#disclaimer that I’m against over consumption

[doll-collecting-aerialist]

Black Friday Doorbuster + AG Rewards I didn’t even know I had = the least expensive direct from AG doll purchase I think I have ever made. I am still reveling in my luck.

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

[prettybabybaby]

blessing in disguise | xavier thorpe !

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: NONCON , kidnapping, dark!xavier, fem!reader, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 2.5k

synopsis: one final rejection and one accident resulted in something Xavier had only dreamed of.

disclaimer: all characters in my works are at least 18. there is dark and triggering content in this, as stated above. consider what you are comfortable with reading before you continue. your media consumption is your responsibility, not mine.

¡ wednesday masterlist !

It’s not like Xavier meant to do it. It was an accident and nothing more. He simply lost control and that’s not his fault. If anything, you were to blame for this.

You just looked so pretty in your cute dress, hair just like he liked it and a face as adorable as it gets with eyes lined and lips glossy. He was sure you’d finally say yes. Why else would you dress so beautifully to meet him in the woods? Especially knowing how he feels about you. It was for him. All for him and him only. For his eager eyes and yearning thoughts. You knew what you were doing.

But as always, you rejected him. Coldly, this time. Gone were the bashful and quiet apologies as you refused to meet his eyes, staring down at your feet or glancing over your shoulder as if you were afraid someone might hear you.

No, that wasn’t the case this time. You looked him in the eye with a huff, gaze hard. Your words were sharp and firm when you spoke, “can’t you take a hint? I don’t like you, Xavier.”

He was stunned, physically reacting with his brows lifting and eyes widening the slightest bit before they dropped, filled with the same venom that clouded yours, jaw clenching. It was so unlike you — well, the version of you he had concocted in his mind — he had the right to be angry with you. You disrespected him blatantly, again. All Xavier wanted was to love you.

Not even he could stop himself as his mind blurred before it blanked as he reached for you, wrapping his arms around you, brain and body fighting the urge to run his hands along your figure, desperate to feel it underneath his fingertips now that he had you so close. He snaked a hand up your body to your mouth, muffling your screams. You thrashed in his hold as he dragged you through the woods, taking the all-too-familiar path to his isolated art shed.

You panicked as he wrestled you to the ground, pinning your arms and running his nose along the column of your throat, breathing you in. You smelled so good, even better now that he could finally dissect the myriad of scents that made up the air that blew behind you every time you walked away from him, ignored him. 

He wasn’t sure when you began to cry but your tears were already hitting the ground and soaking some of the brown strands of his hair when he kissed up your neck, savoring the taste of your skin. 

“Xavier, stop,” you whispered, “I’m sorry.” You weakly pushed against him.

There was your sweet voice again. Fragile and delicate and so incredibly arousing. He sighed, kisses coming out messier and more frantic than before as he worked his way up to your lips that pleaded to be released, for him to wait, please stop. 

Your lips touched briefly, nothing longer than a second before you turned your head, sobbing as you pushed more insistently. He was so caught up in the pillowy feel of your lips that he moaned pathetically against your cheek as he sloppily kissed the flesh of your cheek, eager for anything he could get. The salty flavor of your tears was as delectable as a delicacy.

As your legs kicked and your hips wiggled and your pants of exhaustion in his ear got shallower, he grew against your thigh, mindless jerks of his hips increasing speed as time passed. 

Xavier felt himself grow warm, a deep, scorching pink painted his cheeks in embarrassment. What are you thinking? Are you thinking about how pathetic he is? Or how desperate he is for you? Maybe you’re finally realizing how badly he’s wanted to have you like this and just how far you had pushed him. You. Your doing. This was all your doing.

He used a single hand to pin your wrists, easily overpowering you as you tried to sit up, newly freed arm on its way to collide with his face. 

“Sh,” Xavier mumbled, capturing your bottom lip between his as he slid an eager hand down your body. There was a violent throb as his touch hovered over your shoulders, so gently it seemed he was almost scared to touch what he wanted so badly.

It was quick to make its way back up when he felt a stutter come from your jaw. His hand wrapped around the base of your neck, a warning, “don’t even think about it.”

Xavier wasn’t used to being so demanding. Unfortunately this is what he had to do, it was his only option after all you had done. It pained him to make you cry — even if you looked so beautiful doing it. It hurt him to have to pin you down and take what was destined to be. You and him. 

He felt you swallow under his hand as he encased your lips properly, tasting your mouth. He was already breathless, lost in you even when you refused to kiss him back, only making noises of protest as you squirmed. 

His touch glided down your body, losing patience with you and himself for his hesitation. He’d have you again. As many times as he wanted after this. 

He groaned into your mouth, frustrated at the dress you wore. Sliding down further, he pushed up your skirt, groping the fat of your soft thighs, tickling your flesh. Your knees twitched and he took a deep breath, pulling away from your lips to nip at your ears, licking the tears that dribbled down them. 

“Xavier,” you cried softly, “please, don’t.”

A response was on the tip of his tongue but it quickly turned into a moan as his pinky came in contact with a wet patch on your panties. He laughed breathily, you didn’t mean that. Your body knew what your mind hadn’t quite grasped. You needed him. 

You jolted, fighting even harder than before, “don’t touch me.” He could feel you getting angry, the fire in your eyes from before igniting again. 

Xavier shook the hair that fallen out of his ponytail from his face to get a clearer look at your face. He wanted to watch you give in to the pleasure he would force on to you. His smallest finger ran up your slit and he watched closely as you fought the fluttering of your eyes. God. He had barely touched you and you already looked this perfect.

“Don’t,” you spat, trying to slide out from under him as you nails dug into his hand. He clenched his jaw, pursing his lips as he exhaled through his nose. Why did you have to make this so difficult?

He kicked your thighs apart with his own, settling between your legs. Your heat radiated, hot against his aching cock. He cupped your cunt, kissing your cheek as he pushed against your hole lightly to hear you hiss. 

You jerked your hips when his fingers danced along the waistband of the soft fabric. He felt himself get hotter, cheeks turning redder when he glanced down, watching his hand disappear underneath it, immediately drenched in your juices. His palm stimulated your clit as his long middle finger prodded at your hole without entering it, teasing you. Your panties shifted with his movements, the bulge of his hand and slender fingers moving swiftly under the dainty bow near the top of your underwear jumping. 

Your breath stuttered as you snapped out his name, “I said stop!” 

Your voice was muffled as all of his focus was on the feel of your slick and tight heat choking the finger he forced inside you. Xavier all but whined at the sensation, cock leaking in his pants. Your feet kicked at the ground, chest rising and falling. In pleasure or frustration he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t be bothered to stop and ask as he squeezed another finger in.

You moaned, quickly closing your mouth to stop the noise. His eyes snapped up, flickering over your face. He had never heard a sound affect him more. Not even siren song could battle the noises of your pleasure. He’d do anything you asked him to. Well, almost anything. He’d never let you go no matter how many times your sweet voice pleaded for his mercy. 

His lips crashed into yours, kissing you impatiently as he fingered you faster, trying to stretch you open enough to fill you full of his cock. You shook your head from side to side but he chased after you, swallowing your huffs and silent whines. 

A whimper sounded in your throat as he curled his fingers, trying to find the spongy area that would have you purring for him. The noise had him removing his fingers, shoving them into his mouth as he leaned in close to you, breathing you in while your juices coated his tongue. His exhale was shaky as he shut his eyes, sucking harshly at his fingers to try and get more of your slick into his mouth. 

“Xavier,” you breathed, “wait.”

His name fell so sweetly from your lips that he shoved his jeans down just enough to finally release his aching cock. He was leaking pathetically and throbbing against his hand as he pumped himself slowly, afraid he’d cum before he made it inside you. 

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin. He gripped his length, hauling himself up to position his pulsing dick to your hole. “Shit,” he growled, tugging aggressively at your underwear that seperated you from him. “Sorry,” he murmured, feeling instant regret for hurting you, “I’m sorry.”

You started to scream as your ass felt the bare ground, tears building in the corners of your eyes as he slapped his cock against your dripping core. “Stop it, please, Xavier.”

He ignored you, gaze flickering from your cunt to your face as he pushed inside. He groaned as his head forced it’s way into you. It already felt like too much, the way your pussy latched onto his cock, welcoming him in despite your thrashing body. 

Every inch had your screams dying, replaced with repressed moans as you opted to shut your mouth, denying him of the sounds. He couldn’t protest, concentrated on pushing back his orgasm that was too close for his liking. The last inch sent a wave of immense arousal down his body in the form of a shiver and a whimper. He stilled, focusing on his breathing and the bruised lip you tucked between your teeth.

You fit so well together, just like he knew you would. He glanced down, entranced by the way his hips were flush with yours, leaving no space for anything. You were finally one.

Your walls pulsed and it felt like they were begging him to move, to fuck you like he’d dreamed of doing too many times. He felt like all the waiting had been worth it now that you were choking his cock so deliciously. All of the times you rejected him, turned your back to him, dismissed him as if he wasn’t there, forgotten as he pulled back, watching the way your slick stuck to his hip as he retracted, keeping the two of you connected with a sticky string. 

Xavier kissed your jaw as he pushed himself back in, nibbling at the skin near your ear. He tried to keep a slow pace at first afraid the urge to ruthless pound into you would take over. Your short, high breaths flooded his ears, a prize for resisting. It sounded like you were enjoying yourself, too. But how could you not when he was fucking you so well, patiently and passionately, just like you deserved. Even after all you did to him, you still deserved to be fucked like a princess. 

Xavier smiled, pecking your neck as he rutted into you, his fingers undoubtedly leaving imprints of their shape on your waist. You found comfort in clinging to him, grasping his arms before curling your own under them, grabbing onto his shoulders. 

“No,” you would cry, followed by a satisfied, “fuck.”

You were so warm and soft. He wished he had the patience to undress you properly, to touch you more. He’d have another opportunity, he reminded himself and that thought had his mind swimming. How could he help you adjust? Would it be difficult to get a mattress inside the small shed? Is there enough space? He’d be damned if you were uncomfortable in your little safe haven. It would be a place you would grow to love, he was sure of it. You just needed to process your new environment and the new dynamics of your relationship.

The loud whine that came from you brought him back to reality, back to the sight of you falling apart under him but trying to refrain from it. Your eyebrows were drawn together, mouth parted and face hot.

“M’gonna cum,” he struggled to utter out the words. “Fuck you’re perfect. Im gonna fill you so well.”

“No!” you screeched, pounding on his back as he pounded into you, thrusting harder and faster as his orgasm crept closer. “Don’t you dare!”

You pulsed more violently than before at the change of pace, clinging to his cock. He knew you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

It was like you felt him about to burst, nails breaking the skin of his neck seconds before he came. You dragged them down and he felt blood rush down his neck as he came. The feeling was so intoxicating that he kept thrusting until he was milked dry despite the stinging pain. He didn’t have to look down to know that his t-shit was soaking in the crimson liquid so he opted to focus on your pretty face as he came down from his high. You were sobbing now, arms limp on the ground as your chest heaved.

Xavier begrudgingly pulled out of you, watching the pearly spent dribble out of your pussy as he stood. You stared at the ceiling, unmoving as he searched the shed, wordless. He wasn’t sure of what to say. Was there anything he could say at that point? He knew you didn’t understand yet. So he stayed silent until he found the lock and chain he had been searching for.

He walked over to you, clearing his throat. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You blinked at him. Sitting up and fixing your skirt as you dragged yourself away. He sighed, looking around to locate the blanket he knew he had around somewhere. He spotted it almost immediately, draped over an admittedly uncomfortable chair. It would have to do for now.

He draped it over your legs, smiling softly when you looked at him. “I’ll be back soon.”

It was a mistake, Xavier told himself as he stepped away from the now locked art shed glancing behind him and around the surrounding area as his hand attempted to soothe the fresh scratches on his neck. He just lost control for a second, it’s nothing major. You were destined to be there. Why else would he have done it? He wanted to love you forever. And now he can. You’d understand soon enough. The accident was a blessing in disguise.

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us II

Summary:

Aemond learns about his impending fatherhood as things get a little heated in his office with Y.N and he seeks the support of his brothers before he confesses all to Alys.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Features a Flashback Memory, Swearing, Fingering, Alcohol Consumption, Infidelity, Mild Violence, Kissing, Oral Sex (F & M Recieving), P in V.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 7177

A.N - I used Zac Gabriel as the face claim for Daeron.

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Y.N stepped into Aemond’s office, her breath catching at the sight of him sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded, his head cocked slightly to the side, a smirk playing on his lips.

Gods, look at him.

His fitted black suit clung perfectly to his lean form, the eye patch and his long silver hair tied half-up in that effortless way. Her eyes flicked down to his lips-those lips and the way they-

No. Not here. Not now.

“Y.N. What a pleasant surprise,” Aemond greeted, his voice smooth as he gestured toward the leather sofa. She smiled nervously, walking past him, aware of his gaze lingering on her.

She crossed her legs as she sat, and Aemond's eye darkened briefly with memory—of how her skin felt beneath his fingers, the taste of her, the way she came undone in his arms.

The way those perfect tits of hers bounced as she rode him.

His cock stirred involuntarily, and he had to shake his head to rid himself of the thoughts.

Aemond took a deep breath and sat next to her, trying to maintain composure. Silence stretched between them, the tension palpable.

“Y-You have a nice office,” Y.N. said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you-” Aemond replied, his gaze never leaving her. “-So what can I do for you?” His tone was light, but she could sense the underlying curiosity.

Oh gods. Here we go.

Y.N. took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I-I’m p-pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. Aemond stared at her, stunned into silence.

His usually sharp mind blanked as he tried to process what she had just said to him.

He sat there, motionless, expression unreadable, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Aemond?” Y.N. waved her hand in front of his face, concerned. “Did you hear me?”

Aemond blinked, snapping out of his daze. “D-Did you just say-that you’re pregnant?”

“Y-Yes” replied Y.N.

“How?” asked Aemond cringing internally at his own idiocy as he knew how babies were made.

What a fucking moron you are Targaryen.

 “Well, we didn’t use protection,” Y.N said quietly.

Aemond groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. The reality of his actions settled over him like a weight.

That night had been intoxicating—too good, too overwhelming for either of them to think clearly. The alcohol didn’t help, and neither did her tight wet cunt wrapped against his cock. He had lost all control.

He was utterly shameless in his need to feel her like that again, but now wasn’t the time for that.

He took her hand instead. “Forgive me for asking, I know you and Jace broke up, but was there any-”

“-It’s not Jace’s,” Y.N. interrupted quickly. “I’m eight weeks along-and I haven’t been with Jace in months,” Y.N. continued. “-I haven’t been with anyone else either. You were the last”

A possessive thrill shot through Aemond, knowing she hadn’t been with anyone else since their night together.

Aemond swallowed, still trying to wrap his head around it.

A child. Their child. A piece of him and her together. Growing inside her right now. His seed had taken root inside her womb.

Fuck he was getting hard.

“I came to tell you because it’s the right thing to do,” Y.N. said, her voice steady. “But I won’t force you to be involved. If you don’t want anyone to know, then I’ll keep it a secret.”

Aemond’s grip tightened around her hand, his eyes flashing with anger. “You want me to forget you’re carrying my child?” His voice was low and dangerous. “That’s not happening”

“I can do this on my own,” Y.N. replied firmly. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“So, you’re keeping the baby?” Aemond asked, and Y.N. looked hurt by the question.

“Of course I’m keeping the baby,” she snapped, her eyes stinging with emotion. “Would you rather I have an abortion?”

“No!” Aemond quickly said, his tone softening. “That’s not what I meant-I just-I never thought I’d have children. And now-this-” He ran a hand over his face, overwhelmed.

His composure slipped as he reached up and wrenched off his eyepatch, throwing it on the sofa.

Y.N. stared at the sapphire in his eye socket, her breath hitching at the sight of him.

Even in this vulnerable moment, Aemond was breathtaking. His raw beauty had always left her speechless.

“We should get married,” Aemond blurted out.

Y.N. gasped, shocked. “We can’t. What about Alys?”

Aemond stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the office, frustration rolling off him in waves.

Damn it. He was in a relationship, and not only had he cheated, but now Y.N. was pregnant.

“I’ll tell Alys-” Aemond said, taking a deep breath. “But I want to be involved. In everything. The baby, the appointments, all of it. I won’t run away from my responsibility-”

Y.N. nodded, relieved that he wanted to be there. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the scan photo. “I only have one copy-” she handed it to him.

Aemond stared at the tiny figure, a smile tugging at his lips.

Their baby. His baby. A tiny person that he helped to create.

He handed back the scan photo as Y.N. took out her phone and seconds later, his phone buzzed with a message. He opened it to find a picture of the scan.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I mean it, Y.N. I want to be there. For you and our baby”

Y.N smiled and stood up, slowly smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt.

“Where are you going?” asked Aemond.

“I’ve said what I needed to say. Now, I’m starving, and I need pickles.”

Aemond grimaced “Pickles?”

 “The baby makes me want them” laughed Y.N

Before she could leave, Aemond reached out, gently placing his hand on her stomach. Y.N. smiled at the touch.

They were so close, and Aemond couldn’t resist as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, passionate kiss. His hand slid around her body, pulling her close as the kiss deepened.

He slowly backed her up against the door, lifting her slightly as she moaned into his mouth, feeling the hardness of his cock pressing into her.

His hand slowly moving under the fabric of her skirt, skimming the soft flesh of her thigh before his fingers rubbed her pearl over the cotton material of her knickers.

“Already so wet for me” groaned Aemond.

“A-Aemond” breathed Y.N.

“Does it feel good baby?” asked Aemond.

“Oh-Aemond-yes-please” whimpered Y.N as he moved her knickers aside and slid two of his long fingers inside her.

“It’s been so long since I last felt you” whispered Aemond as he curled his fingers inside her.

“So long-oh yes” replied Y.N moving her hips in time with Aemond’s fingers.

“Are you going to come already? I can feel you clenching” muttered Aemond, his fingers still moving inside her.

“Yes-Yes. I-I’m going to-” whimpered Y.N

“Shhhh-” urged Aemond as he surged forward his lips on her muffling her scream as her peak exploded, her cunny clenching around Aemond’s fingers.

A sudden knock at the door broke the moment, and they pulled apart, breathing heavily.

Aemond lowered her gently back to the floor, his forehead resting against hers for a brief second.

“Let me if you know if you need anything,” whispered Aemond as he removed his fingers and then put them in his mouth, his tongue swirling around his fingers, savouring the taste of her.

“I-I w-will” muttered Y.N as Aemond pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

Aemond watched as she smoothed out her clothes and left the office a little wobbly legged.

Once she was gone, Aemond poked his head out of his office and barked at his assistant, “Hold my calls for fifteen minutes.”

With a heavy sigh, he pulled out a bottle of whisky from his desk drawer, taking a long drink.

Holy shit. He was going to be a father. Y.N. was the mother of his child and he'd just fingered her in his office.

What the fuck was he doing?

Aemond sat alone in his office, staring out the window at the sprawling city below, but his mind was far from the towering skyline.

His fingers drummed idly on the armrest of his chair, the familiar hum of work barely registering.

Instead, memories of that night played out vividly in his mind, as if they had happened just moments ago-

He leaned against the lower bar at the Dragon's Den, swirling his drink, trying to convince himself he was here to unwind.

Aegon and Daeron had practically dragged him out, insisting he needed to loosen up after weeks of work.

He had reluctantly agreed, not because he wanted to, but because the constant pressure at Targaryen Inc. had left him worn thin.

It was actually Helaena’s text that had first piqued his interest. She had casually mentioned that she was going clubbing with Y.N.

He hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now, as he scanned the room and his eye landed on her, he felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Gods, that dress-those legs. He wondered what it feel like to have his head between them.

She looked absolutely incredible, more beautiful than he remembered. His heart stuttered in his chest, and his grip tightened around his drink.

He had known Y.N. for years, ever since school. At first, she had been just Helaena’s annoying friend—always around, always talking.

He couldn’t stand her back then. Or so he’d told himself.

But then one day, something shifted. She stopped being annoying, and he found himself thinking about her far too often.

A stupid, insecure kid who hid behind sarcasm and cruelty because he couldn’t handle the fact that she made him feel something.

His eye injury had left him insecure about his appearance, and he’d been too much of a coward to admit how he really felt. Instead, he was a prick to her.

Always keeping his distance, always lashing out. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about her constantly.

Didn’t stop him from fucking his fist at the thought of her, imagining what it would be like to touch her, kiss her, have her.

So pathetic.

But she’d gone off to a different college, and by the time she came back, everything had changed. He’d started working at Targaryen Inc., and Alys had entered the picture.

She had gotten involved with Jace, his strong-bastard nephew. Aemond clenched his jaw at the memory, the bitter taste of jealousy rising in his throat.

Of all the people she could have been with, it had to be him-

Aegon elbowed him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Stop staring at Y.N.,” he laughed, clearly enjoying Aemond’s discomfort.

Aemond scowled, pushing Aegon away. “I’m not staring at anyone. Get lost.”

But Aegon wasn’t buying it. He smirked, clearly amused by the whole thing. A group of girls walked past them, giggling, shooting flirtatious glances in their direction.

Daeron, who had been quietly sipping his drink, sighed. “There are some lovely women here tonight.”

Aemond barely registered his younger brother’s comment. His gaze flicked back to Y.N., who was still across the room, laughing with Helaena.

She looked radiant, so effortlessly beautiful it hurt. He wondered if she’d noticed him, or if she was too wrapped up in whatever she was talking about.

Daeron leaned closer. “Aren’t you with Alys? I’m not sure she’d approve of you staring at other women.”

Aegon chimed in with a chuckle. “You know Alys is all wrong for you.”

Aemond sighed heavily, the conversation grating on him. “Give it a rest.”

His brothers never missed an opportunity to remind him of how ill-suited Alys was. Maybe they were right. Maybe they weren’t.

It didn’t matter, not when Y.N. was here, looking like that, making it impossible for him to think of anything else.

Then Daeron had to open his mouth, “Isn’t Y.N. dating our nephew?”

Aemond muttered an insult under his breath, something about Jace’s strong parentage.

Aegon, ever the instigator, laughed. “I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

Aemond drained the rest of his drink, rolling his eyes. “Just because you have the morals of an alley cat doesn’t mean everyone else does”

But even as he said it, his gaze wandered back to Y.N. Then, their eyes met—across the dancing crowd, over the flashing lights.

For a moment, the noise of the club faded away. She looked at him, really looked at him, and the connection between them was instant.

There was something in her eyes, something that made his pulse quicken. And then he smirked, unable to help himself.

Daeron, clearly enjoying the scene, downed the rest of his drink. “Watch and learn brother” Before Aemond could stop him, he was already making his way over to Y.N., striking up a conversation.

Aemond watched, feeling the familiar surge of jealousy tighten in his chest as Daeron led her to the dance floor.

Damn that dress and how she looked in it.

All Aemond could think about was what she might be wearing underneath it—if anything at all.

He wanted her. Badly. Wanted to pull her close, kiss her, feel her body pressed against his, sink his cock into her.

Aegon leaned in, laughing. “Daeron seems to be making progress.”

Aemond scoffed, unable to tear his eye away from Y.N. “Not for long.”

He had seen it—her glances, the way she looked at him over Daeron’s shoulder. That look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Finishing his drink, he set the glass down with determination. He wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines any longer.

As Daeron danced with her, Aemond pushed his way through the crowd, locking his gaze on her.

That night, every sense of control he had possessed was gone. That carnal, desperate urge overtook him, and Alys—everything else—became a distant memory.

It was reckless, it was wrong, but he didn’t regret a damn thing.

The next morning, as he watched Y.N. walk around her kitchen in her little shorts and tank top, that fire ignited in him all over again.

Sure, he could blame the alcohol, but deep down, he knew the truth—they had always had something.

Something more than physical attraction. Something that went deeper, beyond lust.

She had always matched him intellectually, always pushed him, always knew how to get under his skin.

Even back in school, when she critiqued his every answer in class or challenged him, she had ignited something in him no one else ever had.

Not even Alys.

When he first started dating Alys, the allure had been there—an older woman, the mystery of it all. But it had eventually soured.

He’d wanted to end things, but his grandfather Otto had convinced him to keep her around, considering her ties to Larys Strong.

His feelings for Alys were muted and shallow. He’d settled because he never thought he’d have a real chance with Y.N.

But now, everything had changed. Y.N. was pregnant with his child. They’d kissed and gods help him he’d fingered her in his office, and if they hadn’t been interrupted, he was sure he would have had her bent over his desk.

She had infiltrated his mind, his body, his every waking thought.

Gods, he was so screwed.

Aemond sat across from his brothers at the dining table in his penthouse, the three of them surrounded by hastily opened containers of Chinese takeout.

For a while, they ate in silence, the occasional clatter of forks and slurping of noodles the only sounds in the room.

“So,” Aegon began, leaning back in his chair, “-What was the big emergency that you needed to invite us over for?”

Aemond finished chewing and wiped his mouth with a napkin, eyes flicking between his brothers. He let out a slow breath, bracing himself before speaking. “Y.N. is pregnant.”

Daeron, mid-swig of his beer, sprayed it everywhere in shock, while Aegon choked on his spring roll, coughing violently.

Aemond sat there, watching as they both struggled to recover, stone-faced.

When Aegon finally caught his breath, he croaked, “Are you being fucking serious?”

Aemond nodded. “Yes.”

Daeron blinked, wiping his mouth. “How did that happen?”

Aemond gave him a deadpan look. “Surely I don’t have to explain the dynamics of sex to you, little brother.”

Daeron wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Eww, no thanks-”

“So, she’s pregnant?” said Aegon his face a mix of disbelief and amusement.

Aemond, clearly growing impatient, shot up from his seat. “Yes, she’s pregnant! There’s a baby growing inside her, and I’m the fucking father!”

Daeron, still processing, blurted out, “Haven’t you heard of condoms?”

Aegon burst into laughter, nearly knocking over his plate. “Oh, for all the lectures I’ve had to endure from our mother over the years about safe sex, and it’s my little brother who didn’t wrap it before he tapped it. Now he’s having a baby out of wedlock—Mother is going to kill you.”

Aemond narrowed his eye at Aegon. “Try not to sound so happy about it.”

“I’m going to enjoy it because, for once, it’s not my fault,” Aegon shot back with a grin, leaning forward in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Daeron, laughing now, pointed at Aegon. “It was your idea to go to the club, so technically it is your fault.”

Aegon jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Shut up”

Daeron, still grinning, shifted the tone. “It’s not just mother you should worry about. What about Alys?”

Aegon jumped on that immediately. “Maybe mother will be happy to have a grandchild, especially knowing Alys isn’t the mother.”

Aemond shook his head, not wanting to think about the impending confrontation with Alys. It was a situation that grew more complicated by the second.

Daeron’s expression turned curious as he asked, “Is that why Y.N. was at the office today?”

Aemond’s eyes sharpened. “How do you know she was at the office?”

“I saw her leaving,” Daeron shrugged. “She seemed a little flustered.”

Aegon’s face lit up, noticing the shift in Aemond’s expression. “What happened?”

“N-Nothing,” Aemond muttered, eye narrowing in warning.

Aegon, giddy with excitement, leaned forward, voice teasing. “Did you fuck in your office?”

Daeron, now laughing along with Aegon, added, “Did you?”

Aemond took a long swig of his beer, then sighed. “No. We didn’t, but we almost did. We kissed—and I may have had my hand under her skirt, but we were interrupted.”

Aegon raised his beer in mock sympathy. “Aww, how unfortunate for you. But come on, you can admit it now—you’ve got a thing for her.”

Aemond’s patience snapped. “I do not!”

Daeron chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, you do. You’ve had a face like a wet weekend since you slept with her, and now you’re positively glowing. Just admit it.”

Aemond set his beer down a little too forcefully. “I like that she’s intelligent and I like her smile.”

Aegon scoffed, almost choking on his drink again. “That’s not the only reason you fucked her. Let’s face it—she’s better for you than the wicked witch of the west.”

Aemond ignored Aegon’s jab, reaching for another beer with a sigh. “Hurry up and finish your food. Alys will be round soon, and I’d rather not have an audience when I tell her.”

Aegon made a dramatic face of mock horror. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”

Daeron nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you could at least video it, so we have enough evidence to give the police when she kills you.”

Aemond growled at Daeron, but his younger brother just exchanged a look with Aegon before the two of them burst into laughter.

Aegon shook his head, grinning wide. “I’m not rushing my food and giving myself indigestion just so you can panic over telling your girlfriend you’ve knocked up another girl—oh man, I can’t believe I said that. It’s so scandalous.” He laughed harder. “You dirty dog!”

“Aegon, duck!” warned Daeron.

Aegon moved just in time to avoid the remote that Aemond hurled at his head.

Laughing even harder now, Aegon got up, grabbing his jacket. “Perhaps we should go, Daeron. Mr. Sensitive over here looks like he’s about to have a hernia.”

Daeron stretched and stood up, finishing his beer. “Fancy a quick stop for a stronger drink before we head home?”

“Sure, why not?” Aegon slung his arm over Daeron’s shoulder as they headed to the door. “After Aemond’s baby bombshell, I think we both deserve one.”

Aemond, fists clenched, shouted after them, “Get out!”

Their laughter echoed through the hallway as they left, waiting for the lift, still teasing him as the door closed behind them.

Aemond stood in the middle of his penthouse, his heart racing as he received a text from Alys: “On my way over, be there soon. Can’t wait to see you. xx”

Panic set in immediately. The place was a mess after his brothers had left, the takeout boxes still scattered across the dining table and the remnants of their impromptu meal cluttering the space.

He could already hear Alys’s voice in his head, scolding him if she arrived and found the place looking like a pigsty.

Plus she would likley nag him about eating take out and not eating the proper food to keep his body fit, even though he worked out regularly.

