It was an instinctive move, seeking refuge in his closeness. He didn’t say anything when I rested my head on his shoulder; he just wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer.

For a moment, everything else disappeared. There were no reports, no jobs, no tension… just him, holding me, and me letting myself be vulnerable. And in that instant, I realized that the tension that tormented us had a name.

I stayed there for a while, curling up until the sobs stopped, and he held me without speaking, without moving for as long as I needed. From the way we were sitting, each in a chair, I knew he couldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t complain. I could feel his breath over my head, and occasionally he took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. I could smell him. “God, how he smells…” and **how his fingers drummed lightly on my shoulder, which relaxed me.

When I pulled away, he looked at me, bringing his hands to my face, holding it gently with a warm smile. With his thumbs, he wiped away the traces of dried tears and kissed my forehead. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t react; I was drained.

—I'm taking you home. —That was all I heard.

· P O V S P E N C E R ·

After what happened with Eli, it was hard for me to focus on anything other than her. The image of her tears, her body trembling in my arms, kept replaying in my mind. But I knew I couldn’t lose focus. Work was still a priority, even when my mind played tricks on me every time I saw her.

Eli and I were going over reports that seemed endless in the common room. The silence was comfortable, though there was an underlying tension that we both pretended to ignore, although at least we didn’t seem as awkward as before.

—Thanks for last night… —she said suddenly, breaking the silence as she placed a file on the table. She wasn’t looking directly at me.

I glanced at her sideways, trying to figure out what else she might be thinking, but her expression was hard to read.

—You don’t have to thank me. We all have our moments. —I tried to downplay it, though the weight of what had happened between us made my words feel clumsy.

Eli let out a sigh but didn’t add anything else. Instead, she dove back into work. As the night wore on, the conversation between us became lighter, almost intimate, as if that small moment we had shared earlier had allowed us to open a door that had been closed. We even laughed, and that laugh… “How can it be so beautiful…?” We returned to old habits, like going for snacks and coffee, and I took the chance to leave one on her desk with a note when she went to the bathroom, like we used to do before. I couldn’t help myself; I wrote: “Are we good?”

Eli came back from the bathroom and saw the coffee. I saw her smile, and she immediately looked at me, but when she read the note, her expression turned sad, and I could see her lower her gaze.

—Eli…?

She immediately lifted her head, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t read her face; it only happened with her. Her look was like a puzzle I never managed to solve. With no one else did I feel so lost.

—Why have you been so tense lately? —I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral, though deep down I was dying to know if the tension between us was just in my head, if something was going on with her, or… “I think I’m being an idiot with her.”

Eli remained silent for a moment. I could see her biting her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

—I think… I've been a bit overwhelmed. —she let out with a cynical laugh, almost a sigh, something she had to release, something that seemed to suffocate her. —It’s not just work. It’s… everything. The work, the new colleagues… you. —she finally admitted, speaking more to herself than to me.

I froze at hearing that last part. I tried to stay impassive, but something inside me stirred. “Me? What have I done to add more weight to her burden? I knew I did something. I’m a complete idiot…”

—Me..? No.. Eli, I-I… I’m sorry, really, whatever it is, forgive me. I never meant to make you feel bad. Tell me what it is, please, it won’t happen again. —I suddenly started rambling apologies without even knowing what I had done to make her feel so bad, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to see her smile again.

—It's complicated. You haven’t done anything wrong, really, it’s not your fault, it’s mine. And honestly, it’s stupid. —she said, and her tone sounded almost like an apology. I felt very confused because she was laughing awkwardly, and I didn’t know what was happening. —I… I’m sorry. —That’s all she said.

—Come on, tell me what it’s about. You can’t tell me something is bothering you about me and not tell me what it is.

After a sigh, she spoke. —It’s just… it’s… I mean… When you talked about that friend of yours from college that you saw last week…

There it was. She didn’t say it outright, but there was something in that confession. “Was she jealous?” I felt a strange satisfaction hearing her say it, though I also felt guilty for being glad about something like that.

—That friend… means nothing to me, Eli. —My voice softened, and something in my tone seemed to make her look at me more closely. —In fact… she’s not the one on my mind.

We looked at each other in silence. I knew I was walking on dangerous ground at that moment, though she looked at me with some disbelief.

—Ah… I see… —I didn’t understand why, but suddenly she seemed sad. “I basically told her I like her, and she reacts like this. Well done, Reid…” —So you’re with someone right now, aren’t you?

I was stunned. “That’s what she got from that?” I realized that I would have to be very direct if I wanted her to know what I truly felt and avoid any confusion…

N-no no, no… Eli, no. I didn’t mean that. I’m not seeing anyone, nor am I interested in… I mean… What I’m trying to say is that friend doesn’t mean anything to me. Really, she doesn’t, nor do other people I might not have told you about or whatever… I’m… I’m not with anyone. —I must have started to sound pretty desperate, though she didn’t seem to pick up on that. I wasn’t capable of being completely open with Eli, but I didn’t know how to express myself without causing confusion, without telling her everything running through my mind.

She nodded slowly, thoughtfully. —Are you… Are you okay…?

—Y-yeah, of course, I’m fine. Uh… So… You…? I mean… Well, never mind, I’ll head to the bathroom and take these papers to García… and, uh, this other stuff too.

—Uh… Sure… yeah… See you later? “Pff… You’re doing great… God…”

—Yeah, later.

Everything stayed the same but even more confusing. I could have told her directly that I think about her constantly, ever since she joined the unit, but I couldn’t do it, and I don’t know if she really doesn’t notice or if she’s just not interested in me at all.

“This hurts more every time, I just want to be with her, and it feels like I’m suffocating. I know it’s not literal, it’s a sensation, a physiological response due to my hormones and neurotransmitters. I won’t actually run out of air, but knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to bear…”

· Requests via DM ·

[crossbowandwitches]

What Should I Say? (Fred Weasley x OC)

A/N: Hi! I'm so sorry for the long wait, I was so nervous to carry this on, as this is the first story I've ever actually put out. Hope you enjoy the next part though!

Summary: In the bustling streets of Muggle London, Fred Weasley, known for his mischievous charm and quick wit, stumbles into an unexpected encounter that will turn his world upside down. At an ordinary acting class, he finds himself face to face with the enigmatic Delphine Howard, a woman who seems to have stepped right out of his dreams. However, he soon comes to a heart-wrenching realization: the love he's found in Delphine is a love he can never truly have. Or can he?

Warnings: Use of alcohol, swearing, but eventual smut, angst, stress etc.

Chapters 1 & 2

Word Count: 1540

Chapter 3: Delphine’s POV

I really disliked taking the tube after 8 pm, especially on a warm Friday night, and particularly on the Central line. It always reeked of alcohol or sweat, or both, since this line barely had air conditioning and it was still 23 degrees outside.

I put on my headphones and immersed myself in my favourite album, "If I Can’t Have Love I Want Power" by Halsey, as I embarked on my 15-stop journey from acting class to home.

My phone buzzed, and I saw a message from Russel: "Five Guys tonight?? x" Russel is my boyfriend, although it's complicated. The last thing I wanted was to entertain him tonight. Fridays were always the worst in the office, with endless weekly updates and making sure everything was sorted for the weekend, so I didn’t have to work over the weekend.

"I'm too tired tonight! x," I replied. Instantly, he sent me a sad face emoji. I should be used to this by now, the way he makes me feel bad because I won’t put out for him. He can be a dick, but I always end up going back to him because it's easier than trying again with someone new.

