#feel free to burn me at the stake for this

[luxuki-1]

The academy didn't train her for this (Inspired by that one episode in RiD)

Bonus:

(Note: I know Bee is muchhh older in canon, I just thought it would be funny to reference when his first toy was released lol)

[wackysach]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝕿𝓲𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝕽𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓻

𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝔂. ⋆˙⟡

[needlebeetles]

I am seeing a bit of straying from the source material in the Kipperlilly Copperkettle tag tonight, so I’d just like to say: She thinks magical hardship specifically gives students an unfair advantage at Aguefort, not having an association with the magical generally. So, Kristen Applebees the literal chosen one of a god, Adaine Abernant, Oracle of Everyone, and Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of an incredibly rich pirate who later becomes an incredibly powerful demon, would not fall underneath this rule. Riz Gukgak, whose dad got eaten by a dragon, would. I will concede that experiencing magical hardship does can give characters a kind of automatic questline, (“your dad is cursed? go uncurse your dad!”) but also like. This questline comes at the expense of having experienced magical hardship. Riz’s dad is dead.

Kipperlilly (so far, I do suspect there might be something up with her family, cause kids who want so badly to have something loudly fucked up happening to them usually have something quietly and mundanely fucked up happening to them) lived a relatively comfortable, if boring, life, but grew jealous over the fact that other adventurers got cool meaningful quests while she and her party were killing rats in the starting area (by choice).

There is very much a “stigma” against normies in Elmville, and while I can’t blame Kipperlilly, teenager, for getting caught up in that, it’s literally fine to just be an accountant, or a janitor, or a librarian. Or a middling adventuring party. Kipperlilly Copperkettle is a theatre kid jealous of child celebrities, and while that’s like. Fair and fine, she’s not a martyr for having all these big emotions centering around being mundane and not going on incredibly traumatizing quests where the world ends if you fuck it up. She’s a teenager internalizing the social values of the place she grew up in and getting mad about not fitting them without confronting the fact that these values are flawed and harmful, because she’s a teenager (which is, imo, a much more interesting narrative).

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

gotta admit there is something deeply satisfying abt the ability in ds2 to completely clear out a path to a boss

[unhinged-popsocket]

Hi hello mutuals (and maybe also people who don't follow me back cause im stupid and forgor) time for me to bug you with my dumb ideas which may or may not come to fruition

Kinda have a strong urge to start a Minecraft SMP or otherwise a server of some sorts but have a severe lack of people who would be willing so here I am

I guess like this post/respond/DM me if interested or have any comments or ideas, then I'll figure out what to do next if there's enough interest

Secondary goal here if SMP doesn't work out is to just try to get together a group of people I can pull from for games that have a larger party size or need a bigger group (TableTop Sim, random web party games and such). So like, also respond if you'd wanna join in for that

I'll likely just be merging this into my already existing small semi-active friend Discord server so as to not make another one for possibly no real reason

Also if there is already a Discord or something with a bunch of you all do tell, wouldn't wanna double up on it

@s under the cut

@rubecularum-res @dehydratedlydia @shitass-broadsword @queen-mihai @w4nderingdreamer @willowplantcat @willowyew @empress-of-dark2005 @esthermika @rottingelysium @terrencetheshark13 @unhinged-transbian @i-am-totally-not-a-lizard @oddlysexypancake @original-username42 @phinatheeeper @petzah394 @porygon-v @architectofimagination @aquar-io @afemwolfboy @smalltestaccount @soggy-wet-catgirl @dyle-zacharius-ann @homosexualasstransbian @kwaitwhat @catatonic-chaos-climax @caramella-dansen @canofsouper @bigass-phrog @nelly289 @nellaaaaaa @maythefool @maramoment @maybeestonian

[spacebubblehomebase]

hi, just letting you know that ahmed 90s-ghost doesn't verify fundraisers anymore! he quit after it got too overwhelming, so you shouldn't @ him asking him to. you can probably find the post about it by searching his blog.

Thanks for letting me know, Anon...

I get it... I REALLY do.

I understand. Y'know I used to be so excited to get Asks. It means someone wants to talk about art and silly cartoon characters with me. But now all I feel is dread. Not because I don't want to help, but because the help I give is never enough. I used to privately mesage back to those Asks, but one became 6 became 10 to... Well. I can't donate. Euros and dollars are valued a lot higher here, thus the opposite is also true. The value of our money is but a paltry bread's worth and even if I split it in crumbs, with the amount of people who approach me for help, it'll soon run dry, but I'm just a student who still rely on my parents financially. So I thought I'd share instead, but that quickly got out of hand. I post one thing and get multiple asks by the HOUR. I already had to apologize for struggling to meet demands before and I only had 3 or 6 rare to come-by short Asks about art. Now I have a hundred and counting I have to check personally. I didn't want to admit it, but I've also long been overwhelmed. I just didn't feel like I had the right to say so. I still don't. But the truth is, anyone can say they're verified too, which is terrible because not only will I be partially responsible for my followers who got scammed by bots or scumbags who take advantage of those at war with fake fundraisers, but even worse is that the help and money may not even reach those who actually need it. I thought I would be fine the first time. I don't really like posting too much about our depressing reality or watching news in general because my account was supposed to be a "safe SPACE" and a "nice little BUBBLE" for us to be happy and escape for awhile, so I didn'tmthink much about rebloggingit at first. I only wanted to help. But it just kept going and I got swept away. There's so many of them, but there's only one of me and I've been spiraling lately. So for now, I will no longer take any Asks about this subject (which I always avoid mentioning directly because the algorithm has it out for putting you guys down and I wanted you all to make it so I didn't tag those reblogs with such). I'll still take Asks provided they're related to my actual content and of course I'll still support raising awareness for Pal est ine, yet I also get it if this may appear selfish to some of you. I tried. I really did. But if you'd rather ignore, unfollow, or block me for this decision, I understand. I'm just sorry it had to come to this and that I wasn't strong enough to help more. -Bubs.

[samuraisharkie]

it’s absolutely gutting to see what’s happening right now.

[gracieblood]

one day i’m going to say something really controversial and everyone will hate me and i’ll have to change my name and leave the country i just know it

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 18: Massaging

Summary: Silco is beyond stressed, so you find a way to make him relax. Little do you know, he has way more on his mind than your hands on his shoulders. Warnings: Oral sex, blowjobs, massaging, slight sub/dom dynamics, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @silcoitus Their kinktober writing has me foaming at the mouth for Silco! Go check them out!

The tension in the air was palpable. The weight of leadership pressed down on him, with the constant threat of enemies lurking in the shadows. Papers lay strewn across the desk, remnants of plans and schematics, while the glow of the single lamp highlighted the lines etched deeply into his face. The dimly lit office of the Last Drop provided no respite for the Eye of Zaun.

You entered the room quietly, footsteps barely audible against the worn floorboards. You had noticed the signs of stress in him—the way his jaw clenched, the furrow in his brow, and the way he stared at the papers without truly seeing them. Sure, you were his assistant and noticing these signs was apart of the job but recently the both of you had toeing the line of a relationship after a few dates and stolen kisses. So, was walking up to him and placing your firm hands on his shoulders apart of your job or was it your love for the scarred man that sat before you?

“Hey,” you said softly, breaking the silence. Silco looked up, his piercing gaze softening slightly at you presence. “You’ve been working too hard. How about a break?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, revealing the tension in his posture. “I can’t afford to rest right now, Y/N. There’s too much at stake.”

You stepped closer, eyes searching his. “I know, but you need to take care of yourself too. Let me help.”

Silco hesitated but eventually nodded, the flicker of gratitude hidden behind his usual stoicism. You moved behind him, hands warm and gentle as you placed them on his shoulders. “Just relax,” you instructed quietly.

As your fingers began to knead the tense muscles, Silco felt a wave of relief wash over him. You had a uncanny way of grounding him, of reminding him that even in the chaos, some respite may be found. It was part of the reason he was so drawn to you, how you seemed to quiet the incessant noise in his mind. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the moment as you worked the knots from his shoulders, touch firm yet soothing.

“You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, don’t you?” You murmured, voice a calming presence in the storm of his thoughts.

“Something like that,” he replied, his voice low. It was hard to let go, to admit that he needed this small reprieve, but the way your hands coaxed the tension away, one knot at a time, was perfect. He wouldn’t admit it aloud but he would often imagine how else your hands would feel raking down his chest. How it would sting, leave marks for him to wear secretly with pride. Would your hands feel just as good wrapped around his hardened length, Jana, he could see it now. 

You slolwy dragging the zipper of his suit pants down to let his cock spring free, marvelling at the sight, knowing that it was all for you. Wave of arousal pooling in your pants, leaving a wet spot he would surely tease you about later. His body tenses again, his breath getting caught in his throat, as you work out another knot in his back; unaware of his thoughts. His eyes would drift open to watch your actions, his gaze burning intoyour body with a mixture of desire and need. A low, guttural moan would part from his lips as you would start to pump his throbbing member, his hips instinctively bucking towards your touch. He's almost lost for words, the sensation overwhelming his senses, his mind clouded by a primal desire. He can barely think straight anymore, all his focus centered on you and what you're doing…should be to him right now. 

The strain in his pants is unbearable as he imagines all the filthy little things your hands could do to him. It was wrong, truly, to think such henious things of his assistant. But here you were, so perfect and obiedent, taking care of him like you loved him. 

You chuckled softly, you fingers digging into a particularly tight spot. “You know, you could always delegate a bit more work to others. Trust others to handle things.”

“I trust you,” he said, surprising himself with the quickness of his reply. Had you noticed the way his eyes dialated, how his trousers had a large indent? “You should charge for this,” he quipped, maybe bringing the topic back to its origin would save him from embarrasment. 

“Only if you promise to take me out for dinner afterward,” you replied, playful tone lightening the atmosphere. But then, he could feel your hot breath on the shell of his ear. You leaned down, lips ghosted over his face as one of your hands stopped its ministrations to slowly wander its way down his chest, his belt buckle; settling at the zipper of his pants. “And if you promise to let me make you feel as relaxed as possible, boss.”

Oh, how could he deny you?

[artdcnaldson]

you can probably tell all this shit is from me but i'm on something tonight and i'm too pussy to sign off with an emoji. anyway, thinking about bsf!artrick arguing over who fucks better and they look at you and who are you to say no to a purely Scientific Experiment. it's for the greater good! i need them to run a train on me. holy shit. them blindfolding you and making you guess who's fucking you and who's eating you out etc.

You’re so iconic I need you to know I worked on this to make it perfect for you and I hope you enjoy!!

But SIGHHHH Getting tied down to the headboard so you can’t cheat and feel for clues! So you’re blindfolded, tied, and completely susceptible to their whims. They’re trying to ignore how pretty you look, because this is simply to settle a disagreement, okay! This has nothing to do with how bad they’ve both fantasized about fucking you since they’ve known you!

It starts with their hands. You’ve never paid much attention to them before (you’re lying), but you swear you can feel the difference between them just by the touch. Patrick touches like he’s trying to stake a claim on your skin. His hands are rough from use— you can feel the rough scrape of callouses against tender skin as he gropes at your tits. Art’s touch is tender and intentional. A little softer (you know he keeps hand cream in his gym bag so his hands don’t crack and split like Patrick’s)— his hands trace along your body delicately, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

That’s easy, but it’s harder to think when it’s their mouths on your pussy, licking and teasing and fucking devouring. You squirm against the restraints, but firm hands hold you down in one spot. Art’s hands on your hips, Patrick’s fingers teasing at your entrance. Patrick’s mouth— fuck.

Patrick eats you out like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, and he very well could. It’s wet and messy and so, so desperate, like he’s got something to prove. He pulls back and spits your arousal back onto your cunt, and you’re sure there’s a puddle beneath you that’s a mix of spit and your juices. Your back arches off the bed as he hikes one of your thighs over his shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer. The sound of his fingers thrusting into your sopping pussy are so obscene that your cheeks burn— you’ve never been treated like this by anyone else before, but you like it. You like how hot and desirable he makes you feel. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks with just the right amount of pressure, and your thighs shake from the intensity of it all. You couldn’t have tried to hold off your orgasm if you wanted to— Patrick wanted you to cum, so he made you cum, with all the expertise of someone who’s eaten pussy countless times before.

Your cunt is still twitching with aftershocks when Art moves between your thighs and licks up all of the slick spit and cum from Patrick’s endeavors. It’s almost soothing, how his tongue traces the shape of you, like he’s committing the contours of your body to memory. He rubs at your thigh with his free hand, and uses his other hand to ease two fingers into your cunt. He doesn’t fuck you with his fingers the way patrick did, he lets your walls flutter around them, squeeze him tight. He moans at the feeling, at your taste. There’s something about the way that Art nuzzles against your pussy, his nose rubbing at your clit as he tastes you, that tells you he fucking loves it. Patrick is good at eating girls out, but Art lives for it. Your hips cant against his mouth, and Patrick makes no move to hold you down, Art wouldn’t have wanted him to. Art lets you buck against his tongue, his nose, cover his face in your juices. The noises he makes are so pornographic you’d think he was the one getting head. You’re so oversensitive that Art makes you cum like it’s no work at all, with teasing licks against your clit and pressure against your g-spot. He’s practically making out with your pussy as you come down, and finally relents with one final kiss to your twitching clit.

“I can’t—“ you gasp, chest heaving after having two orgasms in such a quick succession. “I just need a break, I need… fuck, like a minute to catch my breath.”

“Yeah?” That’s Patrick’s voice, beside you. When he rubs a hand over your thigh you inhale a shaky breath. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

Then there’s Art’s hand, rubbing along your bicep and brushing hair from your face. “We can stop.”

You should feel exposed and vulnerable— tied up to your headboard with a silk scarf from your dresser, your entire body on display for your two best friends. Your entire body burns with need and desperation. You’ve wanted it for so long, and now that you’ve had it, how can you go back to the way things were before? How can you look at Patrick and Art when you know how their mouths and hands feel against your body? You can’t stop there— you can’t give up because what if they’re hit with clarity immediately after? What if you never get a chance again?

“Don’t wanna,” you say quickly. “Please don’t stop.”

If you weren’t blindfolded, you’d be able to see the pleased grins on their faces. They’ve wanted you like this for fucking months, and now there you are, all tied up, pretty, and dripping for them. Fuck tennis, this is one competition neither of them is willing to lose.

You feel them coax your thighs further apart, opening you up to them completely. You don’t have time to feel shy about how exposed you are, because one of them positions himself between your thighs, notching at your entrance.

In your attempts to identify which one it is, you rely on the few senses you can access. His breath hitches the second the head of his cock breaches your entrance, slipping into your wet warmth. A strangled gasp that you hear him struggle to silence. He’s positioned over you— you can smell sweet cologne and shampoo as he holds his body up and drives into your cunt. The brush of coarse hair against your clit, the feel of hairy thighs sandwiched between yours as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Patrick,” You pant out as soon as he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Of course it’s Patrick, staking his claim on your body first.

“Mhmm,” His breath is hot against your ear. “You’re so smart.” The condescending tone of his voice makes your stomach do a fucking somersault. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight. Pussy’s trying to suck me in, isn’t she? Feels that good, huh?”

Now you understand the revolving door of Patrick’s hookups, why girls put themselves through the Sisyphean cycle of pleasure and heartbreak over and over again for him. Just his words are enough to set your body on fire. All you manage in response is a pathetic nod, an involuntary arch of your back as he slowly pulls out of your cunt, then drives back in hard. The moan that spills from your lips is unlike any sound you’ve ever heard yourself make before.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just take it, baby. You're fuckin' made for it.” And you are— at least, it really feels like it. You feel him reposition— sit back on his knees, grab you by your hips, and fuck into your cunt nice and deep. He fucks like he doesn’t care if you’re going to cum, which is clearly untrue, given how close you are already.

When your climax hits you, it’s like it’s being pulled from some hidden depth in you— ripped from the very core of your being. Your toes curl, your cunt grips him like a vise, so tight his rhythm falters. It’s dizzying, all consuming. Intense and short-lived, like most of his relationships. Still, he fucks you through overstimulation until he pulls out and cums onto your tummy.

“Go ahead, I broke her in for you.” Patrick sounds smug, and you hear the clap of skin on skin as he slaps a hand on Art’s shoulder.

It doesn’t feel much like an experiment anymore. Not when you know when Art climbs on top of you, when you feel soft kisses peppered along your jaw. That goddamn oral fixation.

He eases your thighs apart, spreads you out for him. Art’s thighs are smooth against yours. From a distance, he looks hairless, but you can feel the soft brush of fine hair again your own thighs.

A shaky gasp escapes you as his cock glides against your cunt. Slow ruts of his hips that coat his length in your arousal and judge his tip against your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him, that little tease of friction and pleasure.

Art’s loud. You can hear his soft little pants and moans as he humps against your cunt, until he can’t take it anymore. “‘M gonna put it in, okay?”

You nod and let him push in nice and slow. He groans and buries his head against your neck, and you’re conscious of the brush of soft curls against your skin, of his hot breath panting against you. “You feel so good, Jesus, fuck—“

He grinds his hips into you— nice and slow, so each movement sends pleasure sparking up your nerves. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging in to tug him closer, deeper.

You've kissed Art before— at parties during stupid games meant to play on raging hormones and pent up sexual desire. Bottles spun that land on him, smoke shotgunned into your mouth when you're both a little crossed and can't help yourselves. But it's different then, when he smashes his lips to yours, licking hungrily into your mouth. Better when he's fucking you nice and deep, his body pressed against yours.

Art Donaldson, ever the sweetheart, the gentleman that Patrick is not. His hand moves between your thighs to toy with your oversensitive clit until you mewl. If the blindfold was off, you'd be able to see the pleased smile he wore when you cried out for him.