Without wasting a second, Aemond rushed into action. He grabbed the empty takeout containers and tossed them into the trash, wiped down the table, and hurriedly washed the dishes.

The sounds of clinking plates and running water filled the otherwise silent kitchen. He could feel the pressure mounting, not just from the impending arrival of Alys, but from everything that had built up over the past few days—weeks, even.

Once the place was spotless, he sat down on the edge of the sofa, bouncing his leg anxiously as he waited.

His thoughts raced. How would he tell her? How could he possibly explain what had happened, not just with Y.N., but the baby?

He barely had time to dwell on it before he heard the familiar ping of the lift doors opening, followed by the clicking of heels on the polished floor.

The door unlocked, and in walked Alys, arms laden with shopping bags. Aemond immediately stood up, hurrying over to take the bags from her.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips in gratitude and moved to sit on the sofa. Aemond placed the bags down beside her before asking, “Did you enjoy your shopping trip?”

“I did,” Alys replied as she slipped of her heels “I saw Helaena.”

Aemond’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, right. Everything okay?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but panic surged through him.

He prayed that Helaena hadn’t mentioned anything about Y.N. His sister didn’t know about the baby-yet, but she did know that he’d spent the night with Y.N.

“She was-muttering to herself and walked off before I could say hello,” Alys said, her tone dripping with mild annoyance. “Honestly, she’s so weird.”

Aemond’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “You know I don’t like it when you insult my sister.”

Alys smiled, standing up and walking over to him, her hands moving slowly over his chest as she offered an apology.

“I’m sorry darling” Her hands slid lower, and she pressed her body against his. “You seem-a little out of sorts. Maybe I can help with that,” she whispered before kissing him.

He kissed her back out of reflex, but it felt wrong, his mind, traitorously, drifted to Y.N.

Aemond remembered how she had looked in his office when he had his hand in between her legs, how wet she was and the sounds she made as she climaxed.

A flash of heat surged through him, and his cock began to get hard, and Alys mistook his sudden flare of arousal as desire for her.

She managed to undo his belt, but the instant her fingers began fiddling with his buttons, reality snapped back into place.

Aemond recoiled, pulling away from her.

“What’s wrong?” Alys asked, her voice sharp as she watched him hurriedly button up his trousers and wrench off his eyepatch.

He caught the brief look of disgust she gave when she glanced at his sapphire eye—so different from Y.N., who had told him he was beautiful, making him feel seen in a way Alys never had.

But he couldn’t think about Y.N. right now, not with Alys standing in front of him, waiting for an explanation.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of what he had to confess. Turning to the drinks cabinet, he pulled out a hidden pack of cigarettes, lit one quickly, and took a long drag.

“I thought I told you to quit that,” Alys said, her voice tinged with irritation.

“I need it” Aemond muttered, exhaling smoke, trying to calm his nerves.

“You’re acting strange,” she noted, suspicion creeping into her voice. “What’s going on?”

Aemond took another drag before stubbing out the cigarette, steeling himself. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Alys crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

He exhaled slowly, avoiding her gaze. “Do you remember when you were in America with Larys?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice guarded. “Why?”

“I went out with Aegon and Daeron while you were gone,” Aemond began, feeling the weight of the confession build in his throat. “Helaena was there-with Y.N.”

Alys’ expression darkened at the mention of Y.N. “What have you done, Aemond?”

He swallowed hard. “I had too much to drink. Alys, I’m sorry, but I-I slept with Y.N.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Alys stood frozen, processing what he had just said.

Then, in a flash of fury, she picked up a vase and hurled it at him.

“You did what?” she screamed.

Aemond ducked, the vase smashing against the wall behind him.

Before he could react, she grabbed another smaller vase and hurled it at him, her eyes blazing with rage.

“How could you do this to me?!”

He dove behind the sofa, barely dodging the second vase as it shattered on the floor.

“It was a drunken mistake,” he lied through gritted teeth.

The truth was that it hadn’t felt like a mistake at all.

It had been incredible, and he’d thought about it every day since. He wanted it to happen again, even though he knew it was wrong.

Gods, he was a terrible person.

Alys’ voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Aemond stood slowly from behind the sofa, his gaze hard. “No.”

Another lie.

He did have feelings for Y.N. He always had, even before Alys.

Alys stepped closer, her voice trembling. “Was it just once?”

“Yes,” muttered Aemond.

Another lie, he had his hand between her legs today.

She took a deep breath, her anger momentarily subsiding as she considered the situation.

“Maybe we can-work through this-”

Aemond cut her off, his voice low. “-There’s something else I have to tell you.”

Alys’s eyes narrowed in suspicion again. “What else could you have possibly done?”

Aemond took another breath, the words heavy on his tongue. “Y.N. is pregnant.”

In anticipation of Alys throwing something else at him, Aemond instantly dropped to the floor, hiding behind the sofa again.

He peeked over the back of the couch and saw Alys standing there, her face drained of colour.

“How do you even know it’s yours? She’s seeing your nephew.”

Your nephew too, if the rumours are true.

“No, she’s not,” Aemond replied as he stood up, feeling his frustration rise. “They broke up months ago. The baby is mine.”

Alys’ expression twisted with disgust and hurt. She pulled on her heels and reached into her bag, pulling out the keys to his penthouse, and throwing them onto the floor.

“I’m leaving.”

“Alys, I’m sorry. It was an accident—”

“Oh, what happened?” she snapped sarcastically. “You tripped, and your cock  just happened to land inside her?”

Aemond grimaced, unable to respond.

Alys’ voice cracked as she asked, “Is this because I can’t have children?”

Against his better judgment, Aemond stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “No, that was never an issue.”

She buried her face in his chest, sobbing. “How could you do this to me? I love you.”

Aemond rolled his eye, his inner voice immediately chafing at her words.

Loves my name more like.

After a moment, Alys pulled away, her face hardening.

“It’s over,” she said, her voice shaking but firm as she gathered her shopping bags and left without another word.

Aemond winced as she slammed the door.

Well, there’s no going back now.

Y.N. sat curled up on her sofa, watching Jaws on the television, the tension building in the movie as she readied to take a bite of her pizza.

Just as the shark loomed on screen, a loud knock at the door startled her, making her jump. She quickly checked the time—8:30 PM.

“Who the hell is visiting at this time?” she muttered under her breath.

If it was Jace, she swore she was going to kill him. She was sick of the barrage of text messages he’d been sending.

One moment, he was apologetic and sweet, the next, angry and demanding. She hadn’t replied to a single one all day.

Peering through the peephole, her stomach flipped when she saw long silver hair on the other side of the door.

“Oh, bugger,” she mumbled, her hand hesitating on the door handle.

What was Aemond doing here?

She opened the door, and before she could say a word, Aemond blurted out, “I told Alys.”

Y.N. blinked in surprise. “Oh-you’d better come in, then.”

Aemond stepped inside, and as he passed, she wrinkled her nose at the faint odour of whiskey that clung to him.

He didn’t seem drunk, just tense and slightly dishevelled. He flopped onto the sofa, immediately eyeing the pizza box.

Without asking, he reached over and snagged a slice.

“Oi! That’s mine,” Y.N. scolded.

“But I’m hungry,” Aemond shot back with a smirk.

“You have a perfectly good penthouse. Bugger off and get your own pizza.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a lazy grin. “Yeah, but you’re not in my penthouse.”

Y.N. couldn't help but smile at the awful attempt at whatever the hell that was supposed to be.

She sat down beside him, shaking her head. “Don't steal my chips.”

Aemond pouted dramatically. “Aw, come on. Don’t be stingy.”

With a smirk, Y.N. poured a generous amount of garlic sauce over the chips, thinking it would deter him.

Aemond laughed, stuffing a handful into his mouth. “Joke’s on you. I like garlic sauce.”

He licked the sauce off his fingers, and for a moment, Y.N. stared at him, feeling unexpectedly flustered.

She quickly cleared her throat. “So, uh-how did Alys take the news?”

Aemond sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “She threw a couple of vases at me-and then ended things.”

Y.N. felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Aemond shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who pursued you, even though I had a girlfriend.”

His gaze shifted to the flowers sitting on the side table. “Who are those from?”

Y.N. sighed. “They came today. From Jace.”

At the mention of his nephew’s name, Aemond’s eye narrowed, a spark of irritation flashing across his face.

“What does that twat want?”

“He keeps asking me to get back together with him,” Y.N. said, rolling her eyes. “-he knows about the baby-just not who the father is.”

“Oh, really?” said Aemond smugly.

 “Don’t you go telling him either.”

“Would I?” laughed Aemond wriggling his eyebrows.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how that conversation will go-” Y.N. sighed. “It’s not like I can call him up and say, oh, Jacey, you know that I’m pregnant? Well, your uncle Aemond is the father. Yeah, the same uncle who’s eye your brother carved out when you were kids, and the same uncle who you got into a fight with five years ago at a family dinner because he made a strong toast”

Aemond sniggered, remembering the altercation with Jace and the satisfying feeling of breaking his nephew’s nose.

Y.N. glanced at him and then at the pizza. “Want another slice?”

Aemond shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Y.N. cheered and immediately began eating with gusto, “I’ve. Just. Been. So. Hungry. Lately” each word followed a bite of pizza.

Aemond sat there, watching her with a soft smile, thinking about how lovely she looked—even with a smear of pizza sauce on her cheek.

When she finished, Aemond grabbed the empty boxes and tossed them into the bin. When he returned to the sofa, he was chuckling softly.

“What?” Y.N. asked, confused.

“You’ve still got tomato sauce on your cheek,” Aemond said with a smirk.

Before she could wipe it off, Aemond leaned in and kissed her cheek softly, running his tongue over the sauce.

The unexpected gesture made Y.N. gasp, and when she looked at him, their faces were mere inches apart.

The air between them grew thick, hot, and charged with unspoken desire. There was no hesitation—no denying what had been building between them.

Their lips collided in a passionate, heated kiss. Aemond wrapped his arms around her, lifting her easily into his lap as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

Y.N.’s fingers tangled in his silver hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, fiery and intense. Aemond stood, still holding her, and carried her effortlessly toward the bedroom, their mouths never parting.

Aemond’s lips never left Y.N.’s as he lowered her onto the bed, their breaths ragged and hurried, the heat between them building to a fever pitch.

His hands roamed her body eagerly, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of her p.j shirt before slipping underneath.

Y.N. gasped into his mouth as his touch sent shivers racing down her spine, her own hands moving to tug at the hem of his shirt.

In a flurry of movement, Y.N. pulled his shirt up, and Aemond broke the kiss just long enough for it to come off before their lips met again, more demanding this time.

His own fingers worked quickly on riding her of the strappy shirt she wore. The cool air hit her chest as her shirt slid off her shoulders, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of Aemond’s body as he pressed closer to her.

Y.N. arched into him, her hands moving with purpose, her fingers deftly unbuckling his belt, pushing it aside with urgency.

Aemond groaned, feeling her touch so close to where he needed her, but his focus was on her now.

His hands slid down to the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down in one smooth motion, her legs helping to kick them off entirely.

Fuck she wasn’t wearing any knickers.

The intensity in his gaze as he looked at her, bare beneath him, made her heart race even faster. She pulled at the waistband of his trousers, and he quickly complied, standing just long enough to let them fall to the floor, his shoes kicked off hastily.

As soon as he was back over her, their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, Y.N. let out a low moan at the feeling of his warmth, the weight of him against her.

His lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping gently, while his hands slid down her sides,

“Let me take care of you” muttered Y.N as she placed kisses along Aemond jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she took one of his nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Do you like that?” asked Y.N as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same

“Oh. Gods-” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

When she reached the trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

Aemond lost his senses the moment Y.N’s warm, wet mouth quickly wrapped around the head of his swollen cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Y.N!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Y.N ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Y.N’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around him.

“I’m not going to last if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Y.N smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

Y.N responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of Aemond’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand cupped his balls.

“Shit-Y.N. I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

Y.N took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Y.N’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking?” asked Y.N.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond.

“Are you sure?” whispered Y.N

“Get up here-now” ordered Aemond, his cock already twitching with interest.

Y.N hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty pussy" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Y.N’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Y.N her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it. Let me hear you” 

“YES. It feels so good” whimpered Y.N.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond-just like that” shrieked Y.N.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Y.N, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Y.N "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds, his nose bumping against her pearl.

“Oh" whimpered Y.N; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond.

Y.N was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that surely her neighbours would hear.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. Come for me baby, come for daddy” moaned Aemond.

Finally, he felt Y.N’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Y.N’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at Y.N’s centre as she came.

After a few minutes, Aemond gently urged her to move down, so she was hovering above his cock.

Her hand wrapped around him, running the head of his cock along her warm wet folds.

“Your such a tease” moaned Aemond as his hips jerked involuntarily.

“But it feels so good” replied Y.N as she slowly moved down on his cock, so only the tip of him was inside her.

“P-Please” whimpered Aemond.

“Uh-uh” said Y.N shaking her head from side to side.

After a few minutes Aemond couldn’t take it anymore and seized Y.N’s hips, before sheathing his hard cock into her soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" screamed Y.N.

"Gods. You feel so good-missed you-missed this-" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Y.N, her tone bordering on desperate as she rolled her hips against his.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of Y.N squeezing his cock.

“P-Please” whined Y.N as Aemond began teasing her pearl with his thumb.

“That’s it-take all of me”

“OH-MY-“ shrieked Y.N.

“You like that?” groaned Aemond his other hand grasping her hip.

"Faster, please" begged Y.N.

“Like this?” replied Aemond as he gave a quick deep thrust.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Y.N.

Her hands ran along his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest, digging her nails into his pale skin.

“Gods, Y.N" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Y.N "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond knew exactly what Y.N was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Y.N wanted faster, and he was going much faster now, his feet planted on the bed to give him more leverage and his pace increased with every filthy word that dropped from Y.N’s luscious lips as he thrust into her.

“Aemond-I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Y.N.

Y.N looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond then withdrew, ignoring Y.N’s whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and quickly sheathed himself inside her again.

She wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside.

“I-I’m going-to come” moaned Aemond.

“Yes-oh don’t stop-please Aemond” whined Y.N.

That, combined with how glorious Y.N felt, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed.

Aemond shifted slightly, adjusting his position so he could wrap an arm around Y.N.'s waist, pulling her closer.

His hand instinctively splayed across her stomach, fingers resting gently against the tiny curve there, a silent acknowledgment of the life growing inside her.

He stared down at her in the dim light, watching as her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing softening into the slow, rhythmic pattern of sleep.

For a moment, Aemond couldn't move. He could still feel the lingering electricity between them, the intensity of their passion moments ago still hanging in the air.

But there was something more now—a quiet sense of peace as he held her, his thumb absentmindedly stroking small circles on her stomach.

His mind wandered to the future, to the child they were now tied together by, to the uncertainty of what would come next.

Y.N. shifted slightly in her sleep, turning toward him, her head resting against his chest. Aemond closed his eye, letting out a slow breath, feeling the weight of everything, yet feeling more grounded than he had in a long time.

He held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head before resting his cheek against her hair.

TBC

[verstappen-cult]

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST

disclaimer: some works are nsfw and contain dark contents, your media consumption is your own responsibility. remember that RPF is just fiction & these are characterisations, so please don’t take anything too seriously.

── .✦ BLURBS & DRABBLES

SPENDING WINTER BREAK IN ST. BARTS

[fluff] Waking up by the sea with the sun coming though the window and the warm the body of your boyfriend by your side, is one of your favorite feelings in the world.

MORNINGS WITH MAX

[fluff] Waking up early and staying in bed for as long as your kids will allow you is what you always do; with max’s arms wrapped around your body, holding you tightly against his chest.

MAKING YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH MAX PUBLIC

[hurt/comfort] “I just want everyone to know i’m dating you. that i get to wake up every morning next to you, that i come home to you.”

PROMPT DRABBLES #1

[fluff] When they wrap their hand around your waist protectively because it's just an instinct by now.

PROMP DRABBLES #2

[hurt/comfort] Sender comforts receiver in the aftermath of a nightmare.

HAVING AN ARGUMENT

[hurt/comfort] The aftermath of an argument with max.

YOU ARE MAX’S WEAKNESS

[fluff] Max is head over heels in love with you. he actually turns into a whole different person when you’re around.

MAX REFUSES TO ACKNOWLEDGE HE’S SICK

[hurt/comfort] Five times max refieres to acknowledge he’s sick + one time he — finally — does.

BACK TO THE PADDOCK

[hurt/comfort] You’re back at the paddock, this time holding the hand of your daughter and a secret. however, things aren’t so easy.

GETTING INTO AN ACCIDENT

[hurt/comfort] After having a fight with your boyfriend you decide to take his car and leave.

CLINGY MAX

[fluff] Max won’t leave your side after you couldn’t be with him the last weekend in australia.

NECK KISSES

[suggestive content] You love kissing and biting max’s neck.

PETNAMES

[fluff/suggestive content] Max is an avid petname user.

ANGRY MAX

[fluff] Max is not having a good day and doesn’t care about being disrespectful. but when he sees you, everything changes.

MAX’S NIPPLE PIERCINGS

[explicit content] Is the first time you’re both being intimate and learned a very important secret of max.

MAX IS THE TYPE OF GUY TO…

[fluff] Brush a strand of hair away from your face because he doesn’t like when your hair hides your big round eyes from him. His thumb caressing your cheek before pulling away.

MAX GETTING CAUGHT

[explicit content] You caught max jacking off with your panties.

MAX ENJOYS COCKWARMING

[explicit content] Most of your cuddling session consist of cuddling on the couch or in bed while one of your favorite movies or a new show plays as he slips inside of you.

MAX NSFW THOUGHTS

[explicit content] Calling you his good girl for taking him so well while all you can do is moan and babble because he feels so good that there are not coherent thoughts in your head anymore.

MAX NSFW THOUGHTS

[suggestive content] Just casually thinking about how you and Max would keep on fucking even after you break up. A very weird arrangement you two come up with to blow off some steam; no feelings, just rough, nasty sex.

── .✦ FICS

PINING IN ANTICIPATION

[explicit content] Neither you nor Max know how it started but it made you feel better and that was enough for him.

LOVE STORY

[smau | explicit content] Going out on dates with Max means taking a lot of pictures to share them on Instagram. Max has never complained, in fact, he's more than happy to show the world just how much he enjoys every single one of those dates.

GORGEOUS

[smau | explicit content] Two of the most successful people in the world start dating.

SWEET LIKE VANILLA

[fluff] You send Max some ice cream from your brother’s company.

LOVERBOY

[fluff] Just a typical evening / night with Max (and his frat brothers) in the early stages of your relationship.

PRAISE

[explicit content] Max knows he’s good at his job, he was raised to be the best driver, the perfect son, and knows he’s talented. The bad thing is that he has to listen to people complimenting him almost everyday. He really thinks he’s good at hiding how shy and uncomfortable it makes him, and it’s just that Max can’t seem to take compliments from anyone but you.

OBSESSED

[explicit content] You’ve always been a little bit obsessed with your boyfriend. Especially with his thighs. Or, 2 times Max catches you looking at his thighs + 1 time you do something about it.

ALL I WANT

[hurt/comfort] Max is a jealous man, he can’t help it, but never does a big deal out of it. Sometimes he likes to remind people you’re taken and other times remind you who you belong to. But when he sees you flirting with one of his coworkers, an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach makes him want to cry.

── .✦ MOODBOARDS

HAPPY FAMILY LIFE WITH HUSBAND!MAX

Chaotic mornings with the kids waking you up by jumping on the bed. baking together and ending up with a flour fight. long and calm walks…

ROADTRIP WITH THE BOYS

Listening to a bunch of different music because everyone has different taste. bickering, so much bickering. camping by the sea. max not letting anyone drive but him…

── .✦ SERIES

STUPID CUPID

[hurt/comfort. explicit content] Lando wants to go out with Oscar but he’s too preoccupied with his twin sister moving in with him to actually think about dating. So, Lando pays his friend Max to ask Oscar’s sister out and keep her occupied as he puts the plan ‘make Oscar fall in love with me’ into action. But things may or may not go according to plan.

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[gigabyte-flare]

Animals

Summary: Leon comes back home to you with one thing on his mind.

Pairing: Vendetta or ID!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 889

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. You are solely responsible for your own content consumption. This work is not for minors, 18+ only

Warnings: breeding kink, rough sex, Leon's very aggressive in this but like the good kind of aggressive, impregnation, swearing, light choking

A/N: Decided to write up a one shot to hopefully jump start my brain so I can finish part 4 of There's No Escape. This is purely self indulgent but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! This is not proof read so please excuse any and all grammatical errors! This is lightly based on an audio by Nowhere Eternity!

It’s late in the evening, the sun just below the horizon as you stand over your kitchen sink and do the dishes from making dinner. Your boyfriend should hopefully be home soon, having just returned from some assignment for the D.S.O.. It’s been weeks since he’s last been home; you couldn’t wait to see him.

You hear him suddenly come through the door, “Babe, I’m home!”

Normally, he takes his time taking off his shoes and jacket, but you hear his heavy footsteps approach the kitchen at an alarming rate.

“There you are,” he growls, “c’mere.”

“Leon what are you--” you are suddenly cut off as his powerful arms wrap around your waist, burying his face into your neck.

“I’ve been thinking about you all fucking day,” he moans into your neck as he begins kissing up your neck.

“Leon, I’m trying to do the dishes…” you reply, still holding a pan in your hand.

“Put the fucking thing down,” Leon growls, his hands gripping onto your waist almost to the point that it was painful.

You immediately drop the pan into the sink, unsure and concerned about what on earth has gotten into Leon.

“Sweetheart.. Are you ok?” you ask hesitantly.

“I’ve decided…” Leon starts, you can hear him starting to undo his belt on his pants, “that you’re going to give me a baby.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” you reply, flabbergasted.

“I know you don’t think you’re ready, but I promise you… you are, baby.” he continues before burying his face back into your neck.

You arch your back into him, feeling his hard cock on your ass as you push yourself into him. You can hear him still undoing his belt.

“This… stupid FUCKING belt!” he growls before finally getting his belt off, “your turn, get these fucking pants down.”

Your wet fingers struggle to get your button undone on your pants when Leon’s fingers suddenly reach around, helping you get your pants undone, “there you go, baby, I got you.”

As soon as your pants are undone, he pulls them down along with your underwear. You can hear him stroking himself. He pushes you into the counter, forcing you to lean forward and push your hips back towards him as you feel his cock push against your drenched pussy. 

“Look at how wet you are, you want me to fuck a baby into you, I know you do…”

With one, hard thrust, he sheathes himself completely inside of you, causing you to yelp. You grip the counter as Leon fucks you relentlessly.

“I can’t wait to see your belly swollen with my baby inside you…” Leon purrs, his hands gripping your hips so tight that his fingers are leaving bruises on you, “you’re going to look so fucking beautiful…”

Unconsciously, you reach down to your clit and start to rub it, causing your legs to twitch as you let out soft moans. Leon’s hand grabs your wrist aggressively, pulling your hand away from your needy clit.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I want you to cum on my dick when I pump you full of my cum, sweetheart,” he growls. 

He picks up his pace, all you hear is the sound of his hips slapping against your ass along with his animalistic growls. Your eyes roll into your head as you moan his name like a prayer, begging for release. 

“Are you ready to be a mommy?” Leon asks, his right hand reaches up to grasp your throat, pulling you back towards him as he bites your ear.

“Y-Yes��!” you manage to cry out as Leon puts pressure on your throat.

“I can’t wait to kiss your growing belly…” he moans into your ear as he continues pounding into you, “on my way down to eat your pussy.”

You cry out again, tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation and raw emotion of it all. 

“Leon… I-I’m close…!”

“Cum with me baby, go ahead and rub that clit, sweetheart.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. You reach back down and rub circles into your aching core. After a few moments, you come completely undone in a mess of cries and moans with Leon’s name sprinkled here and there. You feel the hot sensation of Leon’s own release as he pushes himself deep inside you. You feel the head of his cock pressing into your cervix. He holds himself there, breathing heavily as his cock continues to twitch inside of you.

You start to shift your hips to have him slip out of you, but Leon stops you, “No. Let me stay inside you just a little longer…”

You both simply stand there, Leon’s arms wrapped protectively around your waist as you lean back, nuzzling into him, telling him how much you love and missed him when he was gone. Leon does eventually pull out, you can hear his seed drip out of you onto the kitchen floor. He pulls his pants back up, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“Go ahead and finish up the dishes and meet me in the bedroom, sweetheart,” Leon says as he begins to walk away.

“The bedroom?” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him as you put your own pants back on.

Leon stops, turning to you to give you a devious smirk, “Yes. The bedroom. Because we have to do it again.”

[joybabyjune]

Unexpected Snow

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summery: When you try to hide from a heavy snowstorm in a motel, you find out that all the rooms are taken. Frank offers you his room, but you can’t let him sleep in his truck. You get him into your room and into your bed 👀

Warnings: explicit (minors dni!!!), big age gap (reader is 21, Frank in in his late 40’s), pet names (Sweetheart, sweet girl, good girl, pretty girl), no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, harassment (not from Frank), smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv (be smart friendsss), little bit of praise kink, little bit of degradation kink, dirty talk, creampie.

Author’s note: alright I really wanted to participate in the Beardthalbash thing. So I wrote this. I hope you guys like it. If you do, please let me know with a note and if you really like it, please reblog. You’ll make my day and it’s completely freeee.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language + I kind of wrote this pretty quickly because of the Beardthalbash deadline. Don’t hate me for any mistakes ✌🏼

Masterlist

“Why?!” You yell out angrily, slamming your steering wheel and accidentally pressing the horn. “Oh shit..” You sink lower into your seat and wave a little apology at the car beside you. The lady on the radio continues talking. She goes on about the upcoming snowstorm and you really start to realize that you won’t make it to your destination. “Why today..” You whine to yourself.

After living with your alcoholic mother, and all the different men she brought in your life over the years, you finally decided that it was time for you to leave. You packed your bags, got into your car, closed your eyes and pointed your finger somewhere on your map to pick a location for you to start a new life.

You’ve been driving for a few hours now and the weather is getting worse and worse. You can feel your car struggling against the wind and the road surface slowly turns white with the snow that’s falling. Your wipers are working overtime and the windows fog over. “Fucking hell.” You mutter and turn off the radio, you’re done with the slight tone of panic in the weather reporter’s voice.

A few miles ago you saw a sign that said there was a motel nearby and you sigh in relieve when you see the exit towards it. “Lets just hope this only lasts ‘till the morning..” You say as you drive onto the parking lot. It is fully packed, but you find a spot. It’s not exactly near the entrance, but you take it. You get out of the car and are immediately hit by a gust of snowy wind. You run over to the reception and quickly get inside.

There’s a line of people, all trying to get a room and you quietly join the queue. It doesn’t take long before it’s your turn and you reach into your bag for your money. “One single room please..” You say while you look.

“I’m sorry ma’am but we’re fully booked for the night.” The lady behind the counter tells you. “There’s another motel a couple of miles away. If you want, I can call them to see if they still have a room?”

“W-what?” You ask frowning. You look out of the window, the weather has gotten even worse and there’s no way you can safely drive any further. “You have nothing?” You ask, slightly panicking.

“I’m afraid so..” She answers.

“Can stay with me, pretty thing..” You hear a voice drawl behind you. You turn around and see a man smirking at you. You take in his appearance and your stomach turns at the idea of having to sleep with him to have a place to stay. He must be in his sixties, his blonde-grayish hair sticks to his forehead and his mustache turned yellow under his nose due to years of smoking. There’s stains on the flannel that’s way to tight around his beer belly. “Got room for you in my bed, I mean..” He adds as his watery eyes glide over your body.

“N-no thank you.” You say nervously, deciding that it’s not worth it.

“Oh come on, Princess, can’t go out in weather like that..” He says nodding towards the window. He walks closer to you and you’re overwhelmed by the smell of sweat, stale beer and ashtray. It brings you back to all the times your mother’s boyfriends would try to get handsy with you. “Promise I’m not a serial killer.” He says laughing and displaying his yellow teeth.

“N-no, I’m good, really..” You say again and he reaches out to touch your face but you back away.

“She said no, asshole.” A voice behind you barks. You turn around and see a big, attractive looking man. Dark hair, dark eyes, well groomed beard. He radiates danger, but for some reason he makes you feel safe. “Leave her alone.”

“And who the fuck are you?” The creep asks him. “Who are you to decide what I should do. Keep it to yourself and let me have my fun with this one.” He adds and tries to reach out for your waist this time.

Your savior grabs his wrist and turns it, making him cry out in pain. “Go to your room and leave the girl alone.” He says, his voice a whispered growl.

“Ah ah ah, okey okey!” He says trying to free his arm. Once he succeeds he holds up his hands. “Alright. She’s all yours man. Not worth the fucking trouble.” He says, looking you up and down as he walks away.

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling dirty with how looked at you and spoke about you. “Thanks..” You say looking at the floor.

“Here. Take my room.” He says and hands you a key.

You frown. “W-what? But where are you gonna-“

“Slept in worse conditions. I’ll be fine.” He says. “Take the keys, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” You say looking up at him. Not really sure why it bothers you.

He huffs a laugh and smirks a little at your stubbornness. “Just take the keys and be safe, okey?”

“We can-“ You start. “We can share the room.” You say taking in his appearance and not minding his company.. “I’m not comfortable with letting you drive in this weather either.”

“I’m not driving, I’ll just crash in my truck.” He says. “I’ll be okey ki-, sweetheart. Trust me.”

You smile a little at how he caught himself when he was gonna call you kid again. “But-“

“Go.” He presses. “Get your stuff before the weather gets even worse and I’m not even gonna let you get back to your car.” He smirks teasingly.

“O-okey, thanks a lot, ehh..”

“Frank.”

“Thanks a lot, Frank.” You smile and take the keys from him, quickly shoving a fifty dollar bill in his hand for the costs of the room.