"Next Stop: Bethnal Green Station," I barely heard the announcement over my headphones, but then I realised I was one stop away. I grabbed my bag and made my way to the exit - not before accidentally hitting someone with my bag.

"Shoot, I’m so so-," I looked up and realized I had hit Fred Weasley, the tall and lanky redhead from Wednesday’s acting class.

"Delphine! Delphi!" He quickly corrected himself, knowing I’d prefer to be called Delphi. "Hey! How are you?" he asked.

"I’m good! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you. Are you OK?" My cheeks were going red; I could feel it. I was embarrassed!

“It’s all good, hah!” He reassured me with a little smile. "Are you heading home?" I realized then that I was pulling into my stop and panicked - I didn’t want this chat to end, and I didn’t know why.

"Yes! Oh god, this is my stop! It was lovely to see you." I offered him an apologetic smile before saying a quick goodbye and hopping on the train. I quickly turned around, and we waved at each other.

“I’ll text you!” He shouted out before the doors closed between us. Something about that comment made me excited.

-

Why was my heart racing? It’s just this tall guy from my acting class, this tall, ginger guy, this tall, handsome, cute- I stopped myself from thinking like that. He’s my student, I’m his teacher and that’s that. 

As I came round the corner to my flat, I saw Russel standing outside and instantly dreaded coming home. Russel was around 5’8, with shoulder length brown hair. He wasn’t unattractive, far from it. He reminded me a little of Jake Gyllenhaal.

I let out a deep sigh as he came over to hug me, “Did you not see my text? I’m tired. Go home please.” He went in to kiss me and I instantly moved my face away. 

“Oh come on, Delphine. I brought dinner.” He grinned and held up a Five Guys takeaway bag, “Your favourite!”

I shook my head, “It’s /your/ favourite.” I headed up the two flights of stairs that lead to my flat with Russel following suit. “I’m really not in the mood tonight. Let's just plan something Sunday, please?” I pleaded but he was in the door the second after I unlocked it. 

“I’m here now, gorgeous. Come on, don’t be rude to your guest!” He shouted out, he was already heading to the kitchen to find drinks, probably something alcoholic. 

I let out an internal scream before kicking my Converse off at the door and locking it. I wish I was still on the tube with Fred. 

Chapter 4: Fred’s POV

As the train pulled away, I just couldn’t stop thinking about her. Was it wrong that I was thinking about her like this? 

“Fuck it.” I muttered to myself before pulling my phone out and the business card she gave me. I saved her number and sent her a quick text, ‘It’s Fred, from acting class. Hope you got home safe.’ 

The train finally reached my stop, and I stepped out into the busy station. I was heading to a party that George invited me to, he practically forced me to come. When I arrived, it was already packed, with music blaring from speakers, and people dancing, laughing and chatting in every corner. 

“There you are, Freddie!” George was already ushering me over to a group of friends before I had a chance to breathe, “Come and meet my friends.”

I constantly checked my phone and I could see George giving me weird looks, no way was I going to tell him why, but I must have been three drinks down when Delphi texted me back; 

‘Hey Fred, thanks! I got home safe :)’ I was grinning ear to ear, but instantly stopped myself when George came over. 

“Who you texting?” He asked, one eye raised. He was onto me. 

“Huh? Nothing.” I was bright red, George wasn’t going to let this go, so I popped my phone into my back pocket and went back to the party. 

-

By the time I decided to call it a night, it was well past 2 am and I had quite a bit to drink. I called George and me an Uber since neither of us was in a position to get any form of public transport. 

When we finally reached my flat, it was already 3 am. I fumbled with my keys, eventually managing to unlock the door and stumble inside. I collapsed onto my bed, my head spinning and my thoughts instantly on Delphi. 

Without even thinking, I grabbed my phone and texted her back, ‘Hey Delphi. Just got back from a party. Hope you had a good night. See you in class. :)’. 

“Shit!” I shouted, almost throwing my phone across the room. “Why did I do that?!” I took a deep sigh before popping my phone down. There was nothing I could do about it now. 

Chapter 5: Delphine’s POV

Russel was already rummaging through my kitchen cabinets. "Where do you keep the wine glasses?" he called out.

"Top shelf, left side," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I followed him into the kitchen, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on me.

He found the glasses and poured two generous servings of white wine. "Here you go," he said, handing me one.

I took the glass but didn't drink. "Russel, I really am tired. I just want to relax tonight."

He took a sip of his wine and leaned against the counter, looking at me with a mix of frustration and something else I couldn't quite place. "You always say that, Delphine. When are we going to spend some real time together?"

I sighed, setting the glass down. "It's been a long week. Can we just plan something for Sunday? I promise I'll make it up to you."

Russel's eyes narrowed. "You always say that too. I'm starting to think you don't want to spend time with me at all." …I wonder why.

“I don’t want an argument tonight, Russel.” I said sternly, “Please, go home.”

“God, Delphine. Fine!” He practically threw his glass into the sink, “I’ll just get it somewhere else…” I wasn’t surprised to hear him mutter that under his breath - this is what he did. 

“Yeah, you do that.” I said as I was practically shoving him out the door and slamming the door in his face. I know what you’re thinking, why is she even with this dude? I ask myself this daily, weekly, hourly. It’s like a form of self-punishment, I just keep crawling back. 

“Now that he was gone, I can get on with my evening,” I said to myself as I unpacked my work bag and plugged my laptop in to charge. I rummaged around the bag for my phone and saw I had a text message from Fred. 

When he said he’d text, he meant it - a man that actually delivered.  -

I very rarely check my phone when I wake up, I’m usually rushing to the bathroom or prioritising a coffee first thing. I also don’t set alarms most of the time, I always wake up around 6.30 am, and this morning wasn’t any different. 

I was mid coffee-making when I heard my phone ringing. I didn’t make it back in time to get the call but it was from Russel, no surprise there. He probably hadn’t even gone home yet. I also saw a text message from Fred and chuckled to myself - a drunk text! 

‘Hey Fred, hope the hangover isn’t too bad, see you Wednesday!’ I was debating inviting him to Monday’s class, it was a smaller class, with more experienced actors which wouldn’t be a bad thing, but he’d probably be even more out of his comfort zone. 

I put my phone back and got on with my morning - there was no way he’d text back until this afternoon. 

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Five

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (fem OC)

Warnings: Anxious Themes (includes a Comforting scene), Mild Meltdown (I don't want to say a panic attack because it isn't really) Mentions of Grieving, the most brief mention of funerals, silly&friendly bullying, drinking/alcohol (we know the drill), Fluff oh the fluff, & Jake yearns a little more (shocking).

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: After caving and finally asking for help, Jake doesn't know what to do with himself until she shows up. Which takes a big ol' turn for ... well, I guess we will find out, won't we? 🤭

Author's Note: If we're being completely honest, this was the first chapter I wrote, of this story. I knew exactly how I wanted this day to go and I couldn't stop myself when I thought of the idea. It's what fueled the bulk of the storyline and I really hope you guys love it as deeply as I do. 🥹

Clocks Go Forward - James Bay "Stay warm, close your eyes, let time fly, Stay close, stay right here, nothing to fear."

I slide my phone back into my pocket. Staring at it isn’t going to make her reply, Jake. I’ve been at the bar trying to figure out this paperwork for a while, and well, I’m lost. My hands keep finding their way to the back of my head as I read through these documents; I need to focus on something else. 

