#group signup

[runefactorynonsense]

The first of a couple Secret Santa blogs I follow just opened up for signups 👀

I WANT TO DO MORE THIS YEAR.

[mettatonsass]

Hey everyone! You may have seen my Tumblr post linking to my signup for crochet classes. It's still open until 4/30/2023 and I highly encourage you to join! Well, I decided to make a discord server for anyone who is signed up, people who aren't signed up but want to, and anyone interested in fiber arts! Feel free to join the server as long as you follow the rules.

[carpathxanridge]

looking into the clubs at the school i’m transferring to and they don’t seem to have a very established feminist club or any other women-oriented clubs that aren’t sororities (or women in stem, but i am sadly no longer a woman in stem lol). there’s nothing i’d be really interested in joining and so i’d really like to try starting a feminist book club, but i also am worried about having to navigate gender bs. i think i won’t let that stop me though… i can probably play dumb for the most part and try to cultivate an environment that is conducive to debate and discourages paranoid reading, and read texts that are rad-adjacent at most.

[inclusiveinsight]

ONLINE/IN-PERSON FOCUS GROUP STUDY HAMILTON

sign up and start earning https://inclusiveinsight.com

[adore-laur]

hmmm maybe dadrry where he pretends to make her jealous but it doesn’t work bc they’re so secure in the relationship they just smirk and tease them, or that yn gets mama bear when she sees other moms hit on harry at school or daycare

——

In a couple of weeks, the preschool your eldest daughter attended was going on a field trip to a petting zoo in Montebello, California. Chaperone sign-up sheets were recently emailed to every parent, and you were debating with Harry about who should be the one to tag along. It wasn't a requirement to be a chaperone, but your worrisome maternal instincts sure made it one.

Harry was lying on the couch, his socked feet dangling over the armrest. You sat normally, your legs bent over his straightened knees, as you stared into space. The conversation kept hitting dead ends, but you were insistent on coming up with a solution as soon as possible. You had enough on your plate to deal with in the weeks ahead.

"Only one of us can chaperone the field trip," you repeated for probably the fourth time that night.

"I'm more than willing to take off work for it," Harry replied, his fingers casually laced over his chest. His eyes were closed since it was nearing ten p.m. and you hadn't been able to make up your mind about which parent should volunteer their time and energy toward the field trip. You had cornered Harry when he went to shut the living room lights off and forced him to sit down before he retreated to bed. It wasn't that you didn't trust him to be a chaperone—he'd definitely handle the controlled chaos that came with supervising a group of kids in an environment full of animals to gawk at. You just considered yourself a more watchful person, but really, it was an excuse to witness your daughter's interactions with her classmates and make sure she was adjusting well to being in school.

"I'm more than willing to as well. So..." You tapped your fingers against the couch cushion. "We need to make a decision right now. Signups are first come, first served."

Harry hummed in acknowledgment. "I can go."

You slowly nodded and said, "Okay. Well, so can I. You know, if you're not able to take off work."

He snorted a laugh and shifted his head, getting more comfortable. He was going to get a crick in his neck if this conversation didn't hurry along.

"What?" you asked, unsure why your reasonability was so amusing to him.

"You're funny."

You tilted your head back against the couch and sighed toward the ceiling. "Harry, I'm trying to get us ahead of the game. Otherwise, neither of us will be able to chaperone, and then our child will be in the care of a random parent."

Your trust in the preschool was substantial, yet a part of you was still cautious about the parents. You hadn't had the chance to build relationships with them since you started working part-time again. Your little girl was a wanderer, and if something caught her attention, she was off and admiring it without notice. Other parents didn't know that about her. What if they didn't pay close enough attention and accidentally let her get lost? The mere thought was why you were determined to claim an open spot as a chaperone.

"You're not making this particularly easy, honey," Harry said lightheartedly, tiredness rasping his voice. "I am actively telling you that I would love to be a chaperone instead of a chef for a day. Getting to pet adorable animals is also a plus."

"Maybe we can write both of our names down," you replied, deep in thought. Half of what Harry had said ricocheted off your brain.

"I don't think that's allowed." He yawned, stretching his arms. "Just put my name down. If work ends up being a problem, I'm sure they wouldn't mind you taking my place."

You contemplated his decision, then asked, "Did you read the chaperone responsibilities list?"

He frowned. "No, but there's time. The email was only sent this morning."

"You have to read it," you said firmly. He needed to be as prepared as possible. This was the first field trip of many, and rules have most likely changed since you were a kid.

In a lull of silence, Harry's hand caressed your ankle. "What are you so anxious about? Talk to me."

You wanted to say everything, but not even someone as wise as Harry could procure a remedy for that. "Nothing," you mumbled. "Just trying to have a solid plan in place."

"Are you worried the moms will be all over me? Pulling me aside and asking me"—Harry paused for dramatic effect—"burning questions?"

You looked over at him, taking in his sly little smirk. He was being like this on purpose. Not to make you jealous, since you were years past that phase—instead, it was a way to distract you from ruminating over minuscule matters.

"I’m not worried at all," you said confidently, flashing him a grin. "Because you know what to do if that happens, right?"

Harry wordlessly lifted his left hand, showing off his gold wedding band snugly fit on his long ring finger. Exactly, you thought to yourself.

"And what if they persist?" he asked, enjoyment clear on his face. You knew he loved this type of banter.

"You show them the picture of me that you keep in your wallet." You leaned toward him. "Then your last resort is calling me and putting whichever mom is flirting with you on the phone."

His teeth bit into his soft bottom lip. "Yes, ma'am."

You crooked your pointer finger, beckoning Harry closer. He sat up with a groan, his face now mere inches from yours. The hypothetical scenario caused misplaced jealousy to surge through your bloodstream, and you had to remind him of some things.

"You're my husband."

Harry traced the tip of his nose along your cheekbone and said, "Loud and proud, baby."

Your breaths became shallowed. "Father of our two children."

"And counting."

You pinched his waist, and he writhed with a heavenly laugh. "You're conventionally attractive, which piques a lot of people's interests. And while it used to bother me in the past, I know that your soul is tethered to mine."

His hands traveled an intimate path up your thighs. "It always has been," he said, his eyes sincere.

"So," you said with finality, your heart racing from his words, "I will let you chaperone the field trip. Because you always come back to me and our family, and I know work has been keeping you away from our girls."

"How do you turn the most mundane thing into a romantic declaration?"

"With you as my muse, it's pretty simple."

Harry moved closer and brushed his lips against yours. "If you keep melting my heart, I'm going to lay you down on this couch and make love to you until the sun rises."

"Risky," you whispered, smiling against his mouth. The kids were asleep down the hall. Any lovemaking would no doubt be interrupted by the baby monitor.

"Tell you what," he said, stealing a hot, deep kiss from you that left you briefly stunned. "This weekend, I'll have my parents take the girls for a day so you and I can love on each other without any distractions. I miss having you all to myself."

"I'm right here," you said, cupping his face. "And I'd appreciate it if you kissed me some more."

"I thought you needed to sign me up as a chaperone."

You kissed him three times in quick succession before saying, "Shut up and make out with me."

"Roger that," Harry murmured, towering over you until your back sank into the couch.

——

[sandersstudies]

Fabulous news out of my local youth arts nonprofit.

Their improvisation comedy class simply had too many signups this semester. I stepped in as an assistant teacher so the class could work in smaller groups and get students more specialized experiences, but myself and the director agreed this was a temporary solution.

I proposed a longer-term solution at the start of the semester and this week it was APPROVED.

Next semester, our advanced improvisation students have the chance to participate in a TTRPG campaign as an alternative to the class. This means our students who have a year or more of experience with both theatre basics and improvisational comedy now have the opportunity to try a roleplay-focused long-form improv story. We will both be actively playing the game and also discussing the shared skills of RP and performance, like character building, teamwork, and improvised dialogue.

I am so excited to tell my students and hope they get excited too. Depending on class sizes, I typically coach middle or high school students, but based on the extraordinary abilities of some of our younger students this year, this new class is going to be opened to experienced 5th+ graders. (For non-Americans, 5th graders are typically 10-11 years old.)

If you have experience with both live performance and tabletop roleplay, I'd love to hear your thoughts. For the sake of media familiarity, I'm starting my students with the recently updated 5e DnD handbook, but if the class is successful I would love to branch out with them in future semesters to try games that naturally put the focus on kid characters, like Bubblegumshoe or Kids on Bikes.

My nonprofit currently utilizes borrowed space but is working to fund the purchase of their own building. If that happened in the future and we had student interest, I would love to expand this class feature and host multiple sessions in a week and get more kids involved.

[theonottsbxtch]

COURAGE | OP81

an: i warn you ahead of time this faces the topic of substance abuse, if you or anyone you know needs help, please feel free to talk to me or here are links for who to talk to: united kingdom, united states, canada, europe. these are some of the links i've found, if you need help searching for one, my inbox is always open!

warnings: substance abuse, religous themes, mentions of death & hospitals.

wc: 4.6k

The church bells rang out over the small town of Willow Creek, their low hum rolling through the autumn air like a solemn hymn. Oscar stood at the edge of his front porch, adjusting the cuffs of his Sunday shirt as he waited for her. He always waited for her.

