#can’t wait to spend all of therapy talking about them today

[emodennis]

i’m very happy currently :)

[candycandy00]

Hii! For your 2k followers event can you do

Character: Toji

AU Setting: Prison (As prisoner)

Spice Level: NSFW

Mood: Writers choice :)

Kinks: Whatever you see fit!!

Catch You on the Outside - A Toji x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. AU. Fem Reader. Toji as a Prisoner. Rough sex. Rough oral.

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! These two requests were very similar so I combined them. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Dividers by @benkeibear!

You’re walking down the hall of the prison, just finishing your daily sessions with the prisoners in your therapy program, when you see him. 

Fushiguro Toji. You heard he was being transferred here, but you didn’t realize it would be today. He’s quite notorious, with a long list of convictions. Multiple counts of murder, extortion, armed robbery, assault, and dozens of lesser offenses. If it’s bad, he’s probably done it at some point. 

He’s so much bigger in person than he looked on the news. How tall is this guy? And he so muscular that he looks like he could wrestle a grizzly bear and win. He’s also much better looking in person. His face, though scarred and a bit rugged, is very handsome and his eyes are a sharp emerald green. 

As a team of six guards lead him by you, his eyes shift over to you. They travel shamelessly up and down your body, and it feels like his gaze is peeling your clothes off right there in the hall. It makes your face flush with heat. You’re no stranger to being ogled by the prisoners here, but there’s something absolutely obscene about the way Toji does it, the look in his eyes that says, “I’ll be fucking you by the weekend”, the way he subtly licks his lips, the way he smirks as if he could break loose and snap every guard’s neck before anyone could draw a gun.

It all sends a shiver down your spine. And as much as you hate to admit it, you feel a growing wetness in your panties. 

The next day you’re surprised to find out Toji signed up for the therapy program. He didn’t seem like the type to give therapy a shot, and you wonder if he only signed up so that he could be alone in a room with you. It wouldn’t be the first time a prisoner has tried that. You can always tell right away when they have no interest in actually talking about their feelings. They spend the session staring at your tits and sometimes even making disgusting comments or outright asking you for sex. You report their behavior and boot them from the program without a second thought. 

So what will it be with Toji? As you walk into the room to have your first session with him, you find yourself almost hoping he’ll proposition you. Of course you wouldn’t act on it. You’re a professional after all. But it might give you some masturbation material for tonight. Lord knows your brief run in with him yesterday gave you plenty for last night. 

He’s sitting in a metal chair, his wrists handcuffed behind his back. There’s a table in front of him, and another chair for you to sit across from him. Three guards are standing in the room. 

“You three can step out,” you tell them. Guards never stay in the room during sessions. Instead they wait outside the door. There’s also a camera in the corner of the room. It doesn’t record sound, only visuals, to protect the privacy of the prisoners. 

“We were told to stay in here,” one of them says. “Fushiguro has been known to attack doctors and therapists in the past.”

You glance over at him, and he gives you a smile. 

“He’s handcuffed, what’s he going to do?” you ask. 

One of the guards glances apprehensively at Toji. “I don’t think you realize how dangerous he is, ma’am.”

You bristle at that remark. “Are you seriously implying I don’t understand how dangerous my job is? I’ve worked with violent criminals daily for five years. I’ve had knives held to my throat. I’ve been punched in the face. Three different men have tried to rape me. So don’t tell me how dangerous this is!”

The guard seems to shrivel a bit at your outburst. “I’m sorry, but we can’t just leave you alone in here with him.”

“Listen,” you say, stepping closer to him, “doing my job properly depends on establishing trust with the prisoner. I can’t do that with you three hovering around in here. So wait outside the door. I’ll scream if he tries anything.”

The three guards look at each other, then one of them sighs and says, “We’ll give you twenty minutes.”

With that, they file out of the room and shut the door. You stare after them for a moment, feeling irritated but also proud of yourself for standing your ground. Then you walk over and take the seat across from Toji. 

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll have a word with the warden before tomorrow’s session,” you tell him, pulling your notepad and pen, as well as a recording device, from your bag. “Do you have any objections to me recording our conversations?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t care.”

You study his face. He still has that oddly confident look, as if he’s only staying here in prison for the fun of it. 

“Fushiguro-san, I want to make something clear right off the bat. If I think you’re not serious about this program, I’ll remove you immediately. But if you want to give therapy a fair shot, I’ll be happy to help you to the best of my ability.”

“Call me Toji,” he says, a smirk on his scarred lips. “And I’m completely serious about this. Why else would I sign up?”

You’ve already pushed record on the device and sat it between the two of you on the table. “Some prisoners sign up just to get close to me,” you say, opening your notebook to a clean page. 

“Really? Well don’t worry,” he says, that damn smirk still on his face, “I’m not that desperate. I’ve fucked enough women to last a lifetime.”

The comment gives you pause. Professionally, you should be relieved. But personally? You find it a little insulting. You click your fountain pen. “That’s good to know,” you say smoothly. 

“Don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he says. 

“Of course not. It’s best for you if you see me as a professional here to help you.”

He laughs. “Best for you too.”

You look up from your notepad. “What do you mean by that?”

He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the way a lion looks at a wounded zebra. “If I saw you as a woman I wanna fuck, I’d have you bent over this table already.”

You know exactly what he’s doing, and he’s not the first. You sit your pen on the table and look at him with a cool expression. “And if I saw you as a man I want to fuck, Toji, I’d be under this table deep throating your cock right now. Thankfully, we’ve established that’s not the case, so let’s begin the session, shall we?”

His eyes widen slightly, then a broad grin spreads over his face. “Well, aren’t you a little firecracker!”

“No, I’m a woman who has dealt with men like you for years. So if you want to shock or frighten me, you’ll have to do better than that.”

There’s a gleam of excitement in his eyes as he stares at you. “How about I take these cuffs off and ram your pretty little head into the wall until it’s just a bloody pile of hamburger?”

You scoff as you jot down notes. In red ink you’ve written “violent tendencies” and “empty threats”. You barely glance up at him as you say, “You can’t just take the cuffs off, Toji. They’re pretty much designed to prevent that.”

“Really?” he asks, then he slowly pulls his hands forward in front of him. Only one has a cuff on it, the other metal ring dangling uselessly from it. 

Your first instinct is to jump up and flee the room. He’s loose! He’s probably been loose this whole time. The most violent man that’s ever been in this prison, that you’ve just been provoking, is just a few feet away from you. Should you scream? Could the guards even make it into the room before he kills you? 

Wait, if he wanted to kill you, he probably would have already. You decide to take a gamble. “So?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even, praying he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your hands. “What are you going to do to me, Toji?”

He’s already pulled his hands back behind him. His earlier movement had been subtle enough that the guard monitoring the camera probably didn’t even notice. Toji grins. “There’s a lot of things I wanna do to you. The list is growin’ the longer I talk to you. The question is, what do you want me to do?”

You look at him for a moment, at his smug, handsome face, at his muscular form flexing beneath the tightly fitted black T-shirt. Did the prison not have a shirt big enough for him? You sit back in your chair, crossing your legs. “I want you to take therapy seriously. I want to help-“

“You want me to split you open on my cock,” he says, cutting you off. “You think I can’t tell when a woman wants me? I bet your little pussy is drooling right now.”

You stare at him wordlessly. Damn it, he’s right! You uncross your legs and cross them again, trying to give yourself a bit of relief. You want his rough, thick fingers inside you. 

Toji leans back, letting his thighs spread apart. He’s pushed back far enough from the table for you to see his crotch, and the outline of something impossibly huge. He notices you looking. “That’s right. Take a good look. I bet you’ve never seen a dick this big before. Now imagine how it’s gonna feel when I’m ramming it in your tight little hole.”

Your breaths are coming quicker despite your best attempts to remain calm. You glance up at the camera in the corner. Toji follows your gaze. 

“I’m guessing you need to do something about that,” he says. “Probably wouldn’t look very professional to be on camera getting your guts rearranged by a prisoner, huh?”

You place the pen and notebook in your bag and stop the recording device. The twenty minutes are almost up. “I’ll think about it,” you say as calmly as you can. 

He smiles at you as the guard opens the door and escorts you out. 

For the next several days, you continue your sessions with Toji. Neither of you mention his proposition, and he never removes the handcuffs again, at least as far as you know. Still, just knowing he can if he wants to gives you a thrill. 

He’s surprisingly open during his sessions. He tells you about a miserable childhood, a violent youth, a marriage that ended in the death of the only woman he ever loved, and (most shocking of all) a teenage son he hasn’t seen in years. 

“I send him money,” he tells you. “He accepts it, but he never answers when I call or text him. Not that I blame him. Guess it’s embarrassing to have a murderer for a father.”

There’s a hint of sadness when he says it, the first genuine emotion you’ve seen from him. But he shrugs like he doesn’t care and moves on from the topic. 

Fushiguro Toji is a fascinating man. If possible, you’d love to help him. 

But first, you want him to fuck you until you can’t form thoughts. 

A week after your first session with him, you decide to do something about that damn camera. It’s an easy task for you, someone who can move freely through the prison and has the trust of everyone there. The first step is to disable the monitor in the security room, which you do with no issue. It’s a temporary thing though, so you have to hurry to the consultation room and disable the camera itself while the monitor isn’t working, so no one sees what you’re doing. 

Once the camera has been broken, you’re home free. You’ve worked here long enough to know it’ll take several days for them to replace the camera. 

So today, when the guards walk out of the room, you lock the door behind them. Toji notices, and glances at the camera. “I take it that’s not recording?”

You nod. “It’s completely busted.”

He moves his arms around in front of him, uncuffed, and stands up, rolling his shoulders. Then in an instant he’s right in front of you, pressing you back against the wall, looming over you with a threatening aura. “You’re takin’ a big risk,” he says, “being alone with a guy like me. You must want my dick real bad.”

Your heart is pounding. This man could snap your neck like a twig. He could kill you before you can blink. But fuck, you’re so turned on! 

You smile up at him, using your hands to press back against his chest. “Sit down and I’ll show you how much I want it.”

His eyes seem to light up. He wears that familiar smirk as he returns to the chair and sits, lazily opening his legs. As you walk over, you unbutton your crisp white shirt, revealing a sexy lace bra you picked for today. You drop the shirt on the floor and unzip your pencil skirt, stepping out of it. You’re wearing matching lace panties with silk stockings and a garter belt. You chose the sexiest combo possible for this encounter. 

Toji seems to appreciate your efforts. His eyes drink in your form as he palms himself through his prison issued sweat pants. Then he slides the waistband down, and the biggest cock you’ve ever seen pops out. Strong and tall like its owner, it’s already rock hard. It looks delicious. 

When you reach him, you drop to your knees in front of him and grasp his shaft in one hand. Your fingers can’t even wrap all the way around its veiny girth, but you stroke him slowly, watching the massive organ twitch in your grip. You lean forward and lick the tip, then slide your tongue all around it, drenching it with your saliva before taking it into your mouth. 

It doesn’t fit, but you manage to get most of it in without choking. You’re pretty proud of your throat game, so you press even further down, letting him fill your mouth completely, almost swallowing him. You hear a short grunt and feel his big hand on your head, holding you down. You focus on breathing through your nose, your tongue licking the underside of his cock while your throat tightens around him. 

Finally he releases his grip, and you pull back enough to lick him properly, sucking on the tip with your pursed lips. Then he’s in your mouth again, and you’re moving your head back and forth, looking up at his face as you repeatedly take him halfway down your throat. 

His hand is now resting on your head, not applying any pressure but threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck, you weren’t kiddin’ about bein’ hungry for my dick!”

After a few more minutes pass, his grip tightens again, and he shoves your head down even further than before, completely cutting off your air. Then, he shoots his cum directly down your throat, forcing you to swallow every drop. 

When he releases you and pulls out of your mouth, you sputter and gasp, then you diligently get to work cleaning his cock with your tongue, savoring the taste of his cum. You’re in a hurry to get him hard again. You’ve arranged for the sessions to last forty-five minutes, and you don’t intend to end this without being thoroughly fucked. 

Thankfully, Toji has plenty of stamina. He’s hard again in no time, standing up from the chair and tearing the delicate lace underwear from your body. You wince, trying not to think about how expensive they were. 

His hands are all over you, roughly exploring every inch. When his hand dips down between your thighs, and he feels how wet you are, he grins. You’re waiting for some quip, but instead he jerks you around to face away from him and pushes your upper half face down on the table. He gives your bare ass a slap before his hands spread your cheeks. His knees push your legs apart, and with no warning, he shoves all the way inside your dripping pussy. 

You gasp at the stretch, at how fucking huge he is, but he doesn’t hesitate for a moment before he’s pounding into you. He’s probably aware of the time limit himself, so he wastes no time with letting you adjust to his size. 

He fucks you hard, so hard that your feet are knocked off the floor and your legs dangle from the table. You hold onto the edge of it with both hands, gripping it for dear life, crying out obscenely each time his tip slams into your cervix. 

“Ahh, fuck! You’re gonna break me!” you yell. 

You hear Toji laugh behind you. “I thought you could handle me!”

You rise up from the table, arching your back, and reach back with one arm to grab his shirt and get some leverage. You take one of his hands from your waist and move it down, between your pried open thighs. He takes the hint, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it vigorously, spreading your leaking fluids all around. You moan at the touch, leaning back into him, letting the pleasure overtake you. 

With a thrill, you imagine the horrified looks on the guards’ faces if they walked in. You locked the door, but they have a keycard to open it. At best it would buy you a few seconds. But the thought of being caught moaning and cumming on a murderer’s cock sends you over the edge. You cry out, your body spasming as Toji impales you, your aching pussy clenching around him. 

“You got yours,” you hear him say, his fingers giving a quick pinch to your hyper sensitive clit, “now I’m gonna fill you up.”

You barely have time to process those words before you feel his hot cum shoot inside you, all the way to your core. 

When he’s finished, he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He watches you lean against the table for a few moments, trembling and trying to catch your breath, too exhausted and sore to even close your legs. But you have to straighten yourself out. The clock is ticking. You stagger over to your pile of clothes and pull them back on, shoving your shredded underwear into your bag. 

You look at him, sitting there looking so smug and calm… and so very fuckable. You reach into your bag and pull out the item you swiped from the security room earlier. You step over and hand it to him. 

“This is a master keycard. It should let you open any door until they figure it out. Do whatever you please with it,” you tell him. 

He takes it, slipping it into the pocket of his sweats. “Awful nice of you.”

“Go and see your son. Make things right with him.”

His eyes widen, then he looks away, seeming the slightest bit awkward for the first time. “You’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

You shrug. “So I won’t let anyone find out. Don’t snitch on me.”

He laughs as he looks back at you. “Thanks, doll. I’ll find you on the outside.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that a threat?”

He smiles, the scar on his lips stretching. “It’s a promise.”

[sheltershock]

I was thinking today about how Sasha and Milla both got burned for using telepathy/mind reading on another person without their consent and I liked that it played out that way. I think realistically if you had the ability to read minds you’d also be traumatized by the thoughts/fantasies of others. Plus it adds more subtext in PN2 when Sasha scolds Raz for trying to bend someone else’s will to his own. Because that’s what he did when he was younger. Major props. Psychonauts is so good at subtext that’s why I love the writing, and it’s ability to be whimsical and silly but also realistic and gritty at times.