“Hey, how are you?” I say in passing some day-time regulars of ours. I collect any empty cans or glasses that I can, anything to keep me busy at this rate.  

I wander behind the bar, setting all the glasses in the dirty bin.

“Jake.” 

I look over to Josh, who’s wiping out a glass.

“Why don’t you just go get some lunch or something? You’re stressing me out being here.” 

“Is it really that bad?” I ask, running my hand through my hair. 

A laugh erupting from him says enough. 

“Okay, alright, I’ll leave you alone,” I tell him, “Just let me know if you need anything.” 

Reluctantly sitting back down at the desk in my office, I find myself with my head in my hands for a moment. You’re going to be okay. You’re new at this, and it’s okay to mess up. She’s giving you time to take care of everything. 

After a deep breath or two, I opened my laptop and pulled up my email. I decided that maybe spending some time doing mindless admin work would help distract me from the inevitable problem.��

I’m flying through these emails by humming along to whatever customers have chosen for the jukebox. Looking at the time in the top corner, 2:30 pm. 

She still hasn’t replied. Maybe she’s working with someone else right now; just be patient.  

I walk back into the bar, seeing a handful more people come in. I wave slightly to the regulars who like to camp out in the corner. They enjoy sneaking away from work for a few hours; “Lunch beers” is apparently what they call it.  I laughed the first time they told me about it, but as they continued the tradition, I understood it more and more. 

Looking to the corner of the bar, I see Quinn. I can’t help but watch the two of them for a minute with a grin plastered on my face. Seeing my brother so happy makes my heart swell daily, and Quinn is perfect for him; I can’t deny it. They just know how to handle him and reign him in when he’s being a bit too much. Which is more often than not. 

“Do you two want to go grab lunch?” I ask, slinking my arm around Josh’s shoulders, “I think I can handle the rowdy folk we have here.” I shoot a wink at the few customers sitting next to Quinn. 

His eyes light up, “You don’t have to ask me twice. Let’s go, bug!” 

I don’t think he could have left any quicker if he tried. Immediately, hand in hand with Quinn, and practically pranced out of the bar. 

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“And a squirrel fell down my chimney into my fireplace!” 

I nod with a quiet “mhm,” glancing at my phone hidden under the bar. 3:15 pm. I'm trying to look interested in this story I’ve heard a few times. The older gentleman talking to me forgets that he’s told me the majority of the tales he has in his arsenal. But I don’t want to cut him off; he seems lonely, and the least I can do is humor him. 

Hearing the door chime, followed by Josh making his entrance. 

“Welcome back,” I chuckle as he walks swiftly towards the bar. 

“I need to use the lavatory, and then I will be ready to rock ‘n roll or whatever kids say nowadays,” Josh mutters. 

You would think he’s nine hundred years old with how he talks sometimes, but it always keeps me on my toes. Watching as he disappears around the corner, I grab the older man’s glass and place it in the dirty bin. 

The door chime goes off again, causing my head to whip around. 

Oh, she’s here..?

As Charlotte slowly walks to the bar, I go to meet her at the opposite corner. I pull my phone out; she never replied? 

“I didn’t think I would see you today,” I start as she approaches. Leaning down to grab everything I had been looking at, I stowed away when I couldn’t focus anymore. 

“I have been reading through all of these, and I think you’re gonna need to explain these to me like I’m five–” I stop. I hadn’t looked at her face the entire time, and her eyes were pink and looked a bit swollen. She’s not making eye contact at all, which seems odd compared to the other afternoon, where I thought if she held my gaze any longer, I would explode. Was she crying? I questioned myself. I hope I didn’t cause this. Was she supposed to be off today? Oh my god, what if I’m the only reason she’s working? 

Finally pulling myself out of my head, “Are you okay?” 

She takes a shallow breath before looking up at me, and I can see that her eyes are fighting the urge to let the tears fall. 

“Um,” she swallows, looking back down, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her raspy voice is so quiet I can barely hear it. Her lip quivers as she stands there, and I can see the way her breathing is picking up. Oh no, oh no, oh no.  

I hear the door to the bathroom open. Turning around, I shoot Josh a look. He makes eye contact with me as I bounce my eyes to Charlotte and back to him. I watch as he glances at her quickly, his eyes widening as if to say, ‘Do what you need to.’

I come out from behind the bar, grabbing her bag from the barstool it sat on. 

“Come with me,” I whisper to her; she just nods in response. 

I gently place my hand on her back, guiding her down the hall to my office. Just long enough to round the corner into the small room, she lets out the tiniest whimper I’ve ever heard. I toss her bag onto the chair, facing her as she finally breaks down. Her hands fly up to hide her face as she lets out the most heartbreaking sound. One sob was enough for me; I pushed the door closed behind her and pulled her into me.  

“Oh, honey,” I let slip out, holding her small frame tight against me as she cried. I listen to her sobs against my chest as I run my hand down the back of her head, holding her close. I close my eyes to help focus my breathing; being in these situations never gets easier and I’ll never understand how I always end up in them. 

“Take a breath for me,” I said quietly, trying to stay calm for her. I can feel her take a deep breath and shakily release it. Her arms drop from her face, finding their way around my back. Grabbing at my shirt gently, like she’s afraid I'll let her go.  

“I’m right here. Take your time,” I whisper, pressing my lips gently to the top of her head, “You’re okay.” 

We spend a few minutes like this. I keep rubbing slow circles on her back, resting my face against the top of her head to keep her tucked in. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. I feel her shake her head ‘no’ before turning her face and leaning back against me, reaching up to push the hair out of her face. She lets out another shaky breath. 

“I‘m so sorry,” she mumbles into me. 

“Don’t apologize for having emotions.” 

I lean back to look at her, her breathing starts to feel more normal.

She looks tired.

I don’t know what comes over me when I reach up, holding either side of her face and gently wiping the tear stains on her cheeks away. 

Our eyes finally met; she really was beautiful— crying or not. 

Her gaze doesn’t falter, her green eyes locked on me. She almost makes me nervous, not in a mean or intimidating way, but like I shouldn’t be allowed to look at someone who looks like her.

“Do you want to um-” I hesitate, “go get something to eat? While we talk about things. Not like a d-”

Despite her watery eyes, she huffs out a laugh.

“Stop,” she says, “I know what you mean. Yes, let’s do that.”

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We walked into the restaurant, and considering it’s only 4 p.m., it’s not very busy. I let her pick where we sit, following behind as she chose. She had a soft smile on her face as she claimed the booth seat like she just won a prize.  

“Hi, can I please have a Boulevardier? ” Charlotte politely orders, my eyebrows raised at her choice. 

“Actually, I’ll take the same thing,” I tell them, “Thank you.” 

Charlotte pulled out the paperwork, flipping through it to see what I had left. Watching her green eyes flit across them, setting aside anything that needs more attention. The way that she chews the inside of her lip while she’s reading is endearing. 

“Okay, so you haven’t missed too many things.” She tells me. 

“Oh good,” I start picking at my lip, “I’m sorry, I just didn’t realize how much was involved.” 

“That’s alright, Jacob. It’s a lot, and nobody generally explains this part of business to you.” Normally, I would cringe at my full name being used, but I just want her to keep saying it. 

She pulled out one of the papers and turned it to face me. She pointed at the part I hadn’t filled out. 