"I've got you," he mumbles against your mouth. His forehead presses against yours, his nose nudging softly as he moves between soft kisses and open mouthed gasps of pleasure. He swallows up every sweet noise you give him, squeezes the plush of your thigh in the hand that isn’t rubbing over your clit. Your body tenses with pleasure, arching into him and he moans as you clench around him. “Fuck—“

You want the blindfold off. You want to see Art come apart, you want to know what Patrick’s doing while he watches. You want so much more than you have in that moment. And still, Art brings you to your finish like it’s easy, like every other guy hasn’t struggled to do it before him (well, besides Patrick). You’re spent, panting, oversensitive and yet you still feel a throb of need as Art jerks himself off over you.

With the blindfold on, all you can hear is the slick sounds of his hand pumping over his cock, his whiny moans, and then you feel the shock of warm ropes of cum landing on your skin, dripping down your sensitive, swollen cunt and pooling on the sheets.

It’s only then that the blindfold is pulled off, and you can see the mess they’ve made of you. Patrick’s cum dried and smeared over your stomach and Art’s abs, Art’s cum glazing your pussy. They untie your hands and you don’t even realize until then that they’re all tingly with lack of blood flow. Patrick rubs his thumbs into your palms, trying to soothe the ache as Art scrambles to find some way to clean you up. Sweet boys, even if they try to deny it.

“So which one of us—“ Patrick begins, before Art throws the towel he used to clean you up in his face. His expression twists in annoyance, but he knows better than to ask again. He’s fine keeping it a tie… for the time being, that is.

[harstyle]

the styles’ nanny

Summary: Y/N is a twenty-three year old uni student and Harry is a thirty-six year old single dad. Y/N is a part-time nanny and Harry is her employer. Y/N thinks Harry is hot, and Harry… well, he’s a bit confused.

Pairing: plussize-nanny!yn + older-singledad!harry

Word-count: 7.3k

Warnings: age gap (13 years), mentions of alcohol and drinking and lashing out during an argument, no happy ending yet

A/N: I don’t know why I keep writing characters that start out insecure but I swear it’ll get better later!! Let me know if you want to read more, I’m thinking maybe three parts? Also, the fact that y/n is plus-size doesn’t really become a big deal in the story, but that was how I originally had her in mind so I’m leaving it that way. Hope you enjoy!

Y/N was twenty three. She was twenty three, and she used to love being twenty three. She used to love going out to party, the feeling of alcohol burning down her throat, the rush of palpable excitement when having sex with people she’d never met before. She used to love that. But she didn’t anymore.

And the reason for that? One Harry Styles.

It was ridiculous, of course; Harry had other companions he could turn to before ever settling on her— oh and not to mention, he was her boss. Yet, it felt daring, like that time she’d fallen in love with her biology teacher or looked differently at her camp instructor in high school. Authority figures did something to her brain, and Harry was no different.

But of course there was a lot at stake and she would never actually approach the idea; it was a fantasy at most. And she thought… as long as she didn’t act on her brain’s poisoning, it would be fine.

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“Oh,” Y/N was snapped back following a short distraction, the butter knife in her hand now seeming more dangerous than when she’d held it seconds before. “Sorry, Harry, what was that?”

She swore she could see an amused smile tugging at his lips for a brief second. She’d always wondered what he thought of her.

“Are you free next Thursday? I have this meeting until late and I doubt I’ll be home for dinner—I was thinking you could maybe put Jamie to bed? You can stay the night if it’s too late to catch a train, or just take the other car?”

Y/N’s work day at the Styles’ house ended at five pm most days in time for Harry to get home, but she did adore Jamie, so staying longer wasn’t remotely an issue.

“That’s okay, I can just stay the night like I did last time, if that’s alright?”

Harry had insisted when she’d begun working for him that she have a room in the house where she could take naps to rest or stay the night all together when it got too tiring to catch the train home, and the notion of it had pulled at her heartstrings. He was very considerate and that was rare in bosses.

Harry shook his head, waving her off with ease, “course it’s okay.”

“Great. I should get home, I have an important test coming up tomorrow. Am I good to go?”

He glanced at the clock, noticing how late it had gotten (he’d offered to cook dinner and Y/N had never been one to reject hot men’s company) and cursed quietly to himself. “I’ll drive you.”

“Oh no Harry, really, it’s okay!”

“It’s almost eight and I feel uneasy whenever I send you away in the dark. Sides, I’m sure Jamie will love a late road trip to your flat,” he reassured with a smile, standing up as if to restrict her getting a choice and starting to load the plates into the dish washer. “Grab your coat and I’ll wait by the door. I’ll get Jamie.”

Y/N did love the way he asserted his wishes to her, kind but dominant in his decisions. He never let her deter him and she, for one, didn’t mind it at all.

“Okay, thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

—

“Can I please just get one scoop? Please?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, we just don’t have any ice cream! I would let you have it if we did, but we don’t. Is there any other snack you’re interested in?”

Jamie was being fussy today and Y/N couldn’t figure out why. He’d been happy when she’d picked him up from school, raving on about his art teacher’s praise on a drawing he’d done with the widest grin resting lazily on his small lips. It had been at around three that he’d started whining at her, not wanting to eat even though he’d requested the grilled cheese and flicking through about twenty channels until he’d finally settled on not watching anything at all. Y/N had figured he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep either, so she was left thoroughly baffled trying to find ways to tame his mood.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop whining and crying, wouldn’t stop flailing his tiny arms and legs, wouldn’t stop pouting at her. Jamie had the best behaviour Y/N had ever seen on a boy, really, so this outburst worried her. “I just want ice cream!”

“Jamie, we don’t have any ice cream. How about I get you ice cream tomorrow, hm? And today we’ll have something else? Come on, remember how we learned about compromise?”

Y/N was trying, pulling Jamie into her lap to comfort him even though he didn’t care for any of it. His face was red and angry and nothing she said registered in his brain. He cried into her shoulder instead, gripping at her sides in terror. “You’re being mean to me.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice, I’m trying to help you bud.”

“Please, I just want ice cream.”

It was kind of cute how even in his state of devastation, he still managed to be polite to her.

“And I hear you, Jamie, but we don’t have any right now. Will you settle for Oreos? Or chocolate?”

He merely shook his head.

Y/N breathed a grateful sigh when she heard the front door being unlocked, still bouncing Jamie up and down in her lap in hopes that he’d settle down just a bit. She was sure Harry’d heard the crying from the front door because his steps were fast and his expression of concern clear.

“What’s wrong, bub?”

Jamie reacted with a devastating whine, calling for his dad and reaching his arms out begging to be carried. Harry shot Y/N a look of mixed confusion and apology, leveling the boy out from inside of her lap. He mouthed the question she knew he’d been thinking and felt bad when all she could offer in return was a shrug because she knew it wasn’t the ice cream anymore

Harry sung in whispers into his ear in the hopes of calming him, bouncing him around on the spot. He pressed kisses to his forehead, drawing circles on his back. It worked better than when Y/N had done it, Jamie’s sobs having soothed into few hiccups and sniffles.

Y/N couldn’t help but admire how naturally skilled Harry was at being a father. She knew a little bit of the history— his fiancée at the time leaving him for another man months after having given birth to Jamie and having to raise him by himself. He was a busy man and Y/N could tell that he felt bad about being unable to do things like pick up his son from preschool or spend all day playing in the den, but he was still a better father than hers had ever been. He was a great father.

Not long after his crying had died down, Jamie fell asleep in Harry’s arms. Y/N finally breathed a sigh, relieved to catch a break. She loved taking care of Jamie, but jesus had today been hard. Harry carried him up to his bedroom, careful as to not bother him and advised Y/N to wait for him to come back.

Whilst Harry was putting Jamie to bed, she decided to clean up a bit. She went through the array of toys Jamie had taken out and discarded after a short minute of playing with them, and placed them back in the drawers. A smile tugged at her lips when she saw the dino plush toy she’d gifted him when she’d first started working for this family months ago— he still played with it all of the time. In fact, Harry had once sent her a photo of it sitting next to him in the car when they’d gone on vacation in the summer. She recalled tearing up because of it.

“Hi, sorry for taking so long.”

She swore she almost jumped in reaction to his thick voice, gripping the plush tightly against her chest in shock. Harry allowed himself a chuckle, raising his hands just enough to surrender. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.”

Y/N’s only response was a forced chuckle. It still felt weird to be in a room with him by herself, without the presence of a cute five year old to tend to. It was moments like these she felt guilty about fancying him. Most of the time Harry was merely a ghost around the house and whenever he settled back in, she would leave. She rarely ever had time to utter more than a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ and rush off home. It wasn’t like he was there, so her thoughts about him didn’t seem too off putting— now, with the company of awkward silence engulfing them, she couldn’t help but feel disgusted by herself.

“Think he’s getting sick,” he then added.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I don’t think I’ve seen him like that before so it was just a bit worrisome.”

“Yeah, he only really gets like that when he’s sick, so I think it’s safe to say… you’re alright, though?”

“I’m fine, just a bit worried, as I said.”

He smiled like he found that amusing, “he’ll be okay. Are you hungry? I was going to make pasta for dinner.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Last time she’d had dinner here, Jamie had sat next to her. It hadn’t been just her and him.

“Yeah. Why don’t you put the dino down and we’ll go make it together?”

In an instant, her cheeks heated up. She hadn’t even noticed she was still clutching to it for support and figured he must’ve thought she looked so stupid welcoming the comfort of a plush toy. Another awkward chuckle escaped her as she threw it gently into its container, bucking down to lock it away as well as her memory of these last two minutes, hopefully.

Harry was a good cook, but that wasn’t really surprising at all— in fact, she couldn’t imagine there were many things he wouldn’t excel at. Y/N, on the other hand, she was terrible. She’d burned so many things in her apartments kitchen that she couldn’t keep count even if she tried. So naturally, he took the lead in every task she did, from cutting onions to seasoning the salmon.

“Wait, no, y’can’t— here,” she couldn’t help but giggle as he took the knife from her hands, cutting into the flesh himself. He huffed, but she knew it was teasing. “You’ve gotta learn how to cook.”

“I know how to cook basic things, just not some five star gourmet meal. I think you’d be surprised what I can do with some seasoning, eggs and tomatoes.”

“I have no choice but to take your word for it, do I?”

“Guess not. Can I do something else? I feel so useless.”

He clicked his tongue, not even sparing a glance her way. “Go sit on the counter and look pretty.”

And at first, Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. Did she just… literally sit on the counter? Probably not. It was… a joke, right? How did he expect she would react to such a bizarre request? For a second the guilt she’d been feeling about potentially being unprofessional subsided in a flush.

Then he finally let his eyes settle on her and she just about fainted at what he had to say, “what? Do you need help getting up?”

She was 99% sure at this point that he just got off on pestering her, what with the dino, and now this? Prior to these last two weeks he’d never even spoken more than five words to her, and now he was inviting her to dinner. He probably found the confusion written all over her face amusing.

She could probably indulge a little then, right?

“Yeah, I do.”

He didn’t just laugh, though, like she’d expected him to— no, he ran his hands under hot water, wiped his hands on his (very) expensive trousers and walked toward her. He motioned to the counter as if asking her to get closer and—

“Wait, no, I can do it.”

He immediately stepped back, hands dropping from her waist and smirk molding his mouth.

“You can now?”

“Yes.”

He held eye contact for a few more beats before moving away with a solid nod.

What the fuck was that?

Y/N had expected him to dismiss her, uttering something along the lines of ‘I was only joking’, but that? Never would she have thought that that would be the response.

It was funny, too, because he never could’ve carried her up without at least a bit of struggle. She knew what he was used to— thin women, supermodels even, and she was neither.

So despite the confusion, she got up on the counter like he’d asked. On her own.

And when he’d started asking her about normal things like family and uni, Y/N slowly eased out of her awkward stance. She told him about her mother, her brother, and left her deceased father out of it. He smiled, nodding along to her words whenever the situation allowed it and kept his eye on the food.

A blink was all it took for him to announce dinner and the two of them sat at the table together, peacefully quiet.

It was around six thirty when the patter of tiny feet sounded through the house, from the stairs to the kitchen. Both of the adults waited patiently, eyebrows raised in surprise that the little gremlin had decided to wake up after only having slept for two hours.

“Daddy?”

Y/N almost melted at his sweet, buttery voice.

Harry hummed, “is that you, bub?”

He finally poked his head into the room, carrying a plush toy in one hand and rubbing his sleepy eyes with the other. He studied the room before settling his green irises (clone of his dad’s) on Y/N.

“Y/N, you’re still here.”

She smiled, a pity smile, and answered in a sweet tone, “I am, bud. Is that okay?”

He merely nodded, stalking closer. Harry pulled him up into his lap, kissing his forehead before letting him rest against his front.

“I wanted to apologize for being mean before.”

Her stomach did another flip.

Was this a dream, or did a five year old just apologize to her on his own incentive? She swore these Styles boys surprised her every day!

Her eyes flickered to Harry and she watched as a proud smile stretched his mouth. He met her gaze, the grin undeniably wide, and shrugged as if to say didn’t tell him to.

“That’s okay, Jamie, I understand you were frustrated. Are you feeling better?”

He nodded again, although it was weak and subtle, “my throats itchy.”

Harry’s smile faded with his confession and he pressed the back of his palm to his son’s forehead, “why’d you get out of bed, then, silly? You need to rest if you’re sick.”

“Missed you, daddy.”

She could see that same guilt she’d seen so many times before manipulate Harry’s features again, and her heart broke a little bit for him. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of times she’d wanted to just break and say you’re a wonderful father to him, but stopped herself in fear of overstepping.

Knowing he wasn’t going to say anything soon enough, too lost in his own thoughts, she went on for him. “Tomorrow is Saturday, Jamie, how about you go rest so you can have a full day with your dad tomorrow? S’not nice spending weekends sick in bed, as you know.”

In a manner that was so much more than cute, Jamie’s fingers trapped his chin to appear deep in thought, and then he nodded. “That makes sense.”

Y/N almost laughed, “doesn’t it?”

“Will you be here too, Y/N?”

Jamie knew very well that Y/N wasn’t here on Saturdays, so she guessed he was only implying that she should be. An invitation of sorts.

But she really couldn’t handle being around Harry on the weekends as well as on weekdays, so she shook her head gently, “no, but I’ll be back on Monday, is that okay with you?”

To show his dismay, he jutted his lip out in a pout. “Can’t you come over for lunch?”

Harry nudged him, “Jamie, remember how we talked about what Y/N does when she isn’t here with us?”

“School. But there’s no school on Saturdays!”

“She does school, you’re right. When you get older, there’s so much you have to do for school that it never stops, not even on weekends. And you know what else she does? She meets up with friends, she plays tennis, she goes shopping for groceries. There’s tons she has to do besides spend time with us, yeah?” He never met her gaze as he spoke to Jamie, and it was better that way— he’d probably have caught her loved up eyes if he dared to do it. He remember details about her she didn’t recall telling him about. As if it hadn’t been enough, he added onto it, “plus, I reckon she’d appreciate a break from us, huh? We’re definitely not the only boys in her life, so we should share once in a while. No matter how much we like having her around.”

It was almost magical, the connection Harry and Jamie shared with each other. Nevermind what he’d said to make Jamie understand (she definitely hadn’t missed that last sentence— or the idea of ‘other boys’ altogether), it just made her happy to listen to them converse. It was healthy, a bit serious when need be but mostly light and protective. He did everything in his power to preserve Jamie’s innocence, especially about his upbringing and the whole mother issue.

After a long train of thought, Jamie slowly nodded his small head, “okay. Fine. But I get you Monday! No other boys Monday through Friday.”

Y/N couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from her mouth, incessant and silly. “Okay, Jamie, I promise I won’t let other boys come between us Monday through Friday, okay? Is that good for you?”

“Me and daddy, though. He’s the only other boy allowed.”

She giggled again, avoiding Harry’s gaze but nodding nonetheless, “sure. Daddy too.”

She felt Harry shift out of her periphery.

“Okay,” he finally settled, outstretching his arm across the table, “pinky promise?”

She did the same, but just before Jamie had a chance to interlink his much smaller finger with hers, she pulled back. “If I pinky promise you on this, will you pinky promise me that you’ll finally go rest?”

He hummed in agreement.

She welcomed the promise, letting her finger link with Jamie’s for a few seconds until he felt ready to let go.

“Now go lay down. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Kay. Can I have a hug?”

“Of course,” she cooed at him, arms already outstretched the moment he’d climbed down from Harry’s lap. Jamie gave the best hugs, so she figured Harry would as well. She’d never gotten to test that theory, though. “Okay, good night.”

“Night.”

Jamie took slow steps (he was much like his father that way, taking his time in everything he did) and slowly disappeared into the main room, eventually stalking up the stairs as both Y/N and Harry listened for it.

“Thank you,” Harry then broke the silence. Her eyes flickered toward him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion, but a nervous smile playing on her mouth. “You’re so good with him.”

“It’s my job to be good to him.”

“It’s your job to take care of him, but you’re not… you’re doing much more than just be nice to him and I appreciate that. So thank you.”

“He’s a great kid, so… not a very difficult thing to do.”

The air had somehow become thick and unwavering, unspoken words wafting between their bodies across the table and back. Harry looked like he wanted to say more but his jaw stayed shut in place and she certainly wasn’t going to pester him about it. It was already difficult to keep in mind that despite the lighthearted dinner, he was still her employer, and that the boundaries they had been practicing since the beginning of her time here were slowly being blurred and tested.

So it didn‘t really matter what she felt whenever he spoke to her, she had to preserve herself and her position here.

She feigned a glance at the clock to justify looking away and sat up in her chair, “I should go home.”

His nod was curt, “okay. I’ll get the keys.”

“No, don’t worry, I have to stop by somewhere else before. I’ll manage.”

It was a lie, of course it was.

“Fine.”

As Y/N made her way back outside, she regretted declining his offer and the farther she walked away from the house, the more she thought about the things they could’ve talked about had she let him grab his keys and escort her home. If he would walk her to the door like last time, without Jamie in the car of course, and bid her a proper goodbye. How maybe, if they’d inched close enough, they would share a moment of hesitation before kissing. Her imagination ran wild with it and she knew that it wouldn’t really happen, but the chances would’ve been greater had she just been bad.

Shit.

—

Y/N was crying.