But then I thought about their constant psychic link. It’s cute, nice little relationship thing between them. However, when taking the mind reading trauma into account… that psychic link probably wasn’t easy. At least in the beginning.

I mean the last time they did any level of telepathy/mind reading it went so awfully that both of their lives changed trajectory in an instant. So the idea of doing that again in general must be terrifying. I’m sure they both decided to form that link, but even having known each other there could be that aching fear in the background that the other person might accidentally hurt them.

Maybe the link was a form of therapy for the both of them. And they might have not even shared/said anything over it for a while. It could have been strictly professional at first, reminders for meetings, information relay, communication in the field, etc. They’re both still a little tense though that they’ll accidentally share something unrelated.

Milla was probably the first of them to share something over the link that was non-work related. Something mundane, like appreciation of the view from her office, or a compliment of the music she can hear through the wall, or what’s being served in the cafeteria that day. Something simple. And he’d answer back and they’d continue with their day. The first thing Sasha would have sent over was probably observations, non emotional observations. Construction being done, new colors being painted, or saying it’s colder outside and to bring a jacket if she’s going to the Quarry that day. They get a little more confident after a while. They share things they know the other would like. They start having longer conversations. There’s more emotion. People can observe them smiling at seemingly nothing more frequently.

Once a little bit more comfortable they’re talking about what they did that weekend, Milla struggles to describe exactly what her experience was like the other night. She offers to share the memory directly. She can feel Sasha tense up on the other side. The conversation ends. The next day, he offers her to send it over. He’s spent the entire time preparing for it, telling himself over and over that it’s her, that she’s offering, that it’s probably fine. And it is. Milla’s delighted and they move on, though she checks to make sure he’s not hiding a bad reaction from her. They’re both fine.

But that’s one of the things she’s very aware of. Long stretches of time where Sasha won’t say or respond to anything at all. She can hear swears through the wall during this brief times, and he hardly ever leaves his lab either. She understands why, everyone has bad days. But sometimes he does reach to her, because she always offers an ear to everyone. But she always makes it a verbal conversation. She just can’t seem to push past the irrational thoughts that the source of his frustration might be her. That she’s not a good enough agent, a good enough friend, a good enough partner. And she knows that he’d never say any of those things… to her face. But if she would read his mind she’d know for sure.

And one day he asks again if he can talk to her, and hesitantly she agrees. Over the link. And she spends the entire time waiting, waiting for that dreaded Freudian slip. But it doesn’t happen. And he finishes his thought, and they both continue on, except Milla finds herself in tears in her office. And she finds herself reaching back over to talk some more.

Over time and each individual thought, memory and experience, they’re both confident and far less afraid as they used to be. Their fears aren’t completely gone of course, but it’s them, specifically. And they know where the other’s sore spot is, and are more than willing to provide a warning for anything triggering. They find themselves using their telepathy abilities with others from the newfound confidence. Projecting their own thoughts to another, but only one way though. Only in the other do they feel truly safe enough for a two-way mental link. And was preciously an isolating, vivid and painful experience is now one where they are never truly alone, and it’s peaceful and it’s comforting.

Just a thought.

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Part 6

WC: 8.8K

Part 1| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

_________________________________________________________________

Instead of hurt, betrayal or disgust, Briar feels heartbroken. Heartbroken Harry had to endure that. She moves closer, embracing him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he violently cries into her shoulder. She rubs circles on his back, letting him get out his upset and frustration. 

“You didn’t deserve that. At all,” Briar says softly. Harry nods, just thankful she’s not upset at him. It took him years of therapy to be able to openly speak about his situation. 

“Do you know his name?”

“Oliver,” Harry rasps. 

“That’s beautiful. I bet he looks so much like you. I bet he has your kind eyes. Your charm. Your ability to make anyone feel special. I bet he’s clumsy like you. And I bet he’d like to meet you, too,” Briar says slowly. 

Harry cries harder, the sobs wracking his body.

They sit there for over an hour before Harry finally calms down. He musters up the courage to look at her. His eyes are so puffy and red, and snot is dripping from his nose.

“I understand if you’re upset with me, and if you never want to see me again,” he sighs in defeat. 

“Harry, look at me,” Briar grabs his face and runs her thumb along his cheek. “I’m absolutely not mad. I wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone. I want to help you deal with this, whatever way you need to.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I think I want to sleep for a while.” 

“Of course, let’s go up.”

~

“Harry, baby. Wake up,” Briar whispers, gently waking Harry from his sleep. It’s well past 11AM. She called Niall to let him know Harry isn’t feeling well. 

Harry stirs, the memories of last night flooding his mind. He’s not even sure if he slept. Briar runs her finger nails along his back, gently soothing him.

“I called us both out of work today, so we’re going to spend it how you want to.”

Harry exhales. He can’t even think of the last time he took a day off. Or the last time he had a panic attack. The two probably coincide.

When Camille left him, he buried himself in work. He quickly rose to the top as an associate, eventually becoming a manager. Now that his predecessors are retiring, Harry sometimes works from 6AM until 8PM. Even on Christmas Day. 

He takes some labored deep breaths.

“Can we go get breakfast?” 

Briar scrunches her eyebrows, not expecting his answer.

“Of course. Take your time getting dressed.” 

Briar leaves the room, already having been up and dressed for hours. She tossed and turned wondering how anyone could treat him that way. Harry loves so strongly and so deeply. She already knows he’d be an incredible father, based on his love for Gus. But, she didn’t know him in his 20’s and 30’s. Maybe he wasn’t as mature as he his now.

Her heart broke again watching him sleep. He looked sad, even when unconscious.

Harry eventually comes downstairs, slowly and solemnly. He pets Gus, reveling in his fluff. He is truly their emotional support dog.

“C-can we go to this place to get a full English? You’ve had it before, right?”

“Yes, when I went to London in high school. Will you eat my beans?”

Harry laughs softly, “Yes, I’ll eat your beans.”

She guides him out to her car, knowing he’s probably not in a state to drive. She’s too nervous to drive his nice car. It’s a beautiful day, so she took the top of her jeep off. She can’t wait to see his hair flying in the wind.

They pull up to his requested breakfast spot. The parking lot is a little deserted. She is relieved, because if he needs to cry a little he can do so without judgement.

The waitress greets them with a chipper tone, but quickly adjusts based on their sad demeanor. Briar orders them both a coffee and full English breakfasts. 

They sit in silence for a while.

“I know I don’t know her, but, should you call your mom? Is this something you’d talk to her about?” 

“I did in the beginning; my sister, too. But then it just became a cycle of discussing the same thing over and over. So I just stopped bringing it up.”

Briar nods, knowing the feeling. After her dad died, she was enrolled in therapy. As a 6 year old, she didn’t have much else to talk about. 

“I saw a therapist for a while. I was a little unwilling to talk about any of my other issues, so after a while they just gave me a prescription and sent me on my way. I felt like I got kicked out.” 

Briar grabs his hand across the table, squeezing it. “That’s the tough part of it; they give you the tools and you’re supposed to just figure out how to use them. There were so many times I just wished my therapist had told me what to do and what to say.”

Harry hums. The food arrives a few minutes later. He gently breaks his egg yolk, “I’d really like you to meet my mum and sister.”

She smiles, “Aw, yes, I’d love to. It didn’t even cross my mind since you met mine so early on. Well, not my mom, I guess.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” He asks, happy to move onto a different topic.

Briar blows air out of her mouth as she tries to recall the last time she saw her mother. 

“Christmas, I guess.” 

“Can I meet her? Or do you just want to wait until it happens organically?” 

“No, no. I should call her soon, anyway. I’ll try and set something up,” Briar says, pushing her food around. She supposes they're both facing their demons head-on today. “Do you mind if my brothers come? They usually need to be coerced into seeing her.”

“Of course not. Whatever is most comfortable for you guys.” 

They eat in silence, only speaking up when the waitress returns to the table every so often.

“I send him birthday cards,” Harry says, staring at his hands.

Briar lifts her head, giving him a look to continue his thought.

“Every year around Christmas time. I’m not even really sure when his birthday is. I’ve never written a note, or anything. I just sign my name ‘Harry’. For all I know, she’s never even told him about me. Or even given him the cards.”

Briar’s sadness returns, evident in her facial expression. 

“H-have you tried contacting your mutual friend? The one that introduced you?”

“I did, years ago. Everything was kind of fresh at that point, and I definitely think he took sides. I’m pretty sure they’re together now. His parents own an art gallery and are involved in high-society over there,” he coughs. “I just look  like a schmuck in comparison. The craziest part of it all, I don’t know what I did to deserve no contact. I’m scared I’ll die never knowing.” 

Briar closes her eyes, willing herself not to cry, “Did you ever fly to France to try and find her? Or her family?” 

“I did. Once. I’d say about 6 months later. I drank whiskey the entire flight to Paris. I didn’t even have any luggage with me. I just marched off the plane and went to where I last knew she lived. I should’ve known her keeping her Paris apartment meant something.” 

“You couldn’t have known,” Briar says softly. 

“I knocked on the door. She opened it so quickly. I think she was expecting someone else. Her jaw dropped, and she tried to close the door on me. I was able to get inside, but she started throwing bottles at me. Then she threatened to get a restraining order against me. She was really showing at that point, so I didn’t want it the police to get involved.” 

Briar is horrified the more he tells her. 

“I went home to my mum’s for a while. Then flew back to the US and just went back to work. I can’t say I’ve done anything substantial since then.” 

“Oh, stop. You renovated a gorgeous house. You started going back to Wynnewood. You’ve become your own boss,” Briar rattles off his accomplishments.

“I just thought I’d be married by now,” Harry chokes up a bit. She moves to his side of the table, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“I know this is ironic coming from a 23 year old; but, there’s no timeline on life, baby. You faced adversity and are moving on from it. That takes a lot of courage.” 

Harry chuckles, wiping away a stray tear. Briar is so emotionally intelligent for a 23 year old. 

They leave the café, opting to go back to Harry’s house. They grab books from his shelf and read them outside on his comfy lounge chair under the cabana, hoping the sunshine heals them both. Harry eventually dozes off, finally achieving deep sleep after a rocky 24 hours. 

Briar massages his head, twirling his curls in between her fingers. As much as she wants to comfort him, she can’t help her tendencies to meddle. 

She visits Niall’s Instagram, immediately checking his following list. She scrolls, closely examining every profile to find even a tiny breadcrumb that could lead her to Camille. Harry never said her last name, so she’ll have to pull out the big guns of internet stalking.

Nothing stands out tremendously; He doesn’t follow many people. Just a few OnlyFans models, golf companies and Barstool Sports. She spots a familiar name, Lydia…Where does she know that name from?

Briar’s thumb gives one last ditch effort scroll, when she lands on an account: @Fingermonkey

She clicks on it, and her heart immediately stops. Camille. The woman who made her boyfriend lose sight of who he was. The account is public, so she cautiously proceeds. 

She’s a striking woman; she can see why Harry fell for her. She exudes beauty and class. It’s almost palpable.

Briar shudders, unsure if she should continue. She’s on her page for selfish reasons; to see Harry’s son. Her curiosity gets the best of her. She scrolls some more, before stopping at a photo of a tiny hand. Briar bites her lip, staring back down at Harry.

“No going back,” she whispers to herself.

After another few scrolls, she finds what she’s looking for. It’s from around 5 years ago. Camille is holding a tiny boy with dark brown curls and green eyes, bright as day. They’re on the swings, bright smiles adorning their faces. 

Briar feels like she’s been sucker punched in the stomach. He’s a beautiful little boy. A boy Harry never even got the chance to love and help raise. She takes several deep breaths and scrolls back even further to 8 years prior. 

Another blow. The engagement photos.

Briar winces, zooming in. They seem to be taken in California, just as the sun is setting. Camille is holding Harry’s face as she kisses him, the ring being the main focal point. She reads the caption:

J'ai trouvé mon éternité.

I found my forever.

She clicks off Camille’s page, rolling her eyes. She clears the search history, knowing she’s been caught stalking in the past.

Briar has so many questions. 

Does she want Harry to find her? Why is Niall still following her? 

~

Briar is physically at Wynnewood, but mentally elsewhere. After her stalking session, Harry woke up feeling better, so they decided she should go home. As much as he loves her company, he always needs alone time to process things. She was happy to oblige, needing her own time to breathe.

Briar is taking inventory after her shift when she spots Niall on the practice green. A lump forms in her throat, but she knows she needs to confide in him. He smiles, waving her over. 

“Hey, Briar. I heard about the other day. I was up in the clubhouse already when everything went down. How’re you doing?” He asks, pulling her in for a hug.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. Everything was taken care of, so I just needed some time to shake it off.” 

He nods, fiddling with his putter. Niall looks around, not really sure what else to say.

“Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?”

His eyes go wide, clearing his throat, “Listen, if it’s about Lydia and I…”

Finally, it clicks. Lydia from the party. Lydia who told her she’s also dating someone from the club. Briar gasps, “I, uh, what?” 

“Fuck.”

Briar crosses her arms in front of herself, “Um, I was just going to tell you that Harry told me about Camille, and about the baby.”

“Fuuuuck,” Niall scratches the back of his head. “Can you ignore what I said before?”

Briar laughs, “For now. We can talk about that later. I just wanted to see if you had other insight. It was obviously a very emotionally charged conversation.”

“Yeah. Are you off now? Do you want to go inside for a drink?”

She nods and waits for him to clean up his stuff. They walk back to the clubhouse in silence, so Briar grabs a table outside while Niall changes in the locker room. The club is empty enough, so she’s not worried about members seeing them together.

He sits down, sighing, “I-I don’t really know how to proceed. Do you just want to tell me what he’s told you?”

“Sure,” she says quietly. Briar begins filling him in about their dinner at Ashmont and Jonathan revealing more than Harry was willing to share. Her heart races as she shares more details.

“That’s tough, darling. I know he was going to tell you eventually. The situation absolutely wrecked him. It took years to feel like I had my friend back.” 

She nods, biting her lip, staring down at her shoes. Harry bought her a pair of lavender and white New Balances; her initials stitched in the tongue. 

“You’re a very rational person, even at your age,” he smiles, leaning to put his elbows on his knees. “So, I know you’ll both work through it. But, what are your feelings?”

Briar sucks in a breath. “I’m not angry, and I want to support him, of course. But, I can’t help but have this sinking feeling in my stomach. I did some Instagram stalking.”

“You found Camille on there?”

“Yeah, through your account,” she waits for Niall to look back up at her.

He meets her eyes, “I keep a distance. I don’t speak to her or our mutual friends from study abroad. But I like to keep tabs. He’s my mate and I want to protect him.” 

Briar nods, picking the skin at her cuticles. 

“He’s a cute kid, isn’t he?” Niall smiles. 

“Yeah, he is. Harry didn’t deserve that. At all,” she says, sitting back in her seat. “Should I meddle? Or just stay out of it?”