“You don’t need t-“ He starts, looking at the money.

“You will take it.” You cut him off and you quickly walk away before he can say something else.

You hold your hands above your head to shield you from the snow while you run to your car. It does absolutely nothing to protect you, but there’s not really a better option available at the moment.

Luckily you fit al your belongings in a single suitcase and a backpack, so you don’t have to haul a lot of luggage. You grab your stuff and run as best as you can towards the rooms. The wheels on your cheap suitcase have trouble with the speed and the think layer of snow that has formed on the floor. You quickly look at the worn leather tag that’s attached to the key. “23..” You mutter the room number. The room in front of you has a big 18 on the door. You follow the wall to your left. “19.. 20.. 21..” You mutter to yourself as you pass the doors. The sound of a car door slamming closed catches your attention and you look over to the parking lot. It’s the guy who gave you his room. Frank. You squint your eyes to look inside his truck and see how he’s wrapped himself in a blanket. You bite your lip, feeling guilty and hold up your hand in a mixture of greeting, thanking and apologizing. He waves back and juts his chin in the direction of your room, telling you without words, to go inside.

You rush inside and look around. It’s a bit dated with the terrible green and orange wallpaper and worn out wooden furniture, but it’s nice and warm which is the only important thing for the night. You look around, but there’s not much to see. A bed, a tv, a desk with a chair and thank god, a minibar. You open the door to the bathroom, and peer inside. “Fucking hell..” You laugh through your nose when you see the puke green shower cabin. “Who would choose that..?”

You decide that going to bed early will make it feel like the time goes faster so that you can hopefully be on your way again before you know it. You fish some clean underwear and a big t-shirt from your suitcase to sleep in and head into the bathroom for a shower.

The hot water feels good on your skin and it’s the first time today that you relax a little bit. Your mind drifts to Frank in his truck and you really feel guilty. He helped you out big time and now he’s out there in the cold. You figure you could at least invite him in for a beer or something. If he really doesn’t want to share the room, he can always go back to his truck after that. You turn off the shower and quickly dry and dress yourself.

You peek through the curtains and see that he’s still awake, reading some book. You bite your lip and wave to get his attention, but he doesn’t notice you. “Fuck..” You mutter to yourself and move to open the door. “Frank!” You yell, shivering from the cold. Goosebumps forming on your bare legs. “Frank!”

He looks up and his eyes widen. He rolls down his window. “What the hell are you doing?!” He yells. “Go inside!”

“Come in here!” You yell back. “Warm up a bit, h-have a beer, take a sh-shower, whatever.. Y-you can go back to sleep in your truck after, j-just come in for a while.” You say shivering. “W-won’t take no f-for an answer.”

“Fucking hell..” He curses, wiping a hand over his face in annoyance and quickly gets from the car. “Alright, alright. Just go inside!” He says while he grabs a duffel bag from the backseat.

You smile to yourself, happy to get what you want and you quickly get inside, leaving the door open for him.

“What’s wrong with you.” He growls when he gets inside and quickly closes the door behind him.

“Felt guilty.” You answer shrugging as you sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Gotta be more careful with people if you’re gonna be traveling alone, little girl.” He says and drops his bag on the floor. “Don’t even know me.”

You pout a little, knowing that he’s right. “You gave me your room instead of offering to share like that creep.” You justify your actions. “Guess that makes you a good man, right?”

He huffs as if he doesn’t really agree with you.

“So…” You say skeptically. “Are you like.. Gonna kill me or something?”

He laughs quietly. “No, Sweetheart, you’re good.”

“Good. And I won’t kill you, so that’s settled then.” You say. “And I’m not a little girl by the way, I’m 21.”

He laughs. “Alright, I’m sorry.” He says holding up his hands in a mock excuse.

“There’s towels in the bathroom.” You say while you get up to look in the mini fridge. “The water is nice. And here..” You say when you open the fridge. “Here we have some beers, some nuts and some chocolates.”

“You don’t have to do this.” He says. “I’m fine in my truck.”

“Stop it. I’m not letting you stay out there.” You say, leaving no room for discussion.

“Alright.” He says, rubbing his neck. He grabs his bag and takes some clothes out to bring into the bathroom.

You grab yourself a beer and lie down on the lumpy bed. “Let’s see what the weather is gonna do..” You mutter to yourself while turning on the tv.

“Conditions are getting worse and worse outside and it does not look like this storm is going to settle anytime soon. Specialists are calling it the worst snow storm in years. You’re advised to stay inside and-“ The weather lady gets cut off by a shirtless Frank who opens the bathroom door.

Your mouth drops open at the sight of his ripped body, he slicks his wet hair back and water drips from his beard onto his chest. You rasp your throat and look away. “‘M sorry, didn’t think to bring one to the bathroom.” He says as he grabs a tank top and pulls it over his head.

You’re suddenly very aware of your lack of pants. Sure the t-shirt you’re wearing is big enough to be called a dress, but it still only reaches your mid thigh. “I can, eh, I can put on pants if you-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He says while taking a beer from the fridge. He grabs the chair, sitting down on it with his legs spread. “‘S your room, should wear what you want, right.”

You nod towards the tv, changing the subject of your clothing, or the lack thereof, to the weather reporter. “Says it might be the worst storm in like.. Ever..” You say. “Well, maybe not ever.. But in years.”

“-cold temperatures like this can be deadly, so please be careful and stay inside if possible.” The weather lady continues on the tv.

“See. It’s dangerous out there. Think it would be considered murder if I let you sleep out there in your truck and you die tonight?”

“Nahh..” Frank says smirking. “Sooo.. What’s the deal with you? You running from something or towards something?” He asks waving a hand at your luggage.

“Who says I’m running?” You ask biting your lip.

Frank raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, telling you it’s pretty obvious without words.

You sigh and look away. “From something I guess.. I don’t know, just.. Just need a fresh start, you know?”

“Hmm.” He nods in understanding. “Get that..”

“What about y-“ You start but you’re interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. “The fuck..” You mumble nervously and you pull your legs up to your chest.

There’s another loud knock and you see Frank grabbing a gun from his bag. “Wha-? W-why do you have that?” You whisper yell.

Frank places his finger against his lips to tell you to shut up and he walks to the door. “Hey Princes!” You hear the slurred voice of the creep from before and another loud knock on the door. Frank’s body visibly relaxes, he places the gun in his waistband on his back and he yanks open the door.

“The fuck did I tell you, huh?” He growls.

“Y-you?” He asks confused. He sounds very drunk. “Saw the -hic- saw the girl go in here..”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Frank says angrily. “Now.”

Seeing Frank protect you like that kind of turns you on. And the way the muscles of his shoulders and back flex as he tenses in anger when the guy doesn’t leave straight away. Fuck.. The beer and that fact that you haven’t gotten any action in a while also don’t help.

“If you wanna live, you go to your room now and you don’t come out till the morning.” Frank rasps in a low voice.

You should be scared of this stranger with a gun, threatening someone’s life, but you’re not.

“Alright.. Jesus..” You hear the guy slur and you’re guessing he walks away.

“Yeah, that’s right..” Frank rasps before closing the door, placing the gun on the desk and sitting down again. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he takes a sip of his beer and you squeeze your thighs together.

“T-thanks. Don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” You say. “Good thing I got you in here, huh?” You add, smiling and winking playfully. Maybe even flirtatiously.

“Yeah yeah..” He huffs a laugh.

“First you save me by giving me your room and then you help me get a creep away from that room..” You say getting on your knees on the edge of the bed and looking up at him through your lashes. You’re pretty sure your nipples are showing through your shirt. “How can I ever repay you..?”

“How can ya-?” He looks off to the side, licks his lips and looks back at you. “Listen, Sweetheart.. You don’t have to do this. ‘S not why I helped you.”

“I know I don’t have to..” You say and you bite your lip, looking at his crotch. You think the bulge has grown a little already.

“Y-you already gave me money for the room and let me use your shower..” You can tell he’s getting a little nervous.

“Huh.. That’s right..” You say smirking at the realization. “Maybe.. Maybe you should thanks me then..” You’ve never been this forward in your life, but you kind of like it. There’s no going back now and you lift your t-shirt over your head.

“Fuck..” Frank growls softly as he takes in your appearance. The only thing covering you is a tiny black thong. “Sweetheart..” He pleads a little, but he gets up and walks your way. He places two fingers under your chin and pushes your head back, making sure you look up at him. “You sure?”

“Please..” You say panting.

He growls a little and moves his hands to your bare tits. “These are perfect..” He says as he squeezes them a little before rolling the hard nipples between his fingers.

You moan softly and arch your back, pushing against his hands. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he leans forward and sucks one hard little peak into his mouth.

“Yesss..” You moan louder as you feel his warm tongue slide over your skin. He bites gently and your eyes roll back in your head. “Fuckkk..” His beard scratches against your skin, but it only adds to the pleasure.

“Like that, little girl?” He asks.

“Not a little-“

“Yeah y’are.. A bad little girl.. Seducing men over twice her age..” He mumbles against your skin as he kisses his way to your other nipple. Giving it the same attention as the first one.

“Oh fuck..” You whine, your belly clenching at his words. “Don’t usually.. I.. I’m a good girl..” You pant.

He gets up and pulls the tank top over his head. “Good girl, huh? That right?”

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes.

He slowly undoes the strings of his shorts. “Gonna show me how good of a girl y’are, hm?”

You swallow thickly. “Y-yes..” You say nervously and move back on the bed so you can lean forward on your elbows, your face level with his crotch. “P-please..”

He growls and pushes the shorts down together with his boxers. A big, rock hard cock springs free. It’s thick and veiny with a nice, large, pre cum leaking head. Your mouth waters and you moan loudly. “So big..” You whine and take him in your hand. “Fuck..” You swallow thickly as your feel that he’s too big to wrap your finger around the shaft.

“You can handle it though, right, Sweetheart?” He teases and gently lays his hand on the back of your head tangling his fingers in your hair.

“Gonna try..” You say while you start stroking him. You look up at him while you stick out your tongue and lick the pre cum from his tip, lightly tonguing the little slit before swirling your tongue all around the head.

“F-fuck..” He hisses.

You contemplate if you should tease a little more, but you’re too inpatient. You smile up at him and slowly let him slide into your mouth. Your lips stretch tightly around his girth and you moan.

“That’s it.. That’s a good girl..” He groans as you take him as deep as you can, until he pushes against your throat.

You moan and your eyes roll back in your head at his words. You’ve never been with anyone who talked to you like this and you really like it.

You start sucking him slow and deep, letting your saliva drip down his shaft. You stroke the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth with one hand and gently fondle his balls with the other. The muscles in his stomach clench and his hips buck forward. The movement pushes his cock against your throat and you gag. “Fuck ‘m sorry.. Been a while..”

You smile around him and moan. “Oh you like that, huh?” He asks and he thrusts deep into your mouth. You gag again. Your eyes roll back and you moan. You love the way he takes control, the way he uses your mouth, your throat, for his pleasure. “Yeahh.. See, just a dirty, bad little girl.. Want me to fuck your face, hm?”

You try to say yes with his cock in your mouth, but all that comes out is some gurgles, so you nod. He growls and starts thrusting. “That’s it.. Take that fucking cock..”

You gag and choke. Your eyes are watery as you look up at him and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. Never been this wet.

“Gonna make me cum like that..” He groans. His hand tightens in your hair and he pulls out.

“Hmmmm.” You protest and you try to keep him in, but let go with a pop.

You pout and he chuckles. “I was supposed to be thanking you, remember?” He asks, gently stroking himself.

“Y’are..” You say, your voice a bit hoarse. “Think I’m doing this for you?” You tease smirking. “No.. This is for me.. And now I want my treat..” You add and open your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

He laughs through his nose and shakes his head in disbelieve. “Gonna take a minute before I can go again if I do that. ‘M not 18 anymore, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t care..” You say. “Please..” You add before sucking him back in your mouth hungrily.

Frank growls loudly. Rambling while you determinedly suck him off, stroking what you can’t fit in your mouth. “Fuck.. You want it, Sweetheart? Want my cum? Such a good girl.. Yeah, don’t stop.. Sweet girl.. Fuckkkk!”

Thick, hot cum coats your tongue and squirts against the back of your throat. You moan and swallow everything. Fuck that was hot.. You slowly and gently suck a little more, trying to get every last drop without overstimulating him. “F-fucking hell..” He groans softly. You let his softening member slide from your mouth and smile up at him proudly. He smiles back at you lazily, showing the crow’s feet next to his eyes, and caresses your cheek. “That was amazing..” He pants. He immediately looks more light and relaxed.

“Yeah?” You tease, biting your lip and getting up, sitting back on your heels.

“Yeah..” He says and he almost sounds a little shy. “Your turn now..” He says as he gets on the bed and guides you on your back with him on top of you. He gently grabs your jaw and leans in to kiss you. The scratching of his beard against your chin and cheeks is pleasant in contrast with his soft lips. His tongue darts out and flicks over your bottom lip, silently asking to let him in. You open your mouth and your tongues dance together in a passionate kiss. His free hand moves between your bodies to your dripping center and he growls. “Oh, Sweetheart.. You’re soaking..” He mutters against your lips

You buck your hips into his hand. “P-please..” You pant. You need more.. A lot more..

“Did sucking me off make you this wet, Sweetheart?” He teases a little.

You don’t answer, just moan.

“Can I take these off?” He asks playing with the hem of your panties.

“Please..” You say. You’re the shy one now. l

He sits up, hooks his thumbs in the lacy fabric and you lift your hips, so he can slide them down your legs. He throws them on the floor. “Open up, pretty girl..” He says and he slides his hand from your knees to the insides of your thighs spreading you open for him. He growls loudly. “Such a pretty pussy.. Wanna taste you, Sweetheart.. You want that? Want my tongue, sweet girl?”

“Y-yes, Frank.. Please.. Need it so badddd..” The last word is dragged out as he slowly slides his flat tongue through the full length of your slit. “Holy shit..” You moan.

He growls loudly. “Hmmmm.. You taste so good..” He slides his tongue through your lips a few more times, pushing it inside of you a couple of times, before swirling it around your clit. His tongue soft, warm and wet against your sensitive skin.

“Ooh, Frank! Fuck! Y-your good at that!” Your hips buck and he holds you down, growling. He slowly pushes two fingers inside you and sucks your clit into his mouth. “Holy.. Fuck!” He hooks his fingers inside you, massaging the spongy skin at your front wall while sucking and licking on your clit. You see stars. “Frank I’m gonna.. Please don’t stop! I’m gonna..” You fist your hand in his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Do it..” He hums against your skin. “Cum on my tongue..”

You cry out loudly as you explode. “Yessss!! Oh fuck!”

“Hmmm..” He growls as he laps up your juices. “Good girl.. Good girl.. Fuck I need to be inside you..”

“Yess.. Need you.. Please..” You pant and you try to pull him up at his shoulders. He moves over you, forearms on either side of your head, caging you in and kisses you again, hungrily. You taste yourself in his mouth and the hairs from his beard are wet with your slick.

He’s hard again and you can feel him against your groin. He moves his hand between your body’s and aligns himself with your opening. “Ready, Sweetheart?” He asks looking into your eyes.

“Yes.. Give it to me..” You pant.

“Eyes on me.” He says and slowly but surely sinks inside of you. “Fuck..” He hisses. “So tight..”

Your mouth falls open. “Oh Frank..” You moan. “So big.. So good..”

He slowly starts fucking you. His jaw is slack and he looks at you like he’s in awe. “Please, kiss me..” You moan and he happily obliges. It’s amazing and it feels like the two of you have known each other since forever.

“You feel so good..” He growls against your lips and speeds up his thrusts, making you cry out a little. “This okey?” He asks between kisses and he moves his hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

“M-more.. Harder, please..” You moan.

“Yeah?” He asks, lifting up his head to look you in the eyes. You nod and he nods back before speeding up his thrusts even more, properly pounding you now. You can feel him slamming against your cervix and it feels absolutely amazing.

“Oh F-Frank! Fuck!” You cry out loudly. You can feel yourself nearing another orgasm. “Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

He growls. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock?!” He asks never slowing his pace.

“Yes!! Oh Frank!!!” You squeeze your thighs around him tightly and lose yourself in your orgasm. “Yessss!!”

“Fuck! Wh-where d’you want it?” He pants, his voice sounds strained.

“I-Inside! Please! I’m on birth control.. Please I want it inside me! Please Frank, please cum for me!” You beg, moaning.

His breath hitches in his throat. “Oh you’re perfect.. S-so perfect.. Fucking fill you up.. T-take it!” He pushes inside of you as deep as he can and stills as he cums, growling loudly. “Yessss!!”

He collapses on top of you and you just lie there, both panting. “Can’t breathe.” You say after a while. He chuckles and rolls next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“That was..” He mutters.

“Yeah it was.” You say.

“‘M not going back to my truck.” He says looking at you, smirking.

You laugh. “I’m glad.” You say and you cuddle into his chest.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring and if the snow will be gone, but you don’t want to think about that now. Right now, you just want to enjoy the warmth and safety from this amazing man.

[wildbluesorbit]

London || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️‍🩹

I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions

Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex

Word Count || 8.3k+

*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*

You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.

“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”

A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.

“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”

“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.

You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.

“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.

“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”

Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”

“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.

Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages, all in vain of course.

Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.

The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.

Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.

One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.

But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.

Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into a envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.

So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.

Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.

“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”

Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”

She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”

Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.

JAKE:

Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?

You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now; all so you could be stood up by the man.

Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.

Jake made you feel stupid yet again.

Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.

A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”

The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.

A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”

You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.

There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.

You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.

You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.

He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.

He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.

You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.

You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.

He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.

You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.

He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”

Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.

At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.

You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?

As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.

Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.

You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.

A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.

Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic, finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.

You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.

You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.

You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.

You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.

Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.

It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.

There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.

As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.

A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.

You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.

“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”

“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”

You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”

Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.

Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.

However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.

Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”

This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.

“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.

Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.

It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.

“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”

You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.

However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”

He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.

Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.

Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.

Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.

Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.

You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”

The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.

“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.

He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.

You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.” He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”

You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.

He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”

Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.

Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”

He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.

You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”

He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”

Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”

He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.

You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.

You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”

The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”

You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.

He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”

Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.

“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”

Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”

Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, the slight uneven curl of his upper lip and the barely there freckles that line the ample lower. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.

If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.

He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.

He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.

You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”

He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.

“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.

Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”

“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”

“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.

Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.

Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”

You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”

Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”

You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.

He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”

You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.

He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”

A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”

Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.

He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.

Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.

His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated; animalistically yourself.

For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.

He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.

Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.

Your core already weeps with need.

The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.

He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”

The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.

You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”

Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”

You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”

Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.

He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.

“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.

Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.

His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.

“Wider,” he growls out the demand.

You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.

He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.

You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.

He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.

The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.

He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”

Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”

He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.

He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.

You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.

You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.

Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.

“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.

He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”

Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”

He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”

He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.

You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”

“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.

You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”

Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.

He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.

He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.

“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.

Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.

As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”

You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.

“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.

Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.

He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.

You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.

Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.

His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.

“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.

Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.

Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.

“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.

Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.

He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.

“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.

He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.

“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”

He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.

He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.

He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.

Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”

Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.

“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”

In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.

“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.

You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.

“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.

You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.

You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.

He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.

You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”

You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”

The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.

He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”

You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”

You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch. Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”

You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.

He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”

“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.

Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”

Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.

Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”

“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.

He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.

“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “It killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”

Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.

You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”

Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”

One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”

Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.

Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”

Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.

Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.

Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.

His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.

You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.

You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”

You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.

Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.

“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.

You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.

“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”

You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.

His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.

Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.

He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”

He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.

Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”

He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”

You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.

He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.

Jakes slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”

“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.

He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”

The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.

He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.

He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”

He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”

You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.

You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.

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[crystaldivination]

“𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐓”

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 - 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

PS: I apologize if the pictures are somewhat disturbing to you. I’m against insect consumption and have a great love for all living creatures and plants but I just find the aesthetic to be interesting.

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How to choose your pile? As always meditate or close your eyes before looking at each image. Trust your intuition and pick out an image you feel the most drawn to.

Disclaimer: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

PILE 1 - LONGHORN VODKA

Helllo pile 1, welcome to your pile. You choose this vodka bottle.

So as first glance your future spouse is someone who is quite different from others. This is someone peculiar. They could like stuff involving science, technology, space or anything that is extraordinary in a sense. Not something people would usually do in their free time or spent their entire time occupy with. But again who is weird here when you can’t even understand why you can walk and run on a planet that is floating in the space right? This person is very smart but in their own particular way. They like to question everything. They’re curious and seem to be always on the go to discover new things. So someone who can stimulate them and show or maybe even teach them new things would be their type. Your future spouse could be someone asexual or just someone who values feelings over looks. They don’t really care who you are or what you do for a living if you can’t score in the intellectual department. More so they couldn’t care less about your look. They’re very attracted to unique and intellectual people and they do seem like someone hard to please. Even more so because they always seem so immersed in their own world. Your future spouse is someone on the loner side. They don’t usually hang out a lot with friends, let alone enjoy surrounded by many people. They don’t give in to the loud noises, cool stuff that others are doing. They like being on their own, mostly because they feel like others don’t understand their kind of interest. They sometimes feel like an outsider but remind themself again that they enjoy their own company. They might even have their own invisible friends who they sometimes talk to. I imagine them sitting in the middle of a dark room working on something experimental. Super strange but at the same it feels like a strange genius type of thing. It makes me kinda sad that they somehow can’t connect with others on a personal and emotional level yet they’re very confident in themself. They know what they can and what they’re capable of. Someone who can share this side of them and accept them for who they are is very much appreciated. If someone were to be exciting yet patient enough to get close to them and open them up, I promise, you will never get bored with them. Once they get comfortable with you they likely won’t be able to stop talking and if they’re into you expect someone who goes beyond their boundaries and way to make you feel like the best person on earth. They can be very sweet and warm. A little shy yet have a very strong will. They’re a go getter. When they see something/someone that sparks interest in them, they’d not hesitate to go after it/them. Kinda interesting and cute I’d say.

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated. Have a wonderful day or night ‹𝟹

PILE 2 - TARANTULA VODKA

Helllo pile 2, welcome to your pile. You choose this vodka bottle.

Your future spouse is a cutie pie. This energy feels so light and innocent. They might even look pretty young and vulnerable as well. But do not be fooled. Underneath this seemingly harmless and delicate exterior there is someone well learned. They might’ve gone through a lot that some people can’t even imagine. While others could’ve been defeated by those hardships your future spouse only grew stronger and wiser. They are so admirable and respectable even if they don’t show it. On top of that they are really humble and have pure intentions in whatever they do. They don’t show up outwardly as arrogant nor have a "better than you" mentality. They’re a treasure guys. Very hardworking. They give their all in everything. On the one hand because that’s the evidence of their life now seeing how far they have come without giving up but also because they know hard work and self belief never betray you. They’re very strong both mentally and physically. They believe in a well-balanced lifestyle. For them it’s a "nurture your soul to support your physical human body and in turn you keep your physical form in check to function well". Health is definitely important for them. They care about the overall well-being, not only for themself but for others around them as well. They’re a humanitarian. They like getting involved in helping other people in general. They are helpful because they know how it feels like to be helpless and struggle. That’s why they help whenever they can and might engage in humanitarian activities such as volunteering or donating. Such a golden heart. They might also have a soft spot for animals or children. Objects or beings that seem to be needing care and attention. They could have grown up as an orphan or just being brought up by one parent only so they understand how much human and other being need protection and love. Despite all this they never stop believe in the good things, a better world. They believe everything can change and is never set in stone. They have a spirit of an innovator. They might not be well-known or what others called "successful" yet although everyone’s definition of success is different but I’m sure they will leave a mark for something important later on. They don’t seem to care about all that though as for them a peaceful and harmonious life is the best so they might stick to it but it seems like they’re so well-liked wherever they go with their action-oriented characteristics I believe they can’t go unnoticed. I’m taking a liking to your future spouse, pile 2 hihi. They’re so endearing, adorable and loveable in any sense. They’re keeper. Don’t let them slip out of your hands when you’re able to catch them! Hold on tight! Btw they could be a Virgo although I’m getting a lot of air energy as well and also water. Maybe Aquarius because of their nature. That also seems to fit the description about them :)

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated. Have a wonderful day or night ‹𝟹

PILE 3 - CENTIPEDE VODKA

Helllo pile 3, welcome to your pile. You choose this vodka bottle.

Your future spouse is really well-liked by the opposite genders. They are quite good looking and sociable. They know how to entertain others simply by their presence. They seem most likely like a high school crush kind of person or they are. Looks and appearance wise all good and well but there is a downside to them. They could be very reckless and childish. They could be a player as well because they enjoy the attention and spotlight on them. They opt for poor options if someone were on a higher mentality, not to say their decisions are all wrong but those can hurt or don’t help them in the long way if they’re thinking of their future. They go for fun and could neglect everything else that bores them or that doesn’t give them this adrenaline rush. They should really slow down. I think their environment or the environment in which they grew up contributes to these choices or behavior of them. BUT don’t blame that because we all can choose our own destiny. This is not an excuse to all or everything else. They like to be different but this is not the difference that makes you stand out from others in a good way. They may even are proud of their infamous reputation. But looking closely they’re not entirely empty and superficial. They have a heart of a leader. If they learn how to let go of the worldly pleasures, stuff and all the shortcomings they definitely can go far. They need to (re)build their inner values and system to create something more deep and meaningful to themself first then something that could benefit other people as well. As for now they still seem so inexperienced and vain which also can give way that they can still have the chance to learn from the world and everything else to grow to the person they want or are meant to be. They have the potential no doubt but everything is in their hand. They need to make the move towards their rightful path instead of straying away from it. They urgently need to work on their self concept. They could be very insecure deep down which shows outwardly as excessive attention seeking and pathological lying. They need to dig deep in themself to find their own purpose and reason for being. Despite that they’re not a bad person at all. As I said before they’re not all superficial. They may lack discipline but they’re actually quite courageous. They fight for the people they love and don’t hesitate to risk it all for them. Sometimes unfavorable but they need to know that only defending is not all. They need to be able to be in a position where they can protect others as they like and stand up for own their thing. Be able to be in their element while being the bigger person. I do not mean to rule the world but they need to think bigger and learn how to balance. If they were to encounter issues that they alone can’t solve, for them being in a difficult position, what would they do? They need to think long-term. Because they do have a strong protective instinct nevertheless and could go out of their way sometimes, anger issues and manner should be kept in check. Decide what they want and go for it. They might not believe in themself so that’s why they choose the easier superficial option. They’re making themself smaller than they are. I feel empathy for your future spouse so I do hope they can change for the better for themself and their vision overall. It’s time they need to surround themself by more developed and evolving people to gain inspiration as well as a different view from the world and themself to activate their motivation and good energy but not everyone starts off smoothly so this rugged and bumpy road will teach them valuable lessons that will lead and could help them grow into a good and successful person.

For pile 3 I feel like giving a lecture so this is a lil longer than the other piles…

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated. Have a wonderful day or night ‹𝟹

PILE 4 - SCORPION VODKA

Helllo pile 4, welcome to your pile. You choose this vodka bottle.

Your future spouse is someone sensitive. They most likely have intense emotions that are sometimes hard to process. You might’ve chosen this bottle because of the scorpion and indeed your future spouse resembles it. They are a hard one to crack. Always seem so tough on the outside but struggle quietly on the inside. They’re much more fragile than they seem. It’s so interesting to read for them because there is a lot to say about them but at the same time I cannot seem to catch enough about them as well. It’s hard to describe. They also seem so fluid. They could have a duality to them. At one moment they seem so open and social but at the other one so cold, secretive and distant. To me cold here doesn’t mean heartless or mean but more in a sense of they aren’t being expressive or don’t know how to express themself emotionally. They can get shy and nervous easily making them seem elusive and hard to get close to. They don’t necessarily seem intimidating but a push energy is evident. They could have a hard time letting others in as well. Trust issues seems to be the problem. Maybe they’ve been betrayed or disappointed before making them doubt and suspect others a lot. They might be scared of being hurt. This behavior can affect how they view themself and others especially in relationships and connections overall resulting in challenges and stigmatization in those areas. This also makes them feel super anxious, lonely and depressed all the time. They really need someone who can go easy on them and letting them have the feeling of trust again. But don’t forget! In them exists a sense of fearlessness, boldness and a burning desire. They’re dangerously passionate. Just like a scorpion they can kill. They’re not all desperation and guilt. So don’t even try to play them. I literally heard "never play me" like don’t you dare! Your future spouse is a highly reserved individual with a lot of self control. Their self defense is also no joke and always on mode. They know what benefits them and they go for it once made up their mind. They’re super sharp, quick and extremely savvy. They’re determined and never give up. They can be described and summarized in 3 words. Passion, creativity, and fierce loyalty. They keep things private and only allow others to see what they want them to see. Patience, confidence and a good sense of self is needed if you take interest in them and want to make them yours. Because they can also get attached easily a good amount of independence and individuality is needed in the relationship. This person could definitely be a water sign because they feel their emotions deeply. The intensity and struggle to come out to light also reminds me of 8th house and/or 12th house placements. Gemini as well because duality is present. What do you think?

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated. Have a wonderful day or night ‹𝟹

© crystaldivination ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. Plagiarism in any form is prohibited.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

[02:11] (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Chan x F.Reader Themes: Smut (pwp, tbh. but still fluffy) | Fluff | Established Relationship Warnings: implied chubby/curvy/fat MC, mentions of alcohol consumption, some belly action going on as usual because we appreciate bellies in this household, pet names (baby), smut warnings under the cut. Word Count: ~1k | AO3 Summary: After waking up in the wee hours of the night, your boyfriend simply needed you to warm him up.

Author’s Note: y’all will have to pry the chubby/curvy/fat MC from my cold dead hands, bc it seems like the only thing coming out of my head these days lol. as usual, i’m working on bigger pieces so here’s one of my silly little warm ups, figured i’d post it in case someone out there enjoys it :)

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut warnings: Chan has a filthy mouth · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but the reader is presumed to be on birth control] · cockwarming · clit stimulation.