She was bursting into tears outside of a bar looking like a pathetic, lost idiot— and it just wouldn‘t stop. She couldn’t recall anymore what exactly she‘d expected before going into the date she‘d spontaneously agreed to as a result of her mother‘s pleas, but it certainly hadn‘t been such an embarrassing let down. Her shoulders slumped as she thought back on her date‘s words: I don’t see this going anywhere, but you’re a really nice girl. Friends?

And why was she crying? She was crying because she knew what he’d really meant was: you’re not my type at all, and this was a waste of my time. How did she know? The way he’d looked at her, with a sparkle of disgust in his eyes, the tone he’d used; pitiful and mean. How he’d looked at other, skinny girls while Y/N had been planted directly in front of him and lastly, how he’d left before the date had even ended.

Y/N hadn’t left the bar as soon as he had, no, she’d stayed until now; closing time. She’d drunk herself to exhaustion, pulling shot after shot and even worrying the barista who went to her psych class at uni. Before she’d known it, the clock had struck three am and four hours had passed since what’s-his-face had left her to rot in there.

She had no idea what to do, she could barely even form a thought. It didn’t matter that she’d been rejected— this wasn’t about that, it was about something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Since the beginning of time relationships had been sparse and dreadful, so another notch on her belt couldn’t have mattered so much as to bring her to a multitude of tears, but she did feel unlovable and undesirable in the way she had throughout all of her life. People had told her things would get better if she waited it out, but they’d lied. Guys were still assholes.

There was really only one person she felt like contacting, and that was Harry. He’d been on her mind all weekend. She’d been wondering if she ever crossed his mind, if for a sliver of a second he allowed himself to think about her in the way she thought about him, and felt a disgustingly sour taste in her mouth when she realized the answer had to have been no.

But Y/N was drunk, and people did stupid things when they were drunk— so without much afterthought, she used the remainder of her battery on dialing his number. He answered after the first ring and her mind wandered to question the plausibility of him being awake at this hour.

“Y/N?”

She was struck watching the road in front of her, unable to answer. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

What had she done?

“Y/N, is everything okay?” another wave of tears overwhelmed her senses and as a result, she sobbed right into the speaker, and heard shuffling on the other side. “Sweetheart, where are you? What’s happened?”

“This guy— he just— he was so mean and he left me here—“

“Where? Where are you? Who left you?”

“The viper.”

“Y/N, that place closed twenty minutes ago. Are you inside?”

“No, she… she said I need to get out, so I did, but I didn’t know where to go cause m’drunk, and I…” there was a pause in which she realized how stupid he must’ve thought she was, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay, listen to me. Please stay there, don’t move, and send me your location. I’m coming to get you.”

She had no fight left in her, so she nodded to herself. Harry didn’t see, obviously, but he hung up with the hope that she’d understood him clearly.

When he arrived not fifteen minutes later, he put his car in park and hopped out to find Y/N sat on the floor, a lazy smile pulling at her lips when she laid eyes on him.

“Harry, hi! I was just thinking about you!”

He said nothing, a tick in his jaw as he helped her up on her feet, grounding her stature. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and he kept a steady beat to bring her to warmth as quickly as possible. Y/N got the idea, aimlessly buckling up and failing miserably until he offered assistance.

“Thank you,” she murmured to him, though he refused to give a verbal response. He merely nodded, jaw still locked in place before he closed the door. Y/N watched as he walked over to the other side and opened the door.

He drove in silence and Y/N tried to be okay with that. She stared ahead, mind still gloomy, with her lips jutted out in a pout. The silent treatment made her feel like a scolded child, like Harry was her angry father who refused to speak to her because she’d come home past her bedtime. She looked over to scan over his features, make sure the crease between his forehead had subsided at least a little, but it hadn’t.

After the longest minute of her life, she finally asked, quietly, “are you mad at me?”

And when he didn’t say anything, her heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered.

Y/N didn’t dare to say anything for the rest of the ride. When they got back, Y/N opened her own door and hopped out, refusing to wait for Harry to help. He sighed, she could hear, but she just slowly trailed after him.

“Up on the counter,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass of water to help sober up. She took it from his hand.

“Harry, I’m sor—“

“Drink the water.”

She almost flinched at his angry tone.

Y/N was halfway done with the glass when he scoffed, unable to bite his tongue any longer, “I’m angry because you were irresponsible. First you go on a date with some dickhead—“ she opened her mouth to protest, but failed to when he put up a finger to halt her, “then you get yourself drunk and sit outside of the bar alone in a stingy area. Something could’ve happened to you, then what?”

All Y/N could say was, “it didn’t,” and it was the weakest argument she could’ve thought of.

“It very well could’ve and you’d have your stupidity to thank for it.”

Her heart banged again. She didn’t like getting reprimanded by Harry, nearly at the end of her rope anyway. She‘d never seen this side of him before, stern and miserly. Clearly Y/N had only really seen one version of him and had gotten lost in the illusion of it all.

In a last attempt to make him understand, vulnerable and naked, she let herself sniffle, “I don’t think anyone is ever going to love me.”

She‘d expected it to pull at her heartstrings more than it ended up doing— ironically enough, she felt fine confessing to him. Maybe it was the fact that she‘d bottled it up for so long that it was nice to finally admit to it, to allow somebody else to step into her shoes. Of course, every confession came with a tinge of embarrassment (it wouldn’t be a confession otherwise), but this one was still manageable. And yeah, maybe it was the alcohol coursing through her system, but who cared?

“What?”

“No one loves me. I’ve never… guys have never liked me enough to want to brag about it, or keep me around for longer than a month, and… and I do get it, cause I come with a shit ton of baggage, but it just… it takes a lot to be motivated about things that way. I’m twenty three and I’ve barely experienced what it means to love someone and actually have them love you back.”

The display of vulnerability floated heavily through the air.

He was silent for a second. He did that sometimes, she noticed, especially when he was processing things.

Once he did open his mouth, though, he knew exactly what to say, “you can’t let some immature boys get to you like this, you hear me? Tell me one good asset the guy you went on a date with had.”

Y/N shook her head, not because she couldn‘t have if she‘d thought about it hard enough but because she had no energy to continue this conversation any longer. He wouldn’t get it

“See? No guy is worth crying over, especially not on some dirty pavement outside of a bar.”

He truly did have a point there, she supposed.

But it wasn’t just about that, so she told him exactly that— well, at least tried to, “it’s more than… I don’t… I don’t feel good enough.”

“You’re being a bit silly, sweetheart.” She registered how sweet he’d gotten again, finger brushing against her knee and features softening just enough to convince her of safety. He probably felt bad for her. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Y’don’t get it,” she murmured, “you don’t understand what it feels like to get rejected solely because of your looks.” Y/N had always felt slightly weird talking about her appearance with people who weren’t her closest friends, and even then she felt judgment coming from them. Each time they asked if she would come clubbing with them to score boys, she was never able to honestly express that she‘d never wanted to go because it was always her who was left riding home in an uber alone. And it wasn’t like she felt ugly— in fact, there were instances she felt so confident nobody could’ve told her anything, but then there were those few others… and her whole system came down crashing.

“What do you mean?”

He couldn’t be so daft, could he?

“You’re— you just don’t fucking get it, okay? It’s… whatever, I don’t care.”

That took some courage too, courage she only registered after having uttered the words, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t mutter the words this guy didn’t fancy me because I’m fat, because she still had more class than that— even drunk. Ever the childish, pouty person she was, she had more shame than that.

She buried her face in her hands, breathing out, “I’m sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he placed a warm hand on her thigh, thumb stroking soothingly. With a sympathetic look in his eye (confusion too, she guessed), he tried to pacify her concerns, “you need sleep, everything will be better when you wake up.”

He was probably right about that.

“Okay.”

As he escorted her up the stairs, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over his features, watching as they hardened and softened based on the turmoil occurring inside of his mind. She wanted to reach in there and grab onto clues, grasp an understanding of the workings of him, but he made that nearly impossible. She would look away if he caught her eye, cheeks heating up every time she was captured by his darkened green irises.

He opened the door, allowing her to take the first step. She didn’t really need the help, but she couldn’t complain when his hand posed on the small of her back so he could maneuver her onto the sheets.

“Do you want a change of clothes, Y/N?”

“Um, if you have something?”

She doubted there was anything in his huge closet that would fit her in the way she preferred, but the idea of spending the night in jeans was just as dreadful, so she took the chance and nodded.

He came back later with a stack of clothes perched on his left hand, the other holding another glass of water. “Anything else?”

Y/N paused for a moment to think and shook her head, “no. But just—“ she swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She couldn’t believe the words she spoke next, no thought invested into them: “will you come into bed with me?”

Time refused to pass, the ball was in his court.

When he gave a subtle nod, it was like god and the universe were sending good karma her way. Her compensation for the night. “Just until you fall asleep.”

Y/N scooted to the other edge of the bed, reaching down under the blanket to rid herself of her jeans and pull on those grey sweatpants. Surprisingly enough, they fit extremely well. Harry laid down over the blanket (to prevent getting too comfortable, probably) and perched himself onto his forearm.

Another bold wave met with Y/N’s courage as she reached out her hand to trail over his chest. Harry swallowed thickly.

“You’re really nice t’me.”

“You deserve to be treated well.” The snort that left her was completely involuntary, but it still made Harry frown. “You do.”

“Everyone does,” she later mumbled in agreement. He seemed to dislike the way she’d surrendered, though, because he did that thing with his jaw whenever he was ticked off.

What he didn’t like was the implication behind her tone that she only deserved respect because everyone did, regardless of her own character. She was disregarding her beauty and her kindness, her character, and reducing it to a commodity when it wasn’t.

He’d always had difficulty expressing his feelings, though, so he stuck with silence. Stone cold silence.

It pertained for five more minutes until he watched as sleep slowly overtook her figure, peaceful breaths cascading from her mouth. She looked so pretty asleep; relaxed, void of concerns and the crinkle in her forehead from tonight’s events dissipating into its initial form.

He wondered if she’d ever given him other implications of being an insecure girl— if she had, he’d caught none of them. He never would’ve thought somebody so effortlessly beautiful and kind as her could think to deserve less on such extreme levels. It made him wonder if anyone had ever treated her as she deserved; he noticed once that whenever she spoke about her family, she failed to mention her father. It seemed men had disappointed her in more ways than one.

There was inner turmoil bothering him. He didn’t know what he was feeling for his child’s nanny, but there was surely no other woman he felt as eager to take care of— picking her up, driving her home, clearing a room for her.

It was terrifying to allow himself these few minutes of observation because he feared the impure thoughts which would cross his mind. Not perverse, but intimate. She deserved more than him, he was sure of it.

He left the room after another five minutes, trying to be as subtle as possible as he walked to the door. It was later than four am, so he stopped by his son’s room to check on him. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he finally carried himself to his own bedroom.

He would lie awake until sunrise.

—

Y/N had never woken up so panicked before, chest heaving and mind elsewhere entirely. Her head was pounding and her heart rate palpable, she was sweating all over and she could only recall last night in small, blurry tidbits.

God, and she had to face Harry. On a Monday morning.

After maybe ten minutes of lying around and procrastinating, she finally moved herself out of bed. She pulled on her clothes from last night, drank the water that was situated on her nightstand and tidied up in the bathroom before going to search for him. She looked upstairs— no trace of him, so she cascaded down the stairs and made her way to the kitchen. On the way there, his office caught her eye. The door was cracked opened and at a closer peek, she saw him sitting at the desk with his hand buried in his hair, mumbling something. She knocked, he flinched.

“God, Y/N, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” she gave a sheepish smile, “are you busy?”

“I—“ he sighed, shaking his head. It was when he spoke into the phone lying on his desk that she realized he’d been one a phone call. Before she could backtrack, he’d muttered an ‘I’ll call you later, Stace’ to them and hung up for her. She stood there, fingers interlaced in front of her body and balancing on the balls of her feet in intimidation.

He didn’t look happy either, and that was probably because ‘Stace’ was Jamie’s mother. She would call every few months, he’d told her, and cause some sort of havoc— from wanting to talk to Jamie on the phone to wanting to see him in person. When asked why he didn’t like letting her see Jamie, he’d given Y/N a very vague answer; wouldn’t do any good. She’d settled with that back then, having sensed the energy shifting.

Y/N felt bad for him now, the stress assuming control of his features almost overwhelming to look at.

He was already glancing up at her expectantly, but the words disappeared from her brain and all she wanted to do, really, was comfort him.

“I— are you okay?”

It was a visceral reaction he had to those few little words, the furrow in his eyebrow deepening, “yes, why?”

“Because… well because you were talking to Stacie on the phone—“

His scoff interrupted her pity stutter, “so you’re listening in on my conversations now?”

Oh, she was no longer sorry; she was scared. “No! No, I’m not, I swear! I was walking past looking for you and I heard you mumble something, I don’t— I would never…” and he must’ve known that. He must’ve known that she would never, ever listen in on his conversations, nor try to overstep the line by doing that (obviously she’d fucked up last night, but aside from that). He knew her, he’d trusted her for long enough for her to know that he knew that, so his accusation ticked her off.

But he looked terrifying right now; eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, closed off stance, and nothing like the Harry she’d gotten to know well. And she had no idea if it had been last night or this that had finally pushed him over the edge.

“So why bring it up?”

“Because you— because you’ve talked about it before and I was just— I wanted to check on you!” She was stuttering like an idiot, she was aware, but with her comfort bubble gone, her speech wasn’t a reliable asset anymore. She’d always been terrible at communication and even worse at confrontation. And he must’ve known that because he was using it to his advantage— and that was mean, because he knew she would never. He knew. Didn’t he?

“It’s not professional, Y/N, but I’m sure you know that. I’m sure you know that last night wasn’t either, but you keep fucking pushing me.”

And that… well, was partly right.

“I know last night wasn’t…” she shook her head, “it wasn’t professional, I know that. I don’t know why I called you, I don’t get it either, it just happened, really, and I wanted to apologize. I understand if you—“ she peered down toward her hands, swallowing the lump in her throat, “if you don’t feel comfortable with me being here anymore. With your son, I mean, I’d totally understand.”

Y/N thought that was quite sensible of her. Of course, if she could get a chance to have a repeat of last night, she would take it in a heartbeat— but she couldn’t, so this was all she could do. She loved working here, giving it up would hurt, but she understood if that was what needed to be done.

“You just… you can’t fucking call me at three am in the morning drunk off of your arse—“

“I know that—“

“Clearly you don’t!” And she detested how his voice raised. “And clearly you don’t get that there are things you just can’t talk about; like Stacie, or your own relationships, or whatever the fuck else you’ve brought up to me.” If she felt like a scolded child yesterday, then she’d had no idea how bad it could get. “I’m your— I’m your employer, not your fucking therapist. I’m not here to clean up your fuck-ups, pat you on the head and tell you it’s alright.”

Her eyebrows furrowed because she knew that too, and she found it borderline preposterous that he would imply she didn’t.

There was a 180 here, and she was becoming less and less understanding.

“I told you I don’t know why I called you, Harry, I don’t know! What am I supposed to say? I was terrified and sad and don’t ask me why, but you’re the only person who actually gets what I’m talking about half of the time, so it just happened!”

“You act like I’m somehow responsible for you.”

Her frown deepened; she hated the notion that he had to take care of her in some way, as if she was incapable of it on her own account. “On what basis? I think you might be pressuring yourself into that, Harry, because it’s fucking ridiculous. I never made you be any type of way.”

He released a frustrated breath, “you have to stop worming your way into our lives— you’re our nanny, that’s it. You don’t ask me about my personal life, you don’t call me in the middle of the night to make me worry and you don’t ask me to get into bed with you.”

“You act like I don’t know that!”

“Evidently you don’t.”

“Yes I d—“

“Just—just stop. Stop talking.”

It shut her up. It did not only that, the increase of his volume had made her flinch on the spot. She wasn’t a fan of confrontation, as mentioned before, but what she despised even more was yelling. She couldn’t stand yelling, fighting, accusations being thrown in the air with no regard to anyone’s feelings. It was an extremely sensitive thing for her and she definitely hadn’t expected to experience it with him today.

Y/N saw him a little differently in this light. The sternness with which he delivered those words, strict and mean, reminded her of her childhood. He saw her weakness, saw the stress she was under, and did nothing to relieve the situation. Instead he’d yelled at her.

Her hand was shaking a little and tears were forming in her eyes. She couldn’t let him see it, though, the weakness. She couldn’t allow him to see that a simple instruction had made her want to cry.

“I can’t deal with you today, Y/N, so please just… just go.”

She left without another word— straight up turned around and closed the door behind her with shaky hands. She couldn’t stand him right now, but even more she couldn’t stand herself.

She’d fucked up so badly.

And maybe… maybe she needed to quit.

-

part two!

And there we have it! don’t hate me for that ending it was necessary!

[cherubfae]

𝔯𝔲𝔫 𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶 𝔯𝔲𝔫 || {𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔰}

Surely monsters of myths and folklore don't exist, do they...?

|| 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐅𝐀𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ||

tags: nsfw, smut, fem!reader, implied!plus sized reader (as a treat), Wanderer!Sylus, siren!Rafayel, werewolf!Zayne, kitsune!Xavier, predator/prey dynamics, breeding, ruts, monster fucking, porn with some plot, almost drowning (raf's)

a/n: this got away from me a little bit. I've been writing longer fics pretty much non-stop over these last two days and I'm in need of a little break once Halloween is over. I decided to try to take on too much with not much time before Halloween. it may not be the most cohesive, but I hope you can enjoy it! last fic is tomorrow!

Zayne

No, no, no, no. This wasn't right. This wasn't... He was supposed to be helping people. Not... Hazel-green eyes stared down at the lupine reflection, his face, along the river's surface; his maw dripping with warm, crimson blood. He let out a shuddering, mournful scream. But in this form, it echoed as a fierce howl. All he could do was run and run and run.