“I would hate to see this kid get any older without meeting his father. And, if you think you’ll be,” he trails off, smiling to himself. “Sticking around for a while, I think you have the influence on him to face it head on.”

“I hope I’ll be sticking around for a while,” she smiles.

~

Briar feels slightly better after talking to Niall. She has to remember to ask Harry if he knew about Lydia. 

Briar was in need of some cathartic release. If Harry was willing to face this obstacle, she’s willing to face hers. She sits in the driver’s seat of her Jeep and scrolls her list of contacts before landing on Catherine Barlowe. 

She dials, going through several cycles before finally being answered on the final ring. 

“Hi, Bri. How are you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, Mom. I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m so good, honey. I’m so happy to hear from you. Dean and I are actually getting ready to move in a few weeks.”

“Oh? Where are you going?” Briar scrunches her eyebrows. That means her mom is selling the house she bought with her dad. The house she lived her first 9 years in before her mother’s addiction led to the 5 of them being placed with her aunt and uncle. 

“I thought your brother may have told you. We’re going to California, honey.”

“Who? I thought the last time we all saw you was at Christmas time? And why California?” 

“Jasper. He comes to see me. A lot more recently. The other boys only contact me when you do. I don’t think I’ll ever hear from Welles on his own,” Catherine sighs. “Dean is from California. He has young daughters, so we’re moving there to be closer to them. You remember? I told you about them.”

Tears begin welling in Briar’s eyes. Her mother, now 4 years sober and remarried gets to go play house with Dean’s young children. Instead of tending to her own.

“Yeah, I remember. There’s three of them, right? But they weren’t at the wedding,” Briar says quietly, remembering the rushed ceremony that took place the week after they finished their program together. Welles was furious, Jasper and Callum didn’t say a word, and Cormac cried the entire time. Patrick couldn’t bear to go. Meredith went in support of the siblings. 

“Yes, he didn’t have custody rights at the time. But, that’s all settled now. We’re so happy, Bri.”

“I’m glad, Mom. Listen, I have to go, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested in going out to lunch soon. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” she rasps out.

“That sounds great, honey. Just text me the details. Talk soon.”

“Bye,” Briar chokes, throwing her phone into the passenger seat. She takes a few deep breaths to regulate her breathing. The tears continue to fall as she pulls out of the parking lot of Wynnewood. 

Her phone begins to buzz, seeing Harry’s contact photo pop up.

“Hi,” she says solemnly before placing the phone between her shoulder and ear. 

“Hi, Birdie. Are you okay?” He asks, sensing her tone.

“Yeah, yep, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I figured you’re leaving Wynnewood. Was gonna see if you want to grab Gus and come over. I can make us dinner.”

“Um, I’m kind of tired. Think I’m just gonna go home, if that’s alright.”

“No, yeah, of course, love. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay,” he says softly. “Bye.”

She hangs up, not even bothering to say bye. Briar knows she shouldn’t take it out on Harry, but she’s struggling to hold herself together. She hears a crack of thunder before feeling thick rain drops hit her face.

“Fuck!” 

Briar never put her Wrangler’s roof back on the other day. The droplets get more intense as she nears her apartment. Pulling into her spot, she frantically runs to her storage area to grab her roof parts. 

It’s down pouring now, but she charges forward with her parts, lining them against the car. Her biceps are burning trying to lift the piece on top of the car. Tears are starting to roll down her face, her hair beginning to stick to her neck.

Briar squeezes her eyes closed, defeated as she feels two arms wrap around her. She whips her head around, startled by her boyfriend. 

“What’s going on, love? Let me help,” Harry says, pulling her down from the step of her Jeep. She steps to the side under her apartment’s overhang, watching him effortlessly put the roof of her Jeep back together. He’s absolutely soaked, his gray sweatpants now a charcoal color. She watches the way his back muscles move under his white t-shirt. 

He fastens the parts from the inside of the car before grabbing her backpack in one hand, and her hand in the other. He guides her to her apartment while fumbling with her keys. Gus greets them at the door, unsure who to go to first. 

Harry sits Briar down on her ottoman before grabbing the fuzzy blanket from her sofa.

“What’s going on? I’m a little scared,” Harry says, his eyes full of concern. 

She takes a shaky breath before sobs take over her whole body. She folds in on herself, burrowing into the blanket.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” she wails. Harry is stunned, unsure what she’s apologizing for.

“I should be supporting you and here I am getting so overwhelmed and then trying to deal with my own bullshit,” Briar cries. He places his hand gently on her back.

“Baby, I’m lost. Did something happen today?”

“I called my mom. She’s moving to California to raise her new husband’s kids,” Briar cries, snot pouring from her nose. “I should’ve fucking known. I don’t even know why I called.”

Harry can’t help but feel a little guilty. He mentioned it at their breakfast to get himself out of the hot seat. She took his bait. 

“And because I can’t stop meddling, I looked up Camille online,” she confesses. “I even talked to Niall about it all.” 

Harry freezes. He figured she would confide in Niall. But he didn’t think she’d look Camille up. He’s too afraid to ask what she found. 

Harry guides her to sit up. He grabs her cheeks with one hand and makes her face him, “Hey. Hey. I need you to breathe, Briar.”

Briar cries harder at his use of her name. She can feel herself start to hyperventilate. He wraps himself around her tight. He holds her until she stops shaking. Gus has brought them 5 of his toys to try and lighten the mood. 

“Gus, go to your bed,” Harry commands, voice deep. Briar flinches. 

She lifts her head, taking in a deep breath.

“I hurt my own feelings today. I went looking for information I shouldn’t’ve,” she admits quietly.

“I think we all do that sometimes. Which part do you want to talk about first?”

Briar loves how diplomatic Harry is. Even when they have their spats, he always makes her feel like an equal partner. She also loves when he completely dominates her in the bed right after.

“W-we can talk about my mom,” she says, assuming that’s the easier of the two. “Her husband has 3 young daughters. So, now my mom gets a do-over. Poof. Our family is just out of the picture.”

Harry sighs. His father did something similar after his parents divorced. It stung for years, and took time to mend. Now they’re very close. 

“That’s awful, Birdie. I’m so sorry. Are you going to see her before she leaves?”

She nods, wiping her nose on his chest, “Yeah, told her about you. Apparently my brother has been visiting her in secret. I’m so angry.”

He smiles lightly, “I’m happy to come along. Or not. Whichever makes you more comfortable. Don’t hold it against him. You all have to deal with things differently.”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Of course, baby. Now, do you want to tell me about the other situation?”

“Only if you want to. I crossed a line,” she starts to cry again.

She wraps her hand within his, squeezing tightly. Comfortable silence is usually never an issue for them, but the tension could be cut with a knife. 

“Well, social media is public information, baby. I could’ve done it years ago, but never did.”

“I saw him,” Briar blurts out. It was now or never.

Harry closes his eyes, feeling nauseous. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s gorgeous, Harry. Really,” she sniffles. “You shouldn’t give up. She’s wrong for what she did. And I want to help you fight for this.”

He can’t help but feel his heart swell with pride. His tough girl is ready to sit in the trenches with him. To fight the biggest demon holding him back from his happiness.

“I wrote a letter years ago,” Harry starts. “Let’s send it.”

Briar gasps, sitting up to face him, “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me.”

“I’m not. I’m not sure if this is too soon, but I already know I want to keep you around for a long, long time. This will help me get over my last hurdle.”

Briar cradles his face, kissing him gently.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

They huddle together.

Briar starts to snicker, “Did you have any idea that Niall and Lydia, the server from the club, are dating?”

Harry’s head shoots up, “Huh?” 

“Okay, good. I would’ve been pissed if you hid that from me."

“How’d you find out?”

Briar laughs, “I said, ‘Hey, Niall, can I ask you something?’ And he confessed immediately.” 

Harry throws his head back laughing.

~

Harry is in his study, silently reading his letter from years ago. His tears are falling onto the paper, dotting and blurring the ink. He was 32 when he wrote this. It sounds old, but he was a kid. It was hard to keep him at home. He had access to disposable income, so he used it to its fullest.

Camille lived a simple life, finding pleasure in gardening, reading and going to cafés. Her job always came first, which kept her busy traveling around the world. Harry was restless; always chasing the next big thing, and partying until his body physically shut down. 

It didn’t help that he was a touchy person. Even though Camille had his whole heart, he shamelessly flirted with other women. He let them hang on him at bars, on yachts, and anywhere he could get attention. People in their circle talk; leaving Harry in the hot seat more than once.

He’d be naïve to blame it on Camille’s attachment style. She was generally cold, not showing him much affection. But, nonetheless he pursued her, absolutely enamored by her beauty and grace. 

He was dumb enough to suggest an open relationship one time; about 6 years into the relationship. His needs in bed became too much for Camille. She didn’t understand his need to get off and dominate her. He slept at a hotel every night that week. She gave him an out, but he couldn’t take it. 

When Camille left, he started hooking up with women more regularly. His heart hurt so bad, but he was finally getting his physical needs met. None of them lasted, until Briar. 

Over the course of 8 years, his heart slowly healed. It’s not ideal that Briar is so much younger, and an employee of his country club. There’s a strange power dynamic there. He loved how flustered she got when he looked at her; she still does sometimes, but he can feel the difference. 

They bring encourage each other’s confidence. They drive each other to be a better version of themselves. They feed each other’s deepest desires; scratching every itch that had been culminating over several years. 

Harry begins rewriting the letter; changing the tone from blinding rage, to one of neutrality. He wishes her well. He hopes she’s healed.

From what? He’s not sure. He hopes she understands his point of view, and will consider letting Harry meet his child. He’d do anything at this point. 

He seals up the letter, addressing it to Camille. Not even sure she still lives at this address, he walks it out to his mailbox anyway, lifting the red flag to signal the post man. 

He feels weight lift from his chest that had been there since the day he met Camille.

~

Briar and Harry are sitting at a nice restaurant on the water. She sips gingerly at her mojito while they wait for her mother to arrive. Briar extended the invite to her brothers, but received radio silence from them all. 

She’s anxiously bouncing her leg, to which Harry firmly grasps her thigh as he locks his jaw. She inhales sharply, closing her eyes. After the emotional turmoil they’ve experienced over the last few weeks, their sex life has toned down immensely. She misses his hand around her neck and his dirty whispers. 

“Relax. I’m right here,” Harry whispers in her ear lowly.

Briar gasps when three of her brothers appear from the restaurant’s entryway. Jasper must’ve picked up Callum and Cormac from Patrick’s.

Briar stands to hug her older brothers, while Harry pulls Cormac in for a hug.

“Where’s Welles?”

“Not sure. I haven’t heard from him,” Callum says simply. 

She rolls her eyes. He’s 28, but he is the most immature out of all of them. 

They sit, easing into a conversation with Harry. She’s grateful she can entertain them while she’s somewhere else in her head. He reaches over to lock pinkies. 

Her mother walks in, looking stunning. That’s one thing that Briar has always been jealous of. It’s why her addiction flew under the radar for so long. She was always put together and exuding happiness. But in secret, she was struggling. 

Her strawberry blonde hair is longer than when she saw her last, loose waves falling over her shoulders. She’s in a floor length floral gown, a sweater over her shoulders to fight the chill of the restaurant. 

She spots them after speaking with the hostess, her smile lighting up the room. 

“Hi, my babies!”

Jasper stands to greet her, while her other brothers hold in a groan. She walks around the circular table to press a kiss to Briar’s head, before turning her attention to Harry.

“And who’s this? Don’t think I popped him out,” she laughs, waiting for Harry to stand up.

“Mom, seriously?” Briar grimaces. 

“Hi, I’m Harry. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Harry says smiling, pulling out the chair for her. 

“Pleasure is all mine, Harry. I’m Catherine. Isn’t my daughter incredible?”

Harry smiles, nodding. He can sense Briar’s discomfort. He assumes this praise is just for show. 

Her mother brings up every topic under the sun, effectively avoiding topics regarding Briar’s father, the move, and her new husband.

They eat, letting Cormac talk about school, Callum talk about grad school and his new girlfriend, and Jasper about his new job. Briar realizes she’s done a shit job at talking to her brothers lately. She doesn’t know any of this.

“Where’s Wellie, Briar? Didn’t you invite him?”

“I did. Didn’t hear from him.”

“It would’ve been nice for you to follow up with him,” Catherine snipes. “It’s not everyday I get to see all five of you.”

“Really? How about you? When was the last time you talked to him?” Briar crosses her arms at her mother.

“It doesn’t matter. This is family time,” Catherine raises her eyebrows, waiting for Briar to snap.

“You know all about that, don’t you mom? Just counting down the minutes until you can go play house with Dean’s kids in California.”

Callum and Cormac look between the two women, stunned. Jasper���s eyes widen.

“California?” Callum questions. “Mom, what is she talking about?”

Catherine looks around, “I thought Jasper would’ve filled you all in. I’m moving to California with Dean to be closer to his kids. They’re younger.”

Jasper looks down, pushing the vegetables around on his plate. Callum shakes his head, throwing his napkin on the table before storming off. Cormac starts to cry, to which Harry puts a hand on his back. 

“Mom, how can you leave?” Cormac asks, his lip quivering. 

“Baby, you’re all adults. You don’t need me anymore.”

“I’m only 17, Mom,” Cormac chokes. 

Briar has tears streaking down her face. Briar hasn’t needed her mother since she was 12 years old, hoping and praying for her to come back. Cormac barely knew her; only fantasizing what their relationship could’ve been. 

Harry pays the bill before suggesting Catherine leaves. She nods, standing to grab her purse. She silently looks each of her children in the eye before walking out of the restaurant. 

“I’m sorry, Bri. I thought she changed,” Jasper says solemnly. 

“It’s okay. You deserve to handle your relationship with her however you want.”

Harry and Briar walk out hand in hand after spending 20 minutes consoling her brothers. 

They climb into Harry’s car, silently staring ahead. Harry grabs her hand again.

“That was rough, pup. I’m sorry,” Harry says softly.

“Can we just go home? I miss you, Daddy.”

Harry clears his throat as his cock twitches.

“You have me, Birdie. Let’s go home.”

~

“Be rough with me,” Briar pleads from the bed. “I want it so bad.”

Harry chuckles as he pulls his belt from the loops on his pants. She’s completely bare, her wrists fastened to each corner of the bed. He opts to leave her feet out of the restraints, hoping he can toss her around a bit. 

“Daddy’s been taking it easy on his Birdie for the last couple weeks,” Harry says, trailing his knuckle along her rib cage. She keens, shivering from the light touch. “But don’t think I forgot about your stunt at Ashmont.”

Briar freezes, remembering their escapades. She taunted him, removing her panties in the stall, waiting for him to come after her. It’s a shame the night turned into a disaster soon after. She whines, not sure what else to do.

“Hm? Remember that, Birdie? Words,” he stares straight into her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy. I was naughty,” she bites her lip. 

He doesn’t like that. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into her mouth, choking her a little. “Leave that lip alone. I bite that.”