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Sometimes, more often than you would like, you’d wake up like this, with cold feet, and a bit disorientated. Light was filtering through the drapes, but it wasn’t daytime yet, it was the fluorescent light of the streetlights outside. 

The dustcart had just driven by, you could still faintly hear it further down the street. ‘There’s still time to sleep a bit more’ was the first thing that came to mind as soon as you heard it. 

You kept your eyes closed, your focus shifting from the noise of the vehicle outside to the sound of your boyfriend’s snores next to you. It was amazing how you were so used to it by now. The first time you slept in the same room with him you almost pushed him off of the bed just to stop him from snoring, it was almost as loud as the dustcart outside–or at least that was what you told him back then, you were certainly exaggerating things…

Now, though, you couldn’t imagine going to sleep without that sound. Crazy how fast our bodies get used to our environment, especially when you were so utterly in love with the source of the noise.

There were days where it overwhelmed you still. Days where he would wake up gasping for air, waking you up in the process. But most days, his constant snoring could easily lull you to sleep. 

You turned away from him, trying to relieve some of the stiffness you felt in your body from laying in the same position for too long. You hadn’t been living together for long, only a handful of months, but you were genuinely surprised at how quickly you got used to sharing your space with someone.

Chan just made it so easy. And you did, too. Or, at least, that was what he told you once. 

You felt movement. In a second, your boyfriend’s body heat enveloped you. His snoring had stopped, and a hum resonated from deep within him as his body moulded to yours. His chest pressed to your back, his legs folded under yours, his arm rested over your waist, holding you close.

“Mmm… Warm”, you weren’t sure if he was fully awake, but his words were certainly slurring a bit.

You decided to make your state known, just in case, humming as you moved your hand to hold his that was resting close to your chest. His fingers wrapped around your thumb, and he snuggled further into you, leaving absolutely no space between your bodies. 

That was when you felt him, half hard against your bum. Even in your sleepy state, you felt yourself heat up with the contact. 

“Baby…” Chan mumbled against your nape, pressing languid kisses on your skin. “…Awake?”

“Mm… Barely”, a content sigh fell from your lips as he kept kissing your skin, slowly, leisurely. His lips were so soft, so plush and delicious and perfect, you really loved feeling them against any part of your body. 

“Mm…” Chan released your thumb, moving his hand instead to rest on your lower belly, softly caressing your skin. “Can I… Put it in?”

He rolled his hips a little, letting you feel him better, he was harder than before, and had you not been that sleepy and that horny you would’ve laughed. This was a common occurrence, for him to randomly wake up and want to be inside of you, so you weren’t surprised by his request in the slightest. You hardly ever denied him, because you wanted him in you as much as he did. 

“You can”, was all you mumbled back, and immediately, his hand moved away from your belly. You felt him fumble with his length against your skin, so you angled your hips, giving him better access. 

Suddenly, you felt two of his fingers at your opening, collecting your essence and spreading it generously throughout your folds. “Mmm… Wet”. 

His fingers were gone, replaced with the tip of his length, running it up and down your folds, until he teased your entrance, finally plunging himself in. 

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden feeling of fullness. Chan let out a sigh of relief, and he returned his hand to your lower belly, softly kneading your flesh. You were always a bit self-conscious of your belly, or at least, you had been before. But these days, when he touched you like this, you could hardly care at all. You loved when your boyfriend touched you anywhere, but for reasons you couldn’t even explain you just liked when he did this. It helped you accept it a little more, so he did it often, and it always made your heart soar and your walls clench.

“So warm, baby…” Chan murmured next to your ear. “Tight… As if… We didn’t even fuck for hours last night…”

You chuckled softly, finding Chan’s forearm and caressing his skin as he kept his tender movements on your belly. He always filled you up so nicely, always got you dripping, heated, and when his hand moved from your belly to dip between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing circles on it, you couldn’t help but tremble. 

“Channie…” Your voice was airy, a bit strained with the sudden stimulation. 

“Mm… Just wanna keep feeling you clench around me, baby… You feel so good…” Chan knew how to touch you, not only because you’d been together for a long time, but because he took extra care in learning what you liked and didn’t like. 

You still remember, before you had sex the first time, before you even kissed, during a drinking game you two were playing, a truth or dare of sorts, with questions and dares taken from the internet. ‘What’s your biggest turn on’, had been the question Chan pulled, and you had seen the way his ears grew red, and he averted his gaze. 

For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer, you honestly wouldn’t have held it against him if he had, but suddenly, after a few moments of silence, he muttered a ‘I just love it when my partner’s feeling good. Love to make them go pleasure dumb. Especially when they’re smart and eloquent, God… Rendering them speechless is just so gratifying’, he’d buried his face in his hands, and when he finally looked back at you, looking almost incredulous that the words came out of his mouth, biting his lip, you felt yourself flush.

You didn’t really believe him much at the time, most men you’d met liked to talk big game, but then couldn’t perform as well in bed. But oh, boy if Chan surprised you… The first time you had sex with him he had you coming so many times you couldn’t even stand the tiniest rub against your clit the next day. You still remember the morning after, how he pulled you into his arms and smothered your face with kisses as he mumbled. ‘You look like a fucking dream when you come, baby… Just wanna see that over and over again…’

“My god, what a good fucking cunt…” His sinful words brought you back to the present, and you hadn’t even realised you’d started whimpering. “Fucking perfect…”

“Just… For you, Channie”, a quiet moan fell from your lips, his fingers moving just a tad faster as soon as you said it. 

“Fuck… My girl and her perfect little hole just for me…” Chan’s voice was barely a whisper, almost as if he wasn’t even registering the words coming out of his mouth, and it only made you feel more desperate, needy.

Sometimes it still surprised you how, after all these years, your boyfriend still knew exactly where and how to touch you, how to make you feel as if your whole body was alight with the tiniest of touches. He drew circles on your clit, diligently working you up, and before you knew it, you were coming, trembling within his hold.

“That’s it, baby… Just like that… Love you so much…” Chan mumbled, stopping the movement of his fingers on your sensitive nub, but keeping them there, applying pressure, prolonging your pleasure a bit further.

The dustcart outside was long gone, you couldn’t hear it anymore. All you could hear was your heavy breathing and your boyfriend taking deep breaths. In a couple of minutes, Chan’s deep breaths turned to snores again, falling asleep with his cock still buried within your walls.

You chuckled softly, snuggling further into him. He’d go soft eventually, you knew this already because you had been in this exact situation many times before, so you were completely unfazed by your boyfriend and his rather odd habits.

With his warmth around you, in you, with the aftereffects of your orgasm still coursing through your system, with his snores posing as white noise–a type of white noise that seemed to have been curated specifically for you–you simply let yourself drift off to sleep.

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme @staaa96 @oiminho @dundullresident @honey-lemon-goose @carefully325 @lavenderxkies @starshine-moon @biribarabiribbaem @meowmeowhoon @100layersofdaddyissues @dearalice @alexis-reads-fics @xcookiemonsteer @knowleeknow @chanlovesme @liminaldaydream @sstarryreads @svngiem @notastraykid @princelingperfect If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form~

just FYI, i’ll be doing a taglist cleanup soon !

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

[concreteburialplot]

Cool About It // 01

01 - Breaking & Entering

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 6.3k

summary; Noah runs into an old friend while visiting his hometown for the holidays. Noah convinces Amelia to meet him on the playground they grew up on to catch up. Reminiscing leads them to a midnight adventure that reminds them all too much of the past.

warnings; alcohol consumption, breaking & entering? stealing? kinda?, hallmark-y, nostalgic, talks of family trauma, cops (acab!), vaguely sad & distraught Noah, uses 'Sebastian' as his last name, 18+ MDNI

disclaimer; welcome to my new short series! reminder that this is hallmark-y bc i began writing it in December lol i decided to challenge myself w this fic in multiple ways, one of the biggest ones was writing it in 3rd person vs my comfy world of 1st or 2nd person. I’ve never written in 3rd person so, if it’s not my best, i apologize, i’m sure it will improve lol

a/n: this is au and follows no actual timelines/events, and uses oc's for family members.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

It had been quite a busy morning, and Amelia was slowly making her way through the longest line she’d had in a while. She finished heating up a cinnamon roll and snapped a lid on what felt like the 75th peppermint mocha she’d made that day.

“Thanks.” Mumbled the distracted patron and stepped off to the side to grab extra napkins.

“Next.” She said while shuffling dollar bills into the clangy register, then looked up motioning to the last customer. Her hazel eyes landed on a man covered in tattoos pre-occupied on his phone. “Next!” Her call was louder than before and this time edged with impatient annoyance.

A familiar pair of dark brown eyes snapped up at her, his gaze more startled than angry.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together and as if on cue, the register dinged closed in time with her realization.

She’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Noah?”

The soft velvet of her voice yanked each edge of Noah’s mouth into a wide toothy smile. “Scout?” He asked in the same caught-off-guard tone. His voice was much deeper than she remembered, and he seemed taller, if that was even possible.

She chuckled at the fact that he used his old nickname for her and felt a tinge of warmth bloom on her cheeks. The ends of her pink lips curled up into an adorably genuine smile. “What are you doing here?” She pressed her palms flat against the cold counter leaning forward and letting soft chocolate curls spill over her shoulder.

“Oh, uh, I’m here with Nicholas.” He thumbed over his shoulder towards the town. “He’s here visiting his family, I just tagged along.”

Tagged along.

She should’ve known, of course Noah would be down here with Nick’s family for Christmas. Where else would he be?

“Oh,” She smiled tenderly at his words and nodded. “Of course.”

Every now and then she’d run into Nicholas whenever he came back to town or ran into his parents while out and about, but it was never anything of significance. Whenever it was Nicholas, she wanted more than anything to inquire about Noah or the band but always kept the interactions short, sweet and reserved. The last thing she wanted was to come off as wanting to “catch up” after they gained a larger audience for clout.

He grinned back at her and there was a quiet moment shared between them, as if they both didn’t know what to say. The feeling in the air swung from having nothing to say to having so many words that it was overwhelming to speak.

The gentle moment was broken by the bell dinging above the door as a new customer walked in.

Her first impulse was to make his usual but stopped herself. “Oh um, whatcha want?” She asked, realizing that his tastes had probably changed since he was 16.

“Just a vanilla cold brew is fine, thank you.” He said with a tight-lipped smile, feeling awkward that she was serving him.

She went ahead and filled his cup with the dark amber liquid. “Do you want a snickerdoodle cookie? They’re freshly baked.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Yes please, they’re my favorite.”

She remembered.

Of course, she did.

How could one forget staying up til 2 am at Nick’s house baking cookies and having Top Chef-level trials trying to achieve the perfect spice mixture for what Noah called, “The Most Snick-of-Doodles that could ever Doodle.”

“You got it.” She smiled placing some pastries into a brown paper bag before handing it to him. “I threw in a cinnamon roll for Nicholas, I made sure to give him the one with the most icing.”

“Oh, he’ll love that.” He chuckled gently taking the bag along with his drink. “We should um, catch up soon?”

“Sure.” She pressed her lips together to keep her grin from growing too wide.

Cold fallen leaves crunched beneath Amelia’s feet as she navigated through a park that she hadn’t stepped foot on in a good ten years. A cool chill made her tug her thick knit cardigan tight around her thin frame.

“Noah?” She delicately whisper-yelled into the darkness, the meet-up destination barely lit by the full ivory moon. She should’ve known that Noah wouldn’t be content with catching up at a restaurant or at her house or anywhere normal.

“Scout!” He replied from the swings a bit to her left. A chuckle left his lips, and he quickly clicked the flashlight on his phone, waving it in the air like a search light.

A deep shade of embarrassment coated her pale cheeks, “There’s no streetlights over here!” She walked over and lightly smacked his arm. “It’s dangerous you know.” The weight of her body creaked the metal frame when she fell into the blue swing seat.

“Or you’re just getting old and need glasses.” He teased with a slight slur riding the end of his words.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” She responded with a playful glare.

She looked over at him thinking how funny it was seeing him so large and full grown in such a tiny, low swing. It looked extremely disproportionate and goofy, like a Great Dane in a shopping cart.

He handed her a bottle of cheap red wine, half drank already.

“Oh, got started without me huh?” She sassed before stealing the bottle from his fingers. “Couldn’t have done beer?” She tips the glass bottle until bitter, dry alcohol infiltrates every tastebud, reminding her why she’d switched to martinis or seltzers in her later years.

He waved her off with a tsk, “Too much hassle. Wine was easier. And you took fuckin’ forever!”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes playfully, it wasn’t like she was all that upset over the wine over beer, just that he drank so much of it already. She pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips once more taking another hefty swig and handed it back to him. “Where’s Nick?”

“Ah,” He swiped the bottle back and took a long gulp. “You know, family stuff.” He wiped the back of hand across his mouth. “I can only handle – so much of it.” His hands motion off his words. “They mean well I just… can’t do too much of it at once.”

Growing up with parents that were as dismissive and absent, then gone all at once like his, knowing how to “family” was odd and foreign to him. As Noah got older, he began to realize that basic family etiquette was a trait he fundamentally lacked, as if he played hooky on some Family 101 course in his formative years. It wasn’t something he inherently prioritized and, at least when he was younger, it would irritate him when friends or colleagues put family above things that he deemed more important, like band related obligations. He never had to deal with family of his own, put it on his schedule or allot energy for it. He simply didn’t understand it.

Sure, he came off as rude at times, leaving friend’s family events early or mentally checking out mid-day. It wasn’t his fault that it was exhausting and overstimulating for him. To him it seemed natural, as if everyone felt that way, something akin to the universal experience of trying to escape school or work. It never crossed his mind that people might actually enjoy their families, nor could he comprehend the necessity for it.

It depended on who, what and when but for the most part it was exhausting to him. Some groups were better than others, like Nick’s family. Over the years they’d housed him for weeks at a time, months even sometimes. As far as Noah was concerned, the Ruffilo’s were his family. He always came and went as he pleased, always an open-door policy to the Ruffilo refuge. But that didn’t exclude Nick’s family from his unintended ignorance and tendency to run. He just could only take so much at once. Lucky for him, they never seemed to mind his behavior much. They never batted an eye; they understood him for who he was and why. Their house was one of the only places he felt comfortable, one of the only places he ever called home.

“I know.” She nodded, wrapping her hands around the thick swing chains. “I remember.”

“Right.” He replies solemnly, taking another sip before swapping it back.

Vivid memories filled Amelia’s brain of 14-year-old Noah tapping on her window like a freshly escaped felon looking for asylum. The heavy, panicked breathing and glassy eyes never matched the mischievous grin plastered across his face. Holidays were the worst; she recalls keeping her window unlocked during the winter months, so he’d always have an alternative escape. The Ruffilo’s were a festive bunch that took any excuse to celebrate. Naturally, Nicholas also only possessed so much adolescent tolerance to endure so many familial festivities so, he too would sneak away with Noah at times but, for the most part it was just him and Amelia celebrating holidays together on her bedroom floor.  

The air was still between them while she took a couple sips of sanguine liquid trying to catch up to him.

“So, you’re a big ol’ rockstar now huh?” The girl smiled, nudging him with her elbow trying to lighten the mood. Even though the words are positive and light, they tasted so sad on her tongue.

He laughed, something she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime. She nearly forgot what it sounded like, but it hadn’t changed really, just a little deeper now. His now tattooed hands grasped both metal swing chains and leaned back a little, using the tension to suspend his body while he observed the stars above them. “Not big. Just opening for some real bands now. Finally able to headline our own little tour soon. Fuckin’ took long enough.” He dismissed the compliment immediately, snuffing it into the ground like a shriveled-up cigarette butt.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his response. He might’ve not seen it as notable accomplishments, but she knew better than to place the validity of success in the hands of someone riddled with imposter syndrome.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool.” She leaned against the chain closest to the long-haired boy.

His lips pulled to a smile while his eyes stayed focused on the sky. “Thanks.”

She followed his gaze and chuckled, “Sky’s pretty interesting huh?” She teased.

“It is when you barely get to see stars. I never really get to see them in LA. Sometimes I forget they’re even up there.” He replied sadly before sitting back up.

Amelia took another sip of the almost empty bottle, starting to feel the warmth of alcohol spread through her body. Something about the stars and Noah made a memory cross her mind that made her burst out into a cackle. “Do you remember when you put SO much work into your astronomy project for the science fair and fucking Nicholas won with his fucking-”

“Moldy bread!” They said loudly in unison before erupting into booming laughter.

“God I was so pissed.” Noah shook his head, “And then I had to eat his fucking moldy bread.”

“Oh yeah because you lost the bet! I forgot all about that!” Laughter filled her ribcage in a way it hadn’t in years, and it felt really fucking good.

“I was so fucking sure I’d win! I should’ve known, Nick has always been the golden boy. Teacher’s-pet swindling ass.” He kicked the sand just as he would’ve at 8 years old. It’s funny how people’s mannerisms don’t really change all that much as they age. Being there with him on their old playground felt like being in a time machine. “Worst food poisoning I ever had.”

“Didn’t you borrow the telescope you used from Nick too?” She questioned, wondering if she just made that part up in her head.

“Yeah, yeah I think I did actually.” His brows furrowed as he dug through his memories. “You know what? It’s probably still in their garage!”

“Really? Maybe you can find it tomorrow.” She poured the rest of the wine into her mouth, savoring the cheap bitterness of it pooling on her tongue.

“But the stars are so pretty tonight!” He whined in classic Noah fashion.

“Yeah so? What are you gonna do? Break into their garage?” She chuckled jokingly.

He straightened up and looked over at her with wide eyes like a lightbulb just lit above his head - a look she remembered all too well.

“No.” She warned, just like she would’ve back then at whatever scheme Noah concocted in his devious little brain.

He gave her a familiar mischievous toothy grin before pushing harshly off the swing.

“No, no, no.” She sighed as he already left his seat swinging and made his way towards the street.

“Noah!” She called after him. When he showed no sign of stopping, she let out a long sigh, questioning how she ended up having to stop a 6’4 man from breaking into houses in the middle of the night. She pushed off the swing, leaving it clanging and swaying behind her.

“Noah I’m not br-“ Her yell dulled down to a hush when she caught up to him. “I’m not breaking into the Ruffilo house at midnight!” Her words were stern but to Noah they just sounded like a child’s warning against curse words.

“We’re not breaking in ‘melia.” He didn’t match her whisper, his voice was loud and proud for anyone in the night to hear. “I remember the garage code.” He announced with drunken pride.

She scoffed, “And what if someone hears the garage, Noah? Then what?”

He shrugged, “Nick is staying there, we’ll just say we were trying to see him or something. You know I have free reign there anyway.”

“This is a really shitty plan, Noah.” She crossed her arms over her chest with a displeased frown.

“It’s a great plan.” He stated confidently, walking in long strides that she could barely keep up with. “You know all my plans are great.”

“Hmm.” She hummed skeptically. “Statistically, I don’t think that’s true.”

Walking down the street with Noah to Nick’s family home in the dead of the night felt so… familiar, as if she was walking in the same exact footsteps as 15-year-old Amelia had, like her memories were tangible in her hands again. She tightened her fists slightly to remind herself that the past was not solid in her hands again. She wasn’t 15 again on some spontaneous, teenage adventure – but the alcohol-fueled adrenaline prickling at her fingertips begged to differ.

Even past midnight, the small neighborhood’s Christmas lights shined bright. Normally, she’d find them obnoxious, but tonight they seemed much sweeter, only adding to the nostalgia.

“Oh no? All of my plans worked out one way or another.” He defended as if it was factual with a straightened back and pointed finger. “All but one.”

Her brows knitted tightly together at his words, because in her memory, there was a good chunk of her life spent stuck in detention because of his schemes.

“And which one would that be?” She sassed back, watching as his speed picked up even more after her question.

“Not important.” He waved the brunette off, “C’mon, we’re here.”

Unexpectedly, his hand slips around her wrist, and it wraps tingly electricity up her arm then across her entire body. All at once the butterflies that used to be so perpetually embedded in her stomach returned in a rampant flurry. Her gaze slowly snapped up to meet his face. His smile hadn’t changed in the near 10 years apart and neither did the bright glint in his espresso eyes. Time seemed to slow around them for that split second where the electricity sizzled beneath both their fingertips and their eyes found each other’s just as easily as they used to. In that brief moment she could’ve sworn she was looking into the eyes of rail thin, tattooless teenage Noah.

“I know they got a Ring doorbell, so we gotta hide between the cars.” He whispered and ducked them both down as he weaved her through the vehicles in the driveway.

“I can’t fucking believe you talked me into this Noah!” She whisper-yelled at him, wanting nothing more than to properly reprimand him.

“Sh!”

They finally found themselves in front of the garage keypad conveniently out of view of the doorbell camera. Noah blinked blankly at plastic number pad without moving. His inked fingers tapped on his own crossed arm while his tongue stayed lodged between his lips in thought.

“Well? Go ahead! Get it over with.” She insisted, motioning urgently to the garage wanting it to be over as fast as possible. She tucked her hands across her body and into her sides giving her some semblance of comfort. The last thing she wanted was for their childish midnight antics to wake up the entire house.

“Hey! Give me time.” He rushed back, lifting a finger in her direction to shush her.

“Time? I thought you said you remembered it!”

“I do! …I think… if they haven’t changed it.” His tone much less confident than before.

“Noah!”

“Hush!” He pressed a finger to his lips at her and took a hesitant step towards the keypad. With a couple semi-sure clicks, the garage door slid open slowly. Amelia exhaled in relief at how the metal clangs of the garage were much quieter than she remembered. Still though, they creaked too loud for her liking, feeling embarrassment and anxiety flood her body.

“Yes!” Noah squeezed his fists up in victory. “See, told you I remembered.”

“Lucky guess.” She rolled her eyes with a smile.

Her eyes widened as the garage door unveiled a gorgeous white car. It was by no means a luxury car, not a Lexus or anything of the sort, but a high enough model to make you look twice. “Damn Mama Ruffilo, ridin’ in style now.”

Noah grinned as he scoots around the car. His smile was reserved, like she had discovered some award he was keeping hidden out of modesty. “Yeah, that’s the one we got her for Mother’s Day.”

“We?” She questioned, her head cocking to the side a bit.

“Yeah, Nick and me. We each paid half.”

“Oh wow, that’s really nice of you.” She replied softly. It didn’t take a genius to calculate just how much it would cost two broke DIY touring bandmates to pay for a new car, even in halves. The vehicle was shiny and spotless, evidently well taken care of – the type of care you’d put into a possession you never thought you’d own, the type of care that came from deep gratitude.

“It’s the least I could do for ya know… everything she’s done for me.”

Amelia nodded knowing exactly what he meant. It was no secret that he was more than a family friend to them, but it was nice to see that he recognized it too. While Noah might not have attended every family event or stayed for long, he showed his love and appreciation in his own small ways. Gifts were one of his favorite ways of doing so. Yeah, Noah might’ve only stayed at a Thanksgiving for an hour or two for food, but he was there long enough to make mental notes for next year, to bring extra cranberry sauce because Nick’s abuela loves it or extra croutons since Nick’s mom tends to snack on them while she cooks. He paid attention and he loved deeply, even if it didn’t seem that way on the surface.

He rustled around some miscellaneous garage junk in the corner, making more noise than Amelia felt comfortable with. She stood up on her tip toes to watch carefully him over the pristine car with her heart beating in her chest begging to rush him again.

“Ah! I knew it’d be here!” He said a little too loud out of excitement and promptly covered his mouth. His wide brown eyes met hers in a silent ‘oops, shit, sorry!’ plea.

In desperate need to escape the anxiety inducing mission, Amelia ran to the end of the driveway the second she saw the telescope in Noah’s hand. It took him longer than it should’ve just to snatch the item, but she didn’t question it or investigate much when he sped right past her after the garage began squeaking closed.

They made it out in record time, holding in their laughter until they reached the end of the street. It only took one look at each other to send them into a cackling fit. Amelia’s delicate hands found his thin arm and used him for stability, while the laughter shook her entire frame.

When they make it back to the park, he set down the telescope and unravels something she somehow didn’t notice he was carrying before.

“Did you steal that from their garage?!”

He grinned and proudly pulled another bottle of wine, white this time, from the blanket he also borrowed. “Yeah? And I’ll just replace them when I bring the telescope back tomorrow.” He carefully sat the wine down at her feet and spread out the buffalo-print blanket over the grass.

“You are so bad!” She chuckled, smacking him playfully with the excess of her long cardigan sleeve.

“Isn’t that what girls want? A bad boy?” He smirked jokingly, getting down on his knees to angle the telescope just right so that they didn’t need to stand up to use it.

She pressed her lips together as she watched him. Sure, that’s what some girls want, but not her. Even when he was landing them in detention every other day and keeping them out way past curfew – even when everyone else considered him a “bad boy” – she knew he wasn’t, not really.

Even now, whenever he got on stage, covered in ink, growling like a demon – she knew he wasn’t, and has never been, “bad”. Not the way she knew him. Amelia had a talent for seeing through people and she always saw right through Noah, from the first time she ever saw him in the back of her 3rd grade class. And all through adolescence, she saw him clearly through all his stormy confliction and thick brick walls.

Noah never saw it of course; how could he believe that someone as sugary sweet as Amelia could possibly ever see him as anything more than comical the social mask he wore with friends. In fact, he would even go as far to believe his mask was thickest and most opaque around her. Whether or not that was factual, didn’t lessen her ability to see him, really see him.

Being told you’re so wrong for so long, makes you believe that no one could ever see you as right. No matter how many friends Noah had at his parties, or fans in his crowds or girls in his bed, he never felt as though anyone saw him as enough. He got so exhausted from constantly trying to outdo himself that sometimes he forgot what exactly he was trying to accomplish.

Amelia never once believed the “bad influence, bad boy” propaganda their parents or teachers ever accused him of. To her, he was just Noah; the weird emo kid in the back of her classes, the neighbor down the street, the other older “brother” of the youngest girl scout in her troop. Amelia knew Noah at his core.

“Ah, bad boys are overrated.” She waved off his words casually.

He turned and gave her an unconvinced look, “Yeah, sure.” he glared playfully before sitting back on his legs. “Well, it’s ready if you wanna look.”

Amelia crawled across the blanket to meet him and peered through the telescope. Billions of tiny stars flooded the glass lens with twinkles and glimmers you’d never be able to see normally. Fluffy white clouds interrupted the view every so often, but it didn’t take away from the breathtaking scene.

“Whoa.” She mouthed quietly, just taking in the sight. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Sure is.” Noah agreed quietly, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them while he watched her.

They took some turns looking out of the telescope and passing the wine bottle back and forth before finally resting side by side on the picnic fabric. The air around them both was full of dwindling laughter over Noah telling silly stories about him and Nicholas and their roommates in LA. At surface level, he seemed to be doing well, despite claiming to hate LA, he appeared to be thriving there. Perhaps it was just the roommates that he enjoyed living with. Noah was never one to enjoy solitude, at least not for long periods of time. When he lived in their hometown, he was rarely wherever he was staying at the time. Getting comfortable anywhere was never his goal or motive. For the most part, it seemed like he enjoyed the constant change, the running. However, the way he talked about their home in California, all the stories he shared that brought the grandest smile to his face or the loudest boom from his chest all took place at their home. Amelia wondered what it must feel like for him to be back in their dreary little town, and if he rattled off all those stories was because he was homesick.

As the space between them flooded with a silence that was equally comfortable and uncomfortable, a question bubbled up that had been eating at Amelia from the moment she laid eyes on the tired darkness hanging beneath Noah’s eyes. His grin for most of the night was wide and toothy but she knew him better than that.

“So,” She turned her head towards him. “How are you, really?”

His eyes stayed transfixed on the stars above and he let a dense quiet settle over them before speaking.

“It must get so exhausting.” He stated, ignoring her question all together.

Her brows furrowed at his words, “What does?”

“Being so bright all the time.” He stated flatly, with a low dejected tone lacing his words.

“The stars?” She questioned with her brows still knitted.

“Sure. The Moon, the cosmos, all of it.” He brought his hands to interlace over his tummy. “Sure, the moon gets a break during the day and gets to disappear for a bit every month. And the stars get to die eventually.

“Right…?”

“But a star’s entire existence is to be bright - they only exist to be bright and then die. The moon works every night to serve as a giant nightlight and to shift some waves around. It must be so exhausting, all of it – being so bright all the time just to burn out into nothing.”

Noah had always been good at avoiding both his feelings and Amelia’s prying questions. It seemed age and time hadn’t changed that specific skill set. Maybe it’s true what they say, people never really change. It worried her that he might’ve not changed at all in that way.

“I mean,” She shifted her head to face the stars again trying to find the answers in the same place he was getting the questions. “You’re not wrong… but, think about the good that they do. The moon does so much on its own for us, you know the tides, the earth’s axis and all that. But we wouldn’t even be here staring at the sky without it all. They’re pretty and,” She shrugs. “And maybe, sometimes, that’s enough.”

“Right.” He responded curtly, pausing a long while before speaking again. “If the moon had consciousness… do you think it would care that most people know it for being pretty and not for being good at its job?” He pondered, not once looking over at the girl, perhaps afraid that his façade would crumble, and he’d spill the truth if he met her eyes.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together once more as she processed his words, doing mental gymnastics to decipher the underlying meaning. Another skill set Noah possessed was being dramatically cryptic, especially when it came to his internal turmoil. Whenever he had some battle waging within him, he suddenly transformed into a makeshift philosopher.

Looking the way he does, it’s fair to assume that his band had garnered recent attention due to his looks – most men would revel in the fleeting female attention, but not Noah. At least not enough to keep him from being contemplative on the lawn of their old park.

Girls or not, Noah had always been particular about his craft. He was lucky he found Nicholas first since he really let Noah take reigns of the entire operation. Like a true perfectionist, Noah carefully curated every song, every show, every rehearsal – even back when they were just playing in Nick’s garage with shitty amps.