Zayne ran as fast as he could, massive paws thundering through the soft dirt. Something sweet and inviting calls to his hypersensitive nose, making him still and sniff again. Instantly, he takes off in the direction of the scent, quietly approaching a river. His eyes narrowed, like a vicious beast glinting in the shadows, as he neared your barely covered form as you bathed. The sight of you, his mate, was enough to calm his inner turmoil. He became weightless, his eyes fluttering as he lays his sight on you. His everything.

"It's dangerous to be out here in such a state and alone no less." He feels a slight sadistic satisfaction at your jolt, relaxing when you realize its him. His eyes follow the movement of your breasts, raking over the swell of them and how your nipples poke through the gaps of your fingers. "A beast might try to come stake his claim over you..." Zayne shifted back, his human form naked, skin stretched taught over fine muscle. His cock, heavy and long, throbbed between two powerful legs. "Why do you look at me so lovingly when you know what I have become?"

"Because it is still you, Zayne. The goodness in your heart. You are not the wolf that takes over." You stand, removing your shift and baring yourself to him once more. "No matter what form you take, I will love you always."

Zayne loosed a shuddering breath and he's hovering over you in an instant. There would be time to think of the consequences to his actions later. For now, while he still remained free, he needed you. He needed you more than the sun loves the moon. His mouth hot against your lips, swiftly picking you up and raking his hands possessively down your backside; gripping handfuls of your supple rear in his large palms.

"How lucky of a creature I am to have such a devoted and loyal mate." Zayne murmurs, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. "I must worship you properly, hmm?"

Laying you down on the soft grass, Zayne enters you slowly. His cock, long and thick, stretches you out in the best of ways, hitting spots you could never reach with your fingers. Every inch of him is warm and throbbing, his hips rutting into you, his teeth gently nipping along your throat. "If you keep moaning so loudly, darling, others are gonna try to come and take you from me." Zayne silences you with a kiss, sliding his fingers down to caress your nub. "Better keep quiet then, hmm? Unless you want the whole of Linkon to know you're being bred by a werewolf?"

Zayne snarls as his hips pound at your ass, reaching an arm under you to pin you to him, your legs dangling off the ground slightly. "That's it, love... Take everything I'm giving you. Take it all..."

Rafayel

The water is cold, and your body is heavy. Your legs that had been rapidly kicking and treading water, slowed as your muscles burned with overexertion. The salty water made it hard to see. You doubted your crew mates cared you went overboard, left to be food for the sirens and whatever else lingered in the dark waters. Faintly, you heard the hauntingly beautiful singing; the song felt sad. The same that had accidentally sent you over, eager to hear it better you neared too close to the edge of the ship.

You were so tired; you weren't sure if you had it in you anymore. As you drift like a weightless cipher, your mind fading to the back, barely recognizing two strong, warm arms tugging you through the stormy, twisting tidal waves.

"Are you with me?" Fingers snap near your ear as you come to. Blinking at the low light, you faintly make out the blurred shape of a topless male hovering over you. "You were bleeding. I've staunched the wound. I thought humans were supposed to be at the top of the food chain. Why were you swimming during the start of a tsunami?"

Tsunami?! Your head snapped up, instincts kicking in to take shelter. Then you realized. You were already under the water. You were breathing under the water. Turning to look at your savior, it was then you realized the blue and magenta scales of a long tail laying lazily behind him. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

"Great. Just great. A human girl ruining my brooding time. Better be grateful I saved you. I won't do that for just anyone." The purple-haired male crossed his arms over his chest. He had interesting markings and jewels and scales marking his upper body and his face. "My name is Rafayel. Are you done staring or are you so stunned by my beauty? You look like a guppy with your mouth opening and closing like that." He gripped your cheeks, squeezing them together until your lips puckered out. Rafayel frowned. "You have a fever. Wait here, I'll gather ingredients for a salve."

You could only watch wide-eyed and weak as Rafayel beautifully dived into the small wave pool, his tail fins waving as he disappeared into the depths.

Over the next few weeks, Rafayel nurses you back to full health. You've grown immensely fond of this sassy merman. He was unlike anyone you ever met and it was clear he enjoyed the attention. Today, he was teaching you about Lemurians and how they differed from humans.

"These scales are beautiful. Especially with how they catch the sunlight." You admire, running your hand over the shimmering scales of his tail, feeling the strong muscle flexing beneath your palm. Leaning back in the warm sand, you and Rafayel rest your lower halves in the gentle waves.

Rafayel swallowed thickly. "I'm glad you like them..." His eyes widen as your hands curiously wander down his tail, getting too close to his slit. He catches your hand before you can touch him, making you jump. "That's a dangerous place to touch. You are only allowed to touch me there. No one else, little human." You met his eyes, drifting back to the opening, noting how clear slick began to drip from the slight opening. Then, it clicked where you were touching.

Emboldened, you look at him. "May I?" Rafayel looked like he was going to pass out and it wasn't from heatstroke. He nodded, his body like jelly as he guides your hand to his slit, gasping as you tenderly caress his puffy lips, coaxing forth two ridged pale purple cocks, dripping with precum the color of moonstone. Nearly the same color as his hair, his twin tips were pink, fading into a dark purple at the base.

"Well then, won't you thank me properly for saving your life?" His hand curled over the back of your neck and guided you down to his waiting, leaky cocks; both begging desperately for your attention. "Gods, I have never believed in Heaven but your mouth just may be it..."

Xavier

"Oof!.. What?" You look down to see what you tripped on, eyes widening as you take in the sight of several bushy grey-blond foxlike tails splayed beneath you. Reaching down to touch you them, you gasp as a clawed hand grips your wrist tight.

A sleepy voice grumbled behind you, an arm circles your waist and tugged you back into a warm chest. "You disturbed my sleep... That's rude." In a swirl of magic, Xavier pulled you onto his lap, his chest pressing to your back.

Twin grey ears twitch atop Xavier's head, the point of a fang peeks out from beneath his top lip as he stares unimpressed. "And it's rude to stare. Doesn't my star know any manners?" Xavier growled, leaning close to nip at your lips.

His warm, wide tongue flattens over your pulse point, licking a stripe up your skin. "It's been a while since I've been graced by a scent so sweet... I have never had the chance to act upon it. Will you indulge me, sweet maiden?" Xavier bowed his head over your shoulder, his fangs pricking your skin.

His hot cock slides between your clothed folds, soaking your underwear in his sticky pre. Your dress bunched together in his clawed grasp. Xavier makes no attempts to enter, just happy sliding himself against the thin cotton of your underwear, seemingly content with cumming over them instead of inside. He yanks your underwear taught, moaning as his wet head slipped against the rough fabric. Your panties practically translucent from your combined juices. Bucking your hips, you whine for more. "Oh, are you in a rush? We have all night, don't we? Why so eager to rush to the finale-- are you that desperate to have me fill you with my kits?"

Sylus

All you could see were two glowing red eyes within the shadowy tree line. They were impossibly high off the ground, meaning the creature who owned those eyes had to be at least seven to eight feet tall. A tremoring growl echoed as the creature breaches the darkness and towers over you, sniffing at the air.

"What a bold little rabbit to trample into the lion's den so willingly-- and during his rut no less." The beast-man circles you, large horns protruding from his head and curl backwards. Great, black wings are furled at his back. His skin is two-toned, half pale white and half-sleek and black as night. You couldn't quite tell what he was, too much like a chimera, his most dominant features resembled the visages of a crow and a dragon.

"Cheeky, cheeky..." He stepped fully into the light of the full moon. His form was massive and his horns only added to his already imposing height and build. Sylus circles you like cornered prey, his cock heavy and pulsating between his thighs. Lowering himself down to his knees, he tilts your chin up. "Tell me, sweetie. Have you ever been with an untamed beast like me?"

The grass was soft beneath your fingertips, curling them into the dirt as Sylus ruts into you with fervor. His heavy balls smack against your ass, one large, clawed hand covers yours, threading your fingers together. He took you like a lover; reverently, worshipping, like he never wanted to leave.

"If you want to scream for me, go ahead and scream. Let the whole forest know how good I make you feel. From this day forward, I will court you as my mate. You will never want for nothing again, sweetie."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[theemporium]

[3.5k] luke hits the west coast for his first long roadie of the season with some unsettling feelings about leaving jersey for so long. who would have thought his biggest problem on the road would end up being looking at his caller id over the actual hockey games he was playing? (smut)

series masterlist

.

hockey boy: u up?

Luke Hughes had never felt like more of a fuck boy than he did the moment he had sent the text—which was ironic when he was quite literally the opposite of a fuckboy.

He hadn’t even meant for it to come across that way. Genuinely, he did not.

Despite being officially in the NHL for over a month now, this was the first time Luke was going on a roadie across the country whilst wearing the New Jersey red on his back. Most of their away games had been in nearby cities, where they would maybe spend a day or two in another city before returning to Jersey. 

But this was the longest one yet—a full ten days in the west coast for games against San Jose, LA and Anaheim. 

He wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal, that he was used to the life of hockey taking him to new cities and states. But things were different in the NHL. The stakes were higher, the games meant more even this early in the season, things just felt a lot more intense.

But it felt stupid to confess as much to his brother or any of the other boys when he literally played in the playoff games last season, when the stakes were the Cup. 

However, Luke couldn’t shake off the weird intensity of the roadie. He played off Jack’s concerned looks with some bullshit excuse that he was tired, that he was just struggling to sleep these days. It didn’t wave away his older brother’s concern but it got him off his back for a little bit. It let Jack focus on a different concern and not the real reason (that felt borderline childish to admit) that he felt on edge about leaving Jersey for so long. 

And it meant that Luke was laying in the hotel room alone whilst Jack was out with some of the other guys on the team for dinner, embracing the one free evening they had before the game tomorrow against San Jose. 

He had flipped through a variety of shows on the tv and scrolled through endless apps on his phone before he gave in, his finger hovering over the send button before he clicked it.

It hadn’t even hit him how his text sounded until your reply came through a few moments later. 

cherry🍒: damn hughes

cherry🍒: you gonna ask me what i’m wearing next?

His cheeks instantly burned hot, something quite like embarrassment and awkwardness bubbling in the pit of his stomach. 

At least it was hard to focus on the upcoming games when he was too busy thinking about the quickest ways to flee the country and change his identity. 

hockey boy: absolutely not 

Luke’s fingers moved fast on the screen, already drafting up a second message when your reply came through. 

cherry🍒: rude :( 

cherry🍒: maybe I had something special on for you 

And that was enough to make his brain go blank, the sentence he was in the middle of typing long forgotten as he stared at the words on his screen. He almost felt guilty how quickly his imagination came up with images of you back on his bed, just like his birthday party, in something short and sexy and—

He almost dropped his phone on his face when it began buzzing in his hand, scrambling to sit up in his bed as he answered. 

“H-Hello?” He cleared his throat, his face burning warmer when he heard your laugh on the other side. 

“You sound a little caught off, Hughes,” you teased, lighthearted and playful. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“I—no!” Luke exclaimed, though something inside him relaxed when you laughed again. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. I swear. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I didn’t think so considering it’s been five minutes since my last message and you hadn’t replied yet. Not really setting the mood there.” 

He shook his head, his lips twitching upwards. “So you’re saying you’re not wearing something special for me?” 

“Unfortunately not. Just some sweats and a hoodie.” 

“Hm,” Luke hummed before frowning, taking a quick glance at the time on his phone before he swore under his breath. “Shit, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

You laughed and something in his chest tightened as he imagined the soft smile on your face as you did so. “No, I couldn’t get to sleep. I was just watching some random episode of The Vampire Diaries before you called.”

Luke blinked. “The what?” 

You fell silent for a moment. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

He paused as well before he spoke in the most unconvincing voice. “I’m joking?” 

“Forget watching it, how have you never heard of it?!” 

“I don’t know!” Luke defended weakly, shuffling back further against the pillows. “Is this your subtle way of telling me to watch it?”

“No!” 

He frowned. “No?”

“I want to watch it with you. I want to see your reactions.” 

Luke snorted but he didn’t disagree, something fond and warm bubbling in the pit of his stomach at your insistence. “Fine, deal,” he mused. “But it would have at least given me something to do.” 

“Wow, is Jack that boring of a roommate?” 

He laughed. “Nah, he went out with some of the other guys for dinner.” 

“You didn’t feel like joining?” 

“Not really,” he admitted. 

“How come?” 

“Just…didn’t feel like it,” he said, his fingers tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as the spiralling thoughts began to creep in again. Like a reminder he wasn’t just lying on his bed back in Jersey talking away to you on the phone, that he was actually on the other side of the country. 

And it seemed like you sensed his reluctance, the shift in his voice like he seemed distant and you wanted to pull him back in.

“So you try to sext me instead?” Your voice was playful and taunting and he could imagine the smirk on your face so clearly. 

“Shut up,” he groaned, his cheeks burning once again. “I didn’t—”

“You so did.”

“That was not my intention at all,” he retorted. 

“Damn, Hughes, didn’t take you for a phone sex kind of a guy?” 

Luke could only thank some superior being above that it wasn’t a facetime call, that you couldn’t see how bad he was blushing. “I am neither a sexting or phone sex kind of guy.” 

“Boo, it’s more fun than you would think.” 

His nose scrunched up. “I don’t know.” 

“Don’t knock it until you try it, Luke.”

…

Despite being in two very different states, Luke had found himself on the phone with you most nights of the roadie so far.

It wasn’t really a co-dependent thing, like Jack liked to tease him about when he caught Luke waiting for your message saying you were free to call after the game in LA. It was a similar feeling he had with his friends back in Michigan or his brothers, this strong urge to tell you things. He wanted to share it with you, he wanted to tell you about something stupid Jack did in the locker room or the weird drink Curtis smuggled him at dinner. 

And in turn, he wanted to hear about your day too. He wanted to hear about how the nice barista at the coffee shop on the way to work gave you a free cookie because she fucked up your order by accident. He wanted to hear about the way your upstairs neighbour had taken up tap dancing and seemed to only find eleven o’clock at night the most appropriate time to practise. He just wanted to hear you talk. 

Luke was at least self-aware enough to realise he was being a bit insane with the phone calls every night when he was only gone for over a week. But day six into a ten day roadie and he just kind of wished he was chilling on your couch when listening to these stories rather than a nondescript hotel room he shared with his brother with limited privacy. 

However, the phone calls had become such a routine over the last few days that he didn’t even think twice when he picked up his buzzing phone, answering and putting it on speaker as he walked towards his suitcase in only a towel. 

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for your call,” Luke said, an easy smile on his face as he quickly grabbed some clothes to change into after his shower. 

“Really? I didn’t realise you missed me that much. I miss you too, dude.” 

Luke froze, his eyes widening as he snapped his gaze back towards his phone. He quickly grabbed it off his bed, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ when he realised it was Ethan, not you. 

“Luke? You still there?” 

“Uh yeah,” Luke cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just came out of the shower. So, uh, what’s up?” 

“I caught the game, just wanted to make sure you were alright. Looked like a tough game but you were killer out there, bud.” 

He paused, his lips twitching upwards. “You watched the game?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, dude. The boys watch every game we can. Our boy is in the big leagues! We gotta support you.”

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his chest tightening a little.

“We miss you on the team, gotta get our fix somehow,” Ethan joked, lighthearted and playful. 

And yet, Luke felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Despite flying out for his birthday party, he hadn’t really been messaging the boys back in Michigan as much as he should have. He knew they were also giving him space to settle into the NHL lifestyle and they were busy with classes and such, but his own surprise from Ethan calling confirmed enough that he needed to reach out more. 

“I miss playing with you guys too,” Luke confessed, and it was true. He loved the Devils and he loved living out his dream but a small part of him itched to be back on the ice with his UMich boys again. 

“Yeah but you never threw us around like that.” 

Luke let out a groan, ignoring Ethan’s laughs. “I didn’t mean to knock him over like that, it was just the momentum!” 

Ethan’s laughs only got louder. 

…

It was the night before the Anaheim game when Jack had all but bolted out the room, muttering something about hanging out with Trevor and that he would be back before dinner. 

In all honesty, Luke didn’t question it much. He just waved his brother off, saying he was going to have a small nap before he started getting ready for whatever restaurant Trevor had booked for them (assuring that it would fit their diet plan but Luke wasn’t convinced). Between the travelling and training on the road, Luke found himself more exhausted than he was from back-to-back games in Jersey.

And he genuinely was going to nap until his phone buzzed with a message from you and he found himself dialling your number before he could help himself. 

“A call already? You didn’t even give me a chance to try sexting you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what the point is.” 

“I like hearing you get all flustered and nervous.” 

“Yeah but it’s not really the same thing, is it?” He commented, running a hand through his curls before tugging his hood back over his head. “Surely it’s just a bit…awkward.” 

“It can be hot if you do it right,” you corrected him. “Personally, I think phone sex is better but it can be fun to sext too. Like a thrill, you know?” 

“Yes because nothing sounds sexier than talking about sex,” he mused.

“It’s not like that,” you laughed, shuffling around on the other side of the phone. “Think of it like…foreplay.” 

His brows furrowed together. “In what way?” 

“You aren’t together but you’re telling each other what you would want to do if you were. What you wish you could be doing. And you’re listening to it all, listening to them get off to your words.” 

Luke swallowed harshly. “It still sounds awkward.” 

There was a pause on the other side. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, shifting a little in his spot. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to facetime them and see them?” 

“It’s about using your imagination, Luke,” you hummed, sounding amused by his grasp on phone sex. “It’s about taking the scraps of what they tell you and letting your brain run wild with it.” 

He let out an unconvinced hum.

“Still sceptical?”

“Maybe.” 

There was a small pause before you spoke again. “You’re alone, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Luke nodded, even if you couldn’t see him. “Jack won’t be back for another few hours so—”

“So you can be a good boy for me?” 

His brain went blank.

“C’mon, Luke.” He could almost hear the smirk in your voice. “Remember what we said about words?”

“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I can be…good.”

“I know you can, you’re always so good f’me,” you commented, so nonchalant and casual like your worlds didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. “Tell me what you’re doing right now.” 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m lying in bed, talking to you. But you know that—”

“What are you wearing?” 