She emerged moments later from her house next door, pulling her shawl tighter against the chill. The hem of her modest dress caught the breeze, brushing against her knees as she approached. She didn’t say much, she never did on Sundays. Her gaze, solemn and steady, flicked toward the church steeple visible from the end of the street.

��Ready?” Oscar asked, though he already knew the answer.

She nodded, her braid catching the sunlight as they started down the gravel path.

The girl was his best friend, his constant, the one person in this quiet town who felt as real to him as the chipped paint on his window frame or the threadbare pews at St. Anne’s.

Their routine was always the same: church in the morning, quiet afternoons spent sitting on his porch or hers, talking about scripture or nothing at all. It was an existence that felt safe and good, built on a foundation as steady as the faith they shared.

But something had shifted in her lately. He couldn’t place it, not exactly. She still walked with him to church. She still bowed her head during the prayers, her lips moving silently along with the hymns. But her eyes were somewhere else, distant and restless, as though her thoughts had wandered too far and couldn’t find their way home.

“I heard Father O’Connell mention the youth retreat next month,” Oscar said, breaking the silence as they neared the church steps. “He said he’s hoping for a big turnout this year. Are you thinking of going?”

She hesitated. The pause was brief, but it was there, and Oscar caught it like a pebble in his shoe.

“Maybe,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. Then she offered him a faint smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ll see.”

Oscar didn’t press her. He never did. But as they entered the church, he couldn’t help but notice the way her hand lingered at the edge of her shawl, clutching it like a tether.

It started with small things.

Oscar didn’t think much of it when she skipped their afternoon talks one Sunday. Her mum had said she wasn’t feeling well, and that made sense. People got sick; life happened. But then she missed the next Sunday, too. And the one after that.

She stopped coming to the Wednesday youth group meetings at church, which was even stranger. For as long as he could remember, she’d been one of the first to volunteer for scripture readings or help organise bake sales. Now, her name wasn’t even on the signup sheets.

Oscar wanted to ask her about it, but he couldn’t figure out how. It wasn’t like they had a friendship built on confrontation. They’d grown up side by side in the same pews, their lives as intertwined as the ivy creeping up the churchyard walls. But it was a quiet bond, one where words weren’t always necessary.

That’s what made the silence feel so loud.

One Friday afternoon, after work, Oscar saw her for the first time in weeks. She was sitting on the front steps of her house, legs crossed, the heel of her shoe tapping a restless rhythm against the wood.

“Hey,” he called as he approached, hands in his pockets. “Haven’t seen you around.”

She looked up, her expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

Busy. The word felt wrong coming from her, like a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong spot.

“Your mum said you were sick,” he said, testing the waters.

Her eyes flickered, just for a moment. “Yeah. That too.”

He leaned against the porch railing, watching her closely. There was something different about her, but he couldn’t pin it down. Her braid was still neat, her dress still modest, but the way she sat—loose, almost careless—was unfamiliar.

“You coming to youth group next week?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

She shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Why not?”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like she was seeing through him instead of at him.

“Just not my thing right now,” she said, and there was an edge to her voice he didn’t recognise.

Oscar frowned. “You’ve been going for years.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, standing abruptly. “People change.”

And just like that, she disappeared inside, leaving Oscar alone on the porch with the sound of her footsteps echoing in his ears.

Over the next few weeks, Oscar saw less and less of her. When he did see her, she wasn’t the same.

The first time he noticed the guy, it was at the diner on Main Street. She was sitting in a booth near the window, her back to him, but he recognised her laugh instantly. She wasn’t alone.

The guy was tall, older, with a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair. He leaned in close when he talked to her, his hand brushing her arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. Oscar stood outside the diner for a long time, watching them through the glass.

When she turned her head and laughed again, Oscar caught a glimpse of her face. There was something wild in her expression, something unrestrained and electric. It scared him.

He didn’t tell her he’d seen her. He wasn’t sure why.

But the next Sunday, when her mum stopped him on his way to church, the worry in her eyes told him she’d seen it too.

“Have you talked to her?” her mum asked, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “She’s… I don’t know what’s going on with her. She won’t talk to me.”

Oscar didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sure it’s just a phase,” he offered weakly.

Her mum smiled, but it was the kind of smile people gave at funerals.

“I hope so,” she said.

The next time Oscar saw her, it wasn’t at church or on her front porch. It was behind the convenience store on Elm Street, just after dusk.

He had been walking home, the kind of mindless stroll he often took when his thoughts got too loud. The streets were mostly empty, the only sounds the faint hum of a streetlamp and the crunch of gravel beneath his shoes.

He heard her before he saw her. Laughter—sharp, jagged, and nothing like the laugh he remembered. It came from the alley behind the store, followed by the low murmur of voices.

Oscar turned the corner, and there she was.

She leaned against the brick wall, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, a cigarette dangling from her fingers. The glow of the lighter in the guy’s hand caught her face just long enough for Oscar to see the hollow beneath her eyes, the strange way her smile curled at the edges, like she wasn’t entirely sure it belonged there.

The guy was the same one from the diner, older and out of place in this small town. He said something to her, and she threw her head back in laughter, her voice ringing out into the quiet night.

Oscar froze. She looked so different. Her braid was gone, her hair loose and tangled, framing a face that seemed sharper, thinner. Her clothes were casual but careless, like she’d grabbed the first things within reach. She didn’t look like the girl he’d grown up with—the girl who bowed her head in prayer and scolded him when he skipped scripture reading. She looked like someone else entirely.

The guy noticed Oscar first. He smirked, nudging her with his elbow. “Friend of yours?”

She turned her head, her smile fading when she saw him. For a moment, something flickered in her expression—guilt, maybe, or shame—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice sharper than he expected.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his throat dry.

She rolled her eyes and took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling smoke into the cold air. “It’s none of your business, Oscar.”

“It is my business,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re my friend.”

She laughed, but it was a brittle sound, lacking any real warmth. “Yeah, well, friends don’t follow each other around like lost puppies.”

Oscar felt the words like a slap, but he didn’t back down. “This isn’t you,” he said quietly. “What are you doing with him?”

The guy smirked again, clearly enjoying the tension. “Relax, man. She’s fine.”

“No one asked you,” Oscar snapped, his voice louder than he intended.

The guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave you two to it.” He handed her the lighter, brushing her fingers with his in a way that made Oscar’s stomach turn, and walked off down the alley.

She didn’t look at Oscar right away. Instead, she stared at the lighter in her hand, turning it over like it was a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

“I’m fine,” she said finally, her voice softer but still distant. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re not fine,” Oscar said, his frustration bubbling over. “You’ve stopped coming to church. You won’t talk to your mum. And now you’re…” He trailed off, gesturing helplessly toward the cigarette still in her hand.

She sighed, tilting her head back against the wall. “I don’t need a lecture, okay? I get enough of that at home.”

“I’m not trying to lecture you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I just… I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?”

Her gaze flicked to his, and for a brief moment, he saw something raw in her eyes—pain, anger, maybe even fear. But then she blinked, and the mask was back.

“Maybe I’m tired of being the perfect little Catholic girl,” she said, her tone light but cutting. “Did you ever think of that?”

Oscar stared at her, searching for the girl he knew beneath the stranger in front of him. “This isn’t you,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

She pushed off the wall, brushing past him. “Maybe you never really knew me.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving him standing alone in the alley, the faint scent of smoke lingering in the air.

That night, Oscar lay awake, staring at the cracks in his ceiling. He wanted to help her, to pull her out of whatever dark place she’d fallen into, but he didn’t know how. She wouldn’t let him.

For the first time in years, he prayed not for himself, but for her.

“God,” he whispered into the stillness of his room. “Please. Bring her back.”

It became a pattern.

Oscar would see her slipping further away, each time a little less like the girl he had grown up with and a little more like a stranger. Sometimes it was behind the convenience store. Other times he saw her stumbling out of a car that didn’t belong in their quiet town, the headlights cutting through the dark as it sped off, leaving her swaying on the curb.

She wasn’t hiding it anymore.

When their paths crossed now, she barely looked at him. Her words, when she offered any, were short and cold, like she was daring him to stop caring. But he couldn’t stop.

So he prayed.

Every night, he knelt by his bed, his hands clasped tightly together, his eyes shut so hard it hurt. He prayed for her to come back, for her to see what she was doing to herself. He prayed for the strength to find the right words, the right actions, anything to pull her out of this spiral. But every morning, when he saw her again—laughing too loud, her eyes bloodshot and empty—it felt like no one was listening.

One night, well past midnight, there was a knock on his window. He woke with a start, his heart pounding, and stumbled to open it. She was standing there, her hair tangled and wild, her face streaked with something he couldn’t tell if it was makeup or tears.

“You need to stop,” she said, her voice slurred but venomous.

“Stop what?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“Praying for me,” she snapped. “I know you’re doing it. Just… stop.”

Her words stung, but what hurt more was the way she looked at him—like he was the enemy. Before he could respond, she turned and disappeared into the night, leaving him standing in the cold.

A week later, it was her mum who knocked—not on his window, but on his door.

Oscar opened it to find her standing on the porch, her face pale and drawn, her eyes red from crying. She looked older than he’d ever seen her, like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders and wouldn’t let go.

“Hi, Ms,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

She didn’t move. Instead, she stood there, clutching the edge of her sweater like it was the only thing keeping her together. “Oscar,” she began, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know who else to come to.”