Amelia analyzed his words, thinking over her response carefully. “I think the moon would be grateful for the attention either way.” She commented gently. “As long as she’s doing the job she’s meant to do, her beauty getting noticed is just a bonus. As long as she’s doing what she’s destined to do, I think she’d be content doing whatever she needs to, regardless of the affection towards her.”

“Yeah, I guess she would.”

Looking up at the sky, Amelia noticed just how round the moon was that night and how perfectly it was centered in the sky. It looked like the inside of a circus tent, like the star littered sky was just a patterned fabric pierced right in the middle by a giant moon-shaped hole. It felt like it too – as if they were the only ones in some carnival tent far away from anything bad. Below such a vast cosmos, they were just tiny specs of dust in the universe, and she was grateful for the temporary solitude. After years of not even being around Noah, he still made her feel the same. He had a knack for dissolving any real-life problems when they were alone together. When she was with him, she was in a world of their own making. She wondered if she did the same for him, and for his sake, she really hoped she did.

But alas, the bubble they created together that night was not one that could exist forever, and the big top tent must come down after a grand show.

Amelia and Noah ran out of words, at least ones meant to be said that night. They laid side by side with her right hand and his left not even a centimeter apart.

Noah was unaware of whether it was fear, nerves or sadness that fueled the drumming beneath his brittle ribs, but that same force also tugged an invisible string to lift his pinky.

Amelia’s eyes rounded and every muscle in her body tensed up the millisecond she felt him move up and hover over her own pinky.

But before he got the chance to lock over her finger, there was a frightening rustling behind some playground equipment followed by a bright light aimed right at them, blinding the pair.

“Hey! You kids aren’t allowed in here!” Boomed a deep, authoritative voice.

Amelia propped herself up on an elbow and immediately used her arm as a shield to keep the blinding light from burning her retinas any further.

Noah closed his eyes and let out a deep breath through his nose. It was one of the many familiar sounds from the town Noah hoped to never hear again.

“Sebastian? What an unpleasant surprise.” The voice taunted with a vicious edge.

“Officer Hawke.” The eyeroll was thick in Noah’s voice. “So great to see you.”

The big burly man shifted the flashlight beam to Noah directly. “Not shocking that the first time I see you back in town you’re up to no good.” He moved the light back to Amelia’s face. “Also, not shocking that you’ve reunited with your old partner in crime. Corrupting Miss. Alastor again, are we?”

“Officer, we just fell asleep earlier, we didn’t mean to be here so late.” Amelia lied for Noah like she always had. Her and Nick had been the goodie-two-shoes that were always bailing or covering for the long-haired boy. Well, Amelia was truly good, Nick was just skilled at masking his deviant tendencies, using his sweet golden-boy allure to fool everyone. As much as she hated breaking the rules, she secretly loved when Noah enabled it. Her teenage years wouldn’t have been nearly as fun or memorable without the two mischievous boys. Even just lying in the park with Noah after dark made her feel the most alive she’d had in years. It was exhilarating, no matter how much she reprimanded the boy for his reckless rebellion.

“Mhm. Sounds about right, you covering for Mr. Sebastian here, for god knows why.” He speculated, unconvinced. “It’s like I stepped back in time. It seems you both haven’t changed much.”

While the cop had been berating the two, Noah had already began packing up the picnic trying to end the interaction as quickly as possible.

“Sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” She lied.

“Sure.” He retorted. “Get you and your boyfriend out of here. Don’t let me catch you in here again.”

With that he turned and headed back to his vehicle. It was surprising that he just left the pair– not surprising that he just sat and watched them from the comfort of his cop car across the street.

Amelia helped Noah pack everything up before they made their escape from the park. Shortly after they were down the street, the cop car finally drove off. She walked in the direction of her house, thinking that Noah would part ways to maybe head towards Nick’s house to return the stolen items or to Vince’s where he was staying for the time being, but he stayed walking alongside her. He was quiet, which for Noah was strange, especially with her.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home? I know you’re staying in the opposite direction.” She said, stuffing her cold hands in her pockets.

“I want to. It’s dangerous for you to walk alone.” He replied flatly, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk concrete.

Her house wasn’t particularly far from the other two’s, nothing in the tiny town was necessarily far from each other. With a town as small as theirs, a night walk home wouldn’t usually be considered dangerous.

“Well, thanks.” She replied cautiously.

She let her mind wander to the interaction they had at the park with Officer Hawke. Noah’s mood had been fairly consistent all night up until then. She mentally scolded herself for not realizing that running into the overly familiar cop would affect his demeanor. Maybe she just assumed that after so many years into adulthood he’d be over it, but evidently, it was foolish and incredibly mindless for her to believe so.

The rest of the walk was silent, just filled with the sounds of nature in the winter. The crisp cool air zipping with the wind, crashing into every solid object available while owls coo-ed into the darkness.

Finally, they arrived at the chain-link gate of Amelia’s small home. She rested her arm atop the pointy wires of the fence. Any other night she’d probably invite him in, but it was so late and all of the night’s events had already been enough to overfill her tummy with static-y nerves.

“Well, I-“ They fumble over each other’s words. Warmth blooms across Amelia’s cheeks at the joint misstep.

“You go.” She urged.

“No, you go.” He pushed back with a sheepish grin.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and dropped her attention down to her feet. “I was just gonna say that this was… nice.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “It was really nice to see you again Noah.” Her tone soft and genuine, as her eyes meet his again.

He was unprepared for how her eyes looked with the moonlight shining directly into them. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked into them so clearly. He forgot how different they were from each other, well, they weren’t really – but they were when one spent looking at them as intently as Noah had since he was 8 years old. Her eyes were both a hazel but one much more brown while the other had a pretty emerald hue.

“Yeah, it was really nice.” His words sounded true, but his voice was still strained by the sadness from the walk there. “I’m really happy I went into the shop this morning.”

Her lips worked overtime to keep from pulling into a giant grin and suddenly she was grateful for the darkness hiding the red staining her cheeks. “Yeah, me too.”

Noah sucked in a breath to speak but pauses, before returning again, “Um - Nick’s family is throwing their annual Christmas party this weekend, I’m sure he and the Ruffilo clan would love to see you.” He stated with his words moving slightly faster than normal almost like he was nervous to even ask, which is silly isn’t it? Being anxious to invite an old friend to a holiday party you both attended every year growing up? It shouldn’t be that nerve wreaking, right? He scratched the back of his neck. “If you want that is.”

Her eyes nearly light up enough to cut through the darkness. “Yeah,” She beamed a sweet smile up at him.  “I think I’d really like that.”

taglist; @lma1986 @alastriaa @missduffsblog @xxkittenkissesxx @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens @measuredingold @jilliemiw86

[comment to be added to taglist<3]

A/N; thank you so much for reading - again this is my first time writing in 3rd person so i hope it was decent! i hope you enjoyed even though it is definitely not christmas time lmao - lmk what you think! 💗

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

A First Time for Everything (18+ Short Fic)

Pairing: Poly Pro!KirishimaBakugouMina x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You and your girlfriend Mina have been dating for three amazing years. You couldn’t ask for a better partner–someone who is supportive, loving, and willing to explore new things with you…including in the bedroom. So, after a UA High 5-year reunion when you run into THE Katsuki Bakugou and Eijrou Kirishima, two of the top pros in the game and your old crushes, you don’t expect those past butterflies to come rushing back. And when you find out Mina, Kiri, and Bakugou feel the same, you decide to embark on the journey of experiencing your first-ever foursome and possible polyamorous romance.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GO AWAY), Unprotected PIV Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Adult!KiriBakuMina (both are in their late 20s), Alcohol Consumption, Consensual, FOURSOOOME, Poly Romance, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating/Facefucking, Cunnilingus, Spanking, Hair Pulling, Clit Stimulation, Choking, Multiple Positions, Praise Kink, Light Degradation, Couch Sex, Creampies, Facials, Aftercare 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Hiiiiiiii :) I’m back with yet ANOTHER smutty-ass poly short MHA fic cuz I’m a smutty-ass person. This fic is only seven chapters or so cuz I didn’t feel like writing all that lol. Anyhow, I hope y’all enjoy! I appreciate any comments or criticism so feel free to drop any. Love y’all! -Jazz

CHAPTERS: ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.

AO3 Link HERE!

**********

CHAPTER ONE

You’d never felt more nervous than you do now standing at the threshold of Dynamight and Red Riot’s ridiculously huge and beautiful home, your hand wrapped tightly in your girlfriend’s.

The two top pro heroes’ home makes your and your partner Mina’s condo look like shit. Your eyes roam over the glass windows and balconies on the upper floors; the large pool and two large cabanas on the patio covered by the tarp to protect from the rain; the personal tennis and basketball courts you can see from your spot at the steps, facing the door. It is truly the epitome of wealth.

It also reminds you that you’re about to enter the home of two pros who you’ve also been crushing on since they hit the scene. It’s a stupid, schoolgirl crush, like the ones you have on celebrities and dreamy characters in books and TV shows. It’s one your girlfriend teases you about often, especially since she knows them so well.

Mina, with her gorgeous, golden eyes and supportive smile, glances at you as you stand together under the overcast clouds in the warm summer night. “Ready?” she asks gently. “We should go inside now before the storm starts. Kiri said we’re free to stay to wait it out later if we want.”

You haven’t even started the night yet and yet the talk of a “later” makes you flush in your light cardigan and sundress that feel soft against your bare thighs and legs. Mina had helped you pick out the outfit and you paired it with some nice simple flats. Your makeup is on the softer side, not wanting to go dramatic for a simple home-cooked dinner and movie.

Mina is much different. She went for a turquoise mini dress that hugs her toned body and shows off her legs, right down to her painted toes peeking out of her open-toed sandals. She looks damn good and you made that known to her during the car ride over with your hand on her thigh and your lips on hers.

The day leading up to tonight wasn’t as bad, with so many tasks and duties distracting you enough to not think about it. But with everything now coming to fruition, you’re less than ready, even though you had agreed to it with enthusiasm. Mina, noticing that you haven’t answered, drops your hand and twists you around. “You’ve got that look on your face,” she comments. You blink at her, confused. “What look?”

“That look you get when you’re deep in thought,” she replies, her tone firm. “Talk to me, babe. What’s wrong? Do you not wanna do this? Because we can turn around right now and–”

“No!” you immediately reply in a frantic snap. She blinks at you, surprised. You sigh deeply, feeling bad for acting like this. After all, you and she are really here because of you. For the past month since that UA High reunion, you and Mina have embarked on a very interesting and very intoxicating voyage that led right to Dynamight and Red Riot.

The reunion was sometime in late April and every person who graduated from UA was in attendance, including Class A-1. Mina took you as her date to celebrate your two-year relationship and to introduce you to old friends and teachers. You had seen some people you were excepting to come, but what you didn’t expect to see at all was Katsuki Bakugou and Ejirou Kirishima.

You had literally bumped into Bakugou while getting yourself a glass of punch from the snack table after an hour of dancing with Mina and the A-1 girls to the music that just seemed to get better and better with every transition. You didn’t quite see where you were going and bumped right into hard muscle and flesh.

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” you immediately apologized. “I didn’t even see…” Your words died in your throat as soon as you looked up into the vermillion eyes and scowl of Bakugou who looked dapper in his burgundy button-down, suit jacket, and tailored pants. He was tall with piercings in his eyebrow and ear and his unruly blonde hair was styled into an undercut that fit him well.

“…you,” you finished, the word coming out of your lips like an exhale.

Bakugou didn’t say anything. He just continued to fix you with that look, similar to that of the old days. You expected him to start yelling at you and call you a dumbass as Mina said he usually did with people he thought were extras back when they were teens, and you mentally braced yourself for the public humiliation of knocking into Dynamight, pro hero number two.

But instead, Bakugou’s face broke as he began to laugh, throwing his head back. “Aw, man!” he cackled. “You should’ve seen your face! You looked like you were gonna piss yourself!” He doubled over, still laughing hysterically.

You stood there, not sure what to do or say. “Katsuki!” someone yelled from behind you. The voice was deep and raspy, similar to Bakugou’s but a bit higher and very familiar to you. You turned to see none other than Ejirou Kirishima in all of his big broadness. He wore a black V-neck that stretched over his broad chest and big pecs that should’ve been illegal, dress slacks, and a burgundy jacket that matched Bakugou’s a little too well.

As he got closer, you mapped out his features: his hair was long, pulled into a low bun; he had his own piercings as well, including in both ears, his eyebrow, and his nipples that you could clearly see through the thin fabric of his shirt; and he was rocking black stubble on his chin and upper lip that resembled a goatee that looked absolutely, ridiculously sexy on him. “Is he bothering you, miss?” he asked gently. “Sorry. He’s a little tipsy.”

You were at a loss for words, too shook to speak. Your heart hammered against your chest, as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Desperately, you searched for words, but you were luckily saved by your girlfriend. “Kiri!” Mina shouted from behind Katsuki as she raced off the dance floor. “Katsuki!”

Kiri’s crimson eyes widened at the sight of his old friend. “Mina Ashido!” he hollered. “Fuck, girl, it’s been forever!” He swooped in to embrace her, taking her right off the ground. She squealed, wrapping her arms and legs around him before he put her down. “How have you been?” he asked happily. “Pro work treating you well? Fuck, you look amazing! You been growing your hair out?”

“Oi, shitty-hair,” Bakugou grumbled, nudging Kiri hard with his elbow. “Relax with the third degree, huh? You just ran into the girl.” He smirked down at her. “What’s up, shorty? You gonna give me a hug or what?”

Mina giggled and swooped in for a hug, earning a squeeze from Bakugou and his impressive arms. You were surprised at the spark of jealousy you felt seeing your pretty girlfriend get hugged by the two equally pretty men, wanting to feel their arms around you too. “Hey, you guys met Y/N, my girlfriend?” Mina asked once she moved away from Bakugou. She took your hand and brought you closer to the duo, smiling proudly.

“Oh, so this is her?” Kiri asked, grinning down at you. “It’s so nice to meet you! We’ve seen you a lot on Mina’s IG.” He stuck his hand out and you shook it, noticing how much bigger and rougher it was.

Bakugou stuck his hand out too, but you eyed it warily. “Do you really deserve a handshake after laughing at me?” you asked, and he raised a brow at your quip. Mina looked between you two, confused. “Wait, huh?”

As Kiri laughed, you smirked. “Long story.”

“Chill,” Bakugou sighed. “It was a joke. And it was kinda funny.” He stuck out his hand to you once more, smiling. “Come on. Truce?” You stared him down for a while until, finally, you gave in and shook his hand. “Katsuki. Nice to meet you.” He gave you a dazzling smile that nearly left you without your sarcastic front for a moment.

Mina let out a big sigh, shaking her head up at the guys. “Can’t believe the second and forth most popular pros decided to show up for us extras.”

“Hey, the number one is here too,” Kiri replied, referring to Deku. “By the way, congrats on your spot at number seven.” Mina grinned widely at the mention of her accomplishment. “Thanks! It was hard, but I’m happy. But I’m aiming for number six next year. Charge Bolt better watch his fucking back!”

“You guys wanna sit with us?” Kiri nodded at an empty table nearby, claimed by their jackets. “We just got here, so we were just making rounds until we ran this one.” He smiled apologetically at you, filling your stomach with butterflies. “Sorry you had to fall victim to Katsuki’s pregame.” Bakugou rolled his crimson eyes.

“Sure!” Mina answered before turning to you. “Is that okay with you, babe?” You could only muster a nod, too afraid to open your mouth and say something embarrassing. You could hardly believe it when Kiri and Bakugou walked you over to their table where a plate of snacks sits–cheese cubes, crackers and salami, fruit, and pastries. Kiri told you and Mina they were up for grabs as he and Bakugou sat down across from you.

“So what’s been up, stranger?” he asked, grinning at Mina. He sat back against his chair, slinging an arm over Bakugou’s seat. “Sorry it’s been so long since we’ve talked. With trying to keep crime off the streets, it’s been–”

“Hey.” Mina’s tone was firm, but her smile was kind. “No apologies. Life happens and besides, we’re all here now.” She put a hand over Kiri’s and grinned at Bakugou. “Just like old times.” Bakugou smirked at her and you envisioned them all as teens in high school, just like this.

“And we’re finally meeting you too,” Kiri said, giving you a sweet smile. “You pick ‘em well, Mina.” The compliment made you flush under the lights. “Well, she picked me, really,” Mina giggled, nudging you with her knee. “It’s hard to find people that aren’t trying to just fuck a pro in this world. Wanna know how we met?”

She began to tell the story of how you met at a speed-dating event that your friends forced you to attend after a dead-end relationship ended months into dating. Mina was there to meet someone after being tired of hookups or people wanting to date her just for the money or fame aspects. Out of all the dates you had, you clicked with Mina the most, regardless of her status, and picked her to give your number after the event ended. After going home, her eyes, like sunken treasure, and pink curls haunted your dreams.

After the story finished, Kiri asked what you did for work and you were happy to respond, going into detail for both him and Bakugou. “I love what I do,” you said. “And it pays well.”

“How’s it feel to be dating a pro hero, huh?” Kiri then asked, smiling playfully at you. You were happy to answer that too. “Amazing,” you cooed, holding Mina’s hand in yours and gazing into her eyes. “It’s been two years and I still feel like I’m getting to know her every single day.” Mina gave you a dazzling smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”

While Kiri audibly “aww”ed at you, Bakugou clicked his tongue against his mouth, rolling his eyes. “You guys are disgusting,” he grumbled before taking a sip of punch that may or may not be spiked with something.

“So what about you?” you asked, more to play with him than actually know. Bakugou glared at you for even asking. “Anybody have you wrapped around your finger? Or you, Eji?” Kiri glanced at Bakugou and a blush coated his cheeks. “Uh, you could say that…”

He glanced again at Bakugou who scowled back at him but it isn’t mean or cold. If anything, it was affectionate. Slowly, the puzzle pieces began to fit together. Wait,” you gasped softly. “Are you two dating?” The guys silently looked at you, neither saying yes nor no. “Seriously?!” you whispered, mouth agape. “I thought those were just rumors!”

For a while, there had been rumors of Dyanmight and Red Riot being more than just coworkers or friends.

“Nope,” Kiri replied, validating your suspicions. “It’s the real deal, but we’ve been keeping it under wraps since the damn paparazzi will make a story out of our dating lives than what we do as heroes.” Bakugou huffed at the mention of them. “Fuckin’ losers.”

You leaned in towards Mina. “Did you know?” you whispered in her ear. She leaned in, nearly knocking your forehead with hers. “Yeah, but they swore me to secrecy. They’d been dating since high school on and off ‘cause of Bakugou’s emotional issues.” She turns to her friends, smiling as Kiri tells Bakugou a joke and he tries not to laugh. “But I guess they’ve gotten stronger.”

You leaned away from Mina, clearing your throat. “So are you guys here together together or…?”

“Nah, just as friends,” Kiri replied. “Which we’re trusting you to keep a secret. Can we make sure you don’t go flapping your gums to some trashy tabloid?” He gave you a mock-serious stare that made your heart knock a little faster against your chest, especially combined with Bakugou’s intense glare.

Luckily for you, the alcohol was working its magic and you leaned in with a smile. “Boys, your secret is safe with me,” you slyly said, crossing your heart. “So.” You curled your fist under your skin, smiling at the attractive pro couple sitting across from you. “What’s been up with you pros?”

The reunion lasted for another hour, most of it spent with Kiri and Bakugou laughing, talking, and trying to get Bakugou to dance. When the night ended, you felt like you knew the couple well and felt yourself feeling sad without them as they walked you and Mina outside the school.

As Mina started the car with her keys, Kiri gave each of you a hug. You felt safe and warm in his muscular arms, those butterflies becoming annoying as he squeezed you to his hard chest. “You girls stay safe, alright?” he said. “We’ll follow you home if you want.”

You giggled as Mina rolled her eyes playfully. “Always the protective one.” Kiri shrugged, still looking concerned for you–it was cute. “Hey, what can I say? Crime is lurking around every corner.”

“Stop killing my buzz, shitty hair!” Bakugou growled after he started his sportscar. Mina laughed as she walked to the car, ready to go home and sleep. Before you could follow her, Bakugou grabbed your hand. Your eyes glanced at his hand in yours before looking into those eyes like rubies. “Mina can give you our numbers. You’re gonna call, right?”

Though his tone sounded rough, which you realized was just his natural voice, you weren’t intimidated at all. He sounded hopeful and his eyes almost held a plea in them that you couldn’t refuse. “Y-Yeah,” you stuttered out, surprised you could even speak.

Bakugou nodded once, looking pleased by that, before Kiri butted in and pressed an unexpected kiss to your cheek. “It was nice meeting you, Y/N,” he whispered, his peppermint-fresh breath fanning in your face. “We hope to see you again soon.”

And you hoped that too. God, did you hope that with all your being!

Mina seemed to want that too because in the weeks after the reunion, the four of you were talking nonstop in the group chat made for you, meeting up on lunch breaks, and going out for day and night activities. It was the most fun you’d had with other people besides Mina and after a while, in your stupid brain that seemed to love to torture you with your girlish fantasies, started to think of your activities as dates.

However, your feelings for Kiri and Bakugou transformed into something more intimate and sensual, not quite a schoolgirl crush anymore, when you all went out for drinks one Friday night after your shift ended. Kiri and Bakugou had picked you up at your office while Mina met you there later after her patrols ended.

You had been there for two hours when the drinks started hitting and everything seemed warmer and bubblier, and Bakugou’s story about his and Kiri’s nightclub romp with an obsessed fan that much funnier. “No way!” Mina shouted while you giggled uncontrollably.

“I’m telling you it happened,” Bakugou grinned as Kiri took a sip of his beer. “She fucking threw herself at Kiri and me butt naked and proclaimed her undying love to us.” He shivered at the memory. “That’s the last time we tried anything new, like that damn nightclub.”

“Aw, come on, Katsuki,” Mina cooed, sipping her third cocktail of the night. “Trying new things is good! Y/N and I do it all the time: new restaurants, new activities, new toys–” She covered her mouth immediately and you froze, your drink at your lips. “That slipped out,” she said apologetically to you.

You could’ve hidden in embarrassment at your tipsy girlfriend’s big mouth. Kiri and Bakugou stared you two down, eyes wide. “Wait, wait,” Kiri said with a guffaw, “now you have to finish that thought. What do you mean ‘toys’?”

“What do you think she means, dumbass?” Bakugou snickered. “Sex toys.” Kiri raised his pierced brow, surprised by delighted by your and Mina’s secret. “You two are freaky like that?”

“Sex toys aren’t even that freaky!” you laughed, the alcohol influencing your looseness. “And yes, we like to indulge in new things from time to time to spice up our sex life.” “Like any loving, long-term couple would.”

Kiri and Bakugou shared an unreadable look. “Like what?” Bakugou grumbled. “Name ‘em.”

Mina looked at you for permission and you nodded, a light, tipsy giggle on your lips. She hummed to herself, counting them off on her fingers. “We’ve done shibari, a bit of dabbling in BDSM, handcuffs, roleplay…” She glanced at you thoughtfully. “We forgetting something?”

“We’ve done all that too,” Kiri snickered. “Katsuki is fond of handcuffs.” Bakugou growled while you began thinking of him handcuffed to Kiri’s headboard, body on full display. “So what’s something you two haven’t tried yet that you’d want to in the bedroom?” he asked, glancing at you. “We’ll start with you.”

Then all eyes were on you, anticipating your answer. You flushed under their gazes and the heat of the lights above, suddenly regretting drinking the cocktails. “Um…” You stirred your straw around your glass, avoiding their eyes. “I’ve always wanted to have a foursome with another couple.”

“Really?” Kiri asked, sounding shocked. “Even with you being possessive, Mina?” Mina giggled. “Anything my baby wants, she gets.” Her pet name made you flush. “Plus I’ve always wanted to try it too. I’ll try anything once.”

“Same here,” Kiri replied, and Bakugou hummed in agreement.

“But we could never find any good couples to do that with,” Mina continued. “People are fuckin’ weird, especially to pros. Yeah, we’re celebs in a way, but we’re people too. You don’t have to constantly flaunt that you had sex with one.”

You nodded because yes, it’s been hard to really put your fantasy into action ever since you let Mina in on it. “So why a foursome, cutie?” Kiri asked, and you flicked your eyes up to him finally.

You wish you didn’t. His and Bakugou’s vermillion eyes on you felt too personal. Too intimate. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to feel secure. “I don’t know.” Bakugou grunted, shaking his head. “That ain’t an answer.”

You sighed, realizing they wouldn’t let up until you gave them an honest, stripped answer. So, with a sip of your cocktail, you gave it to them: “Mina and I have been together for two years. When we met, we’ve always been adventurous and willing to try new things with each other to excite our sex life. I figured maybe being with another couple would be fun to experience together and maybe make our relationship stronger, I guess.”

After you finished, you peered at Kiri and Bakugou through your lashes, smirking. “Was that an answer?” you boldly ask. They didn’t answer you, but those hot gazes stayed on their faces.

You shifted in your seat, feeling warm–and not from the alcohol. “As pros, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of rendezvous together, right?” you asked, your voice coming out breathless. Kiri shook his head, answering for Bakugou. “No?” you asked, shocked.

“We’re definitely not against it,” he explained. “It’s just not something we’ve tried before. Can’t say it doesn’t sound hot though.” He grinned toothily at you and it filled your body with butterflies.

He leaned back in his seat, exposing the stretch of his muscles in his tight, white tee. “Only problem is we’re both possessive, so if we have sex with other people, it has to be together.” He looked between you and Mina, eyes hooded. You passed it off as the alcohol’s influence. “And the partners we manage to rendezvous with have to be ours entirely. Feels better that way, in my opinion.”

Bakugou was fixing you with the same gaze, his eyes never breaking from either you nor Mina. “Agreed,” he softly growled.

A week after that conversation, you knew you were attracted to them. There was no denying it or keeping it from Mina any longer. So, one Saturday afternoon, you decided to go on a walk with Mina in your local park.

Hand in hand and away from the joggers, dogwalkers, and school kids out for the weekend, you got up the nerve to tell her your damning secret. “I have to tell you something,” you nervously began, “and I’m only telling you because I love you and I know that communication is key in healthy relationships.”

Mina stopped walking and stared at you, trying to hide her worry. “Okay.”

Under the blooming trees in the late-spring breeze, you allowed yourself to come clean despite the nervous pricks at your skin. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, “I’m feeling some type of way for Kiri and Bakugou.”

Mina blinked at you, never responding. “Not in a bad way!” you rushed to explain. “I like them a lot, but…just in a friendly way.”

Once again, she wordlessly blinked at you and you groaned, frustrated. “Fuck, I’m attracted to them! I don’t know how it happened, but every time we’re together, I just feel hot all over and I can’t focus on anything but them. And, of course, I’m attracted to you too, but now it’s like I’m attracted to all three of you. …Am I making sense?”

You stopped your word vomit momentarily to look at your girlfriend, screaming internally for a response. Finally, after staring you down, she replied. “Yes, and I feel the same way.” Now it was your turn to blink at her, shocked. “Y-You do?” you stuttered softly.

Mina toyed with the stray string on her oversized yellow sweater, shy. “I didn’t tell you this before,” she admitted, “but Kiri, Baku, and I had an FWB thing back in high school for a short time. It only lasted for a semester because we decided we worked better as friends, but…” She sighed, looking conflicted. “My crush on them never faded and I guess seeing them again only made it flare back up. I didn’t wanna tell you because it felt like I was cheating on you in some way.”

You swear you could’ve kissed her right there. Relief flooded through you like the cool spring breeze did in your lungs. “Me too,” you confessed. “I felt so bad that I felt this way about other people, let alone a couple.”

Mina’s shoulders dropped in relief and she reached for your hand, squeezing it. “I’m so glad we were able to talk about this,” you sighed happily. “Which brings me to my next topic…” You felt those nervous pricks again, that flip in your stomach nearly making you not say it. “Uh…you know how you’ve always wanted a foursome, but we could never find the right couple to do it with?”

Mina quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah…”

You flushed, biting your lower lip. “Um…w-well…I’m starting to think that maybe Kiri and Katsuki are the right couple.”

Realization cleared in your girlfriend’s gold eyes. “Y/N, are you saying you’d want to have a foursome with my best friends?” she asked lowly. You stared down at your shoes, waiting for her to refuse and break up with you. “Because if so, I’d happily go along with it.”

You stared back up at her, shook. “Wait, seriously?”

Mina laughed, the sound startling. “Shit, yeah!” she shouted cheerfully. “When I talk on the phone with the guys, you should hear the way they talk about you. And when we’re out, the looks they give you aren’t exactly subtle or friendly.”

She smirked as you flushed over her words. “I’ve been feeling this way for a while too, but I wanted to make sure you got to know them first before we really talked about it, y’know?”

You could’ve done more than kiss her at that moment. You could’ve fucked her right there in the park. “Babe…” Joy filled you, making you giggle deliriously. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“Believe it, baby,” Mina hummed, closing the gap between you both with a peck on your lips. “We can talk about it more, but would you want me to call the guys and suggest it to them? Though something tells me they’d be down for it anyway.” Her hands go for your hips, holding you close. “They wouldn’t know how good they got it, fucking a pretty girl at the same time.”

Heat pooled between your thighs at her dirty words and you wrapped your arms around her. “You mean two pretty girls at the same time,” you cooed. “Thank you, Mina, for this.”

She smiled at you, nudging your nose with hers. “Thank me when we get a yes.”

And a very enthusiastic and quick yes from both the guys is what you got. That week, you and Mina were going over boundaries and kinks with Kiri and Bakugou while out for coffee, the conversation barely sexual and serious. You wouldn’t have expected to have gotten turned on over a latte while Kiri and Bakugou listened intently to all your likes and dislikes, your ins and outs, as if committing them all to memory.