Luke glanced down at himself, the Devils branded hoodie and UMich sweatpants hardly the sexiest of outfit choices but he muttered out his response regardless. “Isn’t that the exact line you teased me about earlier?” 

“You telling me you’re wearing something special just for me?” 

He snorted, despite himself. “Hardly.” 

“That’s fine. You look better without anything anyway. A shame you’re all the way in California, would’ve been nice to have you all to myself.”

He gulped. “Is this where I use my imagination to guess what you’d do to me?” 

“If you want,” you said, laughing softly and it almost felt like you were right there beside him. “Or I could tell you how I miss hearing those pretty noises you make when you come, the little moans you let out when I touch you.” 

“Shit,” he muttered. “How do you just say those things so…easily?” 

“Because I know what I like and I’m confident with saying what I want. And I really like making you come, you’re always so sweet. You get so blushy and shy, it’s cute. I could only imagine what you’d be like when I get my mouth on you.”

Luke squirmed, his hand reaching down to press down on the length of his cock like it would ease the way he was twitching at her words. 

“Would you like that, Luke?”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathed out, nodding even if you couldn’t see him.

“Bet you would look so pretty, all shy and nervous to touch me even if you wanted to,” you continued, his eyes fluttering shut like he could pretend you were really in the room with him, like you were really whispering all of this in his ear. “But I would want you to, Luke. I would wanna feel your hands in my hair, wanna see you take control.” 

“I would,” he mumbled out, his hand slowly stroking himself over his sweatpants as he imagined it. As he imagined being sat on your couch, with you kneeling between his legs and your eyes glued on his reactions. It made his whole body feel hot and flustered. 

“Yeah, baby? You’d take control? Fuck my mouth?” 

He was almost embarrassed by the noise he let out.

“Are you touching yourself right now? Letting your imagination fill in the blanks?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded. 

“Good, baby, good. Keep touching yourself, keep making yourself feel good.”

“Wish it was you,” he managed to mutter out, his cock straining under the fabric of his boxers and sweatpants. However, any embarrassment or lingering awkwardness was long gone as he pushed them down to his knees, not even bothered to kick them off as he got his hand on himself. 

“Yeah? Me too, baby. I wish I was with you now, could watch you squirm and beg f’me with your dick down my throat.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, squeezing the base of his cock as he tried to mimic the night of his birthday, to mimic the feeling of your hand on him instead. “That’s…vulgar.”

You laughed, and it shouldn’t have been so hot to him but it was. “Too much? You don’t want me to talk about how badly I wish that it was you touching me right now?”

“You’re touching yourself right now?” It was almost a wheeze, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs and it hadn’t even hit him until that moment that you were in the same position as him. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, all sweet and high-pitched and it reminded him of the noise you made just before you came on his fingers. “If I was more patient, I would’ve got a toy. Would’ve felt way better.” 

“Toy?” He rasped. 

“Jealous?” You teased, unaware of the way Luke turned his head to the side, biting down on his pillow to hold back his groans as he continued to stroke himself. “I’ll show you when you’re back.” 

“Show me on yourself?” 

“I can use them on you too, pretty boy, if you could handle it.” 

“I…could,” he muttered out, listening to the breathy, moany laugh on the other side of the phone.

“We’ll see,” you hummed. “Maybe I’ll send you a video for your next roadie. Keep you occupied while you’re away.”

“Nuh uh,” he bit out, shaking his head. “This. I like this. I like hearing your voice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his stomach twisting as his thumb swiped over the head of his cock and rubbed the small bead of precum along his slit. “S’close.” 

“Come f’me, wanna hear you come.”

It was a bit of a mindfuck if Luke was completely honest with himself. The pleasure running down his spine, leaving his body hot and heavy and just as good as it did when he was with you didn’t make sense to him. Listening to the little breathy moans and whines you let out when he came all over his hand, as he listened to you get yourself off shouldn’t have made his dick twitch so soon. He shouldn’t have been able to make himself come so hard just from some dirty talk from you, and yet he had. 

Though, Luke didn’t have a lot of explanations when it came to the way you made him feel.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah,” he hummed, his eyes still shut as he laid on the bed, practically melting into the sheets beneath him. “Kinda need that nap now.”

You snorted. “You should clean up before you fall asleep.” 

“Five minutes,” he murmured out, a lazy smile on his face as your laugh echoed through the phone.

…

He was rushing to button up his shirt when his phone rang again. 

He was already running late for the reservations Trevor made for dinner (if the constant stream of messages from Jack was telling him anything) and his nap lasted longer than he expected. But he couldn’t bite back his smile as he reached for his phone, his thumb already swiping to answer the call as he rummaged through his suitcase to find his cologne. 

“You’re out of luck if you’re wanting to go for a round two,” Luke mused once the call had connected, an odd wave of confidence in his voice as he spoke. 

“Round two of what?” 

Luke froze, yanking his phone away from his ear to see Quinn’s name on his screen. He let out a muttered ‘what the fuck’ under his breath, an odd sense of deja vu from his phone call with Ethan washing over him before he quickly answered his eldest brother. 

“Uh, nothing,” he laughed off, resisting the urge to yank on his own hair after he had spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes trying to make his curls look presentable. “Just some…exercise challenge thing Jack and I were trying out.” 

“And you think he would call you about it? Aren’t you two together right now?” 

“Yes. No!” Luke shook his head at himself. “No, he’s in Nico’s room right now.” 

“I thought you were getting dinner with Trevor?” 

“Right,” Luke laughed once again, awkward and strained. “We are. He just…had to tell Nico something first. You know Jack! Just…always attached to Nico’s hip.”

There was a moment of silence before Quinn spoke again. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I feel great, actually! Speaking of, I need to go so I’ll call you later. Okay, great, bye!” 

He slammed the small red button until the call disconnected, throwing his phone down on his bed and letting out a long, deep sigh. He really needed to start looking at his phone before answering calls, it was getting a bit ridiculous. 

Luke finished getting ready, shoving some shoes on and making his way towards the elevator as he began typing out a message before slipping his phone into his pocket, already preparing himself for Jack’s whining about how late he is by the time he reached the lobby.

hockey boy: remind me to give you a personalised ringtone when i’m back in jersey

.

[joelsrose]

Good Neighbours: Chapter 3

previous chapter

Uncle Ray had been talking non-stop about something while you ate your breakfast, the sound of his animated voice filling the kitchen. You nodded occasionally, only half-listening as you focused on your plate.

Between bites of toast, you caught snippets about fishing gear, tents, and the best spots to pitch a campsite.

Last week he’d managed to convince you to spend the weekend camping by the lake—a prospect you weren’t exactly thrilled about.

But how could you say no? Ray had been nothing but kind to you, letting you stay with him while you figured out work and life.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted his monologue. "One sec," he said, setting his mug down and heading toward the front door.

You took the moment of quiet to exhale, picking at the crust of your toast. Then you heard it—Ray’s familiar greeting, but it was the name that made you freeze.

"Joel!"

Your heart skipped, and your cheeks burned as the memory of your last encounter came rushing back.

The towel. The awkwardness.

The fact that you’d practically fled the house afterward, muttering to Sarah about feeling sick, just to avoid seeing him again.

Now, here he was, just on the other side of the door.

Your ears strained as their conversation carried into the kitchen.

"You and Sarah decide to come camping with us?" Ray asked, his voice chipper.

Your head whipped toward the door. Camping? Joel?

"Nah," Joel replied, his voice as steady and smooth as ever. "Sarah’s got somethin’ on this weekend, but I’m free if you’ll have me."

Your stomach flipped. He’s coming?

"Perfect!" Ray said with enthusiasm. "I’ll send you the details, alright? Gonna be a good time—just like old times."

You stared down at your plate, your appetite suddenly vanishing as you tried to process this new development.

The thought of spending an entire weekend with Joel—tents, campfires, and all—made your pulse quicken in ways you weren’t sure you wanted to unpack.

Ray returned to the kitchen, grinning as he clapped his hands together. "Well, that’s settled! Joel’s joining us for the weekend."

"Great," you said, your voice higher than intended. You cleared your throat, willing your cheeks to cool. "Should be… fun."

Ray didn’t notice your sudden shift in demeanor, too busy rattling off plans for the trip.

But as you sat there, nodding absentmindedly, you couldn’t help but wonder how you were going to survive the weekend with Joel Miller in such close quarters.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"Alright, we got…" Ray trailed off, listing a seemingly endless checklist of items as you stood by his truck, Joel beside you.

Joel had greeted you earlier, his tone warm and sweet as always, but you’d been quieter than usual, offering only a shy smile in return.

The memory of your last encounter still lingered in your mind, making it harder to meet his gaze without your cheeks warming.

Ray suddenly stopped mid-sentence, his expression twisting into one of realization. "Shit," he muttered, looking up abruptly.

Both you and Joel turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Joel asked, his voice calm but curious.

Ray scratched the back of his head, his brow furrowed. "Forgot the tent stakes."

Joel glanced toward the truck, then back to Ray. "I can run to the store and grab some."

"Nah," Ray said, shaking his head. "Got plenty at the shop. Just slipped my mind."

He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully before snapping his fingers. "I gotta swing by there anyway—got somethin’ to sort out real quick. Y’all go on ahead."

"Wait, what?" you said, blinking at him in surprise.

Ray waved a hand as if to brush off your concern. “You go with Joel. I’ll be right behind you. No sense in all of us sittin’ around when you can get there a bit ahead and start settin’ up.” He was already moving. “It’s a two-person job anyway.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but before you could say anything, Joel turned to you with an easy shrug.

"Sounds good to me," he said, his gaze steady as it met yours, a flicker of amusement playing at the corner of his lips when he noticed your expression.

You glanced between the two of them, feeling cornered. "Yeah, okay," you finally said, forcing a smile you hoped wasn’t too strained. "That’s fine."

"Perfect," Ray said, clapping his hands. "I’ll be right on your heels’."

Joel gave a small nod, tossing his keys into his palm as he motioned toward the truck. "C’mon," he said, his voice steady but carrying a teasing undertone that made your stomach flip.

As you turned, his hand tapped lightly against your lower back—not firm, but just enough to nudge you forward, a playful gesture that felt oddly intimate.

"Chop chop," he added, his tone carrying a smirk you didn’t need to see to feel.

Your steps faltered slightly, the unexpected touch making heat creep up your neck. "Alright, I’m moving," you muttered, trying to sound unbothered even as your pulse quickened.

As you climbed into the passenger seat, the realization of the situation hit you fully.

It was going to be just you and Joel, alone in the truck, heading to the campsite together.

And by the way he settled into the driver’s seat, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he adjusted the mirrors, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t entirely oblivious to the tension humming between you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The truck rumbled steadily along the open road, the low growl of the engine blending with the soft twang of an old country song drifting from the radio.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow across the rolling landscape, the light spilling through the windows in soft streaks.

Joel’s hands rested easily on the steering wheel, his fingers tapping absently to the rhythm of the music, the motion so unintentional yet somehow captivating.

You tried to focus on the scenery, letting your eyes trace the endless stretch of fields and trees as they blurred past. Or you pretended to scroll aimlessly on your phone, though your grip tightened every time the silence between you stretched a little too long.

About thirty minutes in, Joel glanced over at you, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "You always this quiet, sweetheart?"

You blinked, caught off guard, and quickly turned your head toward him. "What?"

"Been sittin’ here, waitin’ for you to say somethin’," he teased, his voice low and smooth, like he had all the time in the world. "Thought you might’ve fallen asleep on me."

"I—no, I’m just…" You trailed off, fumbling for a decent response under the weight of his gaze. "Taking in the view."

Joel chuckled softly, the sound warm and a little too knowing. "Uh-huh. That what you’re doin’? Seems to me like you’re avoidin’ lookin’ at me."

"I am not," you huffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, your voice carrying a hint of frustration—though more at yourself than at him.

Joel glanced over at you, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hmm," he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. "Seems to me like you ran off the other day."

You blushed remembering the compromising position you had been caught in.

Is he seriously bringing this up?!

"I didn’t run off," you said quickly, shifting in your seat. "I just… wasn’t feeling well."

"Is that right?" he murmured, his tone dripping with skepticism. He turned his eyes back to the road, but you didn’t miss the way his lips quirked, like he was fighting back a grin.

"Poor baby," he cooed, his voice dipping lower, soft and teasing.

You froze, your eyes trained on the car window, a scarlet tinge painting your cheeks.

"Or maybe," he continued, his tone slow and deliberate, "you just got a little… embarrassed."

Your head whipped back toward him, your brows furrowing. "What? Why would I be embarrassed?"

Joel shrugged, the movement casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his eyes flicked over to you, sharp and knowing.

"I dunno," he said, feigning innocence. "Could’ve been the whole ‘caught-you-in-a-towel, dripping-all-over-my-kitchen-floor’ thing."

Your mouth dropped open, heat rushing to your face as you struggled to find a retort. "I—" you stammered, but nothing coherent came out.

Joel’s smirk deepened, and he gave a soft chuckle that was as maddening as it was alluring.

"C’mon now," he teased, his voice low and warm. "Ain’t nothin’ to be shy about, darlin’. Just thought it was funny how quick you bolted."

"I didn’t bolt," you snapped, though your voice was weak, your embarrassment only fueling his amusement.

Joel shook his head, his grin softening into something quieter, more thoughtful.

"Well, for what it’s worth," he said, his voice steady now, "I was makin’ pancakes for ya. Thought you might’ve stuck around long enough to try ‘em."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. The teasing edge was still there, but it was gentler now, almost like he was giving you an out.

Joel glanced at you again, his eyes warm but still glinting with mischief.

"Guess I’ll have to make ‘em for ya another time," he said.

Then, with a smirk that made your heart trip over itself, he added, "But next time, maybe try not to run off. Deal?"

You bit your lip, torn between mortification and the flicker of something lighter in your chest. "Deal," you muttered, your cheeks still burning as you turned back to the window.

Joel chuckled softly, the sound warm and low, curling through the air like it was meant just for you. It tugged at the corner of your mouth, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile—just a little.

“Plus,” he said, taking a slow glance in the rearview mirror before shifting his gaze to you, “you’re pretty cute when you’re flustered.”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

When you arrived at the campsite, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks. You weren’t much of a nature girl—that much was certain.

Cities had always been your preference, with their buzzing energy, brunch spots, and chic rooftop bars. But this… this was something else.

The lake stretched out like a sheet of glass, its surface catching the blue of the sky above. Surrounding it were towering trees that seemed to stand guard, their branches swaying softly as their leaves whispered secrets to the wind. The ground was a tapestry of earth and scattered pine needles, dappled with shadows from the sunlight breaking through the canopy above.

The air was cool and crisp, brushing against your skin with the kind of freshness you didn’t realize you’d been craving. It carried the subtle, grounding scents of pine and damp earth, mingling with the faint, refreshing tang of lake water.

Somewhere in the distance, the soft chirp of crickets began to fill the quiet, a sound that seemed to amplify the stillness.

“Wow,” you murmured, unable to tear your eyes away.

Joel was already unloading the truck, you couldn’t help but glance over, your eyes catching on the way his broad shoulders shifted as he lifted a heavy pack from the bed.

The fabric of his t-shirt stretched across his back, damp in places where the heat of the day had taken its toll, clinging in a way that left little to the imagination.

His arms flexed as he slung the pack over one shoulder, the muscles in his forearms tightening as he adjusted the straps with practiced ease.

His hair was messy, a little damp from the heat, and as he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, you couldn’t help but notice the way his lips parted, exhaling a quiet sigh.

"You just gonna stand there or give me a hand?" Joel teased, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks as you scrambled to grab one of the bags. "Right. Sorry."

The two of you worked together to set up camp, Joel guiding you through the process with surprising patience. His voice was steady as he explained how to secure the tent, his hands brushing yours once or twice as he passed you supplies.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, you were both seated on a log overlooking the lake, the golden-orange light reflecting off the water like fire.

You pulled your knees to your chest, your gaze fixed on the horizon. "This is beautiful," you said softly, almost to yourself.

Joel turned his head toward you, a small smile playing at his lips. "Yeah," he murmured. "It is."

You glanced at him and caught the way his eyes lingered—not on the lake, but on you. Your breath hitched, and you quickly looked away, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

"You come here often?" you asked, desperate to fill the silence.

Joel nodded, his smile turning wistful. “Used to. Sarah’s mom and I came here a lot when she was little,” he said, taking a swig of his beer he rummaged from the cooler earlier. “Sarah loved it out here.”

The mention of Sarah’s mom made you pause.

You hesitated, debating whether to ask the question lingering in your mind.

It felt like prying, but you couldn’t help yourself. "Is she… still in the picture?"

Joel’s expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes dimming just slightly.

He let out a quiet sigh, his gaze falling to the water. "No," he said simply, his voice low. "She, uh… found someone else when Sarah was about 8. Took off, never looked back."

Your heart clenched at the weight of his words. "Joel," you said softly, turning to face him. "I’m so sorry."

He shook his head, a faint, almost bitter smile tugging at his lips.

"Don’t be. Was a long time ago." He exhaled, his gaze far away now. "It’s just… you don’t forget, y’know? Even when you think you’re past it, some things stick with you."

You knew exactly what he meant—your own memories filled with pain, sorrow, and heartbreak.

You didn’t know what to say, so you reached out, letting your hand rest lightly on his forearm. His eyes flicked to yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You’ve done a hell of a job with Sarah," you said gently, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to rise. "She’s amazing. That’s all you."

Joel’s smile softened, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thanks sweetheart’," he said quietly, the sincerity in his voice making your chest tighten.

Joel shifted beside you, his gaze fixed on the fading sunset, but there was a tension in his posture, a quiet hesitance that made your heart beat just a little faster.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and rough, like he’d been turning the words over in his mind.

“So, uh… you got a boyfriend or somethin’?” he asked quickly, following the question with another swig of his beer.

The question hung in the air, the weight of it surprising you. He didn’t look at you right away, his focus still on the water, but the way his fingers tapped lightly against his thigh betrayed his nerves. It almost sounded like it hurt him to ask.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Um, no. Not really." you said shaking your head at the thought of your ex.