He felt his stomach sink. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s her,” she said, her voice cracking. “She’s… I don’t know what’s happening to her. She barely comes home anymore. And when she does…” She broke off, pressing a hand to her mouth.

Oscar didn’t need her to finish. He’d seen it all himself.

“I’ve tried talking to her,” Her mother continued, her words spilling out in a rush. “I’ve begged her to stop, to come back to church, to tell me what’s going on, but she won’t listen. She doesn’t even look at me anymore. And now…” She trailed off again, her shoulders shaking as tears filled her eyes.

Oscar reached out instinctively, placing a hand on her arm. “Ms…”

She shook her head, brushing his hand away. “I don’t know what to do, Oscar. She’s slipping away from me, and I can’t stop it. I thought maybe you could… I don’t know. Talk to her. Get through to her. She listens to you, doesn’t she?”

The desperation in her voice was like a knife in his chest.

“She used to,” he admitted, his throat tight. “But not anymore. She won’t let me help her. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so many times.”

Her face crumpled, and she let out a sob, covering her face with her hands. “She’s all I have,” she choked out. “It’s just me and her. I don’t know how to do this alone.”

Oscar hesitated, his heart breaking at the sight of her. He wanted to promise her that he could fix everything, that he’d bring her daughter back, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know if he could keep that promise.

Instead, he did the only thing he could think of. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened for a moment, then broke down completely, her sobs muffled against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his own voice shaking. “I’m so sorry.”

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, the house silent except for her quiet, broken cries.

When she finally pulled away, wiping her eyes, she gave him a look so full of raw hope it made his chest ache. “Please, Oscar,” she said. “Don’t give up on her.”

He nodded, though his heart was heavy with doubt. “I won’t.”

But as he watched her walk back across the front garden to her house, the weight of the promise settled over him like a stone. He didn’t know how to save someone who didn’t want saving.

So that night, like every night before, he knelt by his bed and prayed.

“God,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice trembling. “Please. Show me what to do.”

That night the ringing of his phone jolted Oscar out of a restless sleep. For a moment, he thought it was his alarm, but the screen glowed faintly in the dark: Unknown Number.

He rubbed his eyes and answered, his voice groggy. “Hello?”

The sound on the other end wasn’t words at first. It was crying—deep, heaving sobs that clawed at his chest before he even recognised her voice.

“It’s me,” she managed between gasps.

Oscar sat up so quickly the blankets slid off his lap. “Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” she choked out. “I’m… I’m at this party, and I—I took something, and now I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she let out another sob. “I feel so weird, Oscar. I feel like I’m dying.”

His heart dropped. “You’re not dying,” he said quickly, already grabbing his keys from the nightstand. “You’re not. I’m coming to get you. Just tell me where you are.”

She mumbled the address through her tears, barely coherent, but he caught enough to recognise the street. It was across town, the kind of neighborhood he tried to avoid.

“Stay where you are,” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

He hung up and bolted for the door, his chest tight with fear.

The streets were eerily quiet as he sped through town, the glow of his headlights slicing through the darkness. His mind raced faster than the car, flashing through every worst-case scenario he could imagine. He gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, his foot pressing harder on the gas.

When he turned onto the street, he knew he was in the right place. Cars were lined haphazardly along the curb, some with doors still hanging open. Music blared from the house, but the sound was disjointed, chaotic.

And then he saw them.

A wave of people surged out the front door, spilling into the front garden and onto the street. They were shouting, laughing, some tripping over themselves in their haste to leave. Oscar pulled over and jumped out of the car, his heart pounding.

“What’s going on?” he yelled at one of them, grabbing a guy by the arm.

“Cops are coming,” the guy slurred, shaking him off. “Some girl OD’d, man. It’s bad.”

Oscar didn’t wait to hear more. He shoved his way through the crowd, pushing against the flow of bodies until he reached the front door. The smell hit him first—alcohol, smoke, and something sour underneath.

Inside, the scene was chaos. The music was still blaring, but most of the partygoers were gone, leaving behind overturned cups and broken bottles. He stepped over a pile of discarded coats and followed the sound of a frantic voice.

In the living room, he found her.

She was lying on the floor, her face pale, looking like nothing he’d ever seen before. A girl about their age was kneeling beside her, pressing her hands against her chest in a desperate rhythm.

“Come on,” the girl muttered, her voice shaking. “Come on, don’t do this.” She glanced up briefly, her phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah, I’m doing compressions,” she said into the receiver. “Please, hurry.”

Oscar froze for a moment, the sight stealing the air from his lungs. She looked so small, so fragile. Her hair was damp with sweat, her lips tinged blue.

The girl performing CPR looked up again, her eyes wild. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

Her words jolted him into motion. He dropped to his knees beside them, his hands trembling as he reached for her. “What happened?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“I don’t know,” the girl snapped. “She took something—pills, I think. Someone said it was laced, but I don’t know with what.” 

Oscar’s hands hovered uselessly over her, his mind racing. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never been trained for this, never thought he’d need to be.

But he knew he needed to do something, looking at the girl in front of him, he watched her hands and pushed them aside, continuing for her. 

“She went upstairs to take a phone call, walked back in and collapsed.” The girl sat back on her heels, then leaned forward to blow two breaths into her mouth. “They thought it was a joke at first, but it all got so serious all of a sudden.” Oscar continued the same rhythm on her chest, watching as the girl flexed her hands nervously. Underneath his breath, he was silently praying that someone was listening, because in the last couple of weeks he was beginning to lose faith. No one listened to him when he was desperate, begging for someone to save her.

“Stay with me,” the other girl murmured, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. “Don’t you dare give up.”

The distant wail of sirens broke through the chaos, growing louder with every passing second. Relief flooded Oscar’s chest, but it was fleeting. He looked down at her pale, lifeless face and felt the weight of every prayer he’d ever whispered.

“God,” he said under his breath, his voice breaking. “Please. Don’t take her.”

The sirens grew deafening as the paramedics burst through the door. Oscar was pulled back, forced to watch as they took over, their voices calm but urgent as they worked to save her.

He didn’t realise he was crying until he tasted salt on his lips.

As they loaded her onto a stretcher and wheeled her out the door, Oscar followed, his legs unsteady but his resolve firm. He wasn’t leaving her—not now, not ever.

He watched them close the doors of the back of the ambulance and ran back to his car to follow them when he saw the girl weakly walk out of the house. He could have just left her, but she had just saved his best friend’s life. Instead, he walked back up to the house, hugged her and offered her a lift.

When Oscar finally got to the hospital, it was cold and quiet in a way that felt wrong, like it was holding its breath. Oscar sat in the hard plastic chair next to her bed, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped tightly together. He had barely spoken to anyone since they arrived, giving only short, clipped answers to the nurses’ questions.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at her pale face, willing her to wake up. The IV in her arm looked too big, too intrusive, and the steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

Finally, her eyelids fluttered.

He shot upright, his breath catching as she groaned softly, her head turning toward him. Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused and heavy, but when they landed on him, recognition flickered.

“Oscar?” she croaked, her voice barely audible.

Tears sprang to his eyes, and he let out a shaky laugh that was more relief than joy. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said, his voice thick. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You scared the hell out of me.”

He never cursed. 

She blinked, her gaze shifting to the IV in her arm, the sterile hospital room around her. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked, his voice breaking.

She shook her head weakly, then winced. “I… I don’t know. I was at the party, and then…” Her voice trailed off, her brows furrowing as if the memory was too painful to touch.

Oscar leaned closer, his face inches from hers. “What were you thinking?” he asked, his voice low but trembling. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you? You could’ve—” He stopped himself, his chest heaving as he swallowed back the lump in his throat.

This wasn’t what she needed to hear.

She looked away, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “I didn’t think it would…”

Oscar let out a shuddering breath, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I lost you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

They sat in silence, the weight of his words hanging between them.

A nurse came in not long after, checking her vitals and saying she’d be discharged soon. Oscar nodded numbly, his mind already racing.

When they stepped out of the hospital, the chill of the early morning air hit them both. He helped her to the car, her steps unsteady, and buckled her into the passenger seat. She leaned her head against the window, her eyes glassy and distant.

“I’ll call your mum,” he said, turning the key in the ignition.

“No,” she said quickly, her voice hoarse but firm.

Oscar paused, his hand on the wheel. “I need to tell her. I stopped the hospital from calling her.”

“Please, don’t,” she said, her voice breaking. She turned to him, her eyes pleading. “I can’t face her right now.”

He hesitated, the conflict written all over his face. “What do you want me to do?” he asked finally, his voice soft.

“Just drive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

So he did.

They didn’t talk as the car rumbled down the empty highway. The radio was off, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of her shifting in her seat.

She didn’t cry, but her silence was heavy, and Oscar didn’t push her. He kept his eyes on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

After a couple of hours, her breathing evened out, and when he glanced over, he saw that she’d fallen asleep, her face turned toward him, her expression soft but exhausted.

He sighed, his chest aching with a mix of relief and sadness. He took the next exit and drove toward her house.

When they arrived, it was still early, the sky a pale gray as dawn broke. He parked in front of her house, then got out and walked around to her side. Carefully, he opened the door and unbuckled her seatbelt, slipping an arm under her knees and another around her back.

She stirred slightly as he lifted her, but she didn’t wake. Her head lolled against his chest, and he carried her up the porch steps and knocked softly on the door.