They had decided to invite you and Mina over for a date night before your fantasy took place. Bakugou demanded he cook while Kiri took care of the cleaning and picking the movies. It was a sweet gesture, especially given the context of the date night.

That is how you find yourself here now, facing your own fantasy head-on and feeling horrible for making Mina worry so much. “I’m sorry, Mina,” you sigh apologetically. “I guess I’m just a little nervous. I mean, fantasies are different from reality.”

Mina nods, squeezing your hand tightly. “I understand,” she softly says. “But remember, babe: this is about you. If you’re having second thoughts or you feel that you aren’t ready, please let me know. This can either be just a normal dinner or we can leave.”

You nod, exhaling deeply. Though her words comfort you, those damn butterflies still frantically flap their wings against your stomach, making you want to bolt. ‘No!’ you think, irked with yourself and your anxiety. ‘You’re not leaving. You have nothing to worry about.’

Mina suddenly drops your hand and comes up behind you, distracting you from your thoughts.

“But it’d be a shame to waste such an outfit,” she purrs into your ear as her hand toys with the hem of your sundress that stops mid-thigh. “I’m sure Bakugou would love to see you in this. He has a thing for your legs.” She giggles the hitch in your breath as her hand glides up and under your dress. “Just looking at your body in this dress is doing things to me.”

Her fingers glide across the naked skin of your thigh, dangerously close to your underwear. “Mina…” Her name is a nervous whimper on your lips, afraid that someone might see.

Luckily, you get a warning first when the front door to Dynamight and Red Riot’s home cracks open. Mina immediately snatches her hand away from you and grins at the very handsome and grinning Kiri that greets you. “Hey, you guys made it!” he cheerfully states. “C’mon inside before it rains.”

With a supportive glance your way, Mina grabs your hand and takes you inside.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XIII.

GIF by alexturner

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Literally just Jolene by the iconic Dolly Parton.

WORD COUNT: ~7.7k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: angst :p, OFC lowkey being a brat and javi not tolerating that shit, some horniness to satiate the masses, alcohol consumption, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: for the sake of the plot we're just gonna pretend that before he cheats exist at this point of time okay? okay! anywhooo we're so close to getting to the fucking fluff of this fic... our couple deserves some semblance of PEACE and HAPPINESS am i right? but that sweet, sweet angst must come first in order for the pay off to be gr8 <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma begins her parade of amends with her boss at the library, profusely apologizing for being fickle which typically isn’t like her. She’s been so caught up in August and his wistful musings that it momentarily had her acting out of character.

Fortunately, Olsen accepts her apology almost as quickly as the words tumble from her lips. He reassures her that it’s okay and that what he really needs is for her to begin logging books into the new computer system they’re implementing.

So that’s exactly what she does. She situates herself behind the circulation desk and spends her entire shift typing away at the clunky keyboard, surrounded by carts stacked with books. She’s so engrossed in her task that she doesn’t even notice when Sloane walks in, a giant smile lighting up her face.

“Hey, doll.”

Her eyes flicker up to meet her friend’s and she feels a tinge of frustration at her presence. The last time they were together, she had tried to convince her to kill someone and then got pissed when Paloma didn’t go through with it.

“Hey,” she replies simply, her voice lacking its usual warmth and quickly returning her attention to the computer, muttering under her breath at how sluggishly it’s operating.

She hears a sigh, and then Sloane is leaning forward against the desk, tilting her head to the side and pouting. “Are you still mad at me?”

A snort escapes her, eyes still fixed on the screen. “Yes and no. If I’m bein’ honest with you, I’m feelin’ real conflicted.”

Sloane’s cadence is lighter as she asks, “What can I do to smooth things over?”

“Give me the space I told August I needed.”

Their gazes lock, and Sloane’s shoulders slump, the weight of her words settling in.

“Why on god’s green earth are you wearing a scarf in the middle of the summer?” Paloma can’t help but ask, eyeing the flimsy material around her neck.

“That’s actually why I stopped by. I was hopin’ you weren’t so mad at me so I could tell you ‘bout the amazin’ fuckin’ lay I got last night.”

At this, Paloma rolls her eyes and flips open the next book, meticulously scanning it for imperfections. Leave it to her so-called best friend to reach out just to brag about getting laid. 

Not to check in on her or apologize for being a giant cunt back in Louisiana. 

She decides to pacify her, hoping that feigning interest in her love life will get her out of the library without the awkwardness that would come if she just outright told her to leave. 

“Really?” Her tone drips with forced enthusiasm. “Tell me all about it.”

Sloane launches into her story overdramatically, obviously messing with her, but she still nods along, her mind only half-engaged. She silently prays for the conversation to end soon, eager to return to the relative peace of her book-logging task.

“Alright, quit beatin’ around the bush. Who was it?”

The scarf is slipped off, revealing her marked-up neck, and her eyes widen at the sight. “Christ almighty, Slo, who did you sleep with? Dracula?” Various purple splotches litter the other girl’s skin, and she wonders how long it’s going to take for those suckers to heal.

Sloane giggles, smirking as she shows off her neck. “No. But that woulda been one hell of a story. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night.”

Time stops. The air stills, and her motions halt entirely. Sloane continues talking, but all Paloma can hear is the blood rushing in her ears and the rapid acceleration of her heartbeat at the news. 

I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night. I fucked Javier Peña in his truck after work last night.

She feels like she’s been punched in the gut, the wind knocked straight out of her. She tries her hardest not to let her body language reflect the heartbreak that surges through her.

Javier Peña. Of all people. Shock and something she can’t quite place thud in her chest viscously. Forcing herself to focus, she tries to catch the tail end of Sloane’s story, but her mind is a mess.

She shouldn’t care, but the problem is that she does. Despite things between her and Javi being a done deal. They’ve both made their intentions clear and it is better to pretend like the other doesn’t exist until he leaves town.

So why is she so hurt at the fact that her best friend had gotten a taste of the man she’s supposed to be over? Why does she feel that nasty green monster slithering its way through her body, into her chest, and up her throat?

“You what?” She interrupts, not even listening to what she said after. 

Sloane’s voice trails off, her eyes widening slightly at Paloma’s sudden intensity. “I, uh, slept with Javi,” she repeats, feigning confusion.

The envy and betrayal coil tighter around her lungs, making it hard to breathe. She forces herself to look at her ‘best friend’ and she sees the hidden excitement in her eyes. It only deepens her ache.

“Why him?” Paloma asks, the words tinged with a vulnerability she can’t hide.

Sloane shrugs, once more pretending to be oblivious to the turmoil she’s purposefully caused. “It just happened, P. We were talkin’ after work, ‘n one thing led to another… I figured you wouldn’t mind, considerin’ you’re with August now and hate the officer’s guts. I was jus’ havin’ some fun. No harm in that.”

No harm in that. Nodding slowly, a tight smile forces its way on her lips, “Well, I hope it was worth it,” she says strained but steady. How badly does she want to verbally eviscerate her and drag her across the floor by the crown of her hair.

The keyboard keys feel foreign beneath her fingers as she attempts to return to the task at hand. She knows she’ll have to confront her feelings eventually, but for now, all she can do is focus on her work to try and keep the pieces of her shattered heart from showing.

“Look, Slo, I’m happy to hear you’ve been keepin’ busy,” wince, “but I’ve got a lot to go through here ‘n I would like to be left alone to get it done. If you don’t mind.”

There’s a beat of silence as Sloane studies her, and Paloma pretends not to feel the weight of her stare. If she keeps looking at her like this, she will burst into angry, frustrated tears.

“Right… right. I’ll leave ya to it, doll face.” She taps her fingers against the counter, then adds softly, “And… just so you know, I am sorry ‘bout losin’ my shit that night in Louisiana. Wasn’t very fair to you.”

What isn’t fair to me is for you to sleep with the guy I cried on your shoulder about for weeks.

“Thanks. I’ll see you,” she replies curtly, trying not to let her hands shake as she reaches for another book.

Slo finally leaves, and she waits for her to be fully out of the building before letting out a heavy sigh. The ache intensifies, weighing down on her poor heart. She stares at the screen, the words blurring as tears threaten to spill over but she forces herself to keep typing.

The quiet of the library is almost oppressive, amplifying the commotion inside her. She can still see the image of Sloane’s marked neck, a painful reminder of what transpired between them. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the pain just doesn’t subside.

She can’t afford to break down here. Not now. Not yet. She’ll deal with the aftermath later, when she’s alone.

After thirty agonizing minutes, she realizes that she simply can’t. All she can visualize is Javier and Sloane together in the most intimate way possible. His lips all over her, her hands on him. Was she a better kisser than her? Had Javier enjoyed being inside Sloane more than being inside her?

Standing abruptly, she smooths out her sundress and goes to track down Olsen, finding him tucked away in the science fiction section of the library.

“I’m sorry to do this,” she begins, already cringing at the request she’s about to make, “but I’m just not feelin’ good. I feel nauseous. Like I’m about to vomit.” It’s not technically a lie; with every blink, there’s an image of Sloane bent over for Javier, and it makes her emotionally sick.

Olsen sighs, giving her a look. “How far into the logging did you get?”

She answers, and he agrees to let her leave, telling her he hopes she feels better and to let him know whether she’d be able to come in for her next shift.

Grateful for his kindness but also feeling guilty about how unreliable she’s been, Paloma thanks him before gathering her things and leaving the building.

The warm summer weather contrasts sharply with the coldness that’s crept over her entirely. She walks slowly, each step feeling heavy, her mind racing with thoughts she wishes she could escape.

Finding a quiet spot in a nearby park, Paloma sits on a bench and takes a deep breath. She watches the leaves rustle in the gentle breeze, the world moving on obliviously around her.

She just needs a moment of goddamn peace.

It’s serene here. Children laugh and play in the distance, couples stroll hand in hand, and birds chirp merrily in the trees. But all Paloma can think about is the betrayal she feels, the jealousy that gnaws at her, and the deep hurt of knowing that the man she still harbors feelings for has slept with her best friend.

She really shouldn’t be so worked up over this. While she and August have never explicitly put a label on their relationship, they’re together. Hell, she’s fucked him more times than anyone else she’s been with.

Then why is it that she’s so pressed about Javier, a single man, hooking up with Sloane, a single woman?

It’s because of the tangled mess that is her connections to both of them. How she had been vulnerable with Sloane about her conflicting feelings towards him, and how Sloane had always been there to reassure her that he was nothing more than a piece of shit manwhore and that she deserved better.

So why go and sleep with him?! Paloma groans, her fingernails digging into the skin of her palm as she balls her fists out of anger.

She contemplates whether she wants to cry it out at home or by the abandoned railroad tracks. The answer is neither, because before she knows it, she’s at The Whiskey Fox ordering a shot of tequila.

“Stranger danger,” Tammy, eldest of the three sisters who own the bar, approaches her with a sardonic simper on her face.

Paloma just waves her off, her heartbreak evident as she takes the shot and immediately orders another, earning a surprised look from the older woman.

“Woah there, sugar. What’s goin’ on? You hardly ever drink, let alone do back-to-back shots.”

She just shrugs, staying silent as she proceeds to shoot the drink, not even grimacing as it burns down her throat, then reaching for a lime wedge to bite into. Tammy watches her with a mix of concern and curiosity, leaning against the bar, her maternal instincts kicking in. “Why don’t ya tell me what happened? Might help to get it off your chest.”

For a moment, Paloma considers it. Considers unloading it all onto this poor woman but she remains silent, twirling the empty shot glass between her fingers.

“Oh, c’mon now, Paloma. S’bad enough that you’ve ghosted us for the past month. Don’t give us the silent treatment too. What’d we do to you, darlin’?”

Rolling her shoulders, she keeps her gaze fixed on the empty shot glass in front of her. “Y’all didn’t do anythin’,” her voice is a little hoarse due to how dry her mouth feels, and there’s a pang of guilt in her stomach at hearing how her absence has affected the people she cares about. “I’ve just been dealin’ with a lot.”

She let her friends lead her down a fantastical path, and while it was exciting and thrilling at first, she’s realizing that it shifted her into a defiant headspace she wasn’t used to and didn’t like being in. When did everything get so complicated? What happened to just basking in the attention of two handsome men and enjoying a summer romance?

Now she’s caught in the middle of something so convoluted. Her mother’s mysterious past, the uncertainty of her own future, the heartbreak she continues to suffer at the hands of Javier Peña, and the gut-wrenching betrayal of her so-called best friend. She feels overwhelmed by the severity of it all, like she’s sinking in a never-ending pit.

Fuck, she needs another drink. She goes to order it, but Tammy blocks her. “Okay, so spill. The tequila is not goin’ t’ make it any better, baby, trust me. I’m speakin’ from experience.”

Paloma snorts, shaking her head, exasperation bubbling inside her. She just wants to numb herself with alcohol, to drown out the images of Javier and Sloane together. “Just guy problems, Tam. Now will you please let me drink my sorrows away? I’ll deal with the consequences and the hangover later.”

Tammy contemplates whether it’s a good idea to let her keep drinking, but ultimately she allows it. Everyone goes through this at least once. Everyone learns from experiences like this in their own way.

The older woman then nods understandingly and pours her the shot, this time setting the bottle down next to her. “Alright, but don’t overdo it. We don’t need you passin’ out on us.”

Paloma gives a weak smile and continues to drink, the tequila burning a path down her throat, momentarily granting her relief from the uncomfortableness she’s been wallowing in.

As the night wears on, the bar fills with the usual crowd, but she remains in her own bubble of despair, getting drunker by the minute. The lively chatter and clinking glasses become a distant hum.

She wants to be able to confide in someone about the root of her conflictions, but she knows that if she were to spill all the details, including the outrageous backstory of her mother, it would be met with jarring skepticism and criticism. Tammy would probably look at her like she was crazy and her father would probably have her secretly lobotomized for speaking such blasphemous ‘lies’ about his wife and her mother.

He wouldn’t actually, but she’s drunk and her mind is going to the extremes.

Tammy keeps an eye on her, occasionally checking in and she appreciates it, even if she can’t bring herself to say it out loud. She’s not sure how she’ll face tomorrow, but right now, she’s content to let the alcohol do its thing and forget, if only for a little while.

There’s a reason why people say not to drink on an empty stomach, and Paloma is feeling the effects smack her square in the jaw. Her vision is hazy, her movements sluggish. At least she’s not hurting as much as she had been when she came in.

It’s well into the night now; the dim lights of the bar cast shadows on the faces of the crowd around her. The bottle Tammy had set in front of her is almost gone, so she drinks the remaining tequila straight from it, not caring about appearances or what the town gossips might say if they were to see her now.

With her veins coursing with liquid courage, Paloma hops off the barstool, wobbling a bit due to her inebriated state, and makes her way to the stage. No matter how tough things get, she can always count on music to lift her spirits.

That’s another thing she’s been neglecting— her music, her passion. So much for complaining that she didn’t have any inspiration to write new songs. Now she’s drowning in it, struggling to stay afloat.

Tammy’s eyes follow her the entire way, concern etched on her face as she bites her lip, contemplating whether or not she should let her go up there and potentially make a fool of herself in her drunken state.

She reaches the stage, her heart pounding against her chest. Shuffling through the available songs on the karaoke machine, she stops when she finds the one that she’s looking for. She grabs the microphone with a shaky hand, the spotlight harsh on her face.

The bar quiets down, curious eyes watching her every move.

“Hey everyone,” she slurs slightly, giggling drunkenly. “S’been a while since I’ve been up here ‘n I apologize for my absence,” she hiccups, “but tonight, m’gonna sing a song to make myself feel better.”

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly to steady herself. The familiar chords start playing through the speakers then she begins to sing; her voice fueled by emotion and tequila.

♫

Tammy decides it’s wise for her to phone the sheriff’s department, specifically asking for Javier to come by.

He only has ten minutes left on his shift and doesn’t want to get caught up dealing with another drunken idiot, so he almost sends one of the deputies but then she mentions Paloma and how shitfaced she is.

Immediately, he’s reaching for his keys.

“I don’t want Romeo seein’ her like this. Kinda my fault, to be honest, but who am I to stop a young girl from drowning her man problems in tequila? Anyhow, any chance ya can take her home?”

Man problems? Had August done something to her? His nostrils flair at the thought of him hurting her.

As if he hadn’t hurt her tenth fold.

Javier arrives in record time, urgency evident as he busts through the doors of the bar. Despite his entrance, no one seems to pay him any attention; all eyes are fixed on her as she stands on stage, clearly intoxicated yet still captivating the room.

His jaw tenses as he beelines over to the bar where Tammy is already looking at him expectantly.

“How long has she been here?”

“‘Bout four hours now. At least she took it slow. S’probably why she’s like this,” Tammy nods her head towards the stage, handing him Paloma’s car keys, and Javier can’t help but glance over too.

Her voice echoes through the bar and the words flow from her lips as a cathartic release of all the pent-up feelings she’s been carrying. There’s a plethora of mixed reactions coming from the audience, but she isn’t really performing for them.

To her, she’s in her bedroom with her curling wand in hand, belting out to her favorite song.

Despite her initial nerves and the alcohol clouding her senses, she finds solace in the music. It’s her therapy, her way of expressing what words alone can’t capture.

By the time she finishes, there’s a mix of applause and quiet murmurs in the bar. She sways again, catching herself on the microphone stand with a tipsy grin. Javier’s heart clenches at the sight.

As she steps down from the stage, her eyes lock onto him leaning against the counter with Tammy. Dread grips her heart like a vise, her breath catching in her throat. The tequila swirling in her stomach threatens to come back up. Without hesitation, she changes direction abruptly, veering towards the restroom at the back of the bar.

The door slams shut behind her, and she leans heavily against it, the cold metal offering a momentary reprieve.

No, no, no. I can’t see him now. Not like this.

Paloma rushes to the sink, splashing water on her face in a desperate attempt to clear her mind. Deciding that she won’t face him, she makes her escape through the small window near the ceiling.

It’s the longest fifteen minutes of his life, each second feeling like an eternity. She hasn’t come out and Javier is unable to wait any longer. He strides purposefully across the room towards the restroom, twisting the door handle open with a sense of urgency, expecting to find Paloma inside.

But the stalls are empty, the restroom devoid of any sign of her presence except for the open window with a torn piece of her sundress caught on a protruding piece of plastic.

“Goddammit,” He curses under his breath, pissed yet not surprised that she had fled. He rushes out of the restroom, sparing a quick explanation to Tammy before bolting into the parking lot. The engine of his cruiser roars to life as he pulls out onto the road.

She, despite being piss drunk, managed to move swiftly through the shadows outside, her torn dress fluttering in the night breeze. She kept to the alleys and back streets at first, away from the main roads where he might expect her to flee.

She isn’t far from the bar when he finds her. Perhaps half a mile down a dark, deserted road flanked by endless crop fields. The night offers no solace, no streetlights to illuminate her path, only the distant glow of his cruiser drawing closer.

He could really lay into her, scream at how reckless and fucking dangerous it is for her to be walking around aimlessly at night. It’s not like there’s an active killer lurking about, targeting girls like her.

The blue and red lights slice through the darkness, casting an eerie glow around her stumbling figure as she trudges along the roadside.

“Get in the car,” Javier’s voice carries through the rolled down passenger window as he slowly drives beside her.

Paloma ignores him, determined to keep moving despite the plea. She doesn’t know where she’s headed, all she knows is that she doesn’t want to be around him. All she’ll see the second she looks into his eyes are images of him balls deep in her best friend.

The reminder has her clenching her jaw against the flood of disarray threatening to overwhelm her, straightening her posture in a futile attempt to regain her composure. The alcohol in her system blurs her vision and makes her head spin, but she continues to march obstinately along the empty road.

“I said get. In. The. Car.” Javier’s voice booms through the PA system now, sharp and authoritative, having her flinch at its suddenness. She rolls her eyes, refusing to acknowledge him, her gaze fixed ahead as if the darkness holds the answers to all her turmoil.

In response, she simply raises her middle finger, a gesture dripping with contempt. Javier’s patience for her insubordination is wearing really fucking thin.

“Last warning. If not, I will get out and put you in here my damn self,” His tone crackles with restrained anger, the lines of his face drawn tight with exasperation.

“Go fuck yourself, asshole.”

There it goes, his patience. He forcefully slams the mouthpiece of the speaker back into place before speeding up along the deserted road and haphazardly blocking the path ahead, his vehicle jolting to a stop with a gravelly skid.

He jumps out of his seat, the door swinging open as he rounds the car to approach her with determined hastiness, pissed that he has to deal with her immature ass right now.

Paloma’s instinctive flight response has her sprinting into the vast open field, her heart pounding in sync with her rapid footsteps. The tall grass brushes against her legs and she squints in an attempt to see ahead on this moonless night. All she’s focused on is getting as far away from him as possible.

Javier curses loudly and immediately chases after her through the uneven terrain. He thought he left this chasing shit back in Colombia. 

Despite her intoxicated state, her desperation fuels her speed, making her a bit of a challenging target. But when she stumbles over her boots ever so slightly, he seizes the opportunity.

In a swift motion, his arm snakes around her waist, yanking her towards him before deftly hoisting her over his shoulder. Paloma squeals as he straight up manhandles her, her fists hammering against his back while she squirms in his grasp. “Put. Me. Down. You. Asshole,” she seethes between blows, each strike punctuated by a grunt from him as she hits sore spots on his lower back.

“You ran off like a fucking child,” he snaps back while stalking towards his car, irritated as all hell. The urge to land a harsh spank against the back of her thighs is there but he shows some restraint.

He glances around, relieved that the deserted stretch of road spares them from prying eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, or I will cuff you,” he warns sternly, setting her down cautiously but keeping a firm grip on her arm.

She pushes at his chest, stumbling backwards but she catches herself, sticking her hands out to keep him from steadying her. “Don’t. Leave me the hell alone, I’m tryin’ to get home.”

“And I’m trying to make that happen. Let me drive you, you’re fucked up.”

“I’m not, and if anyone is fucked up here it’s you, you fucking dickhead,” she retorts with a bite, her words laced with venom and alcohol-fueled bravado.

Javier exhales heavily, his patience wearing thin yet again as he struggles to reason with her. “Quit being ridiculous, Paloma.” He urges, frustration simmering beneath his somewhat controlled exterior.

“Ridiculous?!” She rolls her eyes dramatically, a gust of wind tousling her hair and she angrily tucks it behind her ears. “I wanna walk home. Away from you.” she slurs, her determination punctuated by a sudden hiccup and point of her finger.

A snarky reply of his own is on the tip of his tongue but she interrupts before he can spit it out.

“I am more than capable, ‘n I’ll prove it by walkin’ a straight line while sayin’ the alphabet backwards,” The challenge in her eyes is unmistakable as she takes a few steps back.

Javier can’t help but chuckle dryly, reluctant amusement coloring his expression. He leans casually against the cruiser, arms crossed as he watches her attempt the sobriety test she’s proposed.

“Z... y... x...” Paloma begins, her attempt at reciting the alphabet faltering from the start. Her footsteps are uneven, her balance wavering with each syllable. “W... v... u...”

He shakes his head in mild disbelief, his frustration momentarily overshadowed by the absurdity of the situation.

“A.” She punctuates the letter when she reaches the end of her recitation attempt. She looks up at him, now much closer, with an insolent glint in her eyes despite the undeniable signs of intoxication.

He just raises his brows in amusement.

“Told ya.” she challenges, a triumphant smirk tugging at her lips. “Sober as a nun.”

Javier reaches for the breathalyzer on his belt, holding it up between them as he turns it on.

“You’re going to blow into this,” he begins with an authoritative tone, “and if it lights up green then you’re good to do whatever you want. If it’s red, you’re goin’ to quit fucking around and get your pretty ass in the car.”

Paloma snorts, “No way. This is just some perverted trick so you can see my lips wrap around it and pretend it’s your cock––”

His hand shoots out to cup her jaw, thick fingers digging into the soft skin of her cheeks, causing her lips to purse together.

“Nena, you’ve got a fuckin’ mouth on you.” He tuts at her and her eyes widen, pussy quivering, “It’s gonna get you in trouble.”

He brings her closer by her face, smelling the alcohol on her breath, and places the plastic tip against her puckered lips, “Blow it.”

His grip loosens enough for her to do as she’s told, and her lips encircle the hard plastic. This feels charged with an intimacy that weakens her knees, and she watches as Javier’s eyes drown with lust; their usual golden glint now gone.

The second it blinks red, he smirks and lets go of her face. As the tip is pulled out from between her lips, a thin trail of saliva comes with it which has him biting his tongue to suppress a groan. His cock stirs at the sight.

“In the car. Now.”

“No!” She pushes away from him, slapping the damn breathalyzer out of his hand and watching as it breaks against the asphalt, “I’d rather walk on glass barefoot than get in the car with you. M’goin’ back to the bar and callin’ my boyfriend to come pick me up!” The emphasis on boyfriend is said with the intent to piss Javier off but she doesn’t gloat in his reaction as she turns sharply and begins to walk away in the opposite direction.

“Puta madre…” It lands exactly as she intended for it to, the spark of jealousy in his chest having him leap forward, expertly pinning both of her wrists against her lower back with one hand while the other takes a hold of her shoulder, guiding her over to his car.

“You asshole!”

“Yeah, how many times are you gonna fuckin’ remind me, querida?”

She’s bent at the waist on the hood of his cruiser, the engine that’s still running leaving the surface warm as her chest gets pressed down onto it. Her ripped dress rises up revealing the curve of her ass to him.

Javier is fully hard as he reaches for his cuffs, clasping them over her wrists and she gasps when she feels the cool metal come in contact with her blazing skin. He presses his bulge against her ass and she whimpers at the pressure of him so close to her throbbing core.

Grabbing ahold of her shoulder again, he brings her up so that her back is flush against his chest, both of them heaving in unison.

“Told you that little mouth of yours would get you in fucking trouble.” He mutters into her ear, feeling the softness of her hair against his face as he takes in a deep breath of the coconut scent of her shampoo. His entire being is pulsating for her, craving to feel any part that he can.

Paloma is dizzy with arousal, hatred, and alcohol; feeling him all over except where she needs him most. Inside her weeping cunt that’s begging to get wrecked. She despises him for making her feel this way, especially after today’s revelations.

He opens the back door of the cruiser, the metallic click of the cuffs echoing in the quiet night as he pulls her into the backseat. Despite his intention to be firm yet gentle, his frustration seeps through, and he handles her a bit roughly, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud.

Paloma jolts upright, the abrupt sound snapping her out of the horny trance his restraint had put her in.

“Always have to get your way, don’t you? By any means necessary? Looks like some things never fuckin’ change.” Her words blend together, slightly slurred, as he starts driving towards her house, relieved that Romeo is working overnight and spared from witnessing this.

She was already on thin ice with him all things considered. She’s sure her father would have a cow if he saw her this drunk.

She leans forward, pressing against the partition cage separating them, her gaze locked with his in the rearview mirror. Tension crackles between them during this silent exchange. His jaw tightens when she continues her tirade.

“Is this the same arrogance that led you to Los Pepes?” The mention hits a nerve, causing him to momentarily lose his composure. She smirks, satisfied with the reaction she’s provoked. His stare darkens with intense anger, magnified by her smugness.

How the fuck did she know about that?

As if reading his mind, she continues. “I read the article from the Miami Herald. Got curious, decided to read more on the elusive yet admired Javier Peña.” Another flash of anger courses through him, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles turn white.

“You did some fucked up stuff, agent. Gettin’ involved with killers. How are you not in prison right now?” Her words cut deep, dredging up his past in a way that feels unfair, but she’s hurt and beyond giving a fuck at the moment.

Javier struggles to find the right words, torn between defending himself and acknowledging the truth in her accusations.

“Paloma…” His voice is low with restrained frustration. “You don’t understand––”

“Don’t give me that shit, Javi,” she cuts him off bitterly, her voice cracking with emotion. “I understand enough. I trusted you.”

Each word hits him like a bullet from a gun he loaded himself and fired by yet another woman that he’s hurt. He’s rendered speechless, so much bullshit accumulating to blow up in this very moment. He hadn’t even realized that they weren’t far from her house.

“You hurt people after usin’ ‘em yet somehow the consequences never seem to reach you. And when they do, it’s nothin’ more but a slap on the wrist.”

She contributes to this so-called unfair display of punishment. She can’t bring herself to penalize him with her indefinite absence for the way he shattered her heart.

Instead, she’s acting like an idiot, handcuffed in the back of his cruiser and so pissed that it’s turned her on. Not even ten minutes ago, she was on the verge of telling him to fuck her on the side of the road, teetering on the edge of desperation.

Now she’s full on chastising him.

Javier is trying real fucking hard not to blow up on her, it’s as if she’s had a look into his mind and pulled out all the spiteful words that he repeats to himself every single day. His silence remains, the urge to defend himself faltering.

She groans in exasperation when he doesn’t reply, her shoulders tense from having her arms pinned back by the cuffs, the rough edges digging into her wrists.

She’d never understand, not even if he laid it all out to her in the most vulnerable way possible. Hell, he still can’t sort through his shit without triggering an existential crisis.

Paloma continues with her angry ramblings as they arrive at her house. He once again roughly pulls her from the backseat, fumbling for the key to unlock her handcuffs, desperate to release himself from the fraught situation and rightfully fuck off. He can’t continue to deal with this shit tonight.

Leading her up to the porch, he finally frees her from the restraints. She whirls around to confront him head-on.

“What is your deal?! I need to know. Goin’ around makin’ a girl feel special… spendin’ all your time with her then rejectin’ her just to turn around and sleep with her best friend. That’s low, Javier.” 

His eyes narrow. He should have known that Sloane was the catalyst to all this. It explains her seething jealousy, her emotional outburst at the bar, her current fury.

Despite reading him to filth, he’s undeniably attracted to her and her intense antics. He shouldn’t find this possessive side of her as hot as he does.