Joel’s head tilted slightly, his eyebrows raising as he finally glanced at you. "Not really?" he repeated, his tone teasing but his expression curious. "Never heard of a relationship status like that before."

You laughed softly, bumping him lightly with your shoulder. "Shut up. You know what I mean."

His lips quirked into a small smile, and he leaned back slightly, his arm brushing against yours. "Well, I don’t. Enlighten me."

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your shirt as you tried to find the right words. "Before I moved here, I, uh… I had a boyfriend. But, um…" You trailed off, your gaze dropping to your lap.

Joel straightened a bit, his brows furrowing. "But what?" he prompted gently, his voice softer now.

"He cheated on me," you said finally, the words tumbling out quickly, like you wanted to get them over with.

Joel let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. "Shit," he muttered, the word carrying a quiet anger that made your chest ache.

"Yeah," you said, shrugging lightly. "So, guess that makes me single."

Joel nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the lake, but his silence felt heavy, like he was holding something back.

The quiet stretched between you until he spoke again, his voice low and deliberate.

"Stupid," he said, almost to himself shaking his head slightly.

You blinked, turning to look at him. "What?"

He met your eyes then, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense, like he was searching for something in your face.

"He’s stupid," Joel said, his voice firm, rough around the edges. "For lettin’ you go." He paused, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if the words had cost him something.

"For hurtin’ you like that."

The weight of his words settling heavily in the space between you.

The implication of it all—the care, the quiet anger, the way his voice seemed to carry something he wasn’t ready to say aloud—made your chest tighten and your head spin.

You blinked, caught in the haze of the moment, your breath hitching as his gaze bore into you.

There was something raw in the way he looked at you, something unspoken but unmistakable, and it made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

His eyes dropped, lingering on your lips for a moment too long, and your heart stuttered in your chest. That’s when you realized how close you’d both leaned in, the space between you barely a breath now.

The world seemed to slow, the rustling of the trees and distant hum of the lake fading into the background as his gaze flicked back to yours, dark and searching.

Was he about to kiss you?

The thought sent a rush of warmth through you, your breath catching in your throat as you stayed perfectly still, afraid that even the smallest movement might break the spell.

But before anything could happen the bright sweep of car headlights cut through the twilight, lighting up the campsite like a sudden flare.

Joel blinked, his jaw tightening as he tore his gaze from yours and pulled back, glancing over his shoulder at the approaching truck.

"Hey, kids!" Uncle Ray called as he climbed out of the truck, his cheerful tone breaking the spell entirely.

Joel leaned back slightly, the moment slipping through your fingers, but his eyes flicked back to you for just a second longer, holding something you couldn’t quite name before he turned away completely.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The fire crackled softly, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the campsite as you sat quietly, listening to Joel and Ray talk.

Their conversation drifted between sports, old stories, and small-town gossip, but your mind wandered, the distant rustle of the lake’s waves blending into the comforting hum of their voices.

You rested your chin on your palm, idly toying with the s'mores—the one indulgence you'd packed yourself for this trip.

The flames danced before you, casting flickering shadows across the campsite, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but wish Sarah were here with you.

As much as you appreciated the stillness of the evening, the crackling fire, and the quiet, her energy—her easy, unfiltered laughter—would’ve been a welcome distraction. Anything to drown out the thoughts swirling endlessly in your head, thoughts you couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard you tried.

You took a small bite, the sticky marshmallow clinging to your fingers as you gazed into the flames, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

You yawned, covering your mouth with your hand, trying to be subtle about it.

But Joel noticed—of course, he noticed. His eyes flicked to you, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, soft and almost imperceptible.

She’s so damn cute, he thought, his chest tightening as he watched you across the fire.

You sat there with your knees tucked up, eyes heavy with sleep as you nibbled absentmindedly on your s'more, the firelight casting a warm glow on your face.

He let the moment linger, committing the image to memory—your sleepy gaze, the way the marshmallow stuck to the corner of your lip before you brushed it away.

Joel wasn’t one for sentimentality, but something about this, about you like this, hit him square in the chest.

And now, as much as Joel loved Ray, he couldn’t help the thought creeping into his head - Will he ever stop talking?

Joel’s attention kept slipping, his focus torn between Ray’s stories and the way your face looked in the flickering glow of the firelight.

The soft shadows danced across your features, and he found himself studying the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes rested lightly against your skin when you blinked.

You looked peaceful, and yet, there was always something behind your eyes—something quiet, something he wanted to understand.

He wanted to sit closer to you, feel the warmth of your presence just a little more intimately. He wanted to hold you like he had that other night, your body pressed against his, as if in that moment he could protect you from the things you didn’t say aloud.

He wanted to ask you about your life—about the things that made you smile, the things that weighed you down.

Joel swallowed hard, dragging his eyes back to the fire, trying to steady himself. But no matter how much he tried to focus on Ray’s words, his thoughts kept circling back to you.

It was frustrating, almost infuriating, how effortlessly you seemed to have carved out a space in his mind, a place he wasn’t sure he was ready to give, yet couldn’t seem to stop offering.

As if on cue, Ray let out a quiet groan, patting his stomach. "Whew, ate too much," he muttered under his breath before pushing himself to his feet. "I’m gonna call it a night. Thanks for settin’ up the tents, you two."

He turned to you, smiling warmly. "Bright and early tomorrow, kid. Got a full day planned."

You gave him a thumbs-up, your lips curving into a small smile. "Good night, Ray."

"Alright, good night, kid. Night, Joel," Ray called out as he made his way to his tent, the soft sound of the zipper pulling closed signaling his exit.

Now, it was just you and Joel, the fire flickering between you in the quiet stillness of the night.

Joel stood then, the movement drawing your gaze. For a fleeting moment, you thought he might be heading to bed, leaving you alone by the fire. A quiet pang of disappointment tugged at your chest, one you didn’t quite understand.

But instead, he stepped around the flames, his boots crunching softly against the earth, and lowered himself onto the log beside you.

The quiet weight of his presence settled warmly at your side, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his arm against yours.

"Hi," he said softly, his voice low and quiet, like it was meant just for you.

"Hi," you replied, your voice just as soft, your lips curving into a small, shy smile.

"You gonna make me one of those?" he asked, nodding toward the s’more in your hand, his voice low and teasing. "

A laugh escaped you, light and soft as you tore your eyes away from him, reaching for the ingredients. "Only if you say please," you quipped, trying to keep your voice steady despite the warmth rising in your chest.

Joel huffed out a chuckle, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Please," he drawled, the word slow and deliberate, laced with just enough sarcasm to make you roll your eyes.

"Alright, alright," you muttered, assembling the s’more with shaky hands as you felt his gaze on you. It was infuriating how much you could feel his presence, how aware you were of every slight shift of his weight, every flicker of firelight dancing across his features.

When you finally handed it to him, his fingers brushed against yours, rough and warm, lingering for just a second too long.

He didn’t say anything at first, just took a bite, his eyes closing briefly as a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest.

"Good?" you asked, unable to hide the small grin creeping onto your face.

Joel opened his eyes, glancing at you with that familiar smirk. "Damn good," he said, his voice soft but still laced with that teasing edge.

But then his gaze shifted, his smirk fading into something quieter, more intense.

He looked at you now the way he had while you both sat by the lake—the same look that had made your breath catch, the same look that had made you think, for one charged moment, that he might kiss you.

He leaned forward slightly, his hand coming up to cup your face so casually it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

You froze, your heart hammering in your chest as his thumb brushed across your bottom lip, wiping away something you hadn’t even realized was there.

"You got some," he murmured, his voice low, rough around the edges.

Your mind spun, your words failing you. "Oh," you said, dumbly, your breath hitching as his thumb lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

"Some chocolate," he clarified, his lips twitching in amusement at your reaction. His hand dropped, but not before he licked his thumb, tasting the chocolate he’d just wiped from your lip.

It was intimate—so much more than it should’ve been. The warmth of his touch lingered, the rough pad of his thumb still ghosting against your skin, and it had your cheeks blazing, heat spreading through you like wildfire.

You couldn’t look away, your gaze locked on his as your mind raced, struggling to process the charged moment that had just unfolded between you.

"There," he said, his tone soft but edged with a faint smugness. "All clean."

"Thanks," you said again, your voice barely above a murmur, feeling completely thrown off balance.

You stumbled over your words as you stood, nervously brushing off your hands. "I should—I should get to bed. Like Uncle Ray said—uh, big day tomorrow."

Joel tilted his head, the faintest glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes as he looked up at you. That same quiet confidence was back, the one that made your stomach flutter in ways you wished it wouldn’t.

"Sweet dreams, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and warm, the words rolling off his tongue like a secret just for you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You lay in your tent, staring up at the dark fabric above you, every creak of the trees and gust of wind outside making your heart race.

Why did no one ever tell you how scary camping was? you thought, pulling the sleeping bag tighter around you.

Your mind reeled, replaying every horror movie you’d ever seen—axe murderers, wild animals, supernatural monsters. It was all crowding your thoughts, the darkness outside feeling heavier with every passing second.

“Shit,” you muttered, sitting up abruptly, your pulse hammering in your chest. At this rate, you weren’t going to get a wink of sleep.

Then you heard it. A twig snapping just outside your tent. Your breath hitched as you froze, every muscle tensing.

That’s it. You couldn’t do this anymore.

Without another thought, you bolted out of your tent, your bare feet crunching softly against the forest floor as you made a beeline for Joel’s tent, flashlight in hand.

The rational part of your brain told you to turn around, that this was ridiculous, but the panic gripping your chest had you unzipping his tent before you could second-guess yourself.

Inside, Joel lay on his side, his broad shoulders rising and falling steadily with each breath, his face softened in sleep. The sight should’ve calmed you, but your panic was still bubbling just under the surface.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hesitating for a moment.

You didn’t want to wake him—this is ridiculous, you thought—but the howl of the wind outside made your nerves spike again.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t stir. His breathing stayed even, his face relaxed.

"Joel," you tried again, this time a little louder, leaning down and giving his leg a small shake. His brow furrowed slightly, but his eyes stayed shut.

"Joel," you hissed, shaking his leg a little harder now.

He groaned softly, shifting onto his back as his eyes cracked open, squinting at you in the dim light.

His voice was rough with sleep, low and gravelly as he mumbled, "What…? What’s goin’ on, honey?"

"I—" You hesitated, suddenly feeling absurdly childish standing there in your pajamas, barefoot and anxious.

What were you, five years old?

Joel sat up slowly, running a hand over his face to wake himself up. His brows furrowed, concern softening his features as his eyes locked on yours. "What’s wrong, darlin’?" he asked, his voice gentler now. "You alright?"

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "I—I’m scared," you admitted finally, your voice small. "I can’t sleep. The wind, the noises outside, it’s just…" You trailed off, feeling the words catch in your throat.

Joel’s expression softened further, his eyes scanning your face. He didn’t laugh or tease; he didn’t make you feel silly for being afraid. Instead, he shifted to make space beside him, his hand patting the empty spot.

"Come here," he said softly.

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Come here," he repeated, his tone so gentle it made your chest ache. "Ain’t no reason for you to stay awake all night alone and scared like this. Get in here."

"I—" You hesitated, glancing at the small space and then back at him.

His eyes held yours, unwavering and soft, like he could see straight through your hesitation.

"It’s alright. C’mere," he murmured, shifting slightly as he stretched out his arm, creating a perfect space for you to slip into.

The gesture was so natural, so effortless, that it nearly took your breath away. His arm, strong and steady, formed a kind of haven, one that felt both safe and oddly intimate.

You hesitated, your heart racing as you stared at the spot he’d made for you.

"C’mon, darlin’," he coaxed gently, his voice dipping just enough to feel like a quiet promise. "Ain’t no need to be scared. I got you."

The sincerity in his tone broke through your hesitation.

Slowly, tentatively, you moved toward him, settling into the space he’d made for you. His arm draped around your shoulders, pulling you close in a way that was firm yet incredibly gentle, like he’d done it a thousand times before.

This should’ve felt strange—you were pressed up against your neighbor, for god’s sake. But it didn’t. Somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You tried to justify it to yourself—he was just helping you out, that’s all. But like this? In a way that felt so intimate, so unspoken?

"There," he said softly, his voice a warm murmur against the quiet of the night. "Ain’t nothin’ gonna bother you now. I’ll make sure of it."

You felt the tension in your body begin to melt as you rested your head against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing grounding you in a way that nothing else had all night.

The sound of the wind and the creaks outside faded into the background, replaced by the soft, rhythmic thud of his heartbeat.

"I know it’s silly. I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it.

Joel’s arm tightened ever so slightly around you, his hand brushing a soft, reassuring circle against your shoulder.

"Don’t apologize," he murmured, his voice low and steady, like the words were meant to wrap around you as much as his touch did.

His eyes closed, his breath evening out as he rested his head back against the pillow. "Just sleep, darlin’," he added softly, the warmth in his tone settling something deep inside you.

The way he said it, so sure, so unbothered, made your chest ache in the sweetest way. You nodded against him, your cheek brushing lightly against his chest, and let his steady heartbeat guide you toward rest.

Joel was right here, holding you like it was the most natural thing in the world—and for the first time in what felt like forever, it was enough.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Joel woke to the soft weight of you curled against him, your arm draped across his torso, your face tucked against his chest. His breath hitched as he took in the sight of you—peaceful, unguarded, your lips parted in a soft pout, your quiet snores barely audible above the faint rustle of the wind outside.

His stomach twisted, a mix of warmth and something far more dangerous. What the hell was he doing? Twice now he’d woken up with you wrapped around him, and both times it had unraveled something in him he’d been trying so hard to keep tightly wound.

Joel’s eyes drifted over your face, the soft curve of your cheek, the way your hair fell in loose strands against your skin. You looked so damn comfortable, like you belonged there, and that thought alone was enough to stir something deep in his chest—a quiet ache that he wasn’t sure he wanted to name.

He sighed quietly, his hand resting loosely on your back as he stared up at the ceiling. This is the second time, he thought, his jaw tightening. Second time I’ve woken up like this.

He knew better. He should know better. This—whatever this was—it couldn’t happen. He was old enough, wise enough to keep his distance, to stop himself before it got to this point.

But here you were, soft and warm against him, and no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn’t seem to stay away.

His fingers twitched against your back, the warmth of your body seeping into him like you were something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? You felt too good, too easy, too right.

Joel let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling gently under your weight. He should move—wake you, untangle himself—but he didn’t. Instead, he let his hand linger, the quiet intimacy of the moment too tempting to let go of just yet.

As the first light of dawn crept through the tent, Joel knew he was stuck—stuck in this limbo with you, caught somewhere between what he wanted and what he knew he shouldn’t have.

But for now, just for a moment, he let himself stay, because being wrapped up in you felt like the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You trailed behind Ray and Joel as the three of you hiked up the winding trail, the morning sun filtering through the canopy of trees above.

The air was cool, but the steady incline was enough to leave you breathless, your legs burning with every step. You were grateful Joel had gotten out of the tent first that morning, leaving before Ray could see the two of you together like that. You weren’t sure how you’d explain that—not that anything had happened, but still.

Joel walked ahead of you, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, the material damp with sweat that clung to his back. The sheen on his arms caught the light as he carried the pack effortlessly, his movements steady and unbothered, like the hike was a stroll through the park. You couldn’t help but notice how good he looked—how natural he seemed out here, in his element.

"You alright back there, Miss Chicago?" Joel called over his shoulder, his voice carrying easily over the rustle of leaves and crunch of boots against dirt.

You gave him a look, narrowing your eyes as you panted. "Fuck you," you huffed under your breath, though it lacked bite.

You were a lot of things at the moment—sweaty, tired, slightly annoyed—but you weren’t going to let Joel know how winded you actually were.

Joel’s grin was quick and teasing, his eyes glinting as he slowed his pace just slightly.

"I’m fine," you huffed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "Don’t worry about me, Miller. I’m hot on your heels."

Joel turned fully this time, his gaze dropping to meet yours, and for a moment, you thought he might actually say something encouraging.

Instead, his lips curved into a smirk as he glanced back to make sure Ray was still ahead of him. Then, his eyes flicked back to you, and he leaned in slightly, mouthing, "Definitely hot."

He finished it with a quick wink, the teasing glint in his eyes making your stomach flip.

Your cheeks burned, and you looked away quickly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered under your breath, though you knew he’d caught the blush spreading across your face.

Joel chuckled softly, turning back to the trail as if nothing had happened, but the faint curve of his smile stayed firmly in place.

You followed behind him, your heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the steep incline.

Your mind lingered on his words, definitely hot, playing them over like a loop you couldn’t quite shut off. Should you read into it? Probably not. But then again, waking up tangled together in his tent that morning wasn’t exactly nothing.

Something was there—you felt it every time he looked at you, every time his teasing remarks left you flustered.

Still, just because you were both single didn’t mean it was more than some harmless, shameless flirting. Right?

You didn’t have much time to dwell on it as you finally arrived at your destination. Ray let out a satisfied sigh, shrugging off his pack as he took in the view. "Looks the same as the first time I got here," he said, his voice warm with nostalgia.

The lake stretched out before you, secluded and serene, surrounded by tall trees that swayed gently in the breeze. A tire swing hung from one of the branches, swaying lazily over the water’s edge. The sunlight danced across the surface, making it glimmer like something out of a postcard.

"Wow," you breathed, taking it all in.

"Worth the hike?" Joel’s voice came from beside you, low and teasing.

You turned to him, meeting his gaze, and smiled softly. "Definitely."

Ray didn’t waste a second. "I’m goin’ in!" he declared, pulling off his shirt with a laugh before running straight for the water. He launched himself in with an impressive cannonball, the splash sending ripples across the lake.

You laughed, shaking your head as he resurfaced, grinning ear to ear.

Joel leaned against a tree, his arms crossed casually as he watched you. "How about you?" he asked, his voice lighter now, but his eyes holding a flicker of something else.