She purrs around his digits, goosebumps rising on her skin. He removes them from her mouth before sticking them at her core. He barely grazes her folds, seeing how she’ll react. She jerks around, slightly moving her pelvis to meet his hand. 

“Ah, ah. No. You’ll be taken care of how I decide.” 

She nods, swallowing thickly. She’s eating up everything he throws at her.

“Think I’m gonna take my time tonight,” Harry let’s out an exaggerated sigh. Briar whines, pushing her face into her shoulder. “Mm-mm. None of that.” 

Harry pushes Briar’s legs in the air, holding her ankles together, so the lips of her vagina are peaking out between her thighs. He growls at the sight.

“This little pussy is so used to getting what she wants. What does she want tonight, Birdie?”

“Your mouth, Daddy! Please!” Briar balls her fists, wiggling slightly.

Harry spits, watching the liquid drip down her thighs and cunt, “Nah, I’m good.”

Briar’s jaw locks in frustration. She watches as he walks to his closet grabbing her plug and vibrator. He generously applies lube to the plug, gently circling her ass. Briar closes her eyes, laying her head back. 

He gently pushes the plug in past the tight muscle, moving it in and out a little. 

“Oh my godddd,” Briar exhales. Her chest is rising and dropping fast. 

“I think tonight’s the night, baby.”

Briar whines, half out of horniness and the other out of nervousness. He flicks the vibrator on, pressing it firmly on her clit. She throws her head to the side. 

“Look at me. Don’t look over there,” Harry threatens, increasing the speed. 

She wills her eyes open, staring into his, her mouth opening slightly. The tension is building in her pelvis. She’s sure to come once he starts circling the vibrator on her clit; his signature move. Within seconds of him doing that, she’s crumbling. 

Harry shuts off the vibrator and adjusts her leg position so her legs are open wide, one resting on his shoulder.

“Wanna see your pretty face when I fuck your ass,” He says, peppering kisses on her face and neck.

“Please,” Briar whispers. 

Harry reaches between them and pulls the plug out and tosses it on the floor. He’ll clean it later. He extends his hand to rest in front of her face. 

“Spit.”

She spits on his fingertips, a line of spit connecting them to her lips. He lowers his hand to lightly touch her hole before inserting his middle finger. Briar groans, pulling on her restraints. He quickly inserts another, rocking them in and out of her gently. 

Harry’s cock is neglected, standing tall and proud, nearly touching the tip to his torso. Briar begins to panic, unsure if his girth will fit in there.

“Relax, baby. I got you. Do you remember your word?” He says, petting her cheek.

“Bogey,” she says softly. 

“Good girl,” he kisses her again. Harry has never withheld kisses, even in her worst punishments. “One more and then we’ll go for it, okay?”

“Mhm,” she nods, a single tear escaping her eye. She trusts her boyfriend with her entire being, but her heart rate is skyrocketing. 

The third digit enters her, eliciting a whine. Harry flexes his fingers, giving her a delicious stretch. A thick layer of sweat has formed behind her knees and on her forehead. 

Harry kisses her forehead, licking the saltiness from his lips, “All good, Birdie. Doing so well for me.”

After a few more minutes of stretching her out, Harry pulls his fingers out and lowers himself to be eye level with her ass. He licks a long stripe over the now open hole. Briar shivers, pulling on the restraints.

Harry rises from his spot on the bed to pull his underwear all the way off, his cock bobbing as he moves. He grips his length firmly, giving himself a few generous pumps. He kneels over her, undoing her right hand’s restraint. She looks at him curiously, but understands when he entwines their hands. 

He uses his right hand to line himself up at her delicate center. Briar sucks in a breath in anticipation. Harry presses the bulbous head of his dick in, groaning as he moves. His pace is painstaking, taking in every facial expression from the angel below him. 

“Such a good girl. Letting Daddy be the only one to fuck this little hole,” he pants, nostrils flaring. His forehead is starting to drip with sweat.

“Only you,” she whines as he pushes in little by little.

“Let me know if you need me to stop and take a break, lovie.”

She furiously shakes her head, still holding in a breath. Harry is finally working his way up to full thrusts.

“Breathe with me,” Harry pleads. “1,2,3, exhale.”

Briar feels high. That breath sent her senses all the way to her pussy.

“Daddy,” Briar breathes heavily. 

“What do you need, baby?”

“Fingers. I-In my pussy,” she cries. “Please.” 

“Okay, baby. I know y’empty in there,” he smiles down at her lovingly as he untangles their fingers so he can stick them inside. “So wet f’me.”

The sensations are too much once he starts petting her g-spot with his fingers.

“Coming, Daddy,” she babbles.

“Go ahead, Birdie. So fucking proud of you.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, letting out a cry of relief as she hits her wall. 

Harry chuckles at her babbling. She is fucked out to high heaven. He wants one more out of her before he comes. He alternates thrusting into her ass and fingering her pussy. He releases her other hand from the restraint. She’s too distracted, so her hand remains in the same spot.

“Rub your little clit, baby. One more f’me.”

“Ugggghnnnn,” Briar whines, drool coming out of her mouth. She circles her clit three more times before she’s clenching hard on his fingers and cock.

The squeeze of her ass pushes Harry into his own orgasm, a ringing forming in his ear. He gives two last lazy thrusts, emptying himself into her. He closes his eyes and hangs his head low before slowly pulling out.

Briar squawks, so he shushes her gently. Harry could come again at the sight in front of him. His come is leaking out of her ass hole, dripping onto the sheets below. He picks some up with his finger, smearing it on her pussy. She mewls, her head lolling to the side. 

“So fucking good for me. Gorgeous, baby.”

Harry takes a mental image before hustling to the bathroom. He starts the bath, making sure to throw some epsom salt and lavender oil in there. He wets a towel with warm water for Briar, and throws two towels into his towel warmer. 

He reenters the bedroom to find his girl curled up, her back to him. He runs his knuckles down her protruding spine. Harry gently dabs the towel along her labias and ass to clean up.

“Birdie, I ran us a bath. Gonna lift you,” Harry coos. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks up at him with moony eyes.

Harry lifts her from her armpits and knees, and swiftly carries her to the tub. Her eyes are shut, but she rests her head on his chest. He’s become a pro at maneuvering themselves into the tub.

Harry positions Briar at the front of the tub, before finding his seat at the back. He leans forward to pull her body to his chest. Harry closes his eyes and rolls his neck along the edge of the porcelain tub, listening to their uneven breaths.

He plays with Briar’s hair; twirling the long pieces between his fingers. She hasn’t said a word, but he knows she’s elsewhere right now. He moves his fingertips to her scalp, gently scratching around the nape of her neck, hoping she’ll come back to him soon.

“Mmmmm,” Briar hums, smiling to herself.

Harry smiles, increasing the pressure and speed like he’s petting Gus.

“Stop,” Briar whines, her hair now in her face.

“Sorry, Birdie. How do you feel?” 

“Good. Sleepy,” Briar yawns.

“Hungry? I can order us something,” Harry taps her sides.

“Can we have Caesar salads and Diet Cokes?” She cranes her neck to look back at him.

Harry laughs, “Sure, baby.”

“And french fries.”

“You got it,” Harry leans down and kisses her.

~

Briar is staying at Harry’s while he’s in the city for a few in-person meetings. It’s been nice; she does yoga outside in the mornings, takes Gus for walks around the picturesque neighborhood, and cooks using his expensive appliances.

🦊: Hi, Birdie.

🐥: Hi Daddy

🦊: Miss me yet? 

🐥: I like being able to lay sideways in your bed

🦊: You can do that when I’m there.

🐥: You’re too hard

🦊: How’d you know? Send me a picture.

🐥: It’s 10AM. Pay attention to your meeting

🦊: I’m not asking. 

Though Harry isn’t home, Briar still walks around his house scantily clad. An idea to terrorize her boyfriend pops into her head. Bolting up the stairs, Briar grabs her plug from Harry’s special area in his closet. She smirks to herself, feeling the cool metal in her hand. She walks outside, peering over Maureen’s fence to ensure no one will witness what she’s about to do.

She gathers spit in her mouth before lubricating the plug. She places one foot on the lounge chair for leverage, before nudging the plug past her entrance. Waddling around, she moves two lounge chairs to face one another. Propping her phone up on one, she shuffles to the other to get into position. She removes her sleep tank top and silk shorts, staring up into the sky to get some sun on her face.

She kneels, making sure to pop her ass out more. The phone is set to video so she can take screen shots of the poses she likes best. Or just send the whole damn video to him.

She makes sure to twist her body to fake some curves, looking over her shoulder and touching her hair. She fiddles with the plug, making her whine. 

Yup, she’s sending the video.

After a few minutes, she gets up from the lounge chair, being sure to flash the camera. She grabs the phone, scanning it over her body before blowing a kiss.

Delivered

Looking around again, she quickly throws her clothes back on, opting to leave the plug in for the day. Gus joins her outside, laying on the chair opposite hers. She has an urge to shut her phone off completely, just to push Harry’s buttons a little more.

Her quiet morning is interrupted by her ringtone blaring. She picks up without saying anything.

“Do you think you’re funny?”

“Who is this?” Briar is holding back laughter.

“I am in a meeting, little girl. You sent that video when all I told you to send was a photo.”

“So are you jerking yourself in the bathroom?”

“What a fucking mouth on you, huh? And yeah, your little video is causing a problem,” Harry grits.

Briar whines, “Don’t you wish it was my little hand, Daddy? Or my mouth?”

Harry slams his fist against the bathroom stall. His neck vein is protruding as he growls.

Briar is full on smiling to herself. She’s not particularly horny right now, but she’s happy to aid Harry with his issue. She can hear his panting increase before a clattering of the phone. 

“Harry?”

“Fuck, I dropped my phone,” he laughs incredulously.

“Oh my, well, maybe I should let you go,” Briar trails off.

“No, baby. Almost done. Just tell Daddy how much you love,” he groans. “Love him.”

“I love you, Daddy. So much. Come for me,” Briar says, leaning into her chair.

Harry releases into the toilet with a strangled moan. He prays to God the conference room walls are thick. He grabs a wad of toilet paper to wipe down his misfires before flushing.

“Thanks, Birdie. You’re in so much trouble when I’m home. Love you.”

“Okay, bye.”

She hangs up, shaking her head. She looks over her shoulder to see Maureen standing at the fence, watering her plants. Briar gives her a tight smile and wave, to which Maureen grimaces in response.

Briar lounges for a few hours before feeling intense boredom. She cleans a little bit, making sure to dust Harry’s various trinkets from his travels. She lightly wipes a ceramic elephant he got in Thailand, a Russian nesting doll from his time in St. Petersburg, and a clay shark from South Africa. While Harry has been all over the globe, the two share a desire to one day back back in South America. She hopes a llama trinket will one day sit on this shelf. 

It’s been a few weeks since the lunch with Briar’s mom and since Harry sent the letter to Camille. While she’s happy Harry is attempting to get to know his son, Briar can’t help but feel extreme anxiety. Why hasn’t Camille responded? 

The shrill sound of the doorbell and Gus’s subsequent bark breaks Briar’s train of thought. She can see a figure through the frosted glass of Harry’s front door, lingering at the table of snacks designated for delivery drivers. 

Briar can see the UPS logo on the man’s shirt, so she lets him pick his goodies before opening the door. She waved to him as he drives away, looking down at the package at her feet. She wonders if Harry sent her something for when he returns. 

Bending over, she’s surprised at the package’s weight. If it were new lingerie, it’d be light. She bends at the knees, inhaling when she lifts the package. Shooing Gus away, she manages to get the package to Harry’s long kitchen table. 

She’s wracking her brain what it could be. The entire package is wrapped in brown paper. She flips it over to see the label. Harry’s name written in cursive letters using a Sharpie. Her eyes are drawn to the left hand side; the sender.

C. Rowe 4 Rue Dupetit-Thouars Paris, France 75003

A lump forms in Briar’s throat. It’s been a few hours since she talked to Harry this morning. Her fingers start to dial his number.

“If you’re calling for a follow-up to this morning, I have to let you know that Niall is right next to me.”

She hears Niall groan in the background. When she doesn’t laugh or respond, Harry tries again. “Birdie?”

“Hi, I-I wanted to tell you that a package came f-for you,” Briar chokes out. 

Harry scrunches his eyebrows, “Okay, just leave it with the others. Anything else?”

He wants to be sweet with her, but she knows not to call about random things while he’s in meetings.

“I-it’s from Camille.”

Silence. Briar closes her eyes. 

Harry sighs, “I see. Okay, thanks for letting me know, pup. I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. Are you going to be okay until then?”

“Y-yes, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.” 

“It’s okay. This whole thing is a little odd. Just try to take your mind off it. Throw it in my office if you don’t feel like seeing it.” 

“Okay, I will. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Harry sighs. Niall looks over at him empathetically. 

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating one of the servers?”

Niall’s eyes go wide before rubbing his temples, “She told you?”

“What? Why wouldn’t she? She’s my girlfriend.” 

“We’re not dating. We hooked up once...twice.”

“Mhm,” Harry laughs. “Better nip that in the bud, then.”

Niall groans again just as their next meeting begins.

~

The anticipation is killing Briar. Harry is due home any minute, so she’s pacing between his kitchen and living room. Sitting on the sofa, sitting on the stool, sitting on the chair, standing by the window. She can’t keep still.

She joins Gus in his outburst of barking and running from window to window when they hear Harry’s car pull into the garage. She pokes her head into the garage to see Harry unloading his bags from the back.

She walks over to him, pressing her hands into his chest. 

“Hi, Birdie. Missed you,” Harry says, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

“Welcome home,” she smiles back at him.

She grabs the wheeled suitcase, lifting it over the threshold of the door. 

“Let me change and we can open it,” Harry says simply. Briar’s stomach drops.

“Okay.”

Briar corrals Gus to the sofa, the two of them perching in the corner seat. Harry changed into colorful sweatpants and a t-shirt that says ‘vote vote vote’. He grabbed the package from his office on his way back into the main living room. 

He places the package on the coffee table. The two of them stare at it silently. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to do this alone?”

“Mm, no, it’s okay. If there’s a letter, then I’ll read that on my own.”

Briar nods, waiting for him to open the box.

Harry peels the brown paper from the edges, tearing straight through his and Camille’s names.

He removes the paper in its entirety, examining the oversized shoe box before pulling the lid off. He places it off to the side while peering at the contents. From first glance, it looks like junk. 

He scrunches his eyebrows when he spots one of his old shirts. Did Camille really use this as an opportunity to send his shit back?

He moves the shirt to reveal a few envelopes, a baby rattle, a small pair of vans, a stuffed dog, and drawings. 

Harry opens one of the envelopes to find a stack of Polaroid pictures. He can feel his eyes start to sting. They’re in chronological order, showing his son grow from a tiny baby to an excited 7 year old. Briar has her head on his shoulder, silently viewing the photos. The birth photo has words scribbled in Sharpie at the bottom.

Oliver Styles Rowe  18-11-2016 3.3kgs | 53 cm

Harry is crying now. Briar rubs his back, trying to encourage him to keep going. 