“So essentially, this means–” She begins explaining. Her eye contact is intense while she talks, which makes it incredibly hard to focus. I feel myself slowly smiling as she’s telling me. I glance at her mouth quickly, making it even more challenging to pay attention. 

“What?” 

Damnit. I raised my eyebrows with a small ‘mmm’. 

“You looked like you wanted to say something?” She questions. 

 “Oh, I’m sorry– no, I was just listening.” There are a lot of things I could say.

“Oh– Well, anyway,” she shakes her head a little before continuing to explain. 

I really wish that I could tell you what she’s explained to me at this point, but to be completely honest, I have no clue. I’ve been far too distracted by the freckles on her nose and the way her eyes twinkle under these lights. I can’t get over the green of her eyes, with subtle gold flecks in them. Her hair is perfectly curled, and how the color of it stands out against her blazer.  She is unreal.

“Are you planning on doing that?” She asks, immediately pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

“Great, Melody will really benefit from that,” she tells me. Benefit from what exactly?

“Do you need me to send you the information on that?” she quickly asks, grateful I’ll at least have context on what I’m agreeing to. 

“Please, if you could,” I say quietly as I rub my eyes.  

Our server stopped our conversation to take our order, giving me a second to try and refocus myself. She is trying to help you and isn’t being an asshole about it. The least you can do is pay attention to what she’s actually saying. Get it together.

“Okay anyway,” she starts again, “I think that’s everything?”  She sifts through the papers.

“Amazing,” I breathe out. “I’m sorry I made you come out here to help.” I sit back in my chair, my hands falling into my lap, where I quietly dig at the side of my thumb. 

“No, it’s okay, really,” she says, not making eye contact this time. “I was already in Portland, so it worked out.”

Her eyebrows pulled together as she told me, but I knew I shouldn’t ask. If she wanted to tell me what was wrong, she would. I’m not going to make her cry again.  

“Well, I’m glad I caught you at the right time then,” I say, offering a small smile. Her face softens a bit, and she leans forward, propping herself up. 

“So, how long ago did you buy the bar if it’s not even a year old?” 

“About two years ago, actually,” I tell her, “We took our time renovating it to feel right.” 

“We?” 

“All the boys helped me, but Josh really did the most with making it look the way it does.” I usually have no issue talking about the bar, but her being even vaguely interested has my brain stalling. 

“I love that. He did a good job curating,” she says, “Was the goal to be pirate-esque, or did it just end up that way?” 

I chuckle, “No, it was intentional. I’ve always enjoyed pirates, even as a kid, so I felt like it just made sense.”

“I think it’s nice that you made it your own. There are enough modern hipster bars in the area. It’s a refreshing thing to walk into.” 

Her compliment made my heart beat a little harder. I’m never one to assume, but she doesn’t strike me as someone who would hang out in a bar like mine. Granted, I guess I can’t really picture her hanging out in bars in general, but maybe that’s because I have always been a fan of the smaller, more dive bars. And I can confirm that I’ve never seen someone of her caliber in any of them. 

Once our food is brought out, I ask her about how she got into working for the state. We quietly chatted about some of the situations that she’d walked into, which unintentionally made me feel much better about my slip-up. But simultaneously, it made me realize how terrible men can be. I can’t imagine yelling at her regardless of what she told me. People are awful. 

The server brings over the check, and without hesitation, I slide my card into the little black folder and hand it back to them with a quiet, ‘Thank you.’  I bring my attention back over to her, her eyes a little wide but going back to normal as she continues telling me about another bar owner being a complete ass. 

I fill out the slip, leaving cash for the tip, before looking up at her.

“Ready?” I ask. She just nods a few times before sliding out of the booth. I wave my hand in front of me, “After you m’lady.” 

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“So, how far do you live from here?” I try to make some form of small talk on the way back to her car, avoiding the elephant in the room. 

“I live in Skowhegan, so it’s a little hike,” she tells me, looking around at the area’s architecture, “but my family has a house on Sebago Lake, so it’s not as bad when I have to come down here.” 

“Oh, I'm sure it’s peaceful over there.” I imagine how quiet that lake house must be this time of year. With minimal people vacationing or trying to fish on the lake, and it’s probably gorgeous in the mornings. 

“It really is,” she says, looking down at her feet for a second, “Do you live close?”

“I actually live above the bar,” I laugh every time I tell someone, “I know that probably seems ridiculous.” 

“Convenient, at least,” She giggles softly before looking at me with a smile. Oh, I’m gonna throw up. 

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” I tell her, “Blessing when you can just roll out of bed and run downstairs if you oversleep, but a curse when I find myself in there most days.. And nights.” Pointing at the crosswalk, nobody was coming; I placed my hand on the small of her back as I led her into the street, shit, carefully pulling my hand back as she stepped off the sidewalk. 

“You don’t get sick of being there?” 

“You would think so, but no. I love it, even if working with my brothers can be an absolute chore sometimes.” I tell her. 

She grabs my arm gently.

“I think that’s great, Jacob. It’s refreshing to hear someone love their job in this industry. It’s few and far between.” I glance over at her as she says it; my stomach has little knots forming as she squeezes my bicep a few times before pulling her hand back.  

She points to her car, parked just a short distance ahead of us. I see her pulling her keys from her bag as we approach it, unlocking the doors. I open her door for her, watching her face redden a little at the gesture. As she’s settling into her seat, I notice a brochure-looking paper in her passenger seat before realizing there’s a photo on the front. And a name. Oh my god, Charlotte. That’s why she was so upset. 

Setting her bag down in front of the pamphlet, she turned back to me with a soft smile, “How much should I send you for food?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. 

“But, Jacob..” 

“It was my idea. I’m not going to make you pay for that.” Also, it’s the least I can do, especially now.

“Okay,” she sighs. “Well, thank you for the food and walking me back here. I’m pretty sure I would have gotten lost.” 

“Of course,” I tell her, “Drive safe.” 

I go to close her door for her, and I don’t know what possessed me when I hesitate, “Actually—” what are you doing? “Let me know when you make it home? Just since it’ll be a little later.” 

She nods subtly before saying, “Okay,” with a quiet laugh. 

I bite at my bottom lip as I smile at her, gently shutting her door for her. 

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“Now, where have you been?”

 I haven’t even made it fully behind the bar, and I’m already getting harassed.

“It’s nice to see you too, Linda,”  I laugh under my breath, “I had to take care of some paperwork, but I’m here now.” 

Raising an eyebrow, she looks from me to my right, where Josh stands with a shit-eating grin. Oh, fuck me. 

“And how was that paperwork, brother?” He says joyfully, emphasizing his skepticism with heavy air quotes. 

And, here we go. 

“The paperwork went well,”  I side-eye him, “Thank you for asking.”

I watched the two of them share a look before looking back at me, and all I offered was a shrug in response. 

“Why were you not in your office doing paperwork?” Linda questions as Eleanor joins her at the bar in their usual spots. 

“Who wasn’t in the office?” Eleanor chimes in. 

“Jake! He apparently went somewhere with someone to take care of paperwork,” Linda fills her in, like two school girls at lunch. 

Rubbing my hand across my face, I turn around to dry some glasses while I’m interrogated further. I should have known my being nice to her would have me questioned. 

“Well, that sounds like he went on a date,” Eleanor unknowingly agreeing with their past statements. Josh is the most enormous pain in my ass, I swear to god. 