It swung open almost immediately, and her mum stood there, her face a mixture of worry and exhaustion. When she saw her daughter in his arms, she let out a strangled cry, her hands flying to her mouth.

“She’s okay,” Oscar said quickly, his voice gentle. “She’s just sleeping.”

Her mum nodded, tears streaming down her face. She stepped aside, and he carried her inside, laying her gently on the sofa.

Her mother sank to her knees beside her, sobbing quietly as she brushed the hair from her daughter’s face. “Thank you,” she whispered, looking up at Oscar. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

Oscar knelt beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “She’s going to be okay,” he said softly, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

They sat there for a while, her mum’s quiet cries filling the silence.

Eventually, Oscar cleared his throat. “Do you have a spare set of sheets?” he asked.

She looked at him, confused. “Why?”

“I’m going to stay,” he said. “Just for tonight. I’ll sleep on the floor. I want to make sure she’s okay.”

Her mum nodded, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice breaking.

Later, after setting up a makeshift bed on the floor beside the couch, Oscar lay there, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet now, her mum having gone to bed, but he could hear her breathing softly above him.

He closed his eyes and whispered another prayer, one of gratitude this time.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for giving her another chance.”

And for the first time in a long time, he felt like someone was listening.

the end.

[holly-poly]

Holly Poly is, as the name implies, an exchange for polyamorous relationships. OT3s, OT4s, OT6s, orgies, open relationships, sedoretus, whatever strikes your fancy, as long as it involves three or more entities.

Participants are able to offer and request fanart, fanfiction, fanvids, podfic, fanmixes, gifsets, or aesthetics/moodboards.

Schedule

All times are 11:00am UTC, save for golive which will depend on when final pinch hits are posted.

08 12 October - 21 October: Pre-nominations. (Period to transfer nominations from last year’s tagset into this tagset) — NEW 22 October - 02 November: Nominations 02 November - 12 November: Nominations clean up 05 November 12 November - 19 November: Signups 24 November: Assignments out by this date 12 January: Default deadline 19 January: Fanworks are due 26 January: The archive goes live (as soon as everyone has a gift) 02 February: Creators revealed

NEW SCHEDULE

All times are 11:00am UTC, save for golive which will depend on when final pinch hits are posted.

23 November - 02 December: Signups 04 December: Assignments out by this date 22 January: Default deadline 26 January: Fanworks are due 02 February: The archive goes live (as soon as everyone has a gift) 09 February: Creators revealed

You can read the updated rules over here.

We understand that life gets in the way sometimes. If you realize you will not be able to finish your assignment, please default as soon as possible. This year, 48 hours is the maximum extension that will be granted. You're free to still finish your assignment if you need more than 48 hours; however, if you ask for a longer extension or you don't post your fanwork by the extension deadline, then the request will be sent out as a pinch hit. There will be no exceptions to this rule. The FAQs for this year's exchange have been posted. Please let us know if anything is unclear. And, as always, leave a comment below if you have any questions. We're still looking for Holly Poly helpers. If you'd like to help behind the scenes, please check this post. Collection: https://ao3.org/collections/holly_poly_2024 Tag Set: https://archiveofourown.org/tag_sets/21262 Tumblr: https://holly-poly.tumblr.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/holly_poly_ex Google Groups - Holly Poly Updates: https://groups.google.com/g/holly-poly-updates Google Groups - Holly Poly Pinchhits: https://groups.google.com/g/holly-poly-pinchhits

[anim-ttrpgs]

A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club: Triangle Ageny

We are gearing up to play Triangle Agency in the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club! If you have ever wanted to check out Triangle Agency but haven't had the time or a group to do it with, join our book club! Signups are running from now until September 30th. Target date for the first session is around October 17th, 2024, but scheduling is super flexible, and also you don't have to buy the game to join, even though we encourage you to support the developers (we have made them an estimated $180 in sales already at the time of writing this)

If you want to support us and our mission to save the TTRPG hobby from total monopoly domination, you can join the book club through the link above even if you aren't signing up to play, you can support us on patreon, buy (or just freely download) the beta of our debute TTRPG Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, or just send us a tip on ko-fi!

[fandomtrumpshate]

FTH 2024 Creator Signups are OPEN!

The moment you've been waiting for has arrived! But before you rush straight to the signup form, note that a few things are different from last year:

You will not be able to edit your signup immediately, but you will be able to edit it. We're changing some things on the back end so that we can get posts up faster, but that means that when you get your email confirming your signup it won't have an edit link. Once we've processed your signup (which may take several days), we will send you a link to make edits. Please do NOT fill the signup form out again in order to edit a previous entry! Wait to hear from us.

Typesetting is now an option under Fan Labor. Remember that we only allow digital goods in the main auction - we'll be opening signups soon for the Craft Bazaar if you want to offer bookbinding or other physical crafts.

All Marvel-related fandoms are now under the Marvel top-level fandom (instead of MCU) and all DC-related are under DC. This includes comics. This allows us to stop worrying about, for example, whether Deadpool or Venom is MCU or what "DC Extended Universe" does and doesn't include.

Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone are both covered by the new Grishaverse fandom tag, House of the Dragon is part of ASOIAF/GOT, and 9-1-1 Lone Star is grouped with 9-1-1.

You can view this year's full list of fandoms here - remember that if the fandom you want isn't listed, there is a write-in option. However, check all possible names for your fandom before resorting to write-in! If your fandom is a spinoff, choose the fandom it's related to and specify in your auction notes which parts of canon/the universe you're willing to create for. Every fandom with subfandoms also has an "Any" option if you're willing to create for anything within the top-level fandom and an "Other" option to write in subfandoms.

Even if you've signed up before, please re-read the FAQ to re-familiarize yourself with our policies. If you're new to FTH, check out these tips for first-time creators (and also read the FAQ). It might also help to peruse last year's listings to get an idea for what kind of information people include and how we use the information you give us to form our tagging system.

Remember that you can offer up to three auctions, but you will need to fill out a separate signup for each of those. Each auction can only be for one type of fanwork, but can be offered in up to 3 fandoms (and unlimited subfandoms if you choose a fandom with subfandoms) or "Any fandom." Your bidder will get to choose from any of the fandoms in the listing, so please don't offer something you don't want to create just to get more eyes on your auction.

Signups will be open for two weeks, until February 19th, so there's no rush! Take your time and make sure you understand how it all works and what you're committing to. If you have any questions not covered here or in our FAQ, please email us at fandomtrumpshate @ gmail.com!

Ok, did you read all that? You know what's different from last year? You've refreshed your knowledge of our FAQ?

In that case, sign up for FTH 2024 here!

[dasmutquisition]

DASmutquition is cumming again

Welcome back to the 2025 edition of Dragon Age Smutquisition. The exchange is still being run by Jarak and a team of lovely mods who remind me to post things (and give me excellent titles). As I said last year, we’re all doomed, but that turned out to be a false alarm, so we might make it through this year too.

If you’ve not gathered what this is:

Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition is a fanwork gift exchange that showcases works rated Explicit in the DA Fandom. Any pairings or groups are eligible as long as they contain at least one DA Character from any DA Media. All works must be rated Explicit and tagged appropriately. The minimum is 1000 words or art equivalent (further details on requirements will be available on AO3)

2024 Important Dates:

Noms: Jan 1st - Jan 22th

Signups: Jan 15th - Jan 29th

Assignments sometime 30/31st

Due date: 10th March

Anon Reveals: 17th March

Creator reveals: 24th March

With regards to Veilguard:

Yes, we will be accepting Veilguard nominations and requests. However Firstly: given it's still quite soon after the game, to save me from going crazy during matching you will be asked to sign up with at least 1 request from a previous game. Secondly: I'll be posting some clever little bit of code you will be asked to use to hide all the veilguard prompts in requests so that people who wish to stay spoiler free still can browse safely. (Yes, some of us are sadly still not in possession of the game)

(And many thanks to Midnight for the banner - you lot didn't think Jarak did that did you?!)

[podficbigbang]

We're BACK, baby!

It’s been too long! And that’s on mod Kit. But I’m back and ready to GO! Now, the next Podfic Big Bang will not begin immediately. The plan is to establish a yearly schedule, and I also don’t like spanning years. So, we’re waiting for the new year! That gives you plenty of time to plan. But, since it’s been a long time, perhaps you have some questions.

What? The Podfic Big Bang is a scheduled event which asks podficcers to record, edit, and post podfics of epic length. At minimum, 10,000 words. Who? Anyone, in any fandom, can participate in the Podfic Big Bang, but please make sure you have permission to record your podfic of choice. When? The signup and start date will be January 1st, and the end date will be March 31st, with check-ins throughout. Where? Announcements and check-in posts will be made on Dreamwidth and Tumblr. Twitter will also be used for backup announcements, but will not be a primary communication tool. On March 15th, the AO3 collection will open for posting, though you are encouraged to post your podfic to the PBB Dreamwidth page, as well. How? Well, personally, I recommend recording a little bit every day. But you can also go wild and do the entire thing in a weekend. Just make sure you get some food, water, and sleep, huh? Why? Because we all like more podfic, but sometimes you want MOAR PODFIC. Community I recommend you join the PodfiChat Discord group. There are multiple discussion channels, including one just for project and fest discussions, which is where you can keep in touch with one-another outside of check-ins! Rules

Minimum length: 10,000 words

A multi-part series that adds up to 10,000 or more words is acceptable, but each part posted for PBB must not have been posted by you before. Multipods are always welcome!