He flips through the photo, feeling vomit bubble up his throat. This kid looks like a lot of fun. Fun that’s killing him to not have been a part of. Camille keeps him well travelled; there are photos from Tokyo, Australia and Mexico. 

Unlike most babies, Harry’s had his signature curls from the start. Briar gasps at the photos as they get closer to present day. Oliver is Harry’s twin. 

Oliver receives great marks in school; he’s pictured with several certificates and trophies. He even seems to be a footballer. 

Harry puts the stack on the coffee table, turning to face Briar. 

“Wow,” Harry says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“What’re you thinking?” 

“Just heartbroken all over again.” 

~

Harry went into his office to read the letter. He stops at his bar cart to pour himself some tequila.

It’s short, but gives Harry some closure. Over the last 8 years, Camille embraced motherhood by focusing less on work. She meditates, volunteers regularly, and is extremely involved at school activities.

She and Theo, their mutual friend from study abroad, have been together since she moved back. That sends a pang to Harry’s heart. They got married about 5 years ago, and have a little girl named Amélie. She only talks a little about Oliver, saying how much he reminds her of Harry. 

Camille apologizes, which Harry didn’t expect. She recognizes cutting him off from his son was wrong. She also left her contact information, followed by the last line. 

He would love to meet you. I think it’s time. 

C

Tears are fully falling on Harry’s cheeks as the heaviness of the last 8 years hits him. His son has Styles in his name. He smiles to himself, feeling the butterflies in his stomach. 

He shoves the letter in his desk drawer before wiping his eyes. He joins Briar and Gus back in the living room cozied up by the fire.

____________________________________________________________________

OHM YGOD. SOMEONE PLZ TALK TO ME AB BIRDIE AND HARRY I AM LIVINGGGGG

Taglist:

@daphnesutton​ @pandeebearstyles​ @anxiouswaterss​ @gem1712 @stylesfever​ @awesomenavy​ @crazygirlinthisworld​ @butdaddyilovehim-hs​ @luxiorchive​ @alchemxx @narry-heart 

[baronessblixen]

Prompt? Mulder and Scully pick out baby furniture and later talk about baby names? Or one or the other, I'm happy either way! 🙈

Look who's answering a five-year-old prompt! I think this was supposed to be about the new baby, but I wrote about William instead.

Fluff, set after "Alone": With Mulder being unemployed, and Scully on maternity leave, they spend their time thinking about furniture, baby names, and all the ways their lives will change. (wc: 1,378)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 14: Preparation is Everything

Fox Mulder is a new man.

His naked body is still adorned with pale scars, but they’re healing, slowly fading away. Soon, they will be gone, and with them the only proof of what he went through. How many people can claim to have come back from the death? Mulder doesn’t even want to know.

The other day, Scully left a pamphlet for group therapy on his coffee table. His first instinct was to throw it into the trash, but then he reconsidered. Scully isn’t pushing him. No one is. They’re all just glad he’s back among the living. Well, most of them. He bets that Kersh can’t wait for him to die for real. That feeling, he realizes, is mutual.

When he stood in front of Kersh's desk, his former boss barely able to contain his glee, he was ready to fight. To defend himself and go on another rampage. That feeling lasted all of five seconds. Not worth it, a voice inside him whispered. He thought of Scully, and the baby, and knew that they were the only thing that mattered to him now. They didn’t need him jumping off oil rigs. He’s caused Scully seven years of grief and he was done. Enough was enough. Someone else could take over the X-Files. He may not trust Doggett yet, but Scully does. And when Scully trusts someone, he knows they’re good people.

So, he’s Fox Mulder now. Just Fox Mulder. Unemployed bum, spending time at his partner’s apartment whenever she lets him, and trying to figure out what to do next.

“What are you doing?” Mulder asks as he steps into the living room where Scully sits on the couch, engrossed in a colorful catalog.

“Looking at baby furniture,” she replies with a sigh.

“I thought- I thought you already had everything.”

“I thought I’d have more time,” she admits sheepishly, biting her lip. Seeing his Scully unprepared for anything just makes him love her more. But he knows better than to tease her.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Mulder says, sitting down next to her. “We both have plenty of time. With me being fired, and you on maternity leave, we have all the time in the world. Let’s go shopping.”

“Mulder, we have the catalog.” She points at a crib with a smiling baby inside of it. Mulder thinks it looks a bit like an alien. “We can order everything we need.”

“Or,” he says, drawing the word out. “We can go into a store and pick things out.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I don’t want the kid to sleep in a thing that looks like this.” He points at the ugliest crib he’s ever seen. “$1000? Does it come with the whole apartment? Come on, Scully. It’s going to be a nice trip to Babies'R'Us.”

*

“Does no one work anymore?” Mulder mumbles as he and Scully step into the crowded baby store. There are squeaky bright colors everywhere and Mulder doesn’t know where to start. He keeps close to Scully’s side, but she, too, seems overwhelmed by the sheer size of this place.

“Wish you were hunting monsters instead?” he asks Scully and she gives him a small smile.

“At least we have experience with that.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Mulder assures her. “Look, that’s the baby section. Let’s start there.”

In the end, it’s not as difficult as either of them thought it would be. It doesn’t take them long to find the essentials. They both fall in love with the same crib and Mulder gets so excited that he kisses her quickly and noisily in front of another family, not caring at all.

“Mulder.” Her cheeks are coloring and she’s looking around nervously. Old habits die hard.

“I doubt we’ll run into Skinner or Kersh here, Scully. Or anyone we know. Either way, we’re not working together anymore, are we?” The realization hits him that he’s telling the truth. As of right now, they’re no longer work partners. There’s nothing holding them together. He’s not even FBI anymore.

“Are you all right?” Scully touches his chest.

“I’m- I just realized that we’re no longer partners.”

“Are you leaving me?” There’s no worry in her voice, but rather amusement.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mulder, we don’t need to be working together in the basement to be partners. You know that, right? We are partners in this.” She takes his hand and puts it on her stomach. “Unless you-”

“Oh, I want. I’m all in, Scully. I hope you know that?” She nods, and he sees a few tears pool in the corner of her eyes. He almost ruined another moment with his insecurities.

“Do you think we have everything we need for now?”

“You’re tired,” Mulder states and she doesn’t deny it.

“And hungry,” she says with an apologetic smile.

“We’ll get you and Junior something to eat. Let’s get out of here.”

*

Their baby is a pizza lover. They may not know much about their child yet, but they do know that. Mulder watches Scully happily lick her fingers clean after eating a slice of greasy pepperoni pizza and thinks he might even be a little turned out by her enjoyment of it.

“Happy now?” he asks her, unable to hide his own happiness.

“Very much so. I just- I need to get comfortable.” She’s half sitting, half lying on the couch, and watching him with curious eyes. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Who can blame her? After all, she had to bury him. Had to try and make peace with him being gone and having to do all of this on her own. He doesn’t want to think about missing all of this. He’s missed so much already. The moment she found out. The morning sickness. Her growing belly. He missed all of it. He can only try to make up for all of it now. But they will never get that time back.

“Mulder, stop,” she says gently, a hand on his thigh. “I can feel you thinking.”

“Can you?” he asks with a sad smile.

“I wish I could turn back the time and-”

“None of this is your fault, Scully.”

“It’s not your fault either.”

“Debatable.”

“Not debatable,” she says firmly. “You’re here now and it’s everything- Mulder, it’s everything.”

“You know you’ll see a lot of me now, right? With me being out of a job. I need to- I will find something. We can’t let Junior think I’m some kind of slob.”

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” Scully whispers as if she were sharing a secret.

“Let’s hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” She winks at him and they both laugh softly. A truce.

“Have you thought about names for Junior?” Mulder asks as Scully snuggles into his side. He puts his arm around her and, a bit more hesitantly, lets his hand wander to her stomach. What a miracle they’ve created together.

“I have a few ideas. What about you?”

“It’s your decision.”

“Mulder.”

“No, I think you should decide. I’ll veto if it’s something like… Nimrod.”

“Too bad. That was my favorite.” She grins up at him. “I was thinking about all the people we lost. Samantha and Melissa. We could pick something similar to that, to honor them. Or give them a name with no memories attached. Give them a fresh start.”

“They deserve a fresh start.” Mulder kisses her temple.

“All of us do,” Scully says, putting her hand on top of Mulder’s on her stomach. “We’ll know what to call him when we see him.”

“Him?” Mulder asks.

“Or her.”

“You know,” Mulder says, closing his eyes, and letting his imagination take over. “I think our child is going to change the world. Save it even, maybe. They’re going to do great things.” He can see it. Can see their child grow up from baby to child, to teenager and adult. He can’t wait to be there and watch every single step they take. Holding their hand if they need him to.

“I think you’re right, Mulder,” Scully says.

“You hear that, baby?” Mulder presses his ear to her stomach, murmuring the words against the fabric of her shirt. “Your mom just said I’m right.”

[mirai1269]

Short: After MC started dating Vincent, Leon and Victor team up to make them break up.

——————

On the rooftops, Leon and Victor sit spying on the two lovebirds with disgust.

Leon: “Look at them, all happy and sh*t. He should have chosen me!”

Victor: “I didn’t mind who he dated, but he just had to date him of all people!”

Meanwhile, below them, MC and Vincent were sitting outside enjoying their Bobas. Vincent kisses MC head, while MC chuckles and kisses him back on the cheek. This makes Leon clench his fists in anger and Victor snarl.

Victor: ugh “We have to make them break up. It’s too dangerous for him to do this.”

Leon: “Way ahead of you.” He says, as he grabs his pocket knife.

Victor: “No! It has to be subtle. We can’t afford any more blood on our hands. Besides, it could hurt Vincent!”

Leon panicks realizing that killing Vincent in front of his Uncle wasn’t the brightest idea. He puts the knife back in his pocket.

Leon: 💡 “I got it! Since you’re his Uncle, you can restrain his spending money, that way he’ll lose interest in Vincent!”

Victor: “I’m not the one who controls how much money he spends, but I can convince by brother to take control of his allowance.”

Leon: “Yeah! And I’ll keep my friend away from Vincent in the meantime.”

Victor: “I like you, young man.” He says as the two shake hands.

——————

5 days, 9 arguments, 6 tantrums, 7 vases broken, 3 maids overworked, 1 MC gatekept, 4 gaslighting talks, and 25k spent on parental therapy and counseling later.

——————

Leon: “We did it! They’re no longer talking to each other! I’ve even convinced my friend to stay away from Vincent at school.”

Victor, looking very exhausted: “It was hard work, but we did it. I even sent Vincent to therapy for extra measures.”

Leon: “That’s greats news! I’m so glad our plan worked out.” He said, happy to be with MC again.

Suddenly, a familiar Red Helecopter flies over the two. From there, it dropped off a few notes on them before leaving. When they picked it up, they see that it’s in Vincent’s handwriting.

Dear Uncle: Thanks for putting me in therapy, you made it very easy for me to escape. I have taken the keys and money you so carelessly left on your desk. With these, I’ll be taking my Honeybee and I on a little 5 day vacation to make up for lost time.

Oh! And Leon, F*ck you! I know you teamed up with my Uncle to get us to break up. I saw your little group chat the other day while you were at practice.

Leon and Victor: “……………”

——————

Author’s Note: Another alternative scenario is where they don’t get along because Victor wishes to kill the MC, while Leon fights for MC’s safety. Visa Versa with Vincent.

Vincent exhaled in pride and satisfaction as the Sun's rays warmed his body. MC was sleeping on the sunbed next to his, a book threatening to fall from his hands onto the golden beach sand. The red head turned to the brunet, admiring the boy's sleeping face.

'He's so beautiful... This... it's all so perfect. We could stay here, just the two of us, forever. I have money, I know the local language, he won't miss anything...'

A sudden realisation made him furrow his brows.

'Oh wait, he still has his brother! Dang it... Oh well, I'll figure something out.'

The longer he stared at the youth, the desire to reach out to him and embrace him filled his heart more and more. Sure, it was a hot day and cuddling like that would make them both sweat bullets, but Vincent could care less about that.

'He didn't go into the water today yet, right? It'll be very hot soon, we should go now. The water is pretty cold yet, and he's going to get sunburnt. His ear is already red.'

With a gentle shake, Vincent awoke MC from his slumber. The boy let out a small yawn while he wiped his eyes.

"Come, sleepy head. Let's swim!" Vincent said with a soft smile. MC grumbled before sitting up on the sunbed, streching his limbs and checked the time on his phone.

"It's almost lunch time. We came out at what... 9 a.m?" MC mumbled sleepily. Vincent sighed as he sat up.

"We came out right after breakfast. If you're wondering, you've been snoring for the last half hour."

MC looked up at his companion in surprise. "I don't snore. At least as far as I know."

Vincent let out a sigh before reaching for MC's hand and dragged him to the water.

"Enough chit-chat, the water's calling!"

Since this part of the coast was the property of Vincent's family, the two boys could head to the water without the risk of the stuff getting stolen.

The boys enjoyed the sea. After a few attempt of trying to get deeper into the much colder enviornment, the water felt pleasant against their skin.

"Wait, MC no! I don't wanna get my hair wet!" Vincent shrieked as MC splashed him with the salty water.

"Vengance will be mine!" MC yelled in enthusiasm, his hair drenched from Vincent's little 'prank'.

After a while, both got out, sea water dripping from their hair.

"Great, I can wash it again." Vincent moaned. MC chuckled at his suffering, earning a pout from his host.

"I enjoyed it. Thank you for taking me here, Vincent!"

Though still angry at his boyfriend for messing up his hair, Vincent couldn't help but smile. His hand found MC's, their fingers intertwined tightly.

"I'm happy you're here. This is the first time I actually enjoy a vacation with someone close to me."

Hearing this, MC felt a bit sad, it was evident on his face. Seeing this, Vincent averted his eyes.

"A-anyways, we should head back, I'm sure lunch is alre-"

"VINCEEENT!!"

Both boys stopped in their tracks. They watched, freezed on the spot, as Vincent's uncle, Victor stomped his way towards the pair, his coat still hanging on his shoulders. His face was red, his eyes bloodshot, and he was huffing like a bull.

"YOUNG MAN! YOU...*huff* YOU'RE IN....*huff* BIIG TROUBLE!" Victor yelled. Once he reached the pair, he slouched and tried to regain his breath.

"God, it's hot...*huff*...You two...." He gulped. "Back to the house....

"Uncle, are you oka-"

"NOW!"

Back at the weekend house, the living room was more heated by Victor's rage than by the fireplace. The older man was furious at his nephew and MC. At Vincent for running away and stealing from him, at MC for... for whatever he was angry at him, along with 'helping' Vincent in this little escapade.

"You two are going to board the jet tonight and go straight back home. Vincent, you are forbidden from EVER meeting with this boy and you're back to therapy. And you, MC. If I ever see you near my nephew...let's just say, it's in your best interest I don't."

Both boys remained silent, holding their hands under the coffee table.

"I'll go eat lunch, I haven't eaten anything today."

With that, Victor stormed to the dining hall.

"Uncle-"

"AND PUT SOME ALOE GEL ON YOUR FACES. YOU TWO LOOK LIKE A TOMATO STAND!"