“Last I checked, corazón, I don’t belong to you or any other woman in this town.”

Paloma’s eye twitches involuntarily at his remark, the harsh truth of it cutting through the haze of the alcohol. They don’t belong to each other; there are no ties binding them beyond their shared history and tangled feelings. Yet in this moment, with her intoxicated by both tequila and his presence–– he does belong to her. Javier is hers.

He plucks a cigarette from his pocket, needing it desperately considering the rollercoaster of emotions he’s gone through in the last however long. He lets it dangle from his lips as he digs into his back pocket for a lighter.

“That new boyfriend of yours must not be fucking you right if you’re this wound up over who I decide to stick my dick in.”

His petty remark hovers in the air like a volatile spark waiting to ignite. Her chest heaves with indignation, whole body vibrating with the raw intensity of her feelings. She doesn’t hesitate, her hand moving swiftly to deliver a resounding slap across his cheek. The unlit cigarette drops from his lips, forgotten as it lands on the ground beside them. Javier remains still as he absorbs the sting of her palm against his skin.

They lock eyes in a tense standoff, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Her breaths come in rapid bursts, her heart pounding in her chest. Without warning, she lunges forward, her lips crashing against his in a desperate, fervent kiss.

His initial surprise gives way to instinct as he responds to her, his lips moving against hers with a hunger born from their shared, toxic yearning. But as her mouth opens to deepen the kiss, the taste of tequila lingers on her tongue, a reminder of her intoxicated state. He pulls back gently.

“No, please don’t do this to me again…” She whimpers out softly, her eyes filling with tears as her hands cling to the fabric of his shirt.

“We can’t… not now, cariño you’re really drunk.” The instant switch in her tone and body language is enough to trigger his tenderness, his hands coming up to rest atop of her balled up fists against his chest.

The pure vexation and trepidation from before begins to simmer out, both of them having reached the peak of their respective moods and now suffering from the declining slope that follows.

His rejection this time around doesn’t sting as much as the last. There’s a bittersweet clarity in knowing that he’s choosing restraint over indulgence, respect over desire.

“I-If I wasn’t drunk… would you have fucked me?” She blurts out, bottom lip quivering slightly as she waits for his response, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what he might say.

He hesitates, a myriad of emotions flickering across his features. He leans forward instinctively, steadying her as she wobbles on unsteady legs.

“Let’s get you inside and in the shower. You need to sober up a little before getting into bed.” Javier ignores her question all together, removing her hands from his chest as he carefully maneuvers her towards the front door.

“I got it.” She tells him with her head hung low, reaching over to a nearby flower pot and digging out the spare house key.

She, in fact, does not got it when her attempts to unlock the door fail as she struggles to get the key in. Javier takes over gently, letting them both inside.

Getting her up the stairs proves to be more of a struggle than he anticipated. She clings to him, her grip tight and insistent, bombarding him with questions about his night with Sloane.

Am I as pretty as her?

Did she do it better than me?

Do you have feelings for her?

Again, he ignores her because it’s all ridiculous and she’s too drunk for him to thoroughly explain that he doesn’t see Sloane like that at all.

She was a mistake. A lapse in his judgment. A reminder of how he’s no good for Paloma.

They reach the bathroom and he gently lowers her onto the closed toilet seat. He turns on the shower, the sound of running water filling the room with a soothing rhythm. When he turns back, she is already beginning to undress, her movements slow and unsteady.

He averts his eyes quickly, a flush creeping up his neck at the proximity and intimacy of the moment. Clearing his throat, he steps out right as the last article of clothing is shed.

“Gonna get you some water. Please be careful in there.” He’s hesitant to move from his spot at the door in case she falls over.

She grumbles out a brief ‘okay’ and after a few more seconds of hovering, he quickly goes to the kitchen to get her some water and painkillers.

He’s back in her room now, turning the bedside lamp on to get everything ready for her to get some sleep.

Javi pauses for a moment. It’s the first time he’s ever been in this space and he feels like he’s intruding on her. He gets a sense of déjà vu, recalling the day he had been in Jessica Valadez’s room and the similarities between her and Paloma.

He rummages through her dresser until he finds a t-shirt and some shorts, walking down the hallway to the bathroom where she’s just shut off the shower.

“Got some clothes for you. Here.” He sticks his hand through the cracked door and not long after does she take them from him silently, shutting the door. Javier lets out a shaky sigh, leaning against the wall and giving himself a second to breathe.

She stares at her reflection with teary eyes, feeling a little lighter after her shower. If it were up to her, she would have stayed in there all night; comforted by the warm water hitting her skin.

With him on the other side of the door, she doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s transpired. Why does she always have to do this when she’s under the influence? She’s already starting to hate herself for it now, she knows the embarrassment will only be worse when she wakes up tomorrow with a killer hangover.

After getting dressed in the clothes he brought her (a sweet gesture that makes her want to wring his neck) and brushing her teeth, she emerges from the bathroom, her hair damp. She walks past him without a word, heading straight to her bedroom.

Javier hesitates, torn between leaving now and staying a bit longer to ensure she’s okay.

His feet carry him to her bedroom door before his mind catches up. “I’m headed out,” he announces awkwardly, his gaze fixed on her as she crawls into bed. “Drink some water and take those pills.”

Paloma nods faintly, doing as he instructed, her eyes avoiding him as she curls up under the blankets.

He wants to say more, to fix things somehow, but he knows he can’t. Not tonight, not like this.

“Can you come here, please?”

Her words carry a vulnerable tone that tugs at his heartstrings, having him walk over to her.

“What is it?”

“Why don’t you want me Javi?” Her voice trembles slightly, head sinking deeper into the pillow. Her sad, twinkling brown eyes plead with him, searching for answers that have eluded her for too long “What don’t I have that all the others do?”

He feels a pang in his chest, kneeling beside the bed and bringing himself to eye level with her. He can’t bear to see her like this, questioning her worth because of his shortcomings. He knows it’s not about what she lacks—it’s about his own fears and insecurities.

“Cariño, you have so fucking much,” he murmurs sincerely. His fingers reach out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She’s so beautiful. “You have this warmth, this passion... It scares me, Paloma. How strongly I feel about you.”

He searches her eyes, hoping she’ll understand, hoping she’ll see that it’s his own tensions holding him back, not any fault of hers. But he knows words alone won’t heal the wounds he’s inflicted. He wishes he could erase the pain he’s caused, the doubts he’s planted in her heart.

Her gaze holds his, a mixture of longing and hurt swirling in his mesmerizing brown eyes. She doesn’t verbally say anything, but her stare speaks volumes—pleading for an explanation.

“But why?”

“‘Cause shit has never worked out for me.”

“So you just gave up entirely?”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“Yeah. Until I met you and realized how lonely it is giving up.” Paloma hiccups softly, her words tinged with vulnerability, nuzzling into his touch against her cheek. “Do you like being lonely, Javi?”

There’s a long pause.

“…No.” He’s never been this honest before.

She scoots closer to him, closing the gap between them. Her hand reaches up tentatively, fingers brushing against his. “Then don’t be. I’m right here.”

Javi looks down, pulling his hand back. “You need to sleep this off baby.”

Her brow furrows slightly, frustration clear in her expression. She wants him to stay, to talk, to unravel the complexities between them. But she knows he’s holding back, keeping his distance for reasons she can’t fully grasp.

“Don’t fuckin’ dismiss me—”

“I’m not dismissing you. We’ll talk about it another time when you’re sober. Right now you need to sleep.”

“Promise me.” Her voice is insistent now, “Promise me that you’ll actually talk and be honest when we speak again.”

He knows he owes her that much—honesty, vulnerability, a chance to mend the fractures he’s caused. He nods slowly.

“Si, te lo prometo. Pero ahorita, mi palomita, tienes que descansar (Yes, I promise you, but right now, my little dove, you need to rest).” 

He reaches out again, this time his hand finding hers on the bedspread. Their fingers intertwine briefly, a silent reassurance passing between them. He squeezes gently before standing.

Her lips curl up into a small yet sweet smile, feeling newfound hope at the prospect of making amends with Javier and finally getting what she actually wants.

No fantastical tales of peace and power, no outlandish adventures and sneaking around, no deceit.

All she desires is to be wanted by him.

He lingers by the door again. “We’ll talk soon.”

Paloma nods, “Goodnight, Javi.” Her eyes follow him as he leaves the room. Alone now, she curls up under the blankets, drunken thoughts swirling in her head. She wants to believe in his promise, to hope that their next conversation will bring clarity and maybe even something more.

Now outside, Javier bends down to pick up his discarded cigarette, leaning against the car and lighting it. He runs a hand through his hair as he exhales the smoke heavily. He’s committed now, committed to confronting his own fears after half-assing it for so long. It won’t be easy, but for Paloma, he’s willing to try.

[kckt88]

You & Me.

Summary:

In an effort to cheer Aemond up after his break up with Y.N, Aegon drags him to a night club to drown his sorrows and his night ends up far better than he anticpated.

Warning(s): Discussion of Break Up, Alcohol Consumption, Mild Violence, Swearing, Drama, Mildly Jealous Aemond, Kissing, Smut, FIngering, P in V, Public Sex,

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 4741

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

The neon lights outside the nightclub cast an eerie glow on the cobblestone streets as Aemond begrudgingly followed his older brother, Aegon, into the thumping heart of King's Landing's nightlife.

“Aegon, I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea,” Aemond muttered, his voice drowned out by the pulsating beats that greeted them as they entered.

He adjusted the collar of his black jacket, his sharp features etched with the stoic expression he had perfected over years of hiding emotions behind a lawyer's mask.

His singular eye, darted around the room, already regretting his decision to let Aegon drag him out here.

“Come on, little brother, you need this,” Aegon responded with a grin, his tone far too cheerful for Aemond's current mood. He clapped a hand on Aemond's shoulder, steering him toward the bar. “A few drinks, a few dances, and you’ll forget all about-what was her name again?”

Aemond shot him a cold glare. “Y.N. Don’t piss me off-I’m not in the mood”

Aegon rolled his eyes, waving down the bartender. “Right, right. Y.N. The one who threw a book at your head and kicked you out.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, unable to meet his brother's amused gaze. The memory was still too fresh, too raw.

The fight had been the culmination of months of tension—tension that he hadn’t realized had built up until it exploded in his face.

He was good at his job, damn good. Targaryen Inc. relied on him to keep their clients out of trouble, to ensure the company’s interests were protected against the world of opportunists.

But being good at his job had come at a price.

The late nights at the office, the missed dinners and date nights, and the empty promises that he’d be home on time for once.

He had let work consume him, believing that it was the best way to secure the future. But in doing so, he had neglected the present—the moments that mattered most to Y.N.

He could still see the hurt in her eyes when he had stumbled into their apartment late yet again, only to be met with a cold silence that said more than words ever could.

And he had forgotten her birthday.

The realization had hit him like a punch to the gut. He had come home with nothing but exhaustion and apologies, only to see the candles on the table, half-burned and the food she’d cooked left cold and forgotten, her expression one of resigned disappointment.

It had been the final straw for her, and in a fit of rage and heartbreak, she had thrown a book at him—a heavy hardcover that had caught him off guard, leaving a stinging bruise on his temple.

“I’m done, Aemond,” she had said, her voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m tired of being second to your work. Just-go. Get out.”

And so, he had left, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffel bag hastily packed with essentials.

He had shown up on Aegon’s doorstep, his pride shattered, his heart in pieces.

“Two shots of Dragonfire, please,” Aegon ordered, snapping Aemond out of his thoughts. The bartender, a young woman with red hair, nodded and set to work.

Aemond leaned against the bar, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settling in his bones.

“I don’t need this,” Aemond muttered, but Aegon shook his head, pushing one of the fiery red shots into his hand.

“You do. Trust me, bro. One night of fun won’t kill you.”

Aemond hesitated, staring down at the glass in his hand. The liquid inside swirled, reminding him of the fire that had always burned inside him, the drive to succeed, to prove himself worthy of the Targaryen name.

But that fire had also driven him away from the one person who had seen him for who he truly was, not just the ambitious lawyer, not just the son of Viserys Targaryen.

With a deep breath, he downed the shot, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat.

It was a distraction, nothing more, but maybe Aegon was right. Maybe he needed to forget, just for tonight.

“Fine,” Aemond conceded, setting the empty glass down with a clink. “But don’t expect me to dance.”

Aegon laughed, clapping him on the back. “No promises, little brother. No promises.”

As the night wore on, Aemond tried to lose himself in the chaos of the club, in the thrumming music, the swirling lights, and the meaningless conversations that surrounded him.

But no matter how many drinks he had, no matter how many times Aegon tried to coax a smile out of him, he couldn’t shake the image of Y.N from his mind. Her smile, her laugh, the way she used to look at him like he was the only person in the world that mattered.

He knew he had lost her. And no amount of Dragonfire could numb that pain.

The nightclub was a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, but Aemond could hardly focus on anything beyond the gnawing emptiness inside him. He sat at the bar, nursing a drink, his thoughts inevitably drifting back to Y.N.

Despite Aegon’s best efforts to distract him, nothing seemed to penetrate the fog of regret clouding his mind.

Aegon, sensing his brother’s brooding silence, sidled up to him with a mischievous grin. “You know,” he began, leaning in close so Aemond could hear him over the music, “-the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

Aemond shot him a sidelong glance, his expression unamused. “Not happening, Aegon.”

“Come on!” Aegon laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “There are plenty of girls here tonight, you could have any one of them. And trust me, they can give you exactly what Y.N did-.”

Aemond stiffened at the mention of Y.N’s name, his grip tightening on his glass. “There’s no one like her.”

Aegon rolled his eyes, exasperated by his brother’s stubbornness. “Surely she can’t be that-you know-good.”

Aemond’s gaze turned distant, his voice quiet but resolute. “She’s better than good. And I messed it all up. I love her so much, and I was too blind to see what I had until it was too late.”

For a moment, Aegon didn’t know what to say. The cocky smirk he usually wore slipped away, replaced by something softer, more understanding. He sighed, signalling the bartender for another round.

When the drinks arrived, he pushed one towards Aemond and gently patted him on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’re not the first guy to screw things up,” Aegon said, his tone more serious than usual. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the end. You know, maybe-maybe if you talk to her, like really talk to her, you can work things out.”

Aemond stared down at his drink, the liquid inside rippling slightly as his fingers tapped the glass. “Maybe,” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure if he believed it.

The weight of his mistakes felt too heavy, the distance between him and Y.N too vast to bridge.

Aegon, sensing that the conversation was hitting too close to home, tried to lighten the mood again. “Or, you could take my advice and find a nice girl to fuck. You never know, it might help.”

Aemond shook his head with a faint smile, appreciating his brother’s efforts even if he couldn’t take the advice. “Thanks, Aegon. But I think I’ll just stick to the drinks tonight.”

Aegon chuckled, clinking his glass against Aemond’s. “Suit yourself, bro. But just remember, I’m here for you-”

Aemond managed a small smile, grateful for his brother’s support, even if the pain of losing Y.N was still too fresh to fully let go.

He took a sip of his drink, the burn of the alcohol a temporary distraction from the ache in his heart, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things could still be fixed.

Aemond sat at the bar, his fingers drumming restlessly on the countertop. The loud music and the constant buzz of conversation did little to drown out the thoughts racing through his mind.

He glanced at his watch, the hands creeping towards eleven, and sighed. “I think I’m gonna head home, Aegon. I’ve had enough for tonight.”

Aegon, who was on his sixth drink and showing no signs of slowing down, looked at his younger brother with a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Come on, Aemond, it’s way too early to call it a night! Stay, have a few more drinks. Just another hour at most.”

Aemond shook his head, about to insist when he noticed Aegon’s expression shift. His brother’s eyes widened, “Oh fuck-”

Aemond frowned, his heart skipping a beat. “What?”

Aegon didn’t respond immediately, instead staring out at the dance floor with a mix of surprise and something close to dread.

Aemond followed his gaze, and when he saw what—or rather, who—Aegon was looking at, his blood ran cold.

There, in the centre of the dance floor, was Y.N. She was moving gracefully to the music, her long hair swaying as she danced.

But it wasn’t just Y.N that Aemond noticed; it was the man beside her, far too close for comfort. The man leaned in, whispering something into her ear, and Aemond’s heart pounded with a mix of fury and jealousy as Y.N laughed-a laugh that used to belong to him.

Aegon leaned in, his voice low as he muttered, “I think that’s Cregan Stark”

Aemond barely heard him, his entire focus locked on the scene unfolding before him. “Who?” he asked, his voice strained.

“One of Jace’s friends,” Aegon explained quickly. “I’ve seen him in passing a couple of times. He’s usually up North, but-” Aegon trailed off, realizing Aemond wasn’t really listening anymore.

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he watched Cregan whisper something else to Y.N, and she smiled at him—his smile.

The same one she used to give him when they were still happy. When he saw Cregan’s hand slide down to rest on Y.N’s waist, something inside Aemond snapped.

Aegon’s eyes widened as he saw the change in his brother’s demeanour. “Oh, for fuck sake” he muttered, but it was too late.

Aemond was already on the move, his fury propelling him forward as he barged through the crowd, shoving people out of his way as he made a beeline for Y.N and Cregan.

Y.N gasped in surprise when she saw him, her eyes widening as he approached. “Aemond, what—”

But before she could finish, Aemond grabbed hold of Cregan and shoved him away from her.

“What the hell is your problem?” Cregan demanded, his tone sharp.

“YOU!” Aemond hissed, his gaze burning with anger. “You’re my problem, putting your hands all over my girl.”

Y.N’s expression shifted from shock to anger, and she pulled away from Aemond, her voice cutting through the tension. “I’m not your girl anymore, Aemond.”

Cregan took a step towards Y.N, but Aemond shoved him away again, his voice dangerously low. “Do not take one more step.”

Cregan squared his shoulders, clearly not backing down. “Or else what?”

Aegon appeared beside them, “Or else you’ll get the shit kicked out of you,” he said, his tone light but with a serious edge. “So, I suggest you move on.”

Cregan scoffed, his eyes narrowing at Aemond before he finally backed off, walking away and leaving Y.N standing there, fuming.

She rounded on Aemond, her voice filled with hurt and anger. “How could you?”

Aemond didn’t get a chance to respond before she stormed off, pushing her way through the crowd.

Aemond stood there for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest, before glancing at Aegon. But Aegon’s attention had already shifted to a brunette girl smiling at him from across the room.

Aemond sighed, realizing he was on his own.

Determined not to let Y.N leave like this, he followed her, weaving through the crowd until he spotted her lingering near a staff entrance.

“Y.N, wait!” he called out, but she didn’t stop. He quickened his pace, finally catching up to her and grabbing her arm, his grip firm but not harsh. “Just-let me talk to you.”

Y.N shrugged him off, her voice cold. “There’s nothing to talk about, Aemond.”

But Aemond wasn’t about to let it go that easily. He reached for her again, this time more forcefully, and pushed her through the door into the staff entrance, closing it behind them.

The noise of the club was muted now, leaving them in a tense, charged silence.

Aemond’s heart raced as he looked at her, his mind swirling with everything he wanted to say, everything he needed to say. But the anger in her eyes, the hurt that still lingered there, made the words stick in his throat.

“Y.N-” he began, his voice thick with emotion, unsure of where to start but knowing he couldn’t let her walk away—not like this.

Y.N crossed her arms, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt as she looked at Aemond. “So, you can find time to go drinking with your brother, but you couldn’t find the time for me?”

Aemond’s expression tightened, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “-That tends to happen when I have to take time off work because the love of my life ends our relationship.”

Y.N’s jaw clenched, and she shot back with cutting precision, “And whose fault is that?”

The question hung in the air like a blade between them, sharp and unforgiving.

Aemond opened his mouth to respond, but Y.N wasn’t finished. The dam of her emotions had burst, and everything she had held back for so long came flooding out.

“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to be left waiting in that restaurant on our anniversary?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “To be sat alone at the table, dressed up, and have everyone staring at me like I was some pathetic fool? No, you don’t. You don’t have a clue.”

Aemond’s heart sank, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on her as she continued.

“Do you have any idea how excited I was on Valentine’s Day?” Y.N’s voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes. “When you promised me that you’d be home, so I cooked your favourite meal, I did my hair and makeup, and put on a dress I thought you’d like, hoping for just one night where it felt like you cared, to have you make love to me, only for you to come home late and not even acknowledge the effort I’d made. You just brushed past me like I wasn’t even there. No, you don’t know.”

Aemond’s throat tightened as he listened, the weight of her words pressing down on him, suffocating him with guilt and regret.

“Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep?” Y.N’s voice broke as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Wishing that you would pay attention to me instead of your work? No, you don’t. You were always too busy, too distracted. I’ve been alone in this relationship, Aemond. It hurt me every time you broke a promise, every time you chose work over me. That you would rather stick your neck out for complete strangers than pay attention to me.”

She wiped at her tears, her hands shaking. “I love you so much, Aemond. But it hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“I do feel the same,” Aemond said, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I love you, Y.N. More than anything.”

Y.N shook her head, her expression filled with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief. “If you did, then we wouldn’t be where we are now.”

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to find the right words, but nothing seemed adequate. Y.N looked at him, her eyes filled with a deep longing and a sadness that cut him to the core.

“I want to be a wife, Aemond,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I long to be a mother. But how can I have that with you when you’re never around? I’ve spent too much time listening out for the door, watching the clock, checking my phone for missed calls or texts that never came. I just can’t do it anymore.”

Y.N turned to walk away, her heart breaking as she did. But Aemond, driven by a sudden surge of panic, grabbed hold of her arm, refusing to let her go. “Y.N, please. I love you. I can’t cope without you. You’re everything to me. Don’t walk away.”

“Let me go, Aemond,” Y.N pleaded, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and heartache.

But Aemond couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her go. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice a desperate whisper as he pulled her closer, pressing her against the wall. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away her tears as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. “I love you, Y.N. I need you-I’ll do whatever it takes”

And then, before she could say anything else, before she could pull away, he kissed her. It was a kiss filled with all the passion, the regret, the longing he had kept bottled up for so long.

It was a kiss that begged for forgiveness, that pleaded for a second chance. His lips moved against hers, insistent and desperate, as if he could somehow pour all his love and apologies into that single moment.

Then Y.N pushed him away, her hands against his chest, but the heat of his kiss and the intensity of their emotions were overwhelming.

The longing she had tried to bury for so long flared up, impossible to ignore.

She hesitated for a moment, but then the dam broke, and she kissed him back with just as much passion, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close.

"I want you, Y.N. Gods, I want you so much-”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she barely had time to react before Aemond pressed her against the wall, his body pinning hers.

The cool surface behind her contrasted with the heat radiating from him as he leaned in, his hands gripping her waist tightly, as if he was afraid she might slip away.

Y.N squeaked in surprise, her breath hitching as she felt the full force of his desire. The closeness, the way his body pressed against hers, was overwhelming.

 Aemond's face was inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin, and she could see the raw need in his eye—need for her, and only her.

“Aemond,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of emotions she could barely name. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, matching the rapid beat of her own.

“I can’t lose you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “-You’re everything to me.”

“W-What are you doing?” exclaimed Y.N

“You’ll see” replied Aemond as his large hand slid into her hair as he pulled her face towards his.

His tongue running over the plump of her lips before sliding into her open mouth.

His hand reached under her dress, his fingers rubbing her pearl over the cotton material of her knickers.

“Already so wet for me” groaned Aemond.

“A-Aemond” breathed Y.N.

“Does it feel good baby?” asked Aemond.

“Oh-Aemond-yes-please” whimpered Y.N as he moved her knickers aside and slid two of his long fingers inside her.

“It’s been so long since I felt you” whispered Aemond as he curled his fingers inside her.

“So long-oh yes” replied Y.N moving her hips in time with Aemond’s fingers.

“Are you going to come already? I can feel you clenching” muttered Aemond, his fingers still moving inside her.

“Yes-Yes. I-I’m going to-” whimpered Y.N

“Only good girls get to come” whispered Aemond as he removed his fingers and then put them in his mouth, his tongue swirling around his fingers, savouring the taste of her.

 “I-I am a good girl. Please-oh please” moaned Y.N as Aemond took her hand and pressed it over the bugle in his jeans.

“That-feels-good” groaned Aemond as Y.N palmed his hard cock, her nails scrapping against the denim fabric of his jeans.

Aemond then watched with a hooded gaze as Y.N removed her hand and then began to unbutton the front of her dress, exposing the lacy bra she wore.

“Such pretty tits” muttered Aemond as Y.N pulled her bra down, revealing her hard rosy nipples.

“Please-” whispered Y.N as she moved her fingers over her nipples, delighting in the way Aemond shuddered as he watched her.

“Y.N-” breathed Aemond as he leaned forward and took a nipple into his mouth, licking and nipping the delicate flesh.

“Oooh-yes-“ muttered Y.N as Aemond reached up to palm her other exposed breast.

“Such a naughty girl” whispered Aemond, as he licked, sucked and marked her skin.

“AEMOND” squealed Y.N. the fabric of her knickers was soaked.

“Your mine-say it-” ordered Aemond.

“I-I’m yours” gasped Y.N rubbing herself against Aemond as he moved from her breasts to her neck, the prickle of his stubble rubbing her skin as he left a series of small hickeys.

“You ready for me baby?” asked Aemond his voice low.

“Yes-” breathed Y.N.

“Hmmm-you know I like it when you act like my naughty girl” replied Aemond as he quickly moved to undo his belt and unbutton his jeans.

“For you-only for you”

Aemond lowered his jeans and boxers enough to free his hard leaking cock and hooked one of Y.N’s legs around his waist.

His other hand grasping the material of Y.N’s knickers and ripping them from her.

He lifted the ruined material to his nose and inhaled, his singular eye rolling back in his head, before he stuffed them in his back pocket.

“Need you-oh” muttered Y.N writhing against him as he wrapped a hand around his cock and began moving it along her wet folds.

“Tell me you want me-“ growled Aemond.

“I want you” exclaimed Y.N. desperately.

“Tell me you need me” whispered Aemond as he sheathed himself inside her.

“I need you-“

“Tell me you love me” muttered Aemond withdrawing and then thrusting forward.

“I-I love you –“ gasped Y.N.

“That’s it-take it-take all of me” groaned Aemond.

“Oh-Oh-Aemond” moaned Y.N.

“You feel so good”

“W-Wait” exclaimed Y.N as she moved her other leg and placed her heeled foot on the stair railing.

“Baby wants it rough tonight” quipped Aemond, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes-fuck me-please” pleaded Y.N as she braced her hands on his shoulders.

Aemond moaned loudly as he dug his fingers into her hips and began fucking her in earnest, his pace unrelenting.

The slap of skin on skin echoing through the empty stairwell.

“My girl-my perfect girl” groaned Aemond, the pressure building in his abdomen as he pounded inside her with a series of deep penetrating thrusts.

“Yes-don’t stop-right there-“ muttered Y.N.

“Never leaving this sweet pussy again-” moaned Aemond his eye looking down at where they were joined and admiring the way his cock was shining with her slick.

“-yes-yes-” muttered Y.N her hips moving frantically in time with Aemond’s his cock reaching deep inside her.

“I can feel you-I know your almost there” groaned Aemond moving his hand so his thumb could encircle her peal.

“AEMOND” screamed Y.N

“Come with me Y.N- come with me” breathed Aemond his pace beginning to falter.

“Yes-” sighed Y.N as her peak exploded, her cunny clenching around Aemond’s cock as he came inside her.

“I love you-I love you so much-marry me Y.N-marry me” babbled Aemond as he kept thrusting gently, his cock still throbbing.

“W-What did you just say?” asked Y.N. her eyes wide.

“I asked you to marry me-“ replied Aemond his face pressed into her neck, his breath tickling her neck.

“D-Do you mean it?” asked Y.N he voice wobbling slightly.

“I do” said Aemond as he moved to look her in the eye.

“That’s my line-” laughed Y.N as she pulled him in for a kiss.

“Wait-does that mean you-you accept?” breathed Aemond.

“Yes-”

“Y-You mean you’ll marry me?” gasped Aemond.

“Yes-yes-yes. I’ll marry you” shrieked Y.N as she kissed him with all the love and passion she could muster.

“I promise to cut back on my hours-no more late nights or missed dinners and special occasions. There’s only us from now on”

“W-What if your work doesn’t like it” muttered Y.N

“They can either accept it or shove the job up their arse. I’m sure there are other firms that would employ me” replied Aemond.

“Oh Aemond” exclaimed Y.N happily as she pulled him in for another kiss, her hands sliding into his long hair and pulling on it slightly.

“Fuck-don’t get me going again. Not here anyway” muttered Aemond as he felt his cock twitch.

“Come home with me” whispered Y.N wincing as Aemond slowly pulled his cock from her.

“Hmmm, I must warn you that I don’t plan on letting you leave our bed tonight” replied Aemond holding onto Y.N as she wobbled slightly.

“Promises-promises” retorted Y.N cheekily as she straightened her bra, pulled her dress down and smoothed out her hair.

With their fingers intertwined, Aemond and Y.N left the stairwell, stepping back into the noisy, thumping atmosphere of the club.

Aemond looked around for his brother, spotting Aegon across the room, wrapped up in a passionate kiss with a red-haired woman. Aemond sighed, half-amused, half-annoyed, and walked over to him.

Tapping Aegon on the shoulder, Aemond waited as his brother pulled away, looking slightly annoyed at the interruption.

But when Aegon saw Aemond’s expression and slightly dishevelled appearance, and he burst into a laugh. “Well, well, someone’s just had a good time.”

Aemond blushed, glancing over at Y.N, who was smiling softly at him. “We’re going back home,” he said, his voice filled with a newfound confidence. “Together.”

Aegon let out a cheer, clapping Aemond on the back. “Thank the gods for that! I love you, brother, but damn, you’ve been annoying lately.”