So, if you’ve posted part 1 of a series, you can do parts 2+ for PBB, but part 1 does NOT count towards the word total.

You may submit as many qualifying works as you wish.

Collaboration is okay, but please specify that you are on a team when signing up.

Schedule

Sign-ups begin: January 1st, 2025

Check-in #1: January 22, 2025

Check-in #2: February 12th, 2025

Check-in #3: March 5th, 2025

Collection opens: March 15th, 2025

Collection closes: March 31st, 2025

Check-ins We highly recommend you participate in check-ins, whether on Dreamwidth, Tumblr, or Discord. However, you will not be disqualified for missing check-ins. This is casual, ya’ll. Cover art At check-in #3, a separate post will be made to the general Amplificathon Dreamwidth page, allowing podficcers to request art. Posting guidelines An AO3 collection for Podfic Big Bang 2025 will be opened on March 15th. This will be a REVEALED collection, so your podfic will appear once it’s posted, instead of waiting for the 31st. BUT, once the 31st is over (UTC time), the collection will close, and no further works will be accepted. Want to talk to us directly? The best way to contact Kitsune Heart is through Discord, particularly the PodfiChat Discord! She is user KitsuneHeart#8371.

[mp100secretspirit]

Welcome to the Mob Psycho 100 Secret Spirit 2024 Gift Exchange!

All right! The interest poll got enough engagement that we are doing this thing again! Woo-hoo!

Signups Open: October 8th Signups Close: Midnight EST October 22nd Assignments Sent Out: October 29th Check-In: December 1st Posting Period Begins: December 29th Assignments Due: Midnight EST on December 31st, 2023

Please check out the GUIDELINES AND FAQ under the cut!

Guidelines and FAQ:

What is the Secret Spirit Exchange: The MP100 Secret Spirit Exchange is an anonymous holiday gift exchange for the Mob Psycho 100 fandom!

Content Guidelines: Adult/minor pairings and incestuous content is absolutely not allowed. Additionally, since this is an all-ages exchange NSFW content is not permitted; please keep your shipping content PG-13!

What sort of prompts can I request? You can request up to three prompts, and they can be as general or specific as you would like! Prompts can focus on a character or group of characters, a relationship, a part of canon you would like to see explored, a specific scenario . . . really, whatever you want!

Can I request ship content? Yes, as long as it adheres to the content guidelines! However, we ask that at least one of your prompts be gen so your gift-giver has more options to work with.

Can I request AUs? Absolutely! However, we ask that at least one of your prompts be based on canon in case your gift-giver is unfamiliar with the AU in question.

How are assignments sent out? Assignments are sent via email, so please make sure the email you provide on the signup form will reach you! Assignments will include your recipient’s Tumblr url, their prompts, and any personal content guidelines they’ve provided.

I signed up, but I didn't receive an assignment! PLEASE CHECK YOUR SPAM FOLDER! Email clients love to eat exchange signups for some reason. If it's not there, message the mod!

What can I make for my gift? All kinds of fanworks are encouraged! You can write fic, make fanart, put together an AMV, write a song, or anything else you can think of! The only rules are that it must be your own work (no AI-generated content), it must be given over the internet (we cannot facilitate the delivery of in-person gifts), and it must adhere to the prompts and content guidelines provided by your recipient.

What if I have questions for my recipient? Remember, you have to be a secret spirit, so if you have any questions for your recipient, be sure to ask them on anon! If your recipient doesn’t accept anon messages or you have more general questions, send them to the mod, either on Tumblr or at mp100secretspirit@gmail.com

Do I need to show something for check-in? No, check-ins are just to remind you to be working on your piece! I know it's easy for exchanges to slip people's minds, so we're adding another reminder this year.

How do I post my work? Once we have reached the Posting Period, make a Tumblr post including your gift and tag your recipient! You may upload your gift elsewhere (for example AO3), but you still must make a Tumblr post with the link.

What if I have to drop out? If you do not think you can create a gift in the allotted time frame, we suggest that you do not sign up for the exchange. However, if something comes up and you need to drop out at a later date, please contact the mods ASAP! We need to make sure your recipient still receives a gift, so we appreciate as much warning as possible so we can make alternate arrangements.

What if I don’t receive anything by the end of the Posting Period? Message the mods!! We will double-check with your secret spirit, and if there is not a gift ready for you we will work with anyone who volunteered to fill in to ensure you get something!

[dividedskiesrp]

DIVIDED SKIES: a new warrior cats RP group on Discord set in an original territory!

join fate-focused mistclan, community-focused briarclan, or honor-focused stormclan… who has, as of recently, splintered into a separate clan due to irreconcilable differences. now a fourth clan, dawnclan, has formed—if you've ever wished to roleplay the formation of a new group and its cultural identity from the ground up or play out all the politics involved in that, look no further!

with no strict activity requirements, DIVIDED SKIES is meant to be an easygoing roleplay; if you're an adult with a job and no time to write silly little cats more than once or twice a month, there's certainly no judgment here!

high ranks are available—fill out an application to join with our first wave now! signups will close on JUNE 12th, 2024!

[midnightsnyx]

what if i told you (i love you) part 1 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: five years ago, pregnant and alone, you left boston after a fallout with joel but when he shows up in jackson, you have to deal with the aftermath. word count: 1.4k warnings: angst (loads), mentions of pregnancy, non-specified age gap, (please let me know if i missed something!) a/n: this is my first time writing joel so pls go gentle on me lol I am planning on making this a series if u guys like it! let me know :) i know joel is usually pegged as a girl dad which i love but i thought it would be fun to write a mini joel! this isn't edited so i apologize for all mistakes. also i am taking requests now so ask away! masterlist ask box what i write taglist signup

You hadn’t anticipated seeing him. When you left the Boston QZ five years ago after finding out you were pregnant, you never wanted to see Joel Miller’s face again. Not after you broke the news and he told you to get out - that he wanted you gone. Tess had told you to give him a few days to cool down and let the news sink in, so you did. You waited a couple days, which turned into a week and another and once a month passed, you realized you couldn’t wait around for Joel to get his head out of his ass so you packed up and left Boston. You had heard rumors of settlements out West and took the chance of going to one. It was a risky move, especially being pregnant, but raising a child in the QZ was impossible. Bringing a life into this world alone was cruel but if you could make it to one of the settlements, you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And you did. After months of traveling and close calls, you made it to Jackson. You couldn’t believe how close to normal it was there. It felt like before the outbreak which felt impossible but somehow they did it. You made friends and had support when you finally delivered. 

Little Jack came into the world with the helping hands of Maria and your friend Avery. You named him after Jackson, the little community that welcomed you with open arms. He was absolutely perfect and as he grew, he looked more and more like Joel. It hurt you that Joel wasn’t here to see his son grow but he had made his decision the day he told you to leave. 

The life you built in Jackson was good enough. You taught at the small school in the morning and spent the rest of your day with Jack and your friends. Every so often you went on patrol but with Jack, you had to find someone to watch him. Avery offered to keep him for the afternoon while you went out with Maria and some others for a quick patrol. Someone thought they heard gunshots going off and your group was sent to check it out. You thought you would come across some raiders or maybe a couple stragglers but what you weren’t expecting was to find Joel Miller and some random kid. It didn’t surprise you that he was looking for Tommy and you watched for Maria’s reaction when he told her his name. 

In Jackson, Joel’s name wasn’t a popular one to those who heard it. Tommy had recounted the days that he, Joel, Tess and others had spent that still gave him nightmares and you didn’t have many good things that you shared about him. You kept the good things to yourself and only let yourself think about them on nights you were particularly lonely or sad. She hid her reaction better than you would have but you were a little surprised when she invited them back to town. As soon as you got back, you went straight to the stables to drop off your house before going to pick up Jack from Avery’s. You wanted to just go home but he fought you tooth and nail to go to the dining hall to see Hazel, an older woman in Jackson who was the first person to take you in when you first arrived. She treated you like a daughter and in turn, treated Jack as a grandson. 

When you got there, Hazel was delighted to see him and you couldn’t help but smile when Jack squealed and ran straight for her. Watching them, you felt a set of eyes on you and when you looked, they met Joel’s. As usual, his expression was impossible to read. He was sitting with the girl, Ellie you’d briefly heard, along with Tommy and Maria. 

“Some new folks, huh?” Hazel asked, breaking you out of your daze. She knew the story about Joel so you were hesitant to tell her who they were but she would find out eventually.

“Yeah, Tommy’s older brother and the girl is Ellie,” you told her, “apparently they traveled all the way from Boston.” 

You watched as the realiztion slowly dawned on her face, hiding an amused smile when she said, “where’s my shotgun?” 

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure her, “I don’t think they’re staying.” 

She huffed, “I should’ve poisened that food.”

You shook you head, taking Jack when he reached out to you. He was getting sleepy, resting his head on your shoulder and babbling nonsense. You could still feel Joel’s gaze, so you told Hazel you would see her tomorrow and started walking out when you heard your name called.

Tommy. 

You weren’t sure what his plan was, he knew your past with Joel so you took your time walking over to where the four individuals were seated. Maria was giving Tommy a dark look and you knew she didn’t agree with his interfering. 