[tell-me-when-ur-ready]

Gentle For You

Summary: Usually, you don’t talk to your Pogue friends about how your father treats you at home. Today, though, JJ can no longer ignore it. But instead of going feral, he acts unexpectedly soft instead—which turns out to be just what you need.

Warnings: Language, off-page physical abuse, borderline panic attack

Word count: 2,000

Author’s note: I have no idea when this takes place so don’t ask me! But please enjoy some self-indulgent soft!jj, compliments from the chef.

The overgrown grass in the yard of the Chateau makes your ankles itch as you trudge around the house. Your friends’ voices grow louder as you approach the open-air shed around the back. You spend every day with your friends—“Pogues4Life” is your catchphrase, and you all mean it with everything in you—but today, you don’t really want to see them.

You just don’t know where else to go.

“Hey, there she is!” JJ calls as he spots you. He’s lounging against the side of the shed, beer in hand even though it’s barely mid-morning. “Sleepyhead. We thought you’d never show up.”

Normally you’d be mouthing off something snarky right back at him, but today all you can muster up is a half-hearted smile—it probably looks like more of a wince—and a weak set of finger guns. The others smile and greet you as you get closer. John B is in the middle of some story about his latest fishing trip. You don’t really care about the details. You just want to slide in under the radar.

“And then we… Whoa.” John B trails off, and you know his gaze must have landed on your face—the green and yellow bruise around your eye, the finger marks on your throat that you’d tried unsuccessfully to cover with makeup. “You good there?”

“Fine,” you mumble, dropping into a lawn chair next to Sarah. A concerned furrow wrinkles her brow. You can feel JJ’s eyes on you from the outskirts of the group. But no one says anything. Pope fiddles with a string around his wrist, staring studiously at the ground. Kiara tries to meet your eyes, but you don’t want to deal with her bleeding heart right now. Not today.

After a long moment of silence—an embarrassed, shameful flush is crawling up your cheeks—John B clears his throat and picks up his story. “So anyway, I try to reel it in, but I can’t. So then—”

“Are you serious right now?” JJ interrupts him, pushing himself off the wall and stepping forward into the group in one swift motion. “She shows up looking like that and we’re seriously just not gonna talk about it?”

“Oh please. It’s not like we all sit around having a group therapy session when it’s you with your dad,” you bite back immediately, his frustration prodding you to life.

“This is different!”

“Why? Let me guess. Because I’m a girl?” you retort sarcastically.

“No, because you’re—because you’re you!”

All eyes turn to JJ, who looks very much like he’s regretting this outburst. He groans and paces in a quick circle, taking his hat off so he can run a hand through his hair. “Look, just—can I talk to you for a minute?”

“I’d rather not,” you mumble, sliding down further into the flimsy lawn chair. Your brief moment of energizing fury is gone.

“Hey,” Kiara says softly, reaching out to touch your arm. Reluctantly, you lift your gaze to meet her eyes. You see your own pain reflected back at you, and that’s when it hits you—your friends are seriously worried about you. The same way you all brainstorm how to pull Pope out of his obsessive spirals about school, or show up for Kie when she’s mad at her parents, or worry behind JJ’s back about his recklessness and buried pain—your friends are having those feelings for you now, too.

And if they’re going to make you talk to anyone about it, you know JJ would understand best.

“Fine. Whatever,” you bite out. You stand up, wincing, and head to the large, low-limbed tree that overlooks the water without waiting for JJ. You don’t want to see the looks the others are probably giving each other behind your back.

JJ follows you, but you can tell he’s uncomfortable by the way he keeps picking up his hat and resettling it on his head. Well, his feelings aren’t your problem. He was the one who wanted to talk. You lean your back against the tree and cross your arms. JJ is stubborn as hell, but you are, too.

“You wanted to talk. So talk,” you finally force out after a long moment of silence.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like it. I don’t fucking like it,” he spits out. “First it was just a few bruises here and there and you said you could take care of yourself. And I know you can. But now he keeps getting worse. Does he even have a job right now? Is he just always around? That’s not good. We need to figure something out. This isn’t gonna work anymore.”

You tip your head back against the rough bark of the tree and stare up at the sunlight filtering through the branches, letting JJ ramble on, his words washing over you as he paces back and forth.

“If I can think of a way to get my dad out of the picture, you can move in with me. I mean, not like that. Not unless you want to. I—I just mean—”

You don’t know what makes you do what you do next, but you’re growing impatient with his rambling. You don’t necessarily want a solution right now (why do men always want to fix everything?); you just want someone to see.

You reach down, grab the hem of your T-shirt, and pull it over your head. JJ stops short and sucks in a quick breath.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You don’t want to look, but you know your entire left side is covered in red and purple welts and bruising—relics from your father’s boot. You haven’t been able to take a deep breath all morning (physically or metaphorically) and even the band of your loosest sports bra hurts because of the pressure on your skin.

JJ reaches out a hand toward your abdomen. Instinctively, you flinch away.

“S’okay,” he murmurs, more gently than you expect. You’d thought that by this time, he would’ve been feral, already on his way to comb Kildare County until he found your father and made him pay, because this time he’d gone further than he ever had before. But this unexpectedly soft JJ is breaking down your barriers quicker than you expected. His calloused fingertips trail across the bruising on your skin, somehow feeling feathery light, and you bite your lip and stare out at the water so you don’t do something stupid like cry.

If you start, you’ll never stop.

“C’mere,” JJ rasps, his gaze flicking back up to yours. He pulls his hand back and jerks his chin toward the Chateau. “I’ve had broken ribs once or twice. I know what’ll help.” He strides back up to the house and you follow him, not bothering to put your shirt back on. You can feel the gazes of the others on your back. You’re pretty sure you hear Sarah whispering something to Kie. Uncomfortable, you hurry your pace to catch up with J.

In the kitchen, he pats the counter by the sink and you do your best to clamber up to sit on it, wincing as you favor your left side.

“First things first,” JJ says, opening the fridge. He’s all business as he tosses you a bag of frozen peas. “Wrap this in that towel and put it on your eye.”

You do as he says. You’re too emotionally exhausted right now to tease him about Nurse JJ mode. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen before, and to be honest, you’re not mad about it. You just wish it wasn’t happening under these circumstances.

JJ keeps up a steady stream of nonsensical chatter as he moves around the kitchen, pouring you a cup of water, looking for a clean towel. “Gonna make an ice pack for your ribs, too. Help with the pain. Bet Heyward has some Tylenol or somethin’. If that ain’t enough, I’ll get something stronger from Barry. You know I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you need.”

Everyone knows your father is a big guy, and when he gets angry, he’s not above pushing people around. You’ve shown up with bruises before. But never anything like this. Never anything as bad as what Luke gives JJ. You know JJ knows this is because of your father. But he hasn’t asked exactly what happened.

Somehow that makes you want to tell him even more. You just can’t seem to find the words. You’ve felt numb, hollowed out, ever since everything that happened at home last night. You didn’t sleep; you’d just laid on your bed with the door locked tight, feeling empty, until the first streaks of dawn began to curl around the edges of the horizon.

Your breathing hitches slightly as JJ edges in between your knees. He reaches up to pull your hand with the peas away from your eye.

“Yep, that’s gonna be a big one,” he murmurs, gaze tracing the bruise around your eye socket without actually making eye contact. You can feel his warm breath on your face.

“Here. Let’s get some ice on your side, yeah?” JJ lifts the makeshift ice pack he’s made and presses it to your ribs. You hiss in a breath at the contact. Slowly, JJ slides his other hand around the opposite side of your waist, bracing your body against the cold.

“Just breathe,” he encourages you, voice low. His gaze meets yours briefly and then dips back down to the ugly bruising on your side. He adjusts the ice pack slightly. He’s always so reckless, but he’s being careful now, gentle. Gentle for you. “It’ll hurt like hell for a while, but it’ll be okay.”

“JJ,” you start, your voice coming out as a whisper. “I…”

“Hm?” He dips his head, bringing his face closer to yours. You close your eyes. You want to tell him. You want someone else to know what happened, someone to bear witness to what you’ve had to endure. But no matter how hard you try, you’re hitting a block. You can’t force words past your lips. Hot tears start to leak out from under your eyelids.

“Let it out,” you hear him murmur. You don’t remember ever seeing JJ this solemn, this caring.

“I want to tell you what happened. But I can’t,” you finally manage to whisper. You pry your sticky eyelids apart and meet his gaze, feeling self-conscious as his blue eyes search yours. “I can’t. I just can’t. I—”

For some reason your breath is speeding up. You feel like you’re hyperventilating.

“Hey, don’t do that. Don’t do that. I got you,” JJ says. He drops the ice pack and reaches out, gathering you into his arms. You fist his Pelican Marina T-shirt and turn your face into his shoulder.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper tearfully one more time, not even really sure what you’re referring to. Going home? Having broken ribs? Life in general?

You can’t see JJ’s face, but you can feel his jaw tighten against your hair.

“I’m gonna keep you safe. We’re gonna figure this out. Promise.”

You don’t know how long the two of you sit there, JJ’s arms secure around your body and your head buried in his neck, as the ice pack lies forgotten on the counter. You want to start feeling better. You desperately want to not feel so goddam numb. But you only continue to feel emptier as you cry.

The plan doesn’t come together that day. You’re afraid that not going home might make things worse, but you let yourself get talked into spending the night that night on the couch at the Chateau. JJ seems back to his usual self as he talks about sleeping on the porch with the gun, outfitting the open-air shed into a place for you to live, setting up your dad to make it look like he did something that would get him on Rafe’s hit list, the same crazy shit he usually spews.

In quiet moments, though, the new, soft version of JJ pops back out. He shows you how to hold a pillow against your ribs to help with the pain. He makes sure you eat something for dinner even though you can barely swallow it down. He brings you a blanket at bedtime because he knows you’re always cold despite the muggy air outside.

And those are the moments when you think maybe he was right. That even though it hurts like hell, maybe everything will be okay.

Because JJ was gentle. Gentle for you.

[eris-snow]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭, 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭

Tags: Deku's birthday series 2023, izuku x fem!reader, angst

The boy who’d always give you those wonderful, heart soothing laughter or weary cautions whenever you climbed up a tree.

I’m actually pretty excited! This will be my first time spending my birthday with someone other than Kacchan! I’m so glad that it’s with you too.

-Izuku

You stare at the note on your door, taking note of everything. The way you pluck the green post-it note off and hide it in your pocket. The way your lips naturally curve upwards when you read his words of painful, blissful obliviousness of his tone to you.

You cherish it, remember it, hoard the memories you share with him because if he can’t remember them, you’ll have to do it for the both of you.

“It’s not your first time, though…” You sigh, tracing the paper with trembling fingers.

With all these firsts for him, it’ll be your last before his memory is wiped again.

“You’re lucky I love you, Zuku.”

--

You fully expect something to go wrong today in class when Aizawa asks you to stay back for a talk. Izuku shoots you a worried look, to which you reply with your own confused one with a shrug. He then points at the door, signalling that he was going to wait outside, and you nod your head, smiling at your silent conversation.

Little quirks like this were things you’d reintroduced, and it made it even more sweeter when Izuku gives you a blindingly bright smile in return.

Ochaco looks between the both of you and frowns, everything communicated completely flying over her head.

Curiously, you make your way to Aizawa’s sleeping bag with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“You wanted to see me, Aizawa-sensei?”

He slides his papers into his file, not glancing up once. “How are you holding up?”

The question catches you off guard and causes you to sputter out a, “Sorry, what?” which gets Aizawa rolling his eyes.

“How are you holding up?” He repeats, not a drop of condescension in his voice.

It makes you ease a little, and feel a little touched. Aizawa had always been hard to read, but it was made abundantly apparent that the students that didn’t get expelled in the first 2 months of his class were safely guided to his “I care about these idiots club”.

And the fact that he knew about the Quirk Accident gave him all the more reason to keep an eye on you during this time of the year.

“Not great,” You admit, wrapping your arms around yourself. “But I’ll make it through. I always do.”

“A car can make its way through a hurricane, but it’ll look all banged up with stains and dents. I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

“Yeah, well,” You smile sadly, eyes meeting his. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Aizawa doesn’t flinch. Instead, he stares back and replies. “Bakugou has informed me of whatever you’ve learnt from the visit to Tartarus, but I suspect he withheld a little information from me. I assume it was personal because he would tell us if it was important.”

The hardened look in his eyes softened. “Have you been going for your scheduled therapy sessions to at least time someone about it?’

“I haven’t been going at all,” You confess. “I didn’t want to spend the better half of this month talking about this with her,” The ‘her’ was referring to your therapist, who was kind and patient and always willing to hear you out.

When you see Aizawa’s gaze start to harden, you quickly add. “I’ll need a whole lot more sessions after Izuku’s birthday. I don’t want to lose a second because of my problems—”

“L/n, not everything revolves around Midoriya. Your problems are way more important than him.”

“Izuku is my problem!” You counter. “But I get what you’re saying. And uh, thanks. For, you know,” You pause thoughtfully. “Checking up on me.”

“A lot of people care about you, L/n. Including Katsuki and me. Don’t try to do this all alone.” Aizawa says, a rare smile emerging. But just as fast as it came, it left.

Finally, you bow your head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

--

“You’ve definitely gotten faster,” You pout, guzzling water like your life depended on it.

Currently, you both were chilling on a bench and enjoying the wind. One of your first bonding activities last year was going for runs around the U.A. facilities. It didn’t require talking, nor did it require interaction. But you were always there trying to make him laugh, no matter what occasion.

He always did, on one of those runs. “We should do this more often. It’s the first time in a long while since we got to do this.” Izuku comments, tipping the lid of the bottle to his mouth too. “Honestly, I don’t know why we stopped.”

Your last run with him, on the country. He didn’t have to know that, though.

Izuku didn’t have to know a lot of things.

On one particularly hard day, a day when both your brains had been fried and both your bodies were on the verge of going boneless, you had stopped by a nearby bench to take a break. Curiously, you still gave him a bright smile after the run.

Wind blows the hair in your ponytail around wildly as you grin at him cheekily.

“Watch this,” You told him, patting a nearby tree. It’s steady and strong, but your next move horrifies him when you start climbing like a monkey, settling atop a tree branch like an animal that belonged there.

“Get down from there!’ Izuku had insisted, the gentle gale picking up into a warm, summer breeze. “Y-You shouldn’t do that! This is school property—!”

“I’m not breaking anything,” You grin cocksurely, eyes looking deep into his like it was a challenge. “There’s no rule in the school handbook saying that you couldn’t climb on trees. Besides, it’s cooler up here.”

As if to emphasise your point, you lean your head upward and relish the pleasant breeze.

You’d looked so calm and assured, confident in your own ability with a mentality as strong as a fortress.

How could he not like you?

It wasn’t in a romantic way, at least not at that time and not yet now.

But it was something about your innocent outlook and your eyes closed as you enjoy the wind that made him want to climb up there with you too.

“Let’s go for more runs together after my birthday,” Izuku smiles, looking at you with expectant eyes. “It’ll be the first time in a long while.”