“It wasn’t a date!” 

 Josh laughed, “That sounds like something someone who went on a secret date would say.” I feel my body warm the more they talk about my “date.” WHICH WASN’T A DATE. 

“Well, who paid?” Linda asks. 

“Uhh… I did,” I hesitated to answer. “But- it was my idea to go there, so I didn’t want to make her pay anything.” 

“Oh! You went with a girl?” Eleanor quietly questions.

“Yes, I needed help with some business stuff, and she was able to help me,” I tell her. “If she hadn’t come in so upset, I would have just been here the whole time.” 

The ladies look at each other and then back at me before Eleanor pipes back up, “So what you’re saying is, I just need to come in here crying to score a date with you?” 

A laugh falls out of me before I can even process what she’s said; at least someone has a sense of humor about all of this. 

“That’s very nice of you to take her to lunch to try and help cheer her up, sweetheart,” Linda tells me. I smile at her compliment before putting away some of the glasses I had been drying. I feel Josh’s presence before he says anything, just setting some dirty glasses in the bin below the counter. 

“Is she okay?” he whispers, leaning over to make sure nobody else heard. 

“I don’t know, honestly,” I tell him, knowing I sound a little panicked about it. 

“Did she say why she was upset?” 

I shake my head ‘no’ before leaning over, “I saw one of those printouts you get at funerals in her car, and she was wearing all black, so I’m assuming that she uh—” 

Josh covers his mouth and turns to look at me. If there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he will absolutely empathize with anybody about anything. 

“Oh shit,” he murmurs under his breath. 

I can’t hide the look of concern on my face as we stare at each other for no more than a few seconds. 

“She’ll be alright. You probably just caught a wave of grief, is all.” Josh says, grabbing my arm and giving it a few squeezes. 

I let out a small breath. He’s right. She probably just hadn’t really let anything out, and I just asked the wrong question. 

“You’re right,” I whisper back, patting the back of his hand on my arm, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”  But that isn’t going to stop me from worrying. 

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Business picked up shortly after that, with all the tables full and chatter loud. It kept me from my thoughts, which is probably for the best. I’m grateful that Linda and Eleanor came in tonight; they always keep me busy. 

I take small breaks from behind the bar to go check on the tables of people, collecting the empty glasses and bottles; sometimes, it’s nice to just mindlessly clean up. I spend a few minutes making small talk with some of the regulars, noticing the time as one of their phones lights up. 

11:30 p.m. already? Where did the night go?  I leave the table with a slight wave and head back to the bar to leave the dirty glasses. Setting them all on the back counter, I can tell Josh is caught up in whatever the ladies are telling him. 

Rounding the corner into the hall, I quickly lock myself away in the bathroom. Pulling my phone out immediately, relief washes over me when I see her name sitting in my notifications. Thank god. 

Charlotte: I made it home. Thank you again 

Jake: I’m happy to hear that and of course

Jake: I hope everythings okay.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I head back into the bar. She’s home, at least there’s that. 

“You can go if you want. I can handle the rest of the night,” I tell Josh quietly. He’s been here all day, and I definitely didn’t intend for him to cover the bar for that long. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Please, go get some sleep or call Quinn. Just get out of here while you can.” 

He hands me the towel he was using and mouths ‘thank you’ as he slides by me; I really can’t blame him for being excited to go to bed. It’s been a long day. 

The rest of the night seemingly flew by. A fair number of people, including Linda and Eleanor, left by 1 am, which meant I had to clock into my true Customer Service self for the last hour of the night. But it’s always nice when people start to trickle out early so that I can start cleaning up to close and make my life a little easier. 

I’m leaning against the back counter talking to the last few customers, and I can’t help but let my mind wander. What if she’s still upset? There’s nothing I can do to help that situation, and that’s okay. Maybe she just needs a friend right now. I could do that?  Or maybe she’s already told her friends, and Josh was right. Was she just having a moment? Oh god, what if she has a boyf- 

My phone vibrates, pulling my attention away from my internal spiral.  1:57 a.m. Thank god.

Charlotte: It will be, i’m sorry that you had to witness that.

Jake: don’t apologize, i’m glad i was able to help..i hope?

Charlotte: It did help, truly. 

That makes my heart feel a little weird. Don’t get ahead of yourself. 

Jake: well.. if you need anything, let me know? 

I set my phone down underneath the bar and started printing the tabs for the last customers who were sitting. I went through the motions as I put the papers out front of each of them with a pen. I watch as they sign on the line, possibly leaving a tip; either way, I’m not bothered. Leaving with a friendly ‘Have a good one,’ I follow behind them, locking the doors and shutting off the neon lights. Happy to know that I have hardly anything left to do. 

The brisk air hits me as I lock the back door, and I practically run up the stairs. Opening the door, it’s quiet. He must be asleep then. I carefully walk through the apartment, cracking his door open to see him tucked away in bed. 

“Goodnight, Josh,” I whisper, pulling his door shut gently. 

I shut my door as softly as I could, immediately pulled my flannel off, and tossed it on the end of my bed. Followed by my jeans before I grab my phone from my nightstand. 2:34 a.m. I open my messages to see her name sitting there with the blue, unread messages dot glowing back at me. 

Charlotte: I may take you up on that.

Why is she still awake? It’s so late. 

Jake: I hope you do

Be more obvious, Jake, come on.. 

Jake: Also why are you still up? lol

It changes from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’ almost instantly. I watch the typing bubbles pop up, making my stomach turn. 

Charlotte: I just haven’t been tired enough to sleep, but I think I’m getting there.

Jake: After everything, I figured you’d be exhausted

Charlotte: You would think lol 

Dropping my phone next to me. I rub my hands down my face. Trying to get the look on her face just before she cried out of my mind. ‘I’m so sorry’ in her sad little voice, playing on a loop. The sounds of her sobs against my chest, her shaking in my arms. I almost wish that I didn’t know why she was upset now. 

Jake: well don’t let me keep you up

This time, my message sat on delivered for a few minutes. I did my daily scroll on mindless apps and looked at the few new photos people had tagged the bar in before she replied. 

Charlotte: You’re not a bother at all, but I should probably try to sleep before it gets too much later.

Charlotte: Goodnight Jacob

My mind ran through all the ways that I could reply. How I’d love to tell her that I’m sorry for her loss and that I hope everything gets better. Even that, I had a lovely time talking to someone outside of my family and their partners for more than a few minutes as I served them a beer. It felt like we could be friends even, with the way she didn’t seem phased by any of the vaguely nerdy things I said. Unfortunately, my hands settled on something more straightforward, and I quickly hit ‘send.’

Jake: sleep well, Charlotte 

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

FDOG Masterpost | Masterlist | FDOG Playlist

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[lyn-js]

Dancing under the Moonlight | Chapter 4. Truth Unraveled

Bradley Bradshaw x OC Reader (Nickname Honey)

Summary: After the Uranium Mission, Bradley Bradshaw decides he wants to settle down. Maybe even start a family at some point in time. But he felt so tired (and old) to be in the dating scene. That's until he sees a beautiful new bartender at The Hard Deck. Not only that; turns out she's Penny's niece, Beatrice. They both hit it off amazing, but for some reason, Beatrice isn't letting her walls down yet. But Bradley is going to get to the bottom of what Bea's big secret is.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, drinking, mentions of past abuse, fluff, eventually smut 18+, age gap (24 & 35)

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(Bradley’s POV)

I was jumping out of the Bronco making my way into the bar. Just a usual Friday night, hanging out with the squad. I wish Bea was here with us, but we talked earlier, and said she and the girls had to work at the diner for a couple hours. I don’t know why, but when she was talking she seemed a little distracted. Like she was doing something on the other end. I wanted to ask her, but I’m not going to make her answer me when she does feel like it. I’m not going to be the type of boyfriend that will question her every move. I sure as hell won’t be that asshole that treated her with disrespect. I try not to get mad when thinking about it. All I know right now is that she is in a safer place. I try and distract myself when I see the group, and waving me over.