Your mind flashed to his earlier comment, the one that had left your cheeks burning and your heart racing. Definitely hot. Maybe it was time to get back at him, just a little.

"Yeah," you said, feigning nonchalance. "Me too."

Before Joel could respond, you reached for the hem of your shirt and tugged it over your head, revealing the bikini you’d been wearing underneath.

Joel froze, his mouth opening slightly as if to say something, but no words came out. His eyes flicked down, then quickly back up to meet yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw his breath hitch.

You furrowed your brows innocently, tilting your head at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "What?" you asked, your voice light and teasing as you reached for the waistband of your shorts. With deliberate slowness, you shimmied them down, the movement undeniably purposeful, knowing full well he’d notice.

Joel’s gaze flicked toward you before he quickly averted it, his jaw tightening as you folded the shorts neatly and placed them on a nearby rock, your every move radiating nonchalance. The corners of your lips tugged into a small, mischievous smile as you caught the faintest hint of color rising to his cheeks.

Joel blinked, clearly trying to recalibrate. "Nothin’," he muttered, his voice rougher than usual as he dragged a hand over his jaw.

You smirked, pleased with the small victory, before turning and walking toward the water’s edge. You didn’t miss the way his gaze followed you, though he tried to play it cool by pretending to adjust his pack.

As you stepped into the water, the coolness refreshing against your skin, you turned back toward Joel, who was still standing there, his expression unreadable.

"You comin’ in?" you called, grinning at him.

Joel tilted his head, his lips curving into a slow smirk that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah," he said finally, his voice steady. "I reckon I am."

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You followed Joel up to the tire swing, the soft crunch of dirt under your feet mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves overhead. He stood by the swing, holding the rope steady, his grin easy and teasing. "C’mon," he urged, motioning for you to step closer. "Ain’t as scary as it looks."

Joel went first, gripping the old tire swing like it was second nature. He turned to glance at you, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Watch and learn, sweetheart,” he said with a wink, and before you could even roll your eyes, he pushed off.

He swung out effortlessly, his strong arms flexing as he held on, and for a moment, it looked like he was flying, the sunlight catching on the water droplets clinging to his skin. Then, with a whoop that was both boyish and entirely too charming, Joel let go, plunging into the lake with a splash that sent ripples all the way to the shore.

You couldn’t help but laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as he resurfaced a moment later, shaking water from his hair like a wet dog. He treaded water with an ease that made it seem like he belonged here, his grin wide and infectious as he tilted his head back to look at you.

“Alright, darlin’, your turn,” he called, his voice teasing but warm.

You stood by the swing, hands hovering over the rope as you hesitated. “I don’t know…” you muttered, glancing down at him.

Joel leaned back slightly, his arms moving lazily through the water to keep himself afloat, his movements effortless, almost hypnotic. His grin softened, melting into something gentler, more coaxing as his eyes locked on yours.

"C’mon," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, steadier, carrying a reassurance that made your chest tighten. "I won’t let ya get hurt, I promise."

You bit your lip, eyeing the swing skeptically. “I feel like I’m gonna look ridiculous,” you admitted, your cheeks heating.

Joel let out a soft laugh, his head tilting to the side as he watched you. “Darlin’, you couldn’t look ridiculous if you tried,” he said, his tone so genuine that it made your stomach flip. “Just grab on and let go. I’ll be right here.”

You glanced between him and the swing, nerves buzzing in your chest. “You better not laugh at me,” you warned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Cross my heart,” Joel said, grinning as he made the motion across his chest. "I’m right here," he added, his voice low and steady.

That got you.

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping you as you grabbed the rope. With one deep breath, you pushed off, the swing carrying you out over the water as your stomach flipped wildly. For a moment, it was like flying, the wind rushing past you, and then you let go, landing in the lake with a splash.

When you resurfaced, gasping and laughing, Joel was already there, the water rippling softly around him as he swam closer. “You alright?” he asked, his voice low and warm, his smile utterly intoxicating.

“Yeah, that was fun,” you said between breaths, your laughter still bubbling up despite the water dripping down your face.

His grin widened, a flicker of pride lighting up his eyes. “See? I told you,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “You gotta trust me.”

You smiled back, the heat in your chest having nothing to do with the exercise. “I guess I do.”

“Mhm,” he murmured, his voice softer now, his eyes holding yours for just a second too long, the space between you charged and undeniable.

You drifted lazily in the lake, the water cool against your skin, but all you could feel was Joel. He was close, his presence magnetic, his movements slow and effortless as he treaded near you. The sunlight played off his damp skin, the lines of his face softer but no less handsome in the golden glow.

Your breath hitched when you felt his hands brush against your waist, his grip steady and grounding as he pulled you closer. Instinctively, your hands found his shoulders, your fingers curling against the firm muscles beneath his warm skin.

The water rippled around you, but all you could focus on was the way his eyes locked on yours, intense and unguarded, like he was seeing something no one else ever had.

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft, uncertain, though it wavered under the weight of the moment. “We should go back…” you muttered looking over your shoulder for any signs of Ray.

“Shh,” he interrupted gently, his voice low and soothing, a quiet command that wrapped around you like the current itself. The sound of it made you fall silent, your breath catching as his hands steadied you in the water.

One rested firmly on your waist, grounding you, while the other splayed across your lower back, keeping you close, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken.

“Just let me look at you,” he murmured, his words soft but heavy, like they carried more weight than he was willing to admit. His gaze roamed your face, lingering on your lips before meeting your eyes again, the intensity in them sending a flush of heat cascading through you.

You blushed deeply, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breath under his gaze. The world around you seemed to fade, the water, the trees, the sky—all of it narrowing to just Joel.

He leaned in slowly, his eyes dipping to your lips, and your heart raced as you let your eyes flutter shut, anticipation coiling tight in your chest. His breath was warm against your skin, his grip firm yet gentle, and you swore you could feel the moment stretching endlessly between you.

"Are y’all still by the swing?" Ray’s cheerful voice called out, loud and oblivious, shattering the fragile spell between you.

Your eyes snapped open, and before you could think, you instinctively pulled back, the sudden movement sending a small splash of water between you.

Joel let out a low groan, his hand dragging through his wet hair in frustration as he turned slightly, shouting back, “Yeah! We’ll head your way!” His tone was steady, but the edge of irritation was impossible to miss.

You were already making your way toward the shore, your movements quick and deliberate, your back turned to him. The air felt heavier now, your heartbeat racing as you tried to steady yourself, to push away the lingering heat from the moment that had almost been.

“Alright!” Ray’s voice called again, carrying easily over the water.

Joel stayed where he was for a moment, watching you climb out, droplets of water trailing down your skin in the glow of the fading sunlight.

Shit, he thought, running a hand down his face, his chest tight with the ache of longing.

Every second he spent with you seemed to unravel him a little more, his desire for you growing into something he wasn’t sure he could contain.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

As you trudged down the trail toward the campsite, your eyes kept drifting to Joel’s broad back, his steady strides cutting effortlessly through the uneven terrain. Sure, you’d been drawn to him from the start, his rugged charm and shameless flirting throwing you off balance in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

But what had just happened at the lake—it felt different, like something had shifted. The memory of his touch, his gaze, lingered, warm and unsettling all at once.

A knot twisted in your stomach as the thought struck you: were you catching feelings for Joel?

The idea made your chest tighten, a mix of worry and something dangerously close to hope creeping in as you tried to shake it off.

As you continued down the path, your foot caught on something—maybe a root, maybe a loose rock—and suddenly you were falling. A sharp pain shot through your ankle as you hit the ground, your hands instinctively gripping at it. "Ah, shit!" you exclaimed, your voice tight with pain.

Within moments, Ray and Joel were at your side, their footsteps hurried and voices tinged with concern. "What happened?" Ray asked, his eyes scanning you anxiously.

You pushed yourself up slightly, your palms pressing into the dirt as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The pain radiated like a hot wave from your ankle. "I think I—shit—I tripped over something," you muttered, your voice breaking slightly as the pain settled in.

Joel knelt beside you, his brows furrowed in focus. His gaze flicked to your face, softening when he saw the tears threatening to spill over. "I’m gonna press here, sweetheart," he said gently, his voice low and soothing. "You let me know if it hurts, alright?"

You nodded, biting your lip as he carefully pressed his fingers against the tender spot. A sharp hiss escaped you as the pain flared, and Joel pulled his hand back immediately, his jaw tightening.

"I don’t think she can walk down the rest," he said firmly, looking at Ray. "I’ll carry her."

"What?" you blurted, shaking your head despite the pain. "It’s not much further, Joel. I can—"

He cut you off with a soft but commanding tone. "It’s not much further, darlin’, but you’re not walkin’ on that until we get some ice on it. No arguments."

Ray hesitated. "You sure, Joel?"

Joel gave a small smirk, his confidence unwavering. "Piece of cake," he said, already reaching for your hand to help you up. He steadied you as you rose, your good leg bearing all your weight. His hand on your arm was firm, his touch grounding.

"Joel," you started, hesitating as embarrassment washed over you. "I might be too heavy—"

"Not a chance," he interrupted, his voice soft but resolute. "Now get on my back."

With a reluctant nod, you looped your arms around his shoulders as he crouched slightly. Joel’s hands found their place under your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing at all.

The trail back was mercifully smooth.

Joel carried you with a strength that felt almost unreal, his movements so steady and sure you barely felt the jostle of each step. The warmth of his back seeped through his shirt, an unspoken comfort that anchored you to the moment. Hesitant at first, you let your head come to rest against his shoulder, the fabric brushing against your cheek.

He walked as though your weight was nothing, his voice low and steady as he spoke to Ray. There wasn’t a single hitch in his breath, no sign of exertion, just the quiet cadence of his words blending with the crickets chirping softly in the underbrush.

"You doin’ okay back there?" Joel's voice rumbled, breaking the gentle silence. He tilted his head just enough to catch your gaze out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah," you murmured, though your cheeks flared with a heat you couldn’t quite shake—a blend of gratitude and something softer, more vulnerable. "Thanks, Joel."

He answered with a low hum, the sound laced with a teasing edge. "Told ya—piece of cake. Almost forgot you were there."

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

By the time you reached the campsite, Joel set you down carefully, his hands lingering just long enough to make sure you were steady on your good leg.

He gave you a small, crooked smile, his eyes holding yours for a moment before his voice cut through the haze of your thoughts. "You alright?" he asked softly, his hand steadying you as he helped you hop over to one of the foldable chairs by the fire.

His grip was firm but careful, ensuring you didn’t put weight on your injured ankle. Once you were settled, he crouched down slightly, still eyeing you with that quiet intensity.

"Yeah," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not as bad right now."

"Good," he said, straightening up, his tone matter-of-fact but tinged with something softer. "I’ll be back with some ice and Tylenol, alright?"

You nodded, watching him as he turned and strode toward the supplies. Your heart was still racing, and not just from the pain. Joel had just carried you down that hike—effortlessly, like it was nothing.

The memory of his arms around you, solid and sure, sent heat rushing to your cheeks. He was strong��so much stronger than you’d expected, and the thought left you flustered.

You bit your lip, your gaze lingering on him longer than you meant to.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

That night, you sat quietly by the fire, the soft crackle of the flames filling the cool night air. The logs had burned low, their glow dimming to faint embers that flickered and cast dancing shadows against the surrounding trees.

Your ankle, now taped up, felt manageable—the ice and Tylenol doing just enough to take the edge off the pain so you could move on your own if needed.

Ray stretched out with a dramatic yawn, breaking the comfortable silence. "Welp," he muttered, patting his stomach in satisfaction, his tone thick with exhaustion. "Gonna call it a night. Early morning and all that." His movements were slow and unhurried as he ambled toward his tent, tossing a casual "Goodnight, kids," over his shoulder before ducking inside, the zip of the tent flap marking his retreat.

Silence settled over the campsite, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze and the fading pop of embers. Neither you nor Joel spoke at first. The weight of the moment pressed between you, thick and unspoken, as the firelight flickered across his face.

When Joel finally stood, the motion was slow and deliberate. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at you—steady, searching—made your chest tighten. He tilted his head ever so slightly, a subtle gesture toward his tent, his expression unreadable but his intent unmistakable.

Your heart fluttered, skipping a beat as you hesitated for only a moment before rising to follow him. The distance between the fire and his tent felt both impossibly short and agonizingly long, the quiet stretch of night amplifying every step you took.

Inside, it felt impossibly small, the air thick with the quiet intimacy that seemed to hang between you. Joel had already settled on his side, his arm resting under his head as he watched you crawl in, his gaze soft and inviting.

You lay beside him, the warmth of his body pulling you in like gravity. It felt so natural, so easy, as you nestled closer, your hand resting lightly against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips.

You didn’t even stop to question how strange this was—sharing a tent, practically cuddling with your neighbor, a man you’d met barely a week ago. But it wasn’t weird, right? This was because you were too scared to sleep in your own tent, wasn’t it?

He was just helping you out, being kind in his own quiet, steady way. That was all. Even if his arm was draped around you, pulling you close against his side, and his fingers were threading softly through your hair, lulling you into a calm you hadn’t felt in ages. Right?

“You’re warm,” you murmured, your voice soft and muffled slightly against his skin, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

“Yeah?” Joel replied, his voice low and quiet, the sound of it wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes fluttering shut as his arm slid around you tighter, pulling you even closer.

Joel chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, warm and soothing. “This better than last night, huh? No scary noises to worry about,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

His fingers trailed absentmindedly up and down your arm, the motion gentle and rhythmic, sending a comforting warmth through you.

You smiled against him, the memory of your panic almost laughable now. “No scary noises,” you agreed softly. “No axe murderer waiting for me.”

Joel laughed then, a warm, genuine sound that made your heart flip. He glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up as your eyes met.

You grinned, your eyes glimmering with a soft, doe-like sheen, their glossy warmth catching the faint light and making you look impossibly endearing.

For a moment, everything felt weightless, suspended in the quiet intimacy of the tent. His gaze lingered on your face, tracing over your features as if committing them to memory, before dipping to your lips.

The air seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension. His teasing smile softened, his expression shifting into something deeper, more serious. His lips parted, and he muttered under his breath, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

“Fuck.”

Your smile faded, replaced with a small furrow in your brow. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry. A small part of you panicked.

What if he regretted this? What if you’d crossed a line you couldn’t uncross?

“I—” Joel began, his voice catching as his gaze darted away for a brief, fleeting moment. He looked almost nervous, his lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a quiet sigh. “You do somethin’ to me. I—damn it, I don’t even know how to say it.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding as you stared up at him, searching his face for answers. His expression was a storm of emotion, raw and unguarded, and for the first time, he seemed almost vulnerable.

"In a good way?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, your chest tightening at the way his eyes held yours. They were so steady, so sure, yet there was a fire in them that made your pulse race. His gaze flicked to your lips for a beat too long, like he was fighting a battle within himself.

"Yeah," he nodded, his voice soft but resolute. "A good way."

"Joel," you murmured, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea, unbidden, as though it was the only word you could find.

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as his thoughts raced. This might ruin everything, he told himself, but damn it, he needed you.

The way you looked at him, those soft, glossy eyes wide with uncertainty and longing, made it impossible to think straight. His gaze dropped to your lips again, this time lingering with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t just desire—it was something deeper, something raw and consuming.

He wanted you in a way that terrified him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked finally, his voice low and tender, almost hesitant, as though he was offering you every chance to stop this, to pull away. The vulnerability in his tone made your chest ache, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

"Kiss me," you breathed, the words spilling from your lips in a desperate rush, raw and unfiltered. You didn’t think—you couldn’t think. All you could feel was the tension crackling between you, the way his eyes burned into yours as though he was already memorizing every inch of you.

His lips were on yours in an instant, feverish and hungry, his hands cupping your face as if you were something precious yet utterly irresistible. His movements were urgent, almost frantic, yet there was a tenderness woven into the desperation, as though he was pouring every unspoken word, every pent-up feeling, into the kiss.

His calloused fingers brushed against your skin, the roughness a stark contrast to the softness of his lips. The texture grounded you, tethering you to the intensity of the moment.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his hands trembled slightly against your jaw as he pulled you closer. His kiss was unrestrained, unrelenting, his lips parting to taste you more fully. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a barely controlled hunger evident in the gesture, and a quiet, throaty sound escaped him—a mixture of longing and satisfaction.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claiming, a confession, and a plea all at once.

When he finally pulled back, his breaths came shallow and uneven, . "I’ve wanted to do this for longer than I should admit," he murmured, his voice husky and raw. His thumb brushed softly over your cheek, but his eyes flickered, betraying the intensity still burning within him. His gaze darted to your lips, swollen from the force of his kiss, then back to your eyes, searching for some unspoken permission.

And then he leaned in again, his lips finding your neck this time, moving with an almost reckless need. His kisses were sloppy, open-mouthed, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his teeth and tongue grazed your skin.

You gasped at the sensation, your fingers instinctively threading through his hair, holding him close as his lips lingered just below your jaw. He sucked lightly, enough to make your breath hitch, then harder, marking you in a way that sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. You knew you’d see the evidence of his hunger in the morning, and the thought made your heart race.

"Joel," you breathed, your voice trembling with need but steady in its conviction. His lips stilled against your skin, his head tilting to meet your gaze. The intensity in his eyes was overwhelming, stealing the air from your lungs as if he could see straight through to the ache building inside you.

"I want you," you admitted, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them.

It was almost embarrassing how easily this man unraveled you—how just one kiss, one touch, had set you alight. Your cheeks burned at the realization, but the need to feel him, to close the aching gap between you, overpowered any hesitation. Your voice was soft but unwavering, laced with the weight of everything unspoken yet so desperately felt.

You felt his breath hitch against your neck, a quiet exhale that sent a shiver down your spine. His grip on you tightened slightly, grounding you while tethering himself.

But he stopped you with a gentle shake of his head, his lips curving into a small, almost pained smile. A soft chuckle rumbled low in his chest, but it wasn’t mocking—it was tender, full of something unspoken yet profound.