Aemond scoffed, shaking his head, but before he could respond, Aegon’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Besides, it’s a good thing you’re heading back with Y.N. I really don’t want to hear you two going at it all night. Might kill my vibe.”

Y.N giggled, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you had a vibe, Aegon.”

Aegon grinned, leaning closer. “You might have experienced it if Aemond hadn’t met you first.”

Aemond growled, his protective instincts flaring up, but Y.N just laughed, wrapping her arm around Aemond’s waist. “I’m glad I met Aemond first,” she said, giving him a soft, loving look.

Aegon chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. So, are you two okay now?”

Aemond nodded, squeezing Y.N’s hand. “Yes, we still have things to talk about, but-” He paused, looking down at Y.N before turning back to Aegon, his voice steady. “-We’re engaged.”

Aegon’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth dropping open slightly before he broke into a wide grin. “Engaged?!” He let out a loud laugh, clapping Aemond on the back again, harder this time. “Well, I’ll be damned! Congratulations, you two!”

He pulled Y.N into a hug, then did the same with Aemond, his joy evident. “See? I told you coming out with me tonight would be worth it.”

Aemond couldn’t help but smile, nodding in agreement. “I guess you’re right-well were off, I’ll text you in the morning”

“Please don’t-leave it til midday at least. Your not the only one getting his end away tonight” said Aegon smirking.

“Honestly Aegon-” chided Y.N.

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow” said Aemond as Aegon waved his hand and returned his attention to the red head woman, before shouting "I BETTER BE THE BEST MAN"

As they laughed and made their way out of the club, Aemond’s hand remained firmly in Y.N’s, his heart lighter than it had been in months.

For the first time in a long time, he felt a true sense of hope, knowing that they had a future together, one he was determined to make the most of.

[midwestmade29]

Need You Now 🧡

After going through a lil dry spell with my writing, this angsty number came out of nowhere 😂 I think it’s my longest story I’ve written to date! I gotta stay out of my funk and get back to it. Too many stories left to tell 🖤

Word count: 2.7k Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Disclaimers: Cursing, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, unprotected sex. Read at your own discretion.

It had been months since you last talked to him. Months since you last felt his warm embrace. Months since you left your cowboy. You’d think the more time went on that being without him would get easier, but it hasn’t. You still miss him- long for him, you’ve just learned to function with a large piece of your heart missing. Matt and Nick gave you updates on Hangman whenever you asked for them, but usually they were all the same.

“Still drinking himself stupid, won’t listen to anyone. He asked about you the other day. His face lit up when we told him you are doing well, you could tell he was happy to hear it.”

As much as it pained you to hear that Adam was still stuck in his self-destructive ways, you knew there wasn’t much you could do for him that you hadn’t already tried. All the drunken nights you had with him played repeatedly in your mind, always having the same ending where you would go to leave, and Adam would find a way to get you to stay.

“Tell me what I can do to make you stay. What I can say, so you won’t leave. I need to know how I can fix this!” was always the classic plea he used along with drunkenly falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around your legs. It usually did the trick.

Working backstage had its advantages because you always knew the schedule for the night, allowing you to duck out of sight whenever Adam was supposed to be around. Avoiding him wasn’t always easy though.

There was the time where you heard his voice coming down the hallway and you had to duck into a nearby storage closet to stay out of sight. Or the time you hid behind Satnam Singh when Hangman got backstage early. You knew going to these lengths to stay hidden were ridiculous, but it had to be done. If you were to get one glimpse at Adam’s handsome face, the wall you worked so hard to build around your heart would surely crumble.

Call it bad luck, call it fate, whatever it was worked against you when you stepped off the elevator at your hotel and crashed into the person standing on the other side of the doors. Your head was down, your eyes locked onto your phone screen making you unaware of your surroundings at the moment of the collision.

Both of you dropped your phones and bent down at the same time to pick them up, all color draining from your face when you saw a picture of yourself light up on the other person’s lock screen.

“Hi, Y/N,” Adam said uncertainly. You were too stunned to pick your jaw up off the floor, so you remained crouched down with your hand over Adam’s phone.

The silence between you began to grow uncomfortable the longer you stared at his face until he cleared his throat snapping you out of your stupor.

Your cheeks were burning as you apologized, “Oh! I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention! Here’s your phone. I hope it’s alright,”

Adam smiled at you when you handed him the phone, reassuring you that everything was all good. When the two of you stood up, it was evident that

Adam felt a little embarrassed too as he ran his fingers through his hair and asked, “I guess you saw my lock screen, huh?”

You only nodded in response, unsure of what to say to the handsome cowboy in front of you. Adam rocked on his heels, willing the words to come out of his mouth, but instead he remained quiet.

A sad smile covered your face when you spoke softly, “Well, I better get going. Sorry again, Adam.”

You grabbed your phone gently from his hand, walking away immediately only to be stopped by a gentle tug on your arm.

“Y/N, wait! Please. I-I was hoping we could talk. I’m free right now if you are…” his voice trailed off when he noticed a flash of hurt wash over your face.

He knew you were about to make up an excuse and say no, so he had to think of something fast to get you to change your mind.

“Please, Y/N. Just give me 5, 10 minutes tops and then we can go our separate ways,” his voice wobbly as he quietly begged.

You fought an internal battle within yourself between your heart and your head, your logical mind ultimately winning.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Adam. It was nice to see you though. You look well! I hear you have a title shot next week on Dynamite. Best of luck to you,” you offered with the sincerest smile you could muster up before pulling your arm from his gentle hold and walking away, once again leaving a piece of your heart behind.

Your back slid down the door to your room once it latched with a loud click. The tears you fought so hard to hold inside in front of Adam were flowing freely now, your body quivering as you started to sob. Being face to face with him like that after all this time was just as hard as you thought it would be, and the fact that it was so unexpected made it worse!

As you wiped your tears, images of the smile he gave you started to haunt you. His light eyes looking into yours flooded your memory. The sight of his thicker facial hair awakening something deep inside you. When you told Adam that he looked well, you really meant it! He looked much better than The Bucks had led on. His dark circles were a little lighter, his physique a little slimmer and more muscular, and his words came across clearly, no stammering or slurring when he spoke.

As you pulled yourself off the floor, you started to regret not taking him up on his offer to talk. His voice sounded as sweet as honey when he said your name- God how you missed hearing it fall from his lips! But the wall around your heart kept him out, protecting you from any more hurt he might cause, leaving you alone again just like how you spent most of your nights.

Any other time when you felt like sitting in your feelings, you would indulge yourself in things that made you happy like a bubble bath or eating all chocolate in sight, but tonight you already had plans you had to follow through on. A date to be exact.

Kenny was incredibly sweet, showering you with compliments, opening the car door for you, and pulling out your chair at the restaurant. He had asked you on this date weeks ago, but you just said “yes” a few days ago. You knew you were playing with fire going on a date with Adam’s old tag team partner and friend, but you couldn’t base your life choices on his feelings anymore.

“This place is lovely, Kenny! How did you find it?” you asked while placing your napkin on your lap.

“A couple friends recommended it. Make sure to save room for dessert, that’s what they’re known for here!” he smiled.

Conversation with Kenny was easy and effortless and filled with laughter, all without the help of alcohol. It was refreshing spending an evening with someone that didn’t smell like whiskey or rely on the amber liquid to get through the night. And yet, your mind still drifted back to Hangman.

Different scenarios ran wild through your mind as you tried to figure out why Adam seemed to be doing so well during your brief interaction. Was he seeing someone new? Did he actually quit drinking finally? Or was he just simply better off without you? While you wanted Adam to be happy, picturing him with someone else made your heart ache. You knew it was ridiculous to feel that way since you were sitting across the table from his former friend, but it still hurt.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Kenny asked, his voice laced with concern. “You kind of spaced out on me there. What’s on your mind?”

Your stomach did a flip at the thought of explaining to Kenny what really was going through your mind, but lying wasn’t really your style. You took a chance and explained the run in you had with Adam earlier, altering the course of your night drastically.

“…It was the first time I had been face to face with him in months. I’m sorry for bringing him up on our date, I just wanted to be honest and let you know where my head was at. I understand if you want to call it a night early.”

Your eyes fell to your lap after your confession, while Kenny’s face was unreadable. Kenny’s next words made your blood boil.

“I see,” he said flatly. “Take it from someone who has been through this countless times with Hangman. I’ve known him for a long time, spent many days and nights on the road with him and watching him sabotage anything and everything good that comes his way. He won’t change. You can’t change him. He’s a joke Y/N! You’re better off without him.”

“How can you say that?! You were his best friend and I know you cared for him. And now, when he needs his friend the most, you toss him out like he’s a piece of trash!” your voice was elevated as your protectiveness over Adam resurfaced.

Kenny chuckled through his words when he brought up his next point, “But, didn’t you leave him too? You might not have tossed him to the curb like you claim I did, but you just told me you hadn’t seen him in months. Word it however you want, sugar. You got tired of his drinking and need to wreck everything and left him just like the rest of us did.”

Both of you deemed your date unsalvageable after your conversation, so you took an Uber back to your hotel- alone. You paced back and forth in your room, trying to calm your racing mind and make sense of what had happened at dinner. It wasn’t lost on you that you had committed the same offense against Adam like most of his friends did, but you had stuck around longer than anyone else.

You tried everything you could to help him, loving him through all the rough days and drunken nights while sacrificing anything and everything you could for him. When you felt like you were being sucked down the same rabbit hole as him, you made the difficult choice to wave the white flag and save yourself.

Anger started to turn into frustration which turned into tears and remorse over how you ended things with Adam. You were considering going on a run to help clear your mind and blow off steam when your phone vibrated on the table. Your heart leaped into your throat when you saw who it was from.

My Cowboy: I have been trying, Y/N. I’m trying to be better for myself, and for you. It may not seem like much, but I have cut way back on my drinking and I’m working on changing the thoughts that go through my head. I’ve been kicking myself all day for letting you walk away again. I should’ve held onto your arm tighter and made you stay and listen to what I wanted to say. I realize my words haven’t always matched up with my actions. I’ll do whatever I can to restore your faith in me.

Your heart was pounding against your chest as you read his words over and over again. You decided you were done with thinking. It was time to feel instead. You rapidly sent your reply to Adam:

My Girl: Room 307. Hurry.

It took no time at all for a soft knock to tap against your door. With a deep breath, you opened it slowly, revealing the tall and handsome cowboy you fell in love with on the other side. You motioned for him to come in, and he did so cautiously. He knew he wasn’t in the clear yet, having many obstacles to overcome before he could regain your trust again. Adam tried to speak first, but you didn’t let him.

Your words were rushed and almost frantic as they left your lips, “I hate how my bed still smells like you. I hate how you’re the first thought that crosses my mind in the morning and before I fall asleep at night. I hate that no matter how hard I tried, I never stopped thinking of you. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry I gave up on you.”

Adam closed the gap between you, cupping your cheek in his hand while looking deeply in your eyes. You felt yourself melt in his palm, his words making part of the wall around your heart crumble,

“I realize now just how much of a problem my drinking and negative thoughts were. Looking back on how things ended between us, I understand why you left. You didn’t deserve all those late-night calls and texts, or me showing up at your door drunk off my ass. I put you in a terrible position time and time again, and you stayed longer than you should have. It’s me who is sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry for all the trouble and pain I’ve caused you.”

Adam rested his forehead against yours, a weight felt like it had been lifted off your shoulders hearing him apologize. This time it truly felt different. It felt like a real apology and not one that was meaningless like all the ones before.

You knew you were done for after Adam brushed his nose against yours and whispered, “You know, you never really left me, Y/N. I always carried you with me in my heart. You’ve been my motivation to do better- to be better. I will show you that I’m worth one last chance.”

Kissing your cowboy again was something you had dreamt about many times over the past few months. When your lips crashed against his, the kiss was even better than you could’ve imagined! He no longer tasted like whiskey, just pure sweetness, and love. You moaned into Adam’s mouth as your tongues danced together to an old familiar song, intertwining themselves and leaving you breathless.

The air in the room was thick with desire, the temperature surely had risen at least 20 degrees! Hagman lifted you with ease, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist as he carried you over to the bed. He refused to let you go as he gently lowered you onto the mattress, pulling you as close to him as physically possible. What started out as pure sugar, quickly changed into spice as you and your cowboy practically ripped each other’s clothes off!

Your body shivered against Adam’s once you were finally skin on skin, and you gasped when he slid himself inside of you. His movements were purposeful and deep as his tip brushed against your walls, hitting all the right spots. Adam cursed under his breath the more pleasure overtook him, and when your name fell from his lips in a breathy moan, you felt yourself start to unravel.

“A-Adam! I’m so close. Please, don’t st-stop!” you cried out.

Your words encouraged him to keep his pace, ultimately bringing you to your climax. His words elevated your orgasm that much more,

“That’s it, my angel. Let yourself go all over me. God, you’re so beautiful!”

You let out a contented sigh as you came down from your high and as you felt your cowboy pulsate against your walls as he filled you with his seed.

Your heart felt whole as you laid in Adam’s embrace. The warmth of his body against yours was something you had missed dearly, and you felt like you could stay like this forever. The two of you had a long road ahead filled with hard work, patience, and love as you both try to make things right and start on a new journey. You had a sense of renewed hope after reuniting with Adam, and you could only pray that you would never have to experience your heart walking around outside of your body again.

[gayelectro]

Thirst: A Ten Year Retrospective

On June 7th, 2013, at 7:30 PM, The Hub Network aired Transformers Prime’s 60th episode. Title: Thirst. Just five episodes before the conclusion of the series (and a post-series “movie”), the last few episodes of any serialized show can have a lot weighing on them, as you need to wrap up story threads in a satisfying fashion. 

For me though, Thirst missed the mark. Pretty hard.

When this episode aired, I hated it. And when posting my grievances on Tumblr, I was met with a lot of backlash. This naturally compounded the hatred I ended up brewing for this episode, as I felt as though couldn’t even talk about it with people without hearing some seriously stupid counterpoints or outright attacks to my character over not liking an episode of a children’s cartoon to sell toys.

Well, a lot of time has passed since then. It’s been a decade and I want to lay this whole thing to rest. I was 16 and still in high school when it aired, and now I’m a whole ass married 26 year old adult with a job. So I feel that getting all of my thoughts and feelings out, while also reflecting on how the Transformers fandom (and myself) have changed, might finally quell this beast for good. Aiming for the spark, as it were.

Skip the readmore if you don’t want to encounter a genuinely and insanely long post full of rambling and Transformers media consumption.

Naturally, disclaimers, because this is the internet.

Don’t go and read this and give any guff to anyone who worked on this episode or in Transformers Prime in general. I shouldn’t have to say this. Even as I speculate over what writer’s intentions or unconscious biases were back in 2013, it still gives nobody any reason to find these people and bother them. I’m allowed to criticize a show but I see no need for anybody to send shit to people who were likely just trying to get their paycheck from Hasbro.

Another disclaimer: I don’t have any problem with people who like or love this episode. I have friends who do. And I can see what positive points about it shine out for them. But I’m still allowed to have differing feelings about it and express them. At the crux of it, I think it’s just that simple. Everybody should be able to coexist within a fandom and deal with someone not liking your favorite episode or someone loving an episode you hate.

And I think one last disclaimer: the fact is that a lot of my anger towards this episode is partially baked in due to immediate fandom reactions at the time of release and my own disappointment in the episode not being what I hoped it to be. I’m going to dissect that where possible in this post. But fundamentally, I just don’t understand people who are like “you can’t hold it against a piece of media for not being what you wanted it to be” in regards to being misled. There’s a vast difference between letting fan theories get in the way of the author’s intent and being misled due to the way something is advertised. And while yes, the show isn’t to blame for how the fandom reacted to the episode, it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. How could it not? Human brains are wired for pattern recognition. How am I supposed to forget the way I was treated for not liking this episode? How am I supposed to be objective about this short of amnesia to experience the episode for the first time all over again?

Anyways, now that that’s out of the way, let’s dive in!

Now let it be known that I was thrilled for this episode. I was an avid Transformers Prime watcher. I made a whole event around every new episode airing. And I watched the promos like a hawk. I was obsessed with Transformers Prime when it was airing and convinced that it was a masterpiece. Truly, the apex of Transformers media.

So, the promotions really emphasized the zombie aspect of this episode, with a sneak peak at what they would look like. I don’t consider myself a horror fan by any means, I’ve always been squeamish and jumpy, but I think there’s an aspect of horror that lends itself to the curious mind. I wanted this episode to be scary. Knowing the Y-7 rating, I knew that this was going to be horror that likely fell within my comfort zone while also possibly pushing the envelope a bit. After all, Samurai Jack creator Genndy Tartakovsky had spoken at length about how much violence he could get under the radar in kid’s TV by having all of the “gore” be robots and aliens. I assumed that this episode was going to do much of the same.

Let me get it out of the way right now, one good thing about Thirst is the “zombicon” designs. I think they’re great. Personally would not change a thing about them, they’re pretty darn perfect.

But, being a weenie, I did try my hardest to steel myself against what the episode might throw at me. I was expecting the absolute worst they could get away with in regards to robot gore and violence and jumpscares. I wanted this episode to be scary. Sure, Y-7 scary, but still scary. I probably expected too much, given that I didn’t understand why shows stuck so hard to just 22 minute time slots at the time. But I was an easily startled kid, I figured they could still deliver... And, well... I just didn’t get that at all.

More or less, the episode rips itself into pieces. If one is being generous, about 1/3rd of the episode is veering on horror. But 2/3rds of the runtime are easily just comedic slapstick and banter between Knock Out and Starscream. While this is fine, it certainly wasn’t to my taste and was a let down. This episode obviously really really wanted to be funny and Decepticon focused. And while it was the only episode of Prime to not have a single Autobot in it, I still found its humor to be. Well.

Now, a tangent:

The writers and this series relationship with its queer-coded characters is complex and strange, to say the least. While I do love and appreciate a gay villain, it’s still very telling that the most flamboyant and clearly gay acting characters are Decepticons. Starscream in his literal stiletto heels and effeminate shrieks, Knock Out with his foppish behavior and just about everything said behind the scenes about him... It’s undeniable that they’re intended to be read as gay and it feels as though it varies from episode to episode whether them being gay is supposed to be humorous, relatable, or dastardly.

Thirst definitely feels like... The worst of this to me.

I’m going to focus more on Knock Out, just because he’s realistically more near and dear to my heart. But the fact is, I saw myself in these characters growing up. I was a young queer with no representation in the media I enjoyed. So of course I would cling to the gay, sexy robot. Regardless of if writers wanted him to be someone the audience saw themselves in, I did.

Of course, I believe at this point that everyone is familiar with “The Botcon Incident”.

[ALT TEXT : When asked at BotCon 2011, the Prime writers said that there is no designation for gay, or straight, for that matter, on Cybertron, where Transformers are created by the AllSpark, not through sexual reproductions. They also said that Knock Out is a knock out, and that the Nemesis is a very "don't ask, don't tell" place. And then they jokingly deflected the matter, claiming that Knock Out's mannerisms are not caused by any particular orientation, but are simply eccentricities caused by "a glitch in the AllSpark" the day he was created... which is unintentionally so insulting to gay people that it could create an awkward silence in the Void. ]

On one hand, Knock Out acting gay is seen as a defect. A mistake or some sort of source of humor. At the same time, there was still a lot of love given to him by the writers. In panels, they’ve expressed that they refused to let Knock Out be killed off (regardless of if any other character lived or died). Part of this was because he was really the big “original” character for the show, but part of it also definitely has to be some sort of genuine love for the character, I think.

So, it’s a weird act to juggle as a queer fan, right? The writers loved Knock Out but it feels like they still wanted to poke and jeer about how gay he was (without even really confirming him to be gay, but we can all admit he acts gay and that’s WEIRD, am I right guys).

To wrap around to Thirst: I feel like this is part of why I don’t find as much humor in the slapstick Knock Out/Starscream moments in the episode as other fans do. This feels like the most brazen and obvious part of it: the humor in the episode feels like it comes from a place of “how funny would it be to make the fags run around the ship screaming their heads off”.

By season three, the animation in this show became so beautiful and utterly expressive. And that’s a great thing. But the level to which they pushed Knock Out and Starscream’s run cycles was just... Like I get it, it’s funny when scared gay person does a silly effeminate run. Not to mention how these characters have established run cycles, we’ve seen them run before, no, in this episode they flail about helplessly because it’s sooooooo funny.

I do feel like there were undercurrents of homophobia in this show. It released in 2013 and thus was probably written back in 2012. To act like the writers room was completely devoid of the influences of homophobia would be absurd. I’m not saying that the episode is explicitly homophobic, nor that it’s homophobic to put gay characters in horror scenarios, nor that everyone who worked on Transformers Prime is a homophobe. But I am saying that this show was a product of its time, and 2012 was a very homophobic time, and that I think we can talk about that without assuming the worst in those bringing it up or the worst in everybody who worked on the media in question. Multiple things can be true at once. I just want to talk about how the vibes are off, man, it feels a little gay bash-y.

Part of what I’m trying to describe here is, to put it another way, would this episode have worked the way it did with any other characters being at the forefront? Thirst, but with say, Shockwave and Soundwave? Airachnid and Megatron? Or Arcee and Bulkhead? Or Ratchet and Wheeljack? However you switch this episode around, I’m almost positive the characters’ mere presence would not be treated as inherently comedic into itself. It feels very telling that this was a Knock Out and Starscream episode, because Knock Out and Starscream are the most obviously queer-coded characters.

Getting off of that tangent which I’m sure has already turned the few readers of this away, let me get back more into the meat of this retrospective.

Another thing that infuriated me about fan reception to this episode is that a lot of fans reduced everything to shipping wars. If there’s something that’s really changed with time in the Transformers fandom, thank fuck it’s the shipping culture. A decade ago, any and all issues I had with this episode got reduced to “You’re a KO/BD shipper and you’re angry because this episode had KO/SS moments”. To this day, I cannot express how such a dismissive and us vs. them attitude makes me see fucking red! If anything, the fan’s combative nature is what made me come to dislike KO/SS as a ship-- not the other way around.

The fact is, the banter between Knock Out and Starscream is entertaining. I do like that aspect of the episode. When they open up to one another in the bunker, it’s a really sweet moment! We have two Decepticons being vulnerable and open with each other, which is a rarity, given how cold living on the Nemesis is! It was a genuinely touching moment that gave us insight into both Knock Out and Starscream as individuals, which I really did enjoy.

The way they speak to each other throughout the episode is actually one of the things that makes me wish I could come back to this episode more (and hopefully now I can). It’s telling how they can open up to one another only to immediately throw each other under the bus the very next moment. It speaks to the Decepticon’s culture.

But anywho, there was also just the... Blatant ignoring of what actually was said in the episode to fit an agenda. Ardent “only-one-ship-may-rule” KO/SS fans insisted that Knock Out’s behavior in this episode ““proved”“ that he didn’t care about Breakdown. This thankfully has died off overtime in the fandom, now that more people can accept multiple ships coexisting in peace instead of making conflict where there doesn’t need to be any.

But even if we take shipping out of the equation entirely, you have to be either not listening or willingly deluding yourself if you think that any of Knock Out’s actions in this episode are showing that he did not care about Breakdown, regardless of if you think that relationship was lovers, friends, or just close coworkers.

“Despite your justifiable lack of regard for his human side, it doesn’t trouble you to watch what remains of your former partner endure your scientific endeavors?” “Not really. Besides, Silas once had poor Breakdown pinned to his lab table. I think my former partner would be pleased to be a part.”

This was the big exchange that really got under people’s skin. Watching it live, I loved this reaction from Knock Out. It spoke to what a sadist that he was and how he went about extracting revenge. He saw the perfect bookending of stories; Silas experimented on Breakdown, so it was only fit for Knock Out to experiment on Silas. Just as Silas had used Breakdown’s corpse as a suit to trounce around in, Knock Out would treat his body just as such. Just a shell, not any remnant of the soul that was once inside.

But certain people just heard the deadpan “not really” and just stopped listening. Like, I’m sorry, but these guys are alien robots. They probably already don’t have exactly the same feelings around corpse desecration as we do, and even if they did, Knock Out is kind of a freak anyways.

And once again, when I saw this episode, I was single. Now I’m married. I can see even more now how love can push you to weird, freakish, even ghoulish extremes. I personally could think of hardly anything more romantic than my wife torturing and experimenting on someone who wronged me. And I certainly wouldn’t be kind to someone for wearing her face in the event of her passing.

And the line “You’re no Breakdown” got wildly misinterpreted too. Somehow people thought that meant that Breakdown was “lesser” than Starscream, which... What? How? Like it’s obvious that Knock Out is contrasting his former relationship to Breakdown to the relationship he has to Starscream here. Starscream and Breakdown are vastly different people, that’s not to say anything about shipping. Once again, even if you only see Breakdown as Knock Out’s assistant, his relationship to Starscream is still vastly different to his relationship with Breakdown. Starscream is his superior officer whereas Breakdown is either on the same rung as him or a step lower. This is not a value judgement on either ship! It’s just basic chemistry and writing! One of them is a quiet brute while the other is a commanding fruit. I’m not understanding how this could lift up or put down either ship, so to see people do that (admittedly on both sides of this stupid fucking ship war) was just aggravating.

Once again, I can’t stress enough how by and large, the fandom’s attitude has shifted away from that bullshit. I see people gleefully talk about shipping all three of them together or just shipping their own favorite thing without needing to bring the other ship into it at all in an adversarial way. It’s great. Wish that could’ve been here all along. I could only imagine the kind of blood that would have been shed if someone had conducted the Transformers Husband Poll or Canon Ship Poll back in 2013, but now people can just have a good time with things the way we’re supposed to.

And then we get to the part where I actually take issue with the writing of the episode itself, regardless to fandom reaction.

Airachnid. 

Okay, so can we finally talk about this part? Because when I took issue with this when the episode aired, I got a lot of “wait and see, they still have time to do something with this”. Which. No they fucking didn’t. They opened up like five new plot points, for no reason, right at the end of the series, and then did not follow up on them at all.

I can’t wrap my head around this, even now. Why did they even take this character out of stasis? They fridged her before only to let her out for five minutes to fridge her again. This is so absurdly stupid, like I still cannot even find a silver lining to this part.

Airachnid having a hoard of zombie Insecticons on one of Cybertron’s moons did not even get a mention for the rest of the series.

What was the point of this? Legitimately, was there some sort of reason they needed to write out the Insecticons so badly? They hadn’t really been important in any regard for a long time. At that point in the show, they were barely a step above Vehicons when it came to being Decepticon cannon fodder. Was there any reason to make Airachnid extra dead with more steps? Because this doesn’t provide more closure than her already piss poor exit from the show with her being in stasis, frozen in a pod, as a trophy for Megatron.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, would have changed for the rest of Prime if Airachnid had stayed frozen in her pod and the Insecticons stayed aboard the Nemesis. I can’t think up a defense for this, I can’t conjure up an explanation, just... Why? I’m still left feeling like this was fucking strange. Maybe someone’s femdom hypnosis vampire queen fetish, I can’t fucking tell.

Now that the series is over, I’m hoping at least people can acknowledge that this was pointless, stupid, and just unnecessary. Or at least give me any reason why this isn’t the dumbest thing ever. Because this was the big thing in the actual canon of the episode that made me go “wow, that was an awful episode”.

And while I’m still left scratching my head over that, I do feel... Relieved. The more I think it over, the more I can see how the fandom has changed for the better in a lot of respects. And upon rewatching this episode, I can better see the parts that I actually like. Sure, some shit still bothers me, but I do feel better about it now.

And of course, watching Prime as it airs at 16 is a very different experience than trying to rewatch it... Basically any time once you hit your 20s. I still love Prime, but I’m older now and can see its flaws, especially since we’ve got the whole story to work with. I still recommend Prime as a starting point to people with certain tastes who wanna get into Transformers. But doing a full rewatch of the series for me is a chore now due to some of the glaring writing issues and pacing. It’s a good show, but not the pinnacle of Transformers media I used to think of it as. And that’s okay! Tempered expectations help a lot with disappointment.

With something like ten years, a lot has changed in the Transformers franchise. We now have a plethora of canon queer characters and relationships, all treated with respect. We have a nonbinary Autobot in a children’s cartoon, and I know that would have changed my world as a kid if I had grown up with that. And while it sucks that my favorite character in Transformers Prime, Breakdown, got killed off so unceremoniously, so many continuities after that have tried to make up for it by having him survive and thrive.

Another positive note is the way my feelings for this episode have impacted my real life.

Back when my wife was still just my girlfriend, I ranted and raved to her about how much I hated this episode. How stupid it was. How it was the worst episode of the whole show. Back then, she had no interest in any media pertaining to robots, let alone Transformers. But something about how passionate that got me made her curious. She checked out Thirst, and concluded that if that was the worst the Transformers Prime had to offer, then it might be a pretty good show overall. She ended up watching Prime, and with that gateway, I was able to get her to watch and enjoy more Transformers media. Which lead to more robot media as a whole. Now we have so many more fandoms and shows that we enjoy together, all because my hate boner for this episode piqued her interest! Sharing my love of robots with my wife has been a wonderful facet of our relationship and I simply don’t know how we would have gotten there without this entry way!

All of this to say... I think after ten years, maybe this isn’t the worst episode of the series. I can’t be bothered with a whole rewatch to find out, as the episodes that bore me aren’t ones that I’d bother to watch again just to rate. The shit with Airachnid was mind-achingly stupid and maybe some of the slapstick hasn’t aged the best, but otherwise it just is what it is. I liked Silas dying, I liked the character interactions we got between Starscream and Knock Out, I always adore Darren Norris’ performance as Knock Out and this episode does wonders to show off his skill (“Precisely my-- WHAT”), and the zombie designs were pretty baller.

I thank this episode for what it’s given to me, I’m going to let go of the ghosts of fandom’s past, and now I set it all free.

Here’s the whole episode on Youtube, TFwiki just links these if they’re available, apparently.