“Hey,” you said lightly, trying to ignore Joel’s eyes that were now focused on Jack. Ellie was looking between you and Joel and you could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. 

“I was wondering if you had time to take Ellie to the house next to yours and let her have a shower? Maybe find some new clothes?” Tommy asked and held his hand up when Joel started to argue. 

“Sure,” you said, motioning for her to follow you. She gave Joel one look before following you out the door. It was cold and you hugged Jack, who was now asleep, tighter to you. She was silent until you were a couple minutes away from the house, whistling. 

“So, I take it you and Joel know each other?” She questioned, walking faster to keep up with you. You wanted to drop this kid off before she accidentally got answers out of you. She continued pestering you after you just shrugged and you wondered how Joel, of all people, managed to make it from Boston with the girl. She seemed sweet enough but lord, she was chatty. 

“What’s his name?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping boy in your arms as if there was another child around.

“Jack,” you told her and she smiled.

“Like, Jackson?” 

“Nice catch,” you praised and she grinned. 

You showed her to the shower, before searching for some clean clothes. It took a few trades but you managed to get her some fresh clothes and a new jacket. When you returned to the house, you ran into the one person you were hoping to avoid. He froze when you walked in the front door, clothing in hand and Jack still on your hip. Your back was aching from carrying him but he was unusually clingy. His eyes locked on Joel, head tilting slightly before reaching out for the older man, surprising the two of you. Joel stood frozen even as Jack reached for him, whining slightly. 

It was Ellie who broke the awkward silence, walking down the stairs in the fluffy robe you left for her. “You gonna take the kid, or what? He’s not contagious.” 

You were hesitant to let Jack go but after he let out an angry wail, you put him down and watched as he walked over to Joel and reached for him, making a grabby motion with his tiny fists, the universal pick me up signal from a child. The man awkwardly picked him up and you immediately saw the similarities between the two. You always thought he looked like Joel but looking at the two of them together, a paternity test wouldn’t be needed.

“Woah,” Ellie said, taking Jack’s hand when he reached towards her, “he looks just like you.” 

You ignored the insinuating tone in her words, opting to watch the interaction between the two boys. Joel’s sole attention was now on the toddler in his arms. His whole body softened when Jack rested his head on his chest and you suddenly felt a rush of emotions. Shoving the clothes in Ellie’s arms, you took Jack from Joel and fled out the door, ignoing both voices calling out to you. You didn’t stop running until you were in your own house and rushed to put Jack to bed before going to your own room. Not bothering to change, you crawled under the covers and tried to hold back the sobs threatening to escape you. 

You had spent the last five years trying to get over the heartbreak Joel Miller caused you and suddenly the man himself showed up and brought back evey single feeling you had for him.

And you hated him for it.

[sitkowski]

show me where the delicate stops - jolly x ofc

pairing: jolly karlsson x reece (ofc)

cw: ⚠️ 18+MDNI. warnings for kinda douchebag!Jolly, hate sex, some violence, derogatory language, choking, protected vaginal sex, dacryphilia, no happy ending

word count: 5.7k

author's note: second bad omens fic in the bag! this time around, here's some jolly smut. title from "jaws" by sleep token. 🫶🏻 dividers by @saradika-graphics

⇉ masterlist | taglist signups

If anyone asked her, Reece would say it would take an act of God to willingly put herself in a room under normal circumstances with someone she actively dislikes. But as it stands, she’s apparently a saint, and when her sister asks if her house could be the location of her boyfriend’s surprise birthday party, she caves. She even offers to cook, she likes Nick that much. The majority of his friends are okay in Reece’s eyes, she’s happy to host a party for him. 

But being in a room with her sister, Nick and his friends, means putting herself in a room with the bane of her existence. 

To say that she and Jolly are mortal enemies might be a stretch, but it doesn’t seem as if they’ve ever had a positive interaction. He’s not even a bad person, despite Reece’s brain telling her that he’s the fucking devil. But each encounter leaves the two of them either yelling at each other or glaring at one another across the room. Eventually, she stopped participating in group things if she knew he was going to be there.

So her sister sending Jolly of all people to help set up for the party makes Reece question whether or not she suddenly wants to be an only child again.

She opens her front door a few hours before the party is set to behind to find him hauling two folding tables from the back of his SUV. Leaning out of the doorway with her hands on her hips, she waits impatiently for him to reach her porch, one under each arm.

“No, it’s fine, I didn’t need help or anything.” he mutters, climbing the stairs.

“I have food on the stove. Just take them through the sliding door,” she instructs, pointing. “Or you should have just gone through the side gate.”

He looks five seconds away from a temper tantrum, standing there with the tables at his feet. His sunglasses have slid down his nose, and she knows he’s glaring at her as she turns and walks back through the kitchen without another word. She doesn’t care. If he wants to be the one to show up and set things up, she’s not going to make it easier on him. Reece doesn’t know what her sister was thinking, and she sends her an angry text while she’s stirring the noodles for the pasta salad on the stove. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jolly carrying the tables outside.

There's not even that much left to be done beyond finishing the food, adding in the tables for the food, and rearranging a bit of the furniture to make room for the guests. From what her sister tells her, Jolly’s supposed to have the stuff for the firepit and the grill with him too. She leaves him to it, turns off the burner to drain and rinse the pasta. And for a little while, she forgets that he’s even there, beyond the muted clatter of things out on the back porch.

But she’s in the middle of slicing cucumbers when a hand appears in her line of vision and plucks a piece from her cutting board. It startles her, and knife in hand, she whirls around angrily. Jolly only has seconds to grab her wrist before the knife makes contact. 

The curse that he unleashes on her isn’t even in the English language, but then his eyes widen further when he realizes how close the blade was to his face. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“Don’t fucking creep up on me!” She yanks her wrist out of his grasp and tosses the knife on the counter. “What manners were you raised with that you touch stuff you shouldn’t?”

He rolls his eyes at her. “It’s a cucumber, Reece. You want it back?”

Her face twists in disgust and she turns her attention to the counter. She expects him to say something, not just stand there and stare at her. Finally, she cracks, looking back at him with exasperation. “What?”

“Lighter. Fluid.” he mutters through gritted teeth.

Reece skirts around him, going over to the cabinet by the back door. She opens it and pulls out the bottle, before turning around and holding it out to him. “Was this all you needed or are you gonna try and take more food before it’s time?”

“Depends if you’re gonna continue to be an irrational bitch and try to stab me,” he mutters, snatching the bottle. “What the fuck is your problem today? You didn’t have to agree to host this if you didn’t want to—”

“I have no problem doing this party for my sister, I adore Nick. I like all of their friends. Well…almost all of them.”

She sees his jaw clench and he looks as if he wants to either throttle her or start cussing at her again. Her eyes briefly flick to the knife on the counter again even though she knows she won’t need it. Because he’s already turning around and slamming his way out the sliding glass door again. Reece blows out a breath and rakes her hands through her hair before turning back to the counter.

His arrogance of believing that today was her only problem with him bugged the hell out of her, but she worked very hard to ignore it because she didn’t want to mess things up for Nick’s party. She’s willing to let it go. Soon, the food is just about done with the exception of the stuff for the grill. She knows that means taking the meat out to Jolly, where he’s brooding on her back porch. Thankfully, she’s saved by Davis and Stephen showing up with the booze and bags of ice. Reece lets them deal with him while she sorts out the coolers that need to be brought outside.

Even with the door closed, she can hear the muffled remnants of Jolly complaining to his friends about her, but she puts on her best hostess smile and raps on the glass, pointing down to the coolers at her feet, before opening the door.

“What’s up, Stabby?” Davis greets her teasingly.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask the drama queen over there? Anything more you wanna gossip about?”

“Okay!” Gently pushing her back into the house before she can say anything else that might ruin the day, Davis passes the coolers outside and then pushes the door partially shut. Apparently, he wants to chat. “What the fuck, Reece?”

“Me? I’m not the one who—”

“Time out, seriously, you guys need to stow the overaggressive sexual tension for today. It’s about Folio and not―”

Reece’s eyes nearly bug out of her head and she actually feels her face go hot, like a buzzing beneath her skin. “The overaggressive what?”

Davis winces with how high pitched her voice goes, and if she weren’t so baffled, she might have been embarrassed. His expression tells her he’s trying not to laugh at her, and he puts his hands up in self defense.

“Nevermind. Just…white flag on the play, or whatever. You two need to shake on it. Put on your get along shirt—”

“If you continue, I might actually start stabbing people,” her eyes drift past him to outside, where Jolly and Stephen are pretending as if they can’t hear what’s being said. The door isn’t closed all the way, and it’s obvious what’s being said. Jolly looks less than thrilled. “I think Nicholas and Noah are gonna be here in like…twenty minutes? I’m going to go shower so I don’t commit a violent homicide. Can you handle things?”

Reece doesn’t wait for an answer, choosing to make her escape upstairs as fast as she can without actually running.

The how and the why isn’t even important for Reece anymore, she just doesn’t like him. The two of them can barely be in the same room without one of them saying something nasty. The only reason she’s even putting up with this tonight is for her sister, and for Nick. That’s what she tells herself while she’s pulling clothes from her closet after her shower. She goes through all of her mundane tasks of getting ready, wandering between her bathroom and bedroom. The dress she plans to wear is draped over the end of her bed, so when her bedroom door opens and closes, she lets out a surprised yelp at the fact that Jolly is in her bedroom and she’s just standing there in her underwear.