"Shit, darlin'," he murmured, his voice low and warm, his hand still cradling your face as though you were something fragile. His thumb brushed against your cheek, the soothing touch making your chest tighten. "I want you too—more than you probably realize. But this…" He paused, his voice quieter now, steadier. "This ain’t how I wanna do it."

It took everything in him to stop. The way you whimpered his name, the way your eyes burned with unrestrained desire, had him teetering on the edge of his own resolve. Your soft, gasping breaths and the way your fingers clung to him ignited something primal, something he struggled to hold back. The tension in his body betrayed his words, the strain of his cock against his pants a glaring contradiction to the restraint he was forcing himself to maintain.

His eyes softened as his lips quirked into a small, apologetic smile. His hand moved gently, brushing a stray strand of hair back from your face. "You deserve better than… a tent on the floor," he said with a wry grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "When it happens—"

Your breath hitched at the weight of his words, the quiet certainty that hung in the air. "When?" you whispered, barely audible, your heart pounding in your chest.

Joel nodded, his thumb grazing your bottom lip in a way that sent shivers through you. His eyes held yours, steady and full of something that made your pulse race. "When," he repeated, his tone firm, leaving no room for doubt. "Gonna do this right. You deserve that."

"Okay," you whispered back, your voice soft, your chest aching with the intensity of the moment.

Joel leaned in slowly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the touch warm and lingering, filled with a tenderness that made your eyes sting. "Now, go to bed," he murmured, his voice low and sweet, wrapping around you like a quiet command, like a promise.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Tag List:

@pedritospunk @ickearmn @nrreads @76bookworm76 @pastelpinkflowerlife @shantellorraine @spooky-sculder @merm4id5lut @brittmb115 @rosebuds-and-moonlight @joelscowgirl @spacemamax @locked-ness @bensonispunk @pal3rmo @mystickittytaco @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @rh1nestonecowg1rl @littlenicpascal @jsudsgf @addictedtothisyoungman

[heejake-hoon]

Synopsis: you made Jake a little jealous, and now you have to face the consequences.

Tags: smut, mdni, name calling (cumslut, fuckdoll...), unprotected sex, hair pulling, light choking?, kind of possessive Jake.

note: not proof read, also rushed

-

You gasp as Jake slams you against the wall, crowding into your space until you're enveloped by his heat, his scent, his sheer overwhelming presence. His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back sharply to bare the column of your throat to his darkened gaze.

"You've been acting like a little brat all night," he growls, nose skimming along your jawline. "Teasing me, flirting with other guys, making me fucking crazy with jealousy. Is this what you wanted, hmm? Wanted me to snap? To put you in your place?"

His other hand comes up to wrap around your throat, fingers flexing warningly. Your pulse flutters wildly against his palm and you swallow hard, mouth going dry at the dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Jake, I-" you start, but he cuts you off with a harsh squeeze to your windpipe, just hard enough to make you light-headed.

"Shut up," he snarls, free hand gripping roughly your breast through your shirt. "You don't get to play coy now, Y/N. Not after you spent the whole fucking night acting like a shameless little cocktease.” he squeezes the flesh in his hand harder making you moan “No, you wanted this. Wanted me to remind you who you belong to, didn't you? Wanted me to stake my fucking claim?"

You whimper, knees going weak as he rolls your nipple between unforgiving fingers. Slowly, deliberately, you nod, holding his dark gaze with your own. Something like triumph flashes across Jake's face and your stomach swoops in anticipation.

"That's what I thought," he says lowly, leaning in until his lips brush the shell of your ear. "You're mine, Y/N. This body is mine.” he tugs on ur nipple making you whimper in pain and arousal. “And I think it's time I reminded you of that fact."

Suddenly, he's spinning you around, shoving you face-first against the wall and yanking your skirt up around your waist. You yelp as he rips your panties clean off, the delicate lace giving way easily under his impatient hands.

"Fuck, look at you," Jake groans, trailing teasing fingers through your dripping folds. "Already so wet for me, baby. So desperate for my cock. I bet you'd let me fuck you right here, where anyone could walk by and see what a needy little slut you are, huh?"

"Yes," you gasp out, arching back into his touch shamelessly. "Yes, Jake, please, want you so bad-"

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. "Oh, I know you do, sweetheart. And I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to fuck this greedy cunt so hard you forget your own name...."

Jake's fingers wrap around your throat from behind, cutting off your air supply and making your head swim. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, a broken moan escaping your lips as he notches the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

"Gonna feel so good choking on my dick," he rasps, rolling his hips torturously slow, barely breaching you. "Gonna look so pretty with tears in your eyes, fighting for every breath while I split you open. You want that, baby? Want me to wreck this pussy, want me to make you see fucking stars?"

"Please," you whimper, scrabbling for purchase against the wall as he drives into you harder, deeper. "Jake, fuck, need it, need you to- ah!"

Your words dissolve into a high, keening cry as he bottoms out, pushing the air from your lungs and making you roll your eyes. Jake sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against your ass as he rails you, fingers tightening around your windpipe until you're dizzy with it, until your lungs burn and your cunt throbs and you can't tell up from down.

"That's it, take it," he grits out through clenched teeth, angling his thrusts to hit that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. "Fucking take my cock like the desperate little cumslut you are. Gonna stuff you so full of my dick you'll be feeling it for days.” He pulled away until only his tip was inside before slamming hard into you, earning a small cry from you as you started to lose it. “fuckkk, gonna paint this pussy white, plug you up and send you out there dripping with my fucking spend."

You keen brokenly, walls starting to flutter around him as black spots crowd the edges of your vision. You're right on the knife's edge of too much, the pleasure bordering on pain as Jake fucks into you relentlessly, choking you within an inch of your life.

"Jake," you rasp, scrabbling behind you to grab his wrist, nails biting into his skin. "Jake, 'm gonna come, gonna-"

"Do it," he snarls, doubling his efforts, slamming into you so hard your feet nearly leave the ground. "Come on my cock, Y/N. Fucking soak me, let me feel you shake apart-"

His words, his touch, the sweet ache of your lungs screaming for air - it's all too much. With a silent scream, you shatter, clamping down around him rhythmically as ecstasy crashes over you in blinding waves.

Jake swears in aw, hips stuttering as your cunt milks him for all he's worth. A few more erratic thrusts and he's coming too, muffling his groan against your shoulder as he spills deep inside you, marking you from the inside out.

Slowly, carefully, he loosens his grip on your throat, letting you suck in greedy lungfuls of air. You slump against the wall, knees giving out, but Jake is there to catch you, strong arms banding around your waist and holding you steady.

"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your hair, your temple, your cheek. "You did so well for me, baby. Took everything I gave you like a champ. My good girl, my perfect little fuckdoll..."

You can only whimper in response, too dazed and dick drunk to form words. Jake chuckles, low against your skin, as he gathers you into his arms and carries you to the bedroom.

He lays you out on the sheets almost reverently, crawling over you and peppering your face with tender kisses. "I love you," he says quietly, smoothing your hair back from your sweat-damp brow. "I love you so fucking much, Y/N. You drive me crazy in the best possible way."

You hum contentedly, looping your arms around his neck and tugging him down into a slow, sweet kiss. "I love you too," you murmur against his lips. "Even when you're being a jealous caveman."

Jake grins, unrepentant. "Hey, I warned you when we started dating that I was the possessive type. Not my fault you didn't believe me."

You roll your eyes fondly, trailing idle fingers down his spine. "Mm, well, maybe I should tease you more often then. If this is the result..."

Jake's eyes flash with heat and he nips at your bottom lip in admonishment. "Careful what you wish for, brat," he warns playfully. "Keep it up and I really will fuck you in public next time. Bend you over the hood of the car and eat your cunt right there in the parking lot where anyone could see."

[yourfatherlucifer]

| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter Two

Mafia!Ot8!Ateez x female!reader

Summary: After losing everything through gambling, your father's debts to the Ateez Mafia have resulted in you becoming their property. With no other family left, you are now at the mercy of these dangerous criminals due to your father's reckless actions.

Warnings: mxm relationship, death, murder, mentions of being burned at the stake, tragic backstory, violence.

WC: 2k

Amazing Help: @potatomountain

AU: Mafia/?

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

Tags: Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia-16 @daniela-f-uwu @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx @kitten4sannie tags to be continued.

A/N: This series isn’t what you thought it’d be huh? Hehehe

Taglist Link

500 years ago, Kim Hongjoong stumbled upon a dirty and old shrine. Bruised, bloody, and broken.

He begged the silent deity for help, tears cascading down his nearly broken jaw. A miracle he could still talk. His broken fingers dropped all of the coins he had to offer onto the shrine. He continued to beg for help and prayed to the God but he got no answer.

His body could no longer sustain his energy and he collapsed onto the wet ground. Hongjoong knew this was the end and he didn’t want to die like this.

Hongjoong let out one more scream before the light faded and he passed out from his injuries. No longer able to stay present.

To die for loving the wrong person. He would never change it, even if this was his death.

The deity appeared out of thin air and stared down at the almost corpse on his sacred ground. He couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Humans and their violence. Wake up, boy. I will not have you die on my holy shrine.” The deity pressed two fingers to Hongjoong’s head and he awoke with a gasp for air.

“You..Thank you.” Hongjoong tried to sit up but his ribs and other miscellaneous injuries screamed at him to stop. How he is still alive is baffling. The deity thought of him as a fighter for surviving this long with the extent of his injuries.

“Why have you come to my shrine, why do you seek my help, human?”

“Because I don’t want to die. I need to live for Seonghwa, but his family won’t let me see him anymore. They’re the reason I’m like this. They tried to kill me but I got away.” Hongjoong was able to sit up with the help of the deity, who only frowned at his words.

“Love? That’s a strong reason to fight for your life.” He admired that. A lot. He missed his love life.

“Do you want revenge, human?”

“What? I- I..yes. I do. I shouldn’t be tortured or killed for loving another man.” Hongjoong truly loves Park Seonghwa of the noble Park family. He hated Seonghwa’s face and screams when he was getting the shit beaten from him.

Hongjoong hated the Park family for trying to kill him in front of his lover. He wanted them dead. He wanted to steal away Hwa and live in the mountains away from the rest of this cruel humanity.

“Very well. I can feel your anger, human. I will grant you your revenge but it comes at a cost.” The deity crossed his arms before speaking once again, “You must take my powers and my status. You will be a God instead. Only then I’ll finally be free of this torture of living forever.”

Hongjoong was confused, “Wait, you’re willing just to give up everything? For me?”

“Believe it or not, I was once in love just like you. I was born a God, they were born a human. It was agony watching them die and I’m ready to be with them. But you must take it from me.” The deity held out his hand, a glow emitting from it. It was so inviting.

Hongjoong furrowed his eyebrows before quickly grasping the deity's hand. A scream emitted from their longs as the power was transferred to Hongjoong.

Nothing else was said as the deity faded into nothing but dust.

Hongjoong could feel the power coursing within him. Each wound and broken bone was immediately healed and he felt a strange sense of longing. He knew it was for his lover down in the village. He could only hope he was still alive and not locked up in a cell by his family. Or worse, being forced to marry someone very fast.

Hongjoong didn’t care. He was going to kill them alone and take Seonghwa away with him.

One quick flash and he was standing in front of the Park residence. The guards screamed at him and ran towards him to finish the job they tried to do earlier. They failed and were flung to opposite sides. Hongjoong made them disappear as if they never existed and marched his way in, blasting the doors open with just an open palm.

Screams were heard from inside. Good. They should be scared.

“You! How are you still alive!” It was Seonghwa’s father. No matter, he was swiped against a wall with a flick of a wrist.

“Peasant.” Hongjoong spat at the man’s now broken body.

Seonghwa’s mother screamed in absolute horror, “Geo-“ Dead. Hongjoong broke her spine with yet another gesture.

Seonghwa’s older brother ran out to be by his dead parents and to fight Hongjoong. It was pointless. Hongjoong killed him too. Nothing was going to stop him from finding his lover.

“Seonghwa?” Hongjoong called out as he stepped over multiple corpses. He ripped his bloodied hanbok and threw the pieces to the ground, they were pointless.

He couldn’t find Seonghwa anywhere. Fuck. They must’ve locked him up. That angered him much further. Hongjoong left the residence ablaze once he stepped out of the threshold. Villagers who saw the massacre stayed out of Hongjoong’s way. Now terrified of the man.

A good choice.

The new deity made his way to the village's cells. Once he gets his man, this whole town will be gone. He wasn’t going to leave anyone alive. Not after they all sat around and let Hongjoong and Seonghwa be separated.

With the cells in site, the guards were slaughtered and he burst open the gates, each criminal ran out of their cells in fear but Seonghwa remained. He knew his lover came back for him. He didn’t care how.

Seonghwa was just happy Hongjoong was alive.

“Hongjoong!” The noble ran out of his cell and into Hongjoong’s arms, “How are you alive?”

His lover only laughed, “I’ll tell you later, for now we must leave this place. We don’t belong here.” Hongjoong kissed Seonghwa with such fever that he refused to separate for several moments.

They left the village hand in hand. Hongjoong didn’t even bother to look back when he set everything ablaze, leaving nothing to save itself. He got his revenge and much more. Nothing was going to separate them ever again. Ever.

-

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa, both now immortals, faced the earth and its challenges together. They hid in the mountains away from the humans to maintain their happiness and peace. Hongjoong had gave Seonghwa powers to protect himself. Powers that matched their invisible tie to each other. He honed abilities from the planet. Elemental.

Seonghwa maintained a garden that he took care of with his new powers. The animals in the forest kept him company when Hongjoong had to leave to Deity Overworld, now that he’s a god.

One day, Seonghwa heard a blood curdling scream and chanting coming down the mountain. Hongjoong was gone so that couldn’t be him.

Seonghwa set down the white rabbit in his lap and marched down the hill, carefully treading.

Once he made it past the clearing, he found a big man strung up to a post, men and women surrounding it with torches. Seonghwa knew what it was immediately. A witch trial.

Humans are so cruel to anything different.

Just as they were about to light him aflame, Seonghwa cleared his throat, “I suggest you let him down or there will be consequences. I don’t take innocent bloodshed lightly.”

The people whipped their heads toward the newfound voice, “Excuse me? How dare you threaten us. Are you a witch too?” A man poked Seonghwa’s chest with a pitchfork.

He didn’t like that. Without moving, the ground swallows the man whole, “Anyone want to go next?”

The humans screamed in fear and ran away, not wanting to die.

The man on the post had been crying, thankful to be saved. Why did he have to be scorned for practicing a non harmful craft?

“It’s okay, I’ve got you now.” Seonghwa cut the ropes that held the man high, “Careful.” He caught him as he fell, “What’s your name? I’m Seonghwa.” A beautiful smile stretched his cheeks as he kept the man warm.

“Yunho. Jeong Yunho. Thank you for saving me. I’m forever in your debt.” Yunho’s large hands grasped Seonghwa’s in desperation, “I don’t know how to even begin to thank you.”

Seonghwa shook his head, “You don’t need to. What the humans are doing is harmful. You don’t deserve to die, Yunho. Come with me. I’ve got somewhere to keep you safe.”

-

“Um, Seonghwa, who is this?” Hongjoong appeared from a mist into the living room, confusion smeared on his features.

Yunho jumped, nearly screaming in his spot, still jumpy from earlier.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Seonghwa was quick to comfort the big man, “This is Yunho, he was about to be burned at the stake for witchcraft..I just couldn’t let that happen.”

Hongjoong melted at his words. One of the many reasons he fell for Seonghwa. His selflessness and care for others beside himself.

“I see, well, make sure he has somewhere to stay warm and rest. I’m sure it was stressful.” Hongjoong smiled and walked to his bedroom, exhausted from traveling between worlds.

Yunho smiled to himself and held the blanket close to his body, “You two are very kind. Thank you for the hospitality.”

“So, tell me, Yunho. Do you have anyone?” Seonghwa carefully sat beside Yunho, caution on his features.

“Ah, no. I don’t. It’s just me. I suppose that’s why it was so easy for me to be found by those villagers.” He could never return to his home. Not if he wanted to live.

“Well, I have a proposition for you then, Mr. Yunho, how would you like to live forever without having to worry about being burned alive?” Seonghwa offered with such nonchalance.

Yunho was in shock. What was he saying?

“Huh?”

“Look, Hongjoong and I are immortal. Hongjoong is a god and he gave me immortality to be with him forever. I want to give you that now. I know you could use it for the good in your heart.” The former noble was serious in every sense, “Of course, I’d have to talk to Hongjoong but I want to give you that offer.”

“I just thought you were also a witch honestly.” Yunho laughed.

“Well, no, but still.” Seonghwa stood back up, “I’ll let you think about it but I’m going to go speak to Hongjoong about this.”

-

“You’re an immortal now, how do you feel, Yunho?” Seonghwa grinned, Hongjoong’s arm around his waist.

The new immortal couldn’t help but cry as fire emitted from his palms, “I..I’m so happy.” Of course the fire was a bonus. Now he could make everyone pay that tried to burn him alive.

“Be careful with that ability, Yunho, I know what you’re thinking. I can hear everything. If you do not tread my warnings carefully, I can take it all from you without breaking a sweat. So don’t test me.” Hongjoong was stern but he knew Yunho wouldn’t break his trust. It was like he had a golden retriever that followed his every demand and order.

After all, this was just the beginning of a big tale to come.

“I will, thank you, Hongjoong.”

The three men would continue to live in harmony for decades. In peace and tranquillity. They never had to worry about another human trying to kill them and Hongjoong helped Yunho and Seonghwa hone their abilities. He was going to shape them into beasts. A small army if you will.

Nothing was going to stop him from being who he was meant to be.

They lived their lives on a pirate ship that sailed the ocean, that Hongjoong had stolen, becoming the new feared pirate crew for years to come.

He had to grow this team and he had to use the abilities he was given.

Yunho made them a fourth member. A living doll but with a human body. His name is Kang Yeosang and he’s another immortal. His abilities are unknown as he’s still getting accustomed to being a living doll. Made from dark magic.

Again, this was only the beginning for this forming team.

They’re only going to get stronger.