#holy mother of fuck this took WAY TOO LONG

[oftenlyshitposting]

wolfwren vampire/werewolf au | mini fic

sabine, as a juvenile vampire, used to wonder what it was like to interact with other supernaturals. back at the stonewalled confinements of the wren bastion, sabine is more used to briefly interacting with other vampires; mostly the staffs or other members of clan wren, distant relatives and whatsoever.

occasionally, a band of merlin would visit the bastion, bringing vials of potions and elixirs to supply the majik ritualists or to perform some kind of blood majik ritual that the clan wren has always done. but, merlins are typically still human. they've just been blessed and often transformed through their majiks into in-between creatures.

sabine always wonder what it'd be like to meet other actual supernaturals; something that she and tristan used to wonder about together. tristan had always wanted to meet the elusive woodland elves, he's fascinated by their connection to nature and how nature appear to follow their will.

personally, sabine wonders about werewolves.

sabine knows that despite being civil with each other, werewolves and vampires aren't exactly the best of kins amongst supernaturals. werewolves are much more tribal and nomadic than vampires; they also often does not regard blood lineage, unlike vampires who must stay pure in order to keep their full vampirical blood majik powers.

sabine often envy that; to not be so tied to blood lineage and to not be demanded to bore full-blooded borns to be considered as a someone. the downfall of living in the wren bastion was that everyone knows she is the humanborn vampire; the disgrace of clan wren and house vizsla.

that was decades ago, sabine fled the bastion so many years ago to live far, far away from them.

now, sabine wonders less and less about interacting with werewolves; borderline regretting everything.

for the past few weeks, sabine has been travelling with this... enigmatically annoying rogue werewolf; shin hati. the rogue werewolf had stormed into her cottage one rainy night, in her true form nonetheless. if her materialising in her living area didn't baffle sabine, the sudden barrage of hunters arriving certainly did.

the werewolf had been chased by these suspiciously strong hunters, only managed to maim half of their party. sabine had to reluctantly aid the wolf at fighting them off because if she didn't, the hunters would've slain her and eventually came to slaughter sabine too.

six hunters came, and five of them were slaughtered by the wolf's and sabine's claws as the monster within sabine fed from their dying carcass. one of them miraculously managed to escape with half of his limbs still in tact to his body. sabine's cottage was a mess, and so was the wolf's true form. the first thing sabine instantly noticed was the scent of rotting flesh under the wolf's thick mane, and the black spreading under her skin. she'd been poisoned with a type of lichen; the slow and painful kind.

"wolf, you need to return to your human form," sabine commanded, earning a glare from the injured shifter in front of her. sabine held her head high against the werewolf. "you are injured. i can help."

the wolf's voice was gruff and harsh as she coughs out blood, "i do not need your help, bloodsucker."

sabine rolled her eyes, ignoring the insult as she went to her cabinet to grab her healing vials and a long iron rod which she tossed into her fireplace. with her back facing the wolf, she then spoke, "you've been poisoned with lichen. it will rot your flesh before you see the first light of dawn." sabine turns, her gaze sharp and serious. "unless you let me help you."

the wolf's glare was unyielding and unbroken, and in the dim of the stormy night with only her fireplace lighting up her cottage, sabine almost felt fear from looking into the wolf's vermilion eyes. her glare was broken when the wolf winced in agony, and sabine's eyes shift to her wound to see that it's beginning to rot further.

"wolf, come on," sabine almost pleaded, unsettled by the scent of rotting flesh, "you're dying. let me help you. you won't be indebted."

sabine watches as the wolf appeared to waver and argue with herself. she finally relented, shifting slowly back to her human form. sabine watch as her fur began to shrink, and pale ivory skin of a human replaces it, along with her height shrinking to that of a human posture. werewolf transformations are something sabine had never seen before, let alone one from a true wolf.

the wolf is now a regular human, a woman who looked physically around sabine's age. bone-white textured hair falls short just above her broad yet slender shoulder, her skin pale from the injury if sabine had to guess. she's taller than sabine, slightly. she looks... young.

the wolf spoke, voice less gruff, but still harsh, "make it quick."

sabine instructed the wolf to sit next to the fireplace. with a more proper lighting, sabine can now assess the injury. the main injury comes from some kind of stab wound on her shoulder, which was where the lichen poison spread from. the flesh in the stab wound is rotting beyond repair, and sabine already knew she had to cauterize it to prevent the poison from spreading further. she grabs the iron rod, the metal end burns in an angry glowering orange.

"i'll need to burn the lichen from your flesh," sabine carefully says, furthermore warning the wolf, "this will be painful."

"just do it."

sabine nodded, sprinkling a black ash powder on the burning metal, before pressing the searing iron into the wolf's flesh. the wolf's eyes bolted into a rabid glare as she let out a bloodcurling howl of agony, skin and flesh sizzling. the wolf's eyes then shuts tightly as her face contorts miserably, teeth gritting and a restrained groan slips past. sabine knows the lichen is slowly burned out, and just as she knows its all gone from the wolf's skin and flesh, she pulls the now cooling rod away from the shapeshifter's wound.

the