“What the fuck?” she grabs her robe, pulling it on quickly and holding it closed. “Get out!”

“No, we need to come to some kind of truce before this thing even starts or else one of us is going to ruin this for Folio.”

She stares at him as if he’s grown a second head on his shoulders, and for a minute she wonders if she started screaming if that would be what ruins the night. “One of us? You mean me, right? Because I’m an irrational bitch with a knife?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I was sorry?” he asks, not sounding sorry in the least.

“Yeah, because when have you ever apologized for anything you’ve ever done to me before? Can you get out please? I’ll happily avoid you all night and we don’t have to speak about any of this again.”

Jolly starts to leave but stops and turns around. “What the hell does that mean? Did I sleep with one of your friends or something?”

Reece narrows her eyes at him, because the how and why isn’t important but if he wants to get into this now, then she will. The fact that he seemingly knows what he did just pisses her off a little more, but she tries to stay calm.

“Three of them, Joakim. You slept with three of my friends. You also drunkenly told me I was not your type. So for my sanity, and your safety, get the fuck out of my room.”

“You don’t control my dick, Reece!”

“Somebody should!”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and she realizes it too late. Jolly smirks at her. “Is this that overaggressive sexual tension that Davis was talking about ? Is that what this is, you’re jealous?”

She wants to tell him that he’s not god’s gift to guitars or women, something scathing that might bruise that overinflated ego of his. Because she isn’t jealous. If anything, she pities her friends who expected that morning after call and never got it. Nothing more than one night stands. Reece tells herself that she refuses to be another notch in his belt or bedpost or wherever annoying Swedish men keep track of their conquests. 

“I don’t know how many times someone has to tell you no before you get the hint.” Her fists clench at her sides. “Go. Or I’ll make you.”

His eyes rove over her body, and she realizes belatedly that she’s let go of the front of her robe. She grits her teeth and meets his gaze head on, because he’s the one invading her space right now and she’s had enough of it.

Jolly steps closer to her, and Reece doesn’t move. It’s not that she’s afraid of him, it’s that he infuriates her. And he knows it, judging by the way his head tilts down and his smile widens. “You wanna hit me? Come on, I’ll let you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I piss you off so much, hit me. I’ll give you one.”

She doesn’t think he’s serious at first, but he keeps standing there, watching her expectantly. She realizes that he really wants her to hit him. It’s a terrible idea, they’re supposed to be pretending to get along. Everyone is going to arrive soon, and she still has things to do. But he’s still waiting and the longer he stands there, the more she actually wants to hit him. It won’t solve anything, but it’ll make her feel better.

“C’mon, I said hit me, woman—”

Her hand connecting with his cheek is loud in her room, and a little satisfying if she’s being honest with herself. The slap isn’t hard enough to do any damage at all, he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. For some reason, Reece hits him again, harder this time. His head rocks to the side, and this time, his reaction is instantaneous; he grabs her by her jaw and pushes her up against the nearest wall. Her hip connects with the edge of her desk painfully.

“I said once,” he says. “Don’t be greedy.”

She knows that she should bat his hand away, shove him out of her space. Maybe even yell at him some more. But she just stands there, back pressed to the drywall. He’s close enough to her now that she can feel his chest pressed to hers. Her mind goes deceptively fuzzy and she feels a twinge low in her stomach that makes her a little angry at herself. His eyes meet hers as his fingers dig into her cheeks at the same time he presses a thigh between hers.

“You’re weak, Reece,” he murmurs, and she feels the burn of tears in the back of her throat. “Aren’t you?”

Her hand wraps around his wrist and she yanks, trying to make him let her go. He doesn’t, not until her bedroom door opens and then he steps back, removing himself from her space and allowing her to breathe. She tries not to choke on a sob when she looks over his shoulder and sees Nicholas standing there.

“Matt needs you on the grill.” he says. His eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of them. Reece holds her robe closed guiltily, as if she were caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

Jolly doesn’t spare her another glance as he turns and leaves her bedroom, slipping past Nicholas with a little salute. 

Reece finally moves, shrugging out of her robe and pulling her dress over her head. She can feel Nicholas’ eyes on her the entire time, but she knows it’s more out of concern than whatever the hell Jolly was doing. When she looks back, he’s still leaning in the doorway, a suspicious look on his face.

“So…”

“Don’t ask.”

But it looks like you were—”

“I would sooner die than sleep with him, Nick.”

“Your mouth says no, but your tits in that dress says you’re thinking one time couldn’t hurt.”

Her face still hurts from where Jolly grabbed her, and not in an entirely unpleasant way. She touches the tender areas as she sits down to put on her boots. “I picked out the dress before he came in.”

Nicholas doesn’t seem convinced, and she guesses that would make sense for anyone who walked in on what he did. If anything, it looked more like they were flirting than fighting. But she doesn’t try to explain herself. Instead, she stands up and smooths down her skirt, before shooing him out of her doorway. When they make their way back into the kitchen, more people have gathered. Out on the back porch, she sees Jolly and Matt messing with the grill.

He’s not looking directly at her, but from where he’s standing, it’s impossible to miss the red marks on his cheek. If she were to look close enough, her handprint might even be there. The amount of satisfaction she felt had already passed. Instead, she feels frustrated and more than a little angry. Somehow, what he said to her has gotten under her skin more than she cares to admit. He called her weak. And right now, she can’t help but feel like he might be right. 

The party goes off without any issues, and it’s the best distraction that Reece could have asked for. Nick has the best time, and that was more important than whatever mind games Jolly seemed to be playing with her. He ignored her practically the entire night, which was fine with her. It’s well after midnight by the time everyone leaves. Everyone pitched in to help clean up, all she had to do was load her dishwasher and find a place in her refrigerator for the leftovers that the guys didn’t take with them. Leaving the music on, she goes out onto the back porch to collect abandoned Solo cups that had been missed.

Just as she’s turning to go back through the sliding glass doors with the trash bag in hand, it opens. It doesn’t startle her as much as it could have to see Jolly standing there. She blinks at him in confusion and annoyance, and he points over her shoulder.

“Forgot the tables.” He explains.

Reece looks over at the two tables still in the corner of the porch where they’d put out the food and the drinks earlier in the night. Scoffing, she steps aside and lets him go past her. She thinks about going into the house and locking the sliding glass door behind her, making him go out through the side yard so she doesn’t have to see him. But she has to take the trash out, and she takes the bag off the porch outside. She’s kind of hoping that he’ll be gone by the time she comes back.

She’s not that lucky. He hasn’t even bothered taking down the tables, instead he’s sitting atop one. His legs swing back and forth idly as he sips a beer Reece is pretty sure just came from her refrigerator. Immediately, her brain goes on red alert because there’s no reason for him to still be here.

Her eyebrows raise. “Aren’t you supposed to leave with those?”

“Probably.”

“I’m fucking tired, Jolly, I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

He takes another swallow from the bottle, casual as if he doesn’t have anywhere else he should be. Reece grits her teeth and starts to head for the sliding glass door. She fully intends to lock him out now, he can sleep on the porch for all she cares. But he speaks again before she can even step over the threshold.

“Like I said, weak.”

Reece whirls around to face him again, stomping over to him and yanking the bottle out of his hand, throwing it aside where it hits the floor with a less than satisfying smash. It doesn’t even matter that the scent of beer is going to linger out there for months. She’s tired of his bullshit.

“What makes me weak? The fact that I have a spine and I don’t fall at your fucking feet like everyone else? Didn’t you tell me I wasn’t your type? Clearly that was a lie, so why don’t you quit being a pussy and stop pulling my pigtails like we’re in middle school. Say what you mean.”

Jolly slides off the table, standing up straight and Reece tries to take a step backward. But his hand comes up to fist in the hair at the nape of her neck, and he pulls her against his chest. A startled protest falls from her mouth, cut off only when he pulls her head back until their eyes meet. Her neck twinges uncomfortably and she tries to pull away, but he won’t let her move.

“I think I’ll pull whatever part of you I want to.” He leans down until his nose brushes against her cheek. “And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

“No.” The word falls from her mouth almost automatically and he leans back to blink at her. She feels a brief sense of relief when his grip on her hair starts to loosen minutely. “I’m not going to let you do anything, Joakim. Why don’t you ask me for it?”

His eyes narrow, and at first she thinks that he isn’t just going to let her go. She doesn’t think he’ll hurt her, but it’s become his sole mission to fight her every chance he can get. He releases her after a few more moments of staring at her, and his mouth curves upward.

“Okay, Reece. Show me that spine of yours.”

Planting both of her hands in the middle of his chest, Reece gives him a hard shove backwards. He collides with the table, which screeches across the floor noisily for a few inches before smacking against the wall. He doesn’t seem bothered by this at all, just catching himself against the table and laughing. She knows he doesn’t really find her intimidating at all, and for some reason that turns her on more than it should. She thinks about the look on his face when she smacked him in her room, how quickly he took control of her without even trying. She wonders if he’ll do it again. Her curiosity gets the best of her, and she swings on him.

Just as quickly as before, Jolly grabs onto her wrist, this time yanking her closer until she’s between his legs. He twists her arm behind her, and before she can do anything else he grasps her other wrist. He pins her wrists with one hand easily, and holds them against her lower back. The instinct to struggle is automatic, but he just tightens his grip on her, keeping her against his chest as his other hand grazes her thigh, beneath the hem of her skirt.