As I get over to the guys, I can hear some of them talking about another bar they wanted to xstop at. When I ask them what they were talking about Phoenix steps up to the plate as fast as humanly possible.

“Oh we were talking about this club that’s in San Diego, I think it’s called The Glamor Lounge. It’s a nice dance lounge. Actually, Chantal works there, can wait to see her.” I was taken back a little. Why would Bea lie to me about Chantal working with her? I think to myself. I still don’t want to think about this too much, so I go back to the present and see where we all want to go.

We all agree that we want to “The Glamor Lounge’, I sit in the parking lot looking at the big arch with the big neon sign with stars all aligned on it. Seems like a nice place. I hop out and try and catch up to the squad. 

Let’s see where the night leads us.

When we reach the inside, we go down a flight of stairs. When we reach the bottom, there are large windows showing the inside of the lounge. People taking, having drinks, we see some people up on stage dancing.

But we’re stopped by a man who has a mysterious look. We all give confused looks until he speaks up. “We may have no windows, but this is the best view you’ll get in San Diego. That’ll be $70.” he looks at all of us. So, we all hand Nat each 10 bucks from our wallets.

“What is this place, like a strip club?” Jake sneaks up next to Nat. We all look at the man, and he looks appalled. “A strip club? I should wash your mouth out with jagermister. The only pole you’ll find in there is Ashley the shot girl.” We all try out hard not to laugh because Jake made a complete ass out of himself. But none of us are complaining. Nat hands over the money, and the man opens the doors and tells us to enjoy.

Once we get in, we all grab drinks from the bar, and squeeze into a booth near the back, but close enough to see the stage. So far, we’re all having a good time, laughing, telling jokes, and still not letting Jake down for making an ass of himself. But we all quiet down when we see the house light die down to an even darker setting, and the spotlights circling around the red curtains. We see the darkened fabric being pulled up from its spot and see the silhouette of 8 girls on stage. A couple of seconds later we look over and hear a band start playing music. Then we see the spotlight fall on a couple of the girls.

My eyes widen when I see the girl in the center of the group. It can’t be?

It’s Beatrice and the rest of the girls. I see her ascend from them, and dance to the beat of the music.

Why would she lie to me? I wouldn’t be mad. But she shouldn’t have to keep this from me.

I snap out of my thoughts when she sees me and the group. I can see her eyes widen, but continues to dance and finish her routine with the girls. Trying to focus and not mess up. When the dance is finished, I can see her go off stage before the curtain is down. A couple of minutes later I hear a ring from my phone. I see that It was from Bea.

Honey🐝: Can you go wait by the bar? I’ll explain everything. Please don’t leave.

I can’t believe she thinks I would leave her.

You: I wasn't gonna leave anyway, Honey. I’ll wait for you. You know that. Plus I wanna see that little number you had up on stage.😏

Honey: Okay. See you soon. 

I get up from the booth and make my way to the bar.

(Your POV)

I have never wanted to die on the spot in my entire life, up until this very moment. I wasn't expecting the squad to show up tonight, let alone Bradley.

It was a typical night at the club. Dancing, getting changed into our different costumes, going back on stage, repeat.

I was on for a group number with all the girls when it started, I was my usual self. Feeling the music, letting all of my problems melt away, and finally being free from my stressful life. Up until the point where I locked eyes with someone, I could make out who I was at first. But when the main spotlight was off of me, I finally could see who was all in the crowd. I lock eyes with the person again, I just wanted to curl up into a ball onstage. Obviously, I couldn’t do that, so I just kept my cool and pretended that nothing had happened.

As we all rounded back up when the group number ended, I made sure the curtain was closed enough so I could rush off stage and try and text Bradley, and make sure he did run off. I really liked him, he was different, he made you feel special, he made you feel like you were worth something in this world. He asked me to be his girlfriend a couple of weeks ago, and ever since then We always spent time off together whenever we can. 

After the little altercation, he would show up to the bar when I would have my shift, just to make sure I was okay. I told him he did have to do that, but he insisted that he wanted to, and that was final. So I didn’t bring it up ever again. He would show up at Penny’s house, to have movie nights, snuggle, and have the occasional make-out session. I wouldn’t trade that for the world. I would do anything to keep those amazing times with him. But right now it feels like those memories are all slipping away just because I wasn’t bold enough to tell Bradley what I do for work. Just even thinking about losing him gets me teary-eyed.

I walk back to the dressing room in search of my phone, open my messages, and try to text him as fast as possible, not really caring if I misspell anything. I just need him to listen, even if it’s only for a couple of seconds.

When he said we could talk at the bar, I sighed in relief, almost crying tears of joy. You tell Chantal about what happened, and she wishes you good luck also trying to give words of encouragement like ‘Go get your man babes’ but I’ll take what I can get.

As I’m walking towards the bar, I try to calm my nerves the best I can, trying to calm down my beating heart, rubbing my sweaty palms on my legs, getting the redness out of my cheeks. But all of that stress goes away when I make it up to Bradley. Before he can even get a word out, I start pouring out my whole soul.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, I was just nervous you wouldn’t like me if I told you I was a burlesque dancer. I didn’t want you to hate me…I’m sorry.” He already knows what to do. He grabs one of my hands and puts it on his chest, letting me listen to his heartbeat. “Hey, hey, hey. Calm down, I don’t hate you, Honey,” He says in a calm tone. Which I’m very surprised by. I would have expected him to get mad, break up, and tell me he never wanted to see me again. But I try to remind myself, that he’s not Zeke. He’s not the bad guy. But I try and put that in the back of my mind for now, focus on the moment, and listen to his soft heartbeat.

I eventually calmed down and heard Bradley speak up again. “I want you to go slow, okay baby?” I nod as I continue to try and get my breathing back to normal.

“I'm just sorry I didn’t tell you.” I just want to bury my head in the sand, I just couldn’t imagine what he thinks of me now. “I’m not mad Honey, I’m a little bit surprised though. You were really good up there baby.”

“I knew this would happen… wait what?” I looked up at him questioning what he just said. “If this is what you want. If this makes you happy. I’m for it,” he says with an assured smile. “So you're not gonna force me to quit because I look like a slut, and I use my body to make money.” I just spew out of your uncontrollable mouth. I watch Bradley’s expression change from reassuring to concerned.

“Why would I ever say that about you, Honey? You are not any of those things. You were amazing up there.” He comes closer to me to whisper in my ear. “Plus you look super fucking hot when you were moving that beautiful body too.” He says in a low burly type voice.

That made chills run all across my body, and my cheeks heated up from embarrassment. I try to push him away from me playfully but he comes back to your side, even closer than he was before. “You look amazing in this outfit, I just want you to myself,” he says in a low tone again. Just as I was about to say something to him, I got called over by Sean saying you were up for the next number.