You mirror the smile the best you can, not wanting to lie. “Whatever you say, Zuku.”

--

I have a present for you. It’ll be your first present that you receive from me, and the last one I give to you.

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Meet the Family - chapter 1: Meet the Brothers

Work/chapter summary: After Penelope's brothers reach out and she catches them up one what's been going on in her life, they invite her and her long-term boyfriend, Luke, down for a visit. Hearts are healed, promises are made, and everyone is happy again.

Chapter word count: 989

Can also be read here on Ao3

“My brothers reached out to me today,” Penelope said out of the blue one night as she lay in her boyfriend’s arms.

Luke was stunned. “Oh?” In the two years they had been together, and even two years before they’d gotten together, her brothers hadn’t spoken to her once.

“Yeah. They wanted my perspective on why I had done the things I had done. And apparently, they’ve all been in therapy about it and finally came to the conclusion that they shouldn’t blame me for our parents’ deaths.” “Because they shouldn’t.” 

“Okay, I know that, and you know that, but that’s a hard pill to swallow for them. They were so young…” “Just because you were legally an adult doesn’t mean you weren’t young either,” he argued. “I know, I know,” she replied, trying to appease him. “But anyways. We talked. Worked through it. They asked me what was going on in my life.”

“Oh, and obviously you told them your life is so plain and boring and you have no updates,” he teased.

Penelope shoved him lightly, laughing. “No! I told them about my boyfriend, who is super hot, and awesome, and totally in love with me.”

Luke chuckled deep in his throat. “Is that not how you described your non-existent boyfriend to me when we met?”

“I was predicting the future.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Okay.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so rude. Anyway, we’ve been invited down. They want to meet you.”

Luke’s eyes went wide. “They do?”

“Well, I mean, I mentioned we live together and are planning for the future, so yeah. Also, I’m not going there without you. No thank you.”

“Aw, you love me so much you can’t be without me?”

“No. I want my guard dog.”

He scoffed. “Wow, babe. Feeling the love.”

“Oh, hush, you big baby. Are we going or not?”

“Do you want to see them?”

“They’re my brothers. My family. Of course I do. I miss them. And I want you to meet them. I want my family to know I’ve found the person I’m spending the rest of my life with.”

“Then we’ll go.”

“Really?”

Luke held her a bit tighter. “Yes, Penelope. If you want to see them, you should see them, and wherever you go, I follow. Besides, I need to meet my future brothers-in-law at some point.”

Penelope squinted. “Can you even call them that if you haven’t proposed to me yet?”

“It’s coming. I promise.”

“Well, you’re sure taking your sweet time.” For someone who started the relationship unsure if marriage was ever something she would want, she was quite impatient for the impending proposal.

He kissed her lightly. “Patience, baby. Good things come to those who wait.” He totally wasn’t delaying because he still couldn’t find the perfect ring. Absolutely not.

***

Penelope was a nervous wreck their entire flight over and Luke, ever the doting boyfriend, did his absolute best to calm and comfort her and get her stress levels down. “What if we can’t work through things?” Penelope fretted, hands flapping a bit. 

Luke knew better than to try to hold her hand and prevent her from stimming. It was how she needed to vent her stress. He rested a hand on her knee instead. “Then at least you’ll have tried. If things go well, then great! And if they don’t, then you’ll have done everything you could. You won’t be stuck living with any regrets.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “You are very good with comforting words.”

“Well, I’ve only known you for six years, and been your boyfriend for two of them, and learned how best to make you feel better.”

She laughed dryly. “God knows I’ve had enough freak-outs in that time to give you plenty of practice dealing with me.”

“You’re not someone I have to ‘deal with,’ Penelope. You’re someone I love and choose to comfort and support.”

She groaned into his shoulder. “How are you so perfect?”

Luke scoffed in response. “You know I am far from it.”

“You’re pretty perfect for me.”

He smiled and kissed her softly. “I’m so glad you think so.”

***

Penelope was visibly anxious as they walked into the arrivals section after collecting their bags. Luke squeezed her hand three times, a silent reminder that he was there. He had her back. He loved her. 

“That’s them,” she whispered, gesturing with her head at four men who were standing off at the side. 

They saw her at the same moment.

“Penelope!” The youngest, Eddie, threw himself into her arms. He was only eight when their parents died and Penelope left, he had missed her the most. The rest of her brothers followed soon after. 

Introductions were made all around and hugs were given. Penelope was a bit worried that Carlos still wouldn’t look at her, but he wrapped her in the tightest hug.

“Hi,” he whispered.

She smiled and hugged him back. 

After all hugs and greetings were exchanged, Penelope found herself tucked back under Luke’s arm. It wasn’t even intentional. They gravitated toward that kind of touch now.

***

Much to Penelope’s relief, things weren’t awkward between her and her brothers. They were just happy to have her back in their lives and were happy that she was so happy with Luke. 

Luke’s presence seemed to lighten the atmosphere, or maybe that was just her perspective. Everything seemed lighter when he was around. 

Carlos began to tease her, which warmed her heart. Things had been the most tense between them, but it was a sign that they were getting back to normal. She had told him, or, rather, “complained,” about Luke when she’d been back for the hearing. Now, she was tucked under Luke’s arm, blissfully in love and planning her life with him. 

Penelope felt a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in years. She had her brothers again. She had Luke. Everything was going to be okay.

[darklordofthesimp]

I’m the anon for the vacation ask, get in losers we’re going to the Bahamas

Listen, it’s time for everybody to get some therapy, especially my girl Bridy 😔✋

Bear with me, I’m not the best with words. I’m just slapping my thought one this interaction but I do like writing so any criticism is welcome <3 just don’t be mean about it cause I will cry

This is all before she says fuck it and decided to transfer, before she realizes that she will never be the same Birdy again, when she wants everything to go back to how things were before and all that jazz ✨

Ngl I think Birdy would want to go to therapy. I imagine she still tries to listen to that small logical side of her brain that is trying to hard to get her attention but is overshadowed by the trauma thats deeply rooted into it.

Plus side is that is limits her time to be anywhere near Köing (don’t worry, we may get to him later on)

But of course, that’s not how therapy works exactly

And that bitch is screaming at her to go to fucking therapy, get this shit fixed so she can go back to her old self.

The first session is going smoothly, after introductions it what pretty easy taking to them

The therapist, after seeing Birdy a bit reluctant, decided to share a bit about themselves.

Birdy learns that they have a wife and two children. After giving Birdy a picture of the family to look at, they ask Birdy about hers. (Idk Birdy’s family situation so we’re going to assume their dead for ✨plot✨)

“Do you ever want a family of your own?”

A snark escapes from Birdys mouth. In her line of work, she’d be luck to make it to her golden years (her luck is shit anyways)

I mean, yeah she thought of it. Dreamed of it in fact, but it’s a dream.

The therapist sees Birdy space out, so they decided to lead the conversation back to childhood memories.

(Again, idk Bridys backstory, if there’s one someone direct to to the right direction and I’ll revision this 👌)

Birdy told the therapist about her father serving in the military and he would be constantly deployed, so when she was back, she and her other three siblings would constantly fight over his attention. Being second to last, you would think that she would hardly be noticed

But her most fond memories at the times that she and her father would frequently go to the lake for fishing. And, maybe it because two of her siblings didn’t even know how to to swim properly, or that she was just a bit stronger then her brother and was able to pull bigger fishes then her and got all pissy about it so stop coming to the fishing trips altogether.

But that was basically her daddy-daughter time with him, it was really, really special to her

With happy memories of her father in her mind, she was going to continue with more stories when the therapist watched dinged, didn’t it dinged a bit ago

“That was really good, I’m happy we got really far in the first session”

What?

“I’m glad to hear good memories with your family.”

Huh?

“Maybe next time we can go over your relationships with your-“

“That’s it?”

“Yes, unfortunately we need to stop it right here for today. We actually went about an half hour over…..”

That’s it? You have to wait another week to talk to them again, to get this shit fixed? To get yourself fixed

It can’t be, you spend more time with the monster more then with this therapist.

Fuck- you spent precious time talking about dead people then what’s actually going on, you made absolutely zero progress-

You felt a something come to up you shoulder, and thanks to you military training coughtraumacoughalmostdyingcough you quickly grabbed their wrist in a attempt to subdue them. Thankful your sense comes back before you put them in a headlock.

But you don’t let go

“No no, it can’t be over. We didn’t even do ANYTHING?!”

The therapist, who now looked at you calmly for someone who’s wrist will surely bruise for how tight the hold is said “Well thats how introduction sessions go. And I don’t want to overwhelm you with-“

“I’m ALREADY overwhelmed. I’m trying to get my life together, trying to get my SHIT together before they send me off to god-knows-where psych ward and replace me with that sonofabitch”

“Replace you?”

“YES, that why I need you to fix me, goddamn it-“

“______, I can’t fix you”

And that’s all folks <3 it’s currently 1 in the morning for me and I don’t want to talk myself out of sending this nor proof-reading this. So cliffhanger it is

Oh and I frequently chew on paper cause I like the way it feels chewing on it in the back of my teeth but hate spitting it out so I just swallow it, since we’re sharing with the class

OH MY GOOOOOOOD THIS IS AMAZING! THIS IS SO GOOD I CAN 102902202 PERCENT SEE BIRDY FLIPPING THE FUCK OUT DURING THERAPY LIKE ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS FIX ME MOTHERFUCKER

AND THE THERAPIST IS LIKE 2 SECONDS AWAY FROM PUTTING HER INTO A PSYCH WARD

Also

STOP EATING RANDOM SHIT

[the-fiction-witch]

Big Sister

Media TMR AU

Characters Newt & Sonya (Siblings)

Couple Newt X Thomas (Offscreen)

Rating Adorable 

Concept Coming Out 

I was kinda nervous as I sat on my bed. I had tried to ignore it but these things can't be swept under the rug as much as dad would like them to be. They were fighting but that was pretty normal now, dad had been working every hour he could trying to get his work more funding from the company but it wasn't going well, he hadn't been around much lately and I think that didn't help things. 

My big brother has been a little reckless lately sneaking out and getting into a lot of trouble. 

I was honestly worried about him honestly Whenever he wasn't sneaking out with his friends he often would be locked in his room doing bad things. I know he's been struggling a lot and didn't help dad pull him out of the therapy he's been in since he was fourteen. Dad eventually gave up for today and went to work, I waited a while before nervously going downstairs where newt stood in his usual jeans, brown boots, and long stained grey hoodie he was making himself a glass of orange juice and I quickly noticed the toilet roll around his ear 

"Hey newt," I smiled 

"What do you want Sonya?" He sighed 

"Just wanted some juice" I said so he grabbed a cup and poured me my own "what did you do to your ear?" 

"What do you care?" 

'"just curious"

"Tried piercing it. It didn't go well" 

"What did you use?"

"Needle?"

"Your a dumb ass"

"I know." 

"You want help cleaning it up?"

"Sure" he sighed we took our juice and went up to my room I let him sit on the stool and I peeled the layers of bloody toilet roll from his ear having to pick some off with tweezers given it had stuck to him so badly, I cleaned his ear up and made sure to rinse it with some cleaning solution giving him a little bandage 

"There, look after it" I told him

"Thanks Sonya"

"Your welcome. What's been up you and dad's ass lately anyway?"

"It's complicated"

"You know you can tell me anything newt. I'm not gonna tell on you"

"Yeah, look how well that worked last time" he says going to leave but I held his arm

"Newt I had to. You can tell me anything, our secrets but I wasn't going to keep quiet to dad about you hurting yourself" 

"And you wonder why I don't tell you things" he snapped leaving and going back to his own room slamming the door. 

I was careful and slow mostly because I know I'd hurt him, but I did my best to just make moments to spend with him. He is my brother after all. I made sure we had a conversation everyday even if it was just about milk? Or class? Or laundry? Anything at all just to make sure he felt he could talk to me like he had an opening if he wanted to talk about anything bothering him. And eventually it became routine that we'd sit together in my room and chat about things mostly unimportant but the odd thing would stumble in of importance.

"What is his problem?"

"I don't know. He just doesn't like Tommy" he sighed sitting on my bed often texting on his phone 

"I mean he's kinda dumb" I laughed sitting doing my skincare with my hairband in my hair 

"He is. But hes fun" he shrugs 

"Newt? Do you… like Tommy?"

"...... Honestly?"

"Yeah"

"Kinda. I don't know. It's… hard to explain"  

"Well I'm all ears"

"I like Tommy I really do. I mean he is utter chaos but I really like him."

"But?"

"But? I've had girlfriends before"

"So? You could be bi"

"No. That doesn't feel right"

"Well what does feel right?"

"...I think I'm gay. I think. But I liked girls before? Kinda?"

"When you dated Maggie? Did you really like her? Or were you dating her because you kinda felt like you had to"

"I guess the second one. I only asked her to the summer dance because I didn't want to go on my own. I think I liked her but I think I might have just kinda been going through the motions"

"Newt it's okay not to keep all need to try different things before we figure out what suits us just because you dated Maggie doesn't mean you're not gay. You just were figuring yourself out" 

"But what will people say?"

"Newt, do you think you're gay?"

"yesh"

"Then that's it. Doesn't matter what people think"

"What about dad?"

".... I think. Let him figure it out. You didn't have to tell him you where straight" 

"True. You think Tommy might be into me?"

"Newt? Didn't me make out with you last week"

"We were playing chicken"

"Did you like making out with him?"

"...kinda" he blushed 

"Then go for it worse thing he can say is no"

"Your right" he says hopping off my bed "thanks Sonya"

"No worries Newtie" I smiled giving him a hug 

“Bugger off” he playfully shoves heading back to his own room.

I sat putting my hair into plaits before bed when the door knocked. I knew it couldn’t be my dad given he was at work “Yeah newt?”

“Hi” He says sheepishly coming into my room “Can Uhhh Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I nodded. He came in and sat on my bed, seeming nervous holding his sleeves “Are you okay?”

“Just uhhh dealing with some stuff” He says

“You wanna talk?”

“That Okay?”

“Of course, Talk as much as you need to”

“Well, I’ve been feeling really weird lately. I can- stop thinking. I feel like I’ve been on a depressive spiral for months like… I live two lives, you know. one outside my room and one in my room.” He explained “I feel like I’m hiding so much and it takes so much effort to hide everything and I’m just so fucking tired.” 

“What do you think is that's been making you feel like this?” 

“I don’t think I know. I’ve been thinking about this alot.” 

“Well what is it that's been making you feel like this?” 

“For a while I just thought I was kinda weird, The guys were constantly talking about girls and I just never felt like I had anything to contribute to the conversation and even when I did try It just felt so forced. When me and Maggie were a thing I thought maybe I’m just young and awkward it would come in time but… it never really did.” He explained “When I met Tommy I felt a bit better, Like I didn’t have to hide quite so much from him. When I came out to him it felt really good but something still kinda felt off. I tell Tommy alot but… not everything.” he says “But as things went on, and we started talking about stuff, and he showed me some things but everything just kinda felt weird” he explained “But everything was going okay until a couple weeks ago”

“What happened?”