“You’re not even going to kiss me first?” she asks, trying not to let any disappointment show.

His hand continues its trek, nails scraping over her skin. “No. I’m not sure I wanna put anything near your mouth. You look like you bite.”

Her attempts to struggle only make the bones in her wrists grind together and she’s embarrassed of the noise that escapes her. His hand curves around her hip beneath her dress, pressing into possible bruises forming there from when she hit the desk earlier and she hisses out a whine, tears forming in her eyes.

“Are you crying already? I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” His words mean nothing to her as his hand dips just beneath the waistband of her underwear, his thumb running over the fabric between her legs that is growing more and more damp with each pass of the digit.  

She doesn’t need him to say anything for her to know how wet she is. She tries to rise up on her tiptoes in her boots, get him to move his fingers farther down but he’s just touching the skin of her lower stomach, and staring at her. Waiting for her to break. She wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted her to beg him for this, but she doesn’t want to give that to him.

 He’s right though, he hasn’t even done anything to her yet. But it’s coming, and he gives her a cruel smile. “Might wanna hold onto those tears, though.”

Reece can’t find her voice to ask what he means by that, and she doesn’t get the chance. He lets go of her wrists abruptly, and she stumbles back a step, nearly tripping over her own boots. Before she can open her mouth, he’s finally kissing her. For someone who said he wasn’t going to, he’s really good at it. Even that’s a fight, one that she desperately tries to win. The second she gets the chance, she sinks her teeth into his bottom lip. It doesn’t deter him at all, if anything it just gives him more power over her. His hands grab onto her hips, her ass, anywhere he can. She feels the cool night air against the back of her thighs when her dress rides up as he wraps his hands around them and lifts her off of her feet.

She thinks that he’s going to take her into the house, and she’s all for that, but instead he turns and all but drops her on top of the table where he’d just been. His mouth trails down over her shoulder, and the feel of his facial hair against her skin makes her gasp and arch into him. Jolly’s hands start pulling the straps of her dress down off her shoulders, leaving it bunched around her waist as his fingers go to the strap of her bra next while he worries a hickey into her neck that she’ll be pissed about in the morning.

“Wait!” she protests a little, pushing on his chest to get his attention.

He lets out an aggravated sigh but lifts his head to look at her. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s oddly thoughtful of him to ask, and him stopping is the furthest thing from her mind right now. She shakes her head, letting him kiss her again. It’s gentler than before, unexpected, but after a few moments it grows more heated. Yet something still nags in the back of her head and she pushes at him again.

“What, woman, what?” his voice rises a little, and Reece is glad that she doesn’t have neighbors that close by. “If I’m doing something you don’t like, or whatever, you need to use your words with me. I’m not here to hurt you, as much of a pain in the ass you are.”

Swinging her feet back and forth the same way he had been earlier, she tilts her head and gives him a deceptively innocent look. “I was only going to ask if you have a condom, Joakim. I’m not doing this without one.”

“You are the most insufferable human I have ever met in my life.” he says, even as he manages to get the condom from his wallet

The words come out a lot softer than they should have, almost fond, and Reece feels the burn of tears in the back of her throat again. She doesn’t want him to be nice to her, she isn’t in this for anything other than sex. Sitting forward, she starts to pull impatiently at his belt. She doesn’t look at him, not until his hands ball in her hair and he tilts her head back, and he makes her. She’s almost relieved to see nothing in his eyes but darkness and need, a little bit of a challenge.

“Go on,” Jolly encourages, and his smile turns condescending because he knows that she’s trying not to waver, trying not to make this more than what it is. “Finish what you started.”

Reece rolls her eyes at him, and makes quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans. He shoves them down out of the way just enough and she makes an appreciative noise as she wraps her hand around his cock as best she can, feeling a small amount of victory as a strangled groan escapes him as she rubs her thumb over the tip. Maybe if she didn’t hate him, she’d be interested in seeing how he’d feel in her mouth. She snatches the condom package from his hand, tearing it open and rolling the latex down over the length of him.

Planting a hand in the middle of her chest, Jolly pushes her back on the table, and she decides to only be partially helpful, pulling her skirt up her thighs. She thinks that he’s going to take her underwear off but he doesn’t, instead hooking his fingers beneath the soaked fabric and pulling it to the side. Reece starts to reach down and push them off herself, but he bats her hand away.

“No, I want you like this.” he mutters.

She feels her skin going hot, more because of the way he’s staring down at her than his actual words. She squirms a little as he slides his cock between her folds, teasing her slowly to the point where her face feels as if it’s on fire and she can hear her heart pounding loudly. Reece isn’t going to beg. She tells herself that over and over, and with every pass he makes over her clit without sinking inside of her, her resolve starts to crumble. The word is on the tip of her tongue, but then he finally slides in.

Her back bows off the table as her body tries to accommodate him. He doesn’t stop until their bodies are flush and then she’s slapping his shoulder, trying to relax into the overwhelming fullness she feels. “Stay! Don’t fucking move, give me a minute.”

Jolly grits his teeth but he doesn’t move, not yet. Instead he leans over her, sinking his teeth into the curve of her breast right above the edge of her bra. She cries out hoarsely, fisting his hair in her hand and pulling hard. She can feel his teeth in her skin and the initial sting of the bite brings tears back to her eyes. He pulls back enough to pull down one of the cups of her bra just enough to get his mouth on her nipple. His teeth are much gentler this time, but he still bites. Her fingers in his hair tug again, just to keep him closer.

“Okay,” she breathes out, nodding her head and pulling his mouth up to hers, “I’m good.”

He takes her at her word, leaning back and pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward sharply. Her hands slap against the table as she tries to keep stability. He moves in long deep strokes, causing Reece's eyes to roll back in her head. It goes on and on until she thinks she'd lose her mind. She wants him to go harder, faster, but she ground her teeth together, refusing to beg.

“You know, you say you hate me, but your pussy seems to like me just fine.”

“Oh my God,” she moans, head knocking back against the table. “Do not say shit like that.”

The edge of her underwear digs into the crease of her leg uncomfortably, making her wince despite the electricity coursing beneath her skin. Not only is Jolly an asshole, but he's also apparently a mind reader. He pulls out of her, yanking them down and leaving them tangled around one of her boots, before he's pulling her from the table and spinning her around. His hand presses into her shoulder, bending her over. She chokes on a whine as he thrusts back into her, and the groan he lets out reverberates through her entire body.

“Better?” he asks in her ear, hips snapping forward roughly. 

This angle lets him go deeper and Reece can't do anything but nod gratefully. One of his hands grabs onto the curve of her hip, biting into her skin and the other curls loosely around her throat. His fingers flex, just a little, and she pushes into his hold.

“You can, Joakim, please—” she loses her resolve and she doesn't need to see his face to know that he knows he's won. She feels it “Please—fuck—”

His fingers tighten just enough that her next pull of air is a struggle, and her mind goes blissfully blank. She’s aware of the table tilting at an alarming angle each time it rocks towards the wall, and her own hoarse cries that manage to escape around his hold on her. When his fingers loosen enough to allow her more oxygen, her breath comes in harsh, desperate pants. Tears run freely down her face and one of Reece’s hands fly back to grab onto the fabric of his shirt. Trying to get him closer as if that were physically possible.

Reece squeezes her eyes shut, overwhelmed and already teetering on the edge of orgasm. She’s not quite there yet, and to make it worse, Jolly slows down, hips rolling into hers in a maddening languid pace. She tries to rock back into him, but his hold on her is tight, she isn’t going anywhere unless he wants her to.

“I hate you,” she chokes out, even as she clenches around him. “I hate you so much.”

“ I know you do, precious,” he digs his fingers into her flesh again, forcing another gurgled moan from her throat. He curls himself over her, nose brushing against her cheek. Her eyes roll up to meet his desperately, and she sees that same look on his face that she’d been seeing all night. He still thinks she’s weak. “I hate you just as much.”

She knows the moment that Jolly’s resolve has finally reached its limit, when his thrusts become harder and erratic, the strangled gasps of some mixture of cursing and praising hot against her ear. Reece clenches around him, reveling in the way it undoes him. A soft, broken sound is wrung from her chest as she comes, head knocked back into his shoulder. His fingers are once again gentle on her throat, rubbing over the skin as if to sooth his touch away.

 He doesn't stop when she comes, he even moves faster as the orgasm rocks through her. He brings his hand down to her clit, and his touch is rough enough to send her over the edge again, leaving her shaking beneath him. 

"Fuck, woman," he mutters through gritted teeth. 

He jerks his hips into her and his control snaps. He braces himself against her with one hand and rides out his own orgasm with slow, easy thrusts and sharp, desperate gasps. Finally, he goes still and Reece yanks his hand from between her legs before she collapses against the table.

The next few minutes feel like a blur as they clean up, refusing to make eye contact with one another. The tension in the air is thick, awkward in a way that seems worse than before. But Reece doesn’t ask him to stay. There will be no spooning throughout the night, no sharing coffee in the morning. She lets him take his tables and he leaves without much more than a wave as he puts them in the back of his truck. She watches from the front porch, and once he’s gone, she goes inside and locks the doors.

It’s not until she’s falling into her bed after her shower that she realizes her underwear are still out on the back porch.

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