“I guess I gotta go, I’ll see you later,” I go up to kiss him, but he already beat me to it. But this kiss wasn’t just a kiss. This kiss was so heated, and filled with so much passion, I didn’t even realize that he moved away, but when I did notice, I immediately chased after his lips. “I'll see ya later, Honey. Okay?” I give a small ‘yea’ and make my way backstage again.

Turns out this night just got better.

After a couple more numbers at the club, it was time for all of us to go home. When we all come out from the back, we see all of the squad at the bar finishing their last sips of beer from their bottles, and chatting with the owner, Tess. 

Tess was like a second mother to me. When I first arrived at the club, she was sweet and caring, the first real big fight Zeke and I had he threw me out in the pouring rain with nowhere to go. I didn’t want to go to Aunt Penny’s because I didn’t want her to be involved with my three-ringed circus of a life. So, I decided to go to Tess. She helped me the best ways she could. But anytime she would put the motherly role on her, I only wished my real mom was with me more.

Missing her warm and big hugs, little kisses on the head, calming me down when I was having bad dreams, saying ‘I love you” to her. I didn’t even notice that I shed a single tear down my cheek. But I see Braldey come over to me. “You okay, Honey?” he asks as he wipes the tear of my cheek.  You just give him one look and it seems all of your problems melt away. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just wanna head home.” You reach up and give him a little peck on the mouth. Then he wraps his arm around you, says your goodbyes, and heads out.

As we’re making our way to Braldey’s Bronco, for some reason I felt riled up, the heat pulled from my stomach all the way down to my hole. As we reached the passenger door, I don’t know what happened, I just grabbed the collar of his Hawaiian shirt and brought our lips into a searing kiss. He was first hesitant with the kiss, but then he began to take over.

I try and break away from him, but he chases after my lips and takes my bottom one between his teeth. Both of our chests are heaving, trying to catch air. But when I finally opened my eyes, and see he had a look of regret on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I ask him with concern laced in my voice. I’m sorry> I shouldn’t have done that to you. You were trying to back away but I kept going.” I try to stop Bradley before he even continues. “Hey, don’t blame yourself. I’m the one who started this. Plus I couldn't stop thinking about what you said to me earlier at the bar.” You try and hide your face away from him when to speak. Just even thinking about the interaction made your cheeks heat up again. 

He stops you before you can hide your face in your hoodie and brings your face up to look at him. But I know you're not ready, and I'm sorry.” “No, I want this, I’m ready. You’re the first person I felt safe with in a long time.” You put your palm against his cheek and see him nuzzle more into your hand. I bring my lips to him to give him a little kiss. When I move away again I mumble something on his lips.

“I’ve been wet ever since you told me, so yeah, I really want this.” I see him move away, and see his face. It looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.

So then I see him give me a quick peck, open my door and help me in, and see him run over to the driver's side to get in and move his seat back a little bit. He pats his thighs, and gestures to me that I sit down there. “You really want this. Honey, then I do too.” Without hesitation, I move over from the passenger seat to Bradley’s lap.

I immediately start rolling my hips into his crotch, starting to feel his cock getting harder between me. As I slip my hand between us to unbutton his pants. I feel his hand grab onto mine. “I’m fine right now Honey. Let me take care of you. Okay?” I let out a small ‘okay’ before my voice is being taken over by wanton moans.

I can feel his hands snake up into my sweatshirt and graze my ribs, going even higher and brushing against my bra. “You have no idea how bad I wanted this. I was getting hard when I saw you moving up there. I had to go the bathroom twice to get rid of my hard-on.” “well I’m glad I satisfied a customer tonight.” 

we both end up letting out a chuckle but resume our heated makeout in the car.

A couple of seconds later I felt his hands move higher until he was almost engulfing my breast over my bra. I decide to take off my top and bra together and toss it into the backseat. As soon as I saw Bradley look up at me, I just started to cover my chest, feeling out of place and starting to think this was a mistake. 

As I try and grab my sweatshirt from the backseat, suddenly I feel Bradley push me back to the steering wheel. “Don't hide from me. You’re just… so beautiful.” 

Without a second thought, he started to attack my chest. Wrapping his mouth around my nipple, feeling them start to pebble in his mouth. And feel his hand pich the other between his pointer and thumb.

I feel him move his mouth and latch on to the other. I start to grind harder, leaning my head back and letting out the loudest moans possible. “I’m so c-close Bradl-ley!” I squeak out. “Me too, Honey. You ready to cum for me, baby?” I just start babbling nonsense, not being able to think at this point.

But I do know what I want to do. I know he said he wanted to take care of me but come on. He was getting me off in a car. Not a very comfortable place to do these things. So I once again snake my hands through our bodies unzip his jeans and release him from his boxers. I see it bob up against his stomach. 

“H-holy shit your hudge.” I look down again and see a precum leaking out of the tip. 

“Someday you’ll be able to take this whole thing, Honey. You're gonna feel so perfect around me. Like you’re gonna be made for me, baby,” he reaches into my sweatpants and starts to rub little circles into my bundle of nerves. Then I lick my palm and move my hand up and down his huge member. 

I can start to feel the band in my belly tighten. “Oh shit. Pleasedontstop Bradley. I’m so fucking close.” “Me too Honey.” We both start to move faster touching each other. As soon as I feel the band snap, I see stars burst when I close my eyes. I’ve never felt like that ever, nobody has ever made me cum that intense before. I feel Bradley shutter beneath me and feel his cum rope into my hand. We both start breathing heavily.

“Well, I didn’t expect to get off in a car tonight. Lucky me.” we both laugh together again, and I speak up. “I’m really glad it’s you Bear,” I mumble into his shoulder. “What’s Bear?” he asked me with furrowed brows. “You big and strong like a Bear. Plus I know you’ll protect me from anything. So you’re my Bear now.” I say to him as I hide my face in his neck again.

“Well, I’m glad it’s you too, Honey.” He says to me pulling me into a searing kiss. We stay like that for a couple more minutes, then we wipe each other off with some wipes he had in his car.

Once we were fully clothed again, Bradley put the car in drive and we were on our way to Aunt Penny’s.

As we’re driving down the road I can feel him grab my hand from my lap and put it up to his mouth to kiss my knuckles. He doesn’t let me go and rest our intertwined hands together on the center console. I feel butterflies erupt in my stomach. 

I’ve never felt this way before, never this much love and affection in a relationship. Hell, I’ve never had that intense of an orgasm before, let alone in a car. Whenever I’m around Bradley I feel, special and like I belong to someone. So, I turn my head to the window, letting my eyes flutter close and finally feeling a sense of comfort, and care for once.

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dividers by @saradika

[deariemaybank]

Concealed Hearts

Chapter 2: The bonfire

Summary: Angela goes back to the outerbanks after many years to visit family but this time she actually plans on making her holiday worth it.

Pairing: eventual JJ Maybank x OC midsize fem

Warnings: swearing

As me and Bella neared the beach, we could hear the music getting louder and louder. Bella couldn’t stop going on about all the hot boys she has seen today since we got home from the beach, honestly I was only half listening most of the time. As I neared the part of the beach where the bonfire was happening, I started looking out for Kie my anixety taking over as it always does when I’m in big crowds of people I don’t know, I also knew Bella was starting to get a bit tense as well. I spotted Kie standing at a table next to a keg with two guys, one of them being the blonde one from the beach earlier that Bella spotted and the other I had never seen before, Kie seemed to have noticed us approaching as she nodded her head at us and waved Bella and I over.