“Well…” he blushed a little. “Me and Tommy got a little… Physical. And I liked it. I really really did! But… I came home and just kinda laid there. I felt really strange about it all”

“Strange how?”

“Like… I had just told him the biggest lie of my life” 

“A lie? About what?”

“I- I don’t think I’m gay sonya” 

“Really? I thought you really liked tommy?”

“I do.”

“I thought you weren’t really into girls?”

“I’m not.”

“Then newt, if you don’t think you're gay? What do you think?” 

“I think… I, Feel like a girl.” 

“What?”

“I feel, like a stranger in my body. Like outside of my room I’m playing a character on a stage. And I only really feel like me locked in my room” 

“How long have you felt like this?”

“... I think I’ve always felt like this. Just haven’t really put the feelings into words until now”

“Okay, so what do you wanna do about it?" 

I couldn't be happier sitting on my little chair at my vanity with newt beside me I was helping with makeup, contouring and which brushes to use for what "what does Tommy think about all this?"

"He thinks it's cute, he just gets annoyed when I have too much foundation on it rubs on his shirt"

"Are you using setting spray?"

'....no"

".... Do so"

"Will it help?"

"Yeah it steps stuff going on trips around your face"

"Ooohh I need that then my foundation tends to melt off for some reason" 

"I think that's too heavy for you"

"Well any lighter it does not cover" 

"Then use the spray it'll help" 

"Thanks" 

"Are you changing your name?"

"I don't know, do I need to?"

"Will still being called newt not make you feel weird?"

"Not really. Girl in aliens called newt"

"...true. it is kinda gender neutral I guess. But won't it confuse people?"

"I don't think so, one less thing people need to remember that's changed"

"Good point. Might make it easier for some people" 

"It's fine Tommy calls me a pet name anyway"

"Awwww what does he call you"

"Secret"

"Come on"

"He calls me darling"

'awwww that's so cute" 

"Right all done. I do okay?"

"Your eyeliner is a bit wonky but knowone ever gets them perfect"

"That it?"

"That's my only notes"

"Thanks Sonya" newt gave me a big hug squeezing me tight 

"Your welcome newt, it was fun"

"I imagine it's a lot of fun for you, kinda like you get the sister you always wanted" 

"No, I always had my big sister" I smiled hugging newt tight

"Thank you Sonya"

"Your welcome,"

 Newt got up and went to the door I thought to go off to bed but I noticed something

"newt I love you but your not borrowing my new dress"

"but it's my size and looks so much better on me"

"no!"

"fine. Then you'd not borrowing my jeans"

"but-"

"nope!" Newt says scampering to bed.

[schizodiaries]

mental illness wrapped

I was gonna save this post for the very end of the year but I’m in a very retrospective mood tonight so i think i will write this now

This was honestly a pretty good year for my mental health, all things considered. Compared to the previous two years, I managed to stay relatively stable for a vast majority of the year. No major mood or psychotic episodes, I’m taking all my medicine as directed, avoiding frequent use of drugs/alcohol, attending every therapy session, spending more time with the people I care about. I even got a temporary job and had a taste of what it’s like to work in an office environment. I created a lot of art, picked up some new hobbies, and posted more of my work online. I wrote a ton of music including some inspired by my experiences with schizoaffective disorder. I rediscovered my love for drawing/writing about my ocs, who i care about deeply, as I see them as extensions of myself. I journaled almost every day for eight months, which was so good for me mentally. I learned more about my illness. I talked about it more with people (online mostly). I avoided relapsing into self harm. But most importantly, i survived another year.

It wasn’t without its disadvantages though. Over the summer i developed poor eating habits due to body image issues. It only got worse when I found out i was prediabetic, and the pressure to eat better and lose weight increased tenfold. It turned into a nonstop obsession, but fortunately my therapist and loved ones noticed the signs early on and intervened before it could turn into a full blown eating disorder. But even with their help, i continue to struggle with eating properly and not obsessing over my body. It’s a continuous battle I still face today.

That being said, I’m very proud of my journey to recovery. I’ve made great strides in bettering myself mentally. I would even say I’m in a better place than I was pre-psychosis. I’m learning that it’s possible to be psychotic and happy.

I can’t wait to start another year.

[sherlollyandspoilers]

Writing Patterns

I was tagged by @geekymoviemom - thank you!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 posted fics and see if there’s a pattern.

(1) A Taste of Home Bughead Coffee Shop AU

“Wait, what?” Betty snapped her attention to the conversation happening in front of her. “You’re not going to be here this summer?”

(2) We're Worth It Sherlolly, Canon Divergent, Therapy Fic (Part of a series)

Sherlock watched Molly apprehensively as she got ready for bed. Mary had been on edge during Rosie’s birthday party and Molly hadn’t been much better. He felt like all of them were walking on eggshells, simply waiting for the other shoe to drop. But on what exactly, he couldn’t say.

(3) I can try Everlark, "This would have happened anyway" 2022 Challenge

Katniss sighed as she looked out the window. She closed her eyes and wished to be in the woods or the meadow, reading or working on a new hunting trap. NOT stuck in history class being reminded for the millionth time how fortunate they were to be living in a time after The Hunger Games.

(4) The Camping Set Up, Everlark 4th of July, AU

“I can’t believe you’re ditching me!” Katniss snapped as she slammed the car door shut. “You suck!” she spat through the open window.

(5) Temperamental Sherlollicon 2021 Flash Fic: John and Lestrade, Fairground, ABO, Temperamental Personalities

Lestrade had gotten used to his position in life. He had long come to terms with the fact that he would never make an Omega his. In fact, in his line of work he kind of enjoyed being a beta, especially when calls were made on Alphas and he got to make an arrest…it was the most satisfying thing, slapping the cuffs an angry Alpha.

(6) A Holiday Sherlock and Molly are finally on their honeymoon. Just a fluffy little follow up to Here Be Dragons.

Sherlock rolled over and smiled at his sleeping wife. Wife. I like how that sounds. He ran his hand over her stomach and lifted the sheet so he could press several kisses there.

(7) This is real...? Married Everlark, The sequel to The P.A.N.E.M. Initiative.

Katniss pulled the comforter tighter around herself in a futile attempt to hold on to the last bit of sleep. The sound of the shower running reached her ears and she slid a hand to Peeta’s side of the bed, still warm – he had just gotten up. Rubbing her face, she quickly slipped out of bed and tipped toed to the bathroom.

(8) "I think we understand each other better now." Sherlock is engaged to Molly Hooper and Mycroft is in love with Molly Hooper. Neither wants to talk about it but now they have to work it out.

Sherlock sat with his elbows on the table and hands steepled against his chin, staring at Mycroft. Mycroft stared right back. 

(9) Saving Her Time Mina has a date and is unable to get out of the house before introducing him to her father and uncle.

“Hey Uncle Myke!” Mina smiled as she skipped down the stairs and into the living room. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.”

(10) Isn't this just being a father? Sherlock and Mina spend the afternoon together (set a couple of weeks after Isn't She Beautiful)

“Sherlock?” He could hear the worry in Molly’s voice.

“Mhm?” he hummed from under the bedsheets.

[crisishauntline]

It is fucking heartbreaking to sit next to the person you love as they wordlessly unravel. It happened again today, like it’s played out many times before: her hand limp in mine, shoulders shaking, breath catching on choked sobs, not saying a single word. And I just sit there feeling like an asshole, all my questions, pleas, and offers of support hanging uselessly in the air.

I hated getting out of the car with her still in that state today, hated how the door slammed while she was mid-sob. But I needed tonight to myself. I had actually intended to write a song for her for her birthday, but haven't had time to work on it due to the amount of time we spend together, and the proportion of that time we spend fighting or afraid of fighting. Anyway, she told me she would be ok for the night, then called me an hour later to ask me to come over. I went against the boundary I’d set, as I’ve unhelpfully taught myself to do, and went. Oh, and did I mention she lives two blocks from me now?

Today’s unraveling started during our couples therapy session. Lately she has been feeling very nauseous, achy, fatigued, and emotionally overwhelmed by all the chronic bad feelings. She’s also acknowledged sadness and fear about the relationship in light of her chronic health issues, but hasn’t wanted to share much with me. Both of us seem to feel misunderstood or unheard, no matter how hard we’re trying to explain and listen. We really are trying. What’s hardest for me to navigate—and to express kindly—is that she always occupies the role of the victim in any conflict we have. When I feel disappointed by something she’s done (or more often than not, won’t or can’t do), the cause is usually her pain, illness, or fatigue, which means it would be unfair of me to blame or be upset with her. Even if I do have cause to be frustrated (like with her drinking), I know she won’t have the emotional and/or physical capacity to adequately address the matter in those moments. So over and over again, I have to just let things go without being too disappointed, always being patient and calm and understanding and humble, and if I do bring it up, process it as quickly and apologetically as possible or she will think I hate her and want to leave.

Conversely, when something I do causes her pain or anxiety, she rarely has the reserves of energy, mood, self-esteem, etc. to either let it go or process it with me quickly. Instead, even small stumbles can send her over the edge of despair and require hours of talking, weeping, cuddling, and massage to work through. This time the hurt was that she had to wait for me in the driveway for 20 minutes, after a long day and when she was in pain, because I didn’t see her text saying she’d arrived, or notice how much time had passed since she told me she was coming. I should have responded better, with an apology and promise to do better, rather than immediately following my “sorry” with saying she should have just called me. But I also remember after some previous time blindness incidents that I’d asked her to call me in situations like this, though she swears that conversation never happened. But let’s say she’s right, and I was fully in the wrong—is this really an offense that warranted hours of tearful discussion and confused silence to work through?

I am tired of holding so much of her pain while feeling so clueless, constantly guilty, and alone in the relationship. I am also more disappointed than I want to be that she can’t give me the kind of comforting touch that I give her. I fucking love receiving massages, being held, getting fucked to completion. I love giving her those things, but every time I do I can’t help yearning for her to give them in kind. Most of the time, she just can’t, so bringing it up would be cruel and pointless.

She has been expressing more gratitude for the intimacy and acts of service I bring to the relationship since the big turnaround, which means a lot to me. But the fact is that being close to her is no longer for closeness’s own sake. It is more about giving her love, safety, and comfort than sharing them. She says there’s nowhere she feels safer than in my arms. I so wish I felt the same about her. I did, at least for a little while, right when we got back together. When I was worried I’d need too much caretaking from her, that I couldn’t ask her to carry the despair I was feeling in addition to her own struggles. I think I was right.

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

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[laurenairay]

Can I request “I might’ve had a few shots.” with Andre Burakovsky Perfect timing for our two time cup winner!!!!

Yessss anon, two-cup Burky deserves all the love! Thank you for choosing him – I hate that the Avs haven’t had any real conversation with him yet about his contract and that freaks me out, so this is partially therapy for me.

I’ve decided that this is a continuation of the celebration blurb I did when the Avs won the cup!

Words: 932

“I might’ve had a few shots.”

*

A second cup! Andre had won a second Stanley Cup! The party had carried on for nearly a week after the night they’d won in Tampa, long after the morning that Andre had suggested the two of you have that long awaited talk, the talk that had transitioned the two of you from friends to more than friends. The talk that had led to the two of you going on a first date and Andre officially asking you to be his girlfriend only days later. This summer had been full of things you had never expected to happen, yet you were overwhelmed with happiness that they did.

Being Andre Burakovsky’s girlfriend was the best thing that had ever happened to you, hands down.

His family – parents and sisters – had been ecstatic when the two of you had told them the news. You were pretty sure his sisters had even exchanged money, Andre just glaring at them for having a bet in the first place, but you didn’t care. They had accepted the change in your relationship so easily (as had your family), and that was all you could’ve asked for.

One of the best things about this new step between the two of you meant that you had every excuse to spend as much time with him as possible, Andre thrilled to be able to show you off as his, and that included his Cup Day.

“Ready for today, älskling?” Andre murmured.

You turned your head slightly to face him from where you were watching his dad and your dad set up the grill in the backyard, smiling easily.

“Of course. I can’t wait to celebrate all over again with you,” you nodded.

Andre just grinned, wrapping his arms around you from behind, letting you relax back into his arms.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he sighed happily.

“Because you won two cups?” you mused.

“Well, yes. But I meant because I get to share this day with you,” he shrugged.

Oh wow. That was sweet, if a little cheesy.

“I was here at your last cup day, you know that,” you laughed, looking up at him.

“Ah but I couldn’t kiss you last time,” he pointed out.

You rolled your eyes fondly, tilting your head up to press your lips together, Andre humming softly as the kiss stayed slow and sweet. Your lips were buzzing by the time he broke the kiss, looking as dazed as you felt, until he laughed and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“I’d better go see if our dads need anything – see you later?” he mused.

“Yeah, see you,” you nodded, smiling a little dopily.

You passed the rest of the morning in a happy fog, ignoring his sisters teasing you while you helped prepare food for the partygoers, too happy to care if you looked like a fool. This was Andre’s day, and you were going to help him celebrate as well as you could.

Of course, you forgot the other part of Andre partying – the alcohol. And damn could your boy pour it back. You watched with your friends as Andre and his friends slammed back the drinks, everyone dancing and singing and happy, as they deserved to be, celebrating yourself at a much slower pace, knowing you’d probably have to help him into bed later. Whatever, it was worth it and he deserved it.

“Hey baby.”

Your friends giggled as Andre stumbled over to you, goofy smile on his face, and they wandered away to give the two of you some privacy.

“Hey yourself,” you laughed, steadying him with your hands on his hips, “Having fun?”

“I might have had a few shots,” Andre grinned, pinching his fingers close together.

You rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head. “I think it might’ve been more than a few, baby.”

“Oopsie,” he snickered.

Oopsie. Wow. He really was three sheets to the wind, wasn’t he?

“You’re still going to want to be my girlfriend in the morning, right?” he suddenly asked, eyes wide.

“Of course I am!” you said quickly, firmly, “unless you do something spectacularly stupid, there’s nothing that’s going to make me want you less.”

“You want me, huh?” he smirked, eyes burning as they grazed over your body.

Well that was a 180. You still shivered at the tone of his voice, the way he looked at you, the ways his thumbs rubbed gently over the skin of your arms. That was so unfair.

“Behave yourself or I won’t even consider getting naked later,” you mused, trying to keep your cool, hoping it had the desired effect.

Andre’s lips parted in surprise, lust clouding over his eyes briefly before they cleared again. Well, as clear as they could be after how much he’d had to drink.

“Oh I’ll behave. I’ll be on my very best behaviour,” he murmured, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip subconsciously.

Wasn’t that a thought.

“I look forward to it,” you grinned, “Until later though…I think your buddies are calling you over?”

Andre glanced over his shoulder, waving wildly as he spotted the group beckoning him back to them.

“I’ll be back, okay?” he grinned, looking back at you, “Don’t forget about being naked later.”

Your cheeks flared with heat as he jogged across the backyard, even more so as your mom joined you.

“I don’t want to know, do I?” she mused, her voice dry.

“No probably not,” you laughed, shaking your head.

Some things were better left unsaid, better left between the two of you. Until later, anyway.