“Omg Ange, you made it, I’m so glad you came” she came up to give me and Bella a hug “Well thank you so much for inviting us.” I replied. “Let me introduce you to my friends, this is John B” she said pointing to the brunette one “ and this is JJ” she then pointed to the blonde one. “Nice to meet you guys” me and Bella said at the same time, laughing at ourselves jinxing each other. “ Im Angela but everyone calls me Ange and this is my sister Isabella but everyone calls her Bella” I said introducing Bella and myself.

“S’up, I’ve never seen you ladies around here before, how do you know Kie?” JJ asked, before I could reply John B hit him across the arm “Don’t be rude JJ, you need to offer the ladies a drink first before asking them questions! Hey, would you lovely ladies like a drink?” John B asked us, Bella declined and I accepted, I wasn’t a big drinker but I do enjoy a drink every now and then, honestly comes with the Australian culture and Italian heritage , just can’t avoid it.

“Thank you, John B and it’s okay it wasn’t rude at all. The outerbanks is a pretty small town. I met Kie when I came to the outer banks last time, I was about 6, so almost 10 years ago now” I replied to both of the boys. JJ smiled softly with a light blushing tinting his cheeks out of embarrassment I think, I honestly found it kinda cute. Woah hold up Ange we are not going down that road again, I reminded myself.

“Ah, so you ladies are tourons then?” JJ asked “ Yeah I guess you could say that.” Bella replied. I took a moment to look around at the beach and all the people at the bonfire, trying to remember a time where I actually ever attend an event like this, definitely not in Australia, I’m not that popular back home. I had literally 1 best friend beside my sister and 2 good friends but I rarely saw them unless we were at school or planned something months ahead.

I tuned back into the world around me and the conversation happening around me when I heard my name being called. “ Ange??” “Yeah?” I replied “You okay?” My sister asked. “Yeah, just got lost in thought.” I answered honestly.

“Can I ask where you are both from? Because clearly it’s not here and not anywhere in America going by the accent you both have..” JJ trailed off. As I went to answer I heard Kie shout “Pope” using her hand to signal someone over. I notice the man I’m assuming is Pope make his way over. I checked in with Bella at this point as I know she doesn’t love meeting new people, she said she was doing good, once I got confirmation she was okay, I turned to see Pope greet the boys and Kie, take a drink from John B’s hand and turn to look at us confused as who we were.

“ Pope, this is my friend Ange and her sister Bella” Kie clarified for Pope. “Ah yeah, I heard Kie mention your name a few times in passing. How do you do? I’m Pope, incase that was unclear.” Pope said introducing himself. Bella replied for me “Nice to meet you, Pope. I believe JJ had a question” she mentioned, my eyes looked around to find JJ’s staring behind me and I turned around to see more people I don’t know. JJ whispered “Shit, the kooks are here” to the whole group. “It’s okay JJ, maybe they are just here for the bonfire, it’s not exactly a private function” Kie said. Pope must have noticed Bella and I’s looks of confusion. “You know there are two main tribes on this island, the kooks and the pogues and let’s just say we don’t all sit around the dinner table and hold hands.” Pope clarified. “Ah, got it” I replied to Pope, still looking at JJ and noticed he seemed to be distracted again but this time for something different. “I’ll catch up with you all later.” JJ stated, walking off with a smirk on his face and I noticed he was approaching a group of gorgeous girls that were all skinny, blonde and dressed in almost nothing. “I take it, he is the playboy of the group?” I asked to no one in particular but just in general. “Ah yep.” Kie sighs. Glad I found that out pretty quick, even if he was different, guys that like usually don’t go for girls like me, it’s a tale as old as time (so some people say). I use to not believe that statement at all, until I got my heart crushed by one of those exact boys.

After a while of getting to know John B and Pope, Kie pulled me to the side “So what’s been going on with you lately?” Kie asked. “Honestly not much Kie, life hasn’t changed much since we last fully spoke, I found a part time job for after school at like a little local shop back home and now I’m here for 6 weeks.” I answered “What about you Kie?” “Same here, still trying to save the turtles” we lightly laughed together “and same just school and hanging out with the pogues.” She replied this time. Kie and I ended up getting so lost in catching up, updating each other on stuff the other missed out on or didn’t know about, I didn’t realise how much time had passed.

I could feel my phone vibrating knowing it was my mum calling to ask when we were coming home, I ended up staying much longer then I thought we would have, even Bella was having a good time. She went off a little while ago cos she spotted a cute guy and I let her go because I’m not one to spoil the fun and she is on holiday as well so she should be able to enjoy it. “One sec” I told Kie, excusing myself “Hello, yeah mum. Yeah we are doing okay, Bella is fine , she has met some new friends and she’s hanging with them and I’m still with Kie. Yeah okay, we will be home soon. Love you too.” I hung up on my mum and turned to Kie supporting a sad smile.

“Don’t tell me you have to go” Kie pleaded. I bit my lip not wanting to disappoint her but also not wanting to get in trouble especially in my first week. “I’m really sorry, I have to find Bella and head home.” I regretfully told Kie. “I’ll help” Kie offered and I accepted. After finding Bella five minutes later, I told her mum rang and I knew she was disappointed as well but said goodbye to her new friends, promising to see them soon.

“Bye Kie, say bye to the boys for us and tell them it was nice meeting them, I can’t seem to find them and I don’t have much time before I get another phone call, this time it will be from my dad.” I told Kie, hugging her then heading home.

JJ’s POV:

I went to go find my friends to tell them I was gonna go, you know, when duty calls, JJ Maybank answers. I looked around and spotted Kie, John B and pope all where I left them but no sign of that new girl. Shit what was her name again? I forgot. It was something that started with A, but I couldn’t remember it fully. I was a little disappointed she left, that new girl seemed different and I was definitely intrigued by her.

I went up to Kie “Hey Kie, where did your friend go?” “She had to head home, it was getting late for her, she told me to say goodbye and that it was nice meeting you.” Kie replied. Oh yeah, makes sense but I will not deny that I was disappointed, I wanted to get to know her more and find more out about her considering I only got to say like two sentences to her and then the kooks showed up and I didn’t want to mess up anything when she is so new to everything. It was like my mind was being pulled towards her, that’s why I left to try and distract myself with other women because I don’t do relationships or whatever this could be.

She said she was here as a touron, I’ll have to get Kie to bring her around more so I can find out more about her. “What was her name again?” I sheepishly asked Kie, a little embarrassed I couldn’t remember. “Which one?” Kie asked smirking. “The older one, her name starts with A” I said as I started to roll up a joint, needing something to distract me right now. After about 30 seconds, I finally get an answer. “Her name is Angela, but she likes to called Ange.” Kie finally answers my question, looking at me strangely.

Angela that’s it, I remember it having something to do with angels. I finished off my joint ignoring Kie’s odd looks at me showing interest in her friend as I noticed the girl from before that I was chatting up was heading over towards me, I wasn’t really interested anymore but I have a reputation to uphold. “See you all tomorrow.” I said bye to my friends and headed towards the blonde girl, while a certain dark haired angel was occupying my mind throughout the whole night.

A/N: chapter 2 is up now, the story will start matching with the show soon. Just needed a bit of depth in the story before I start linking it to the show because of how I want it to go. Thank you for reading and I’ll post part 3 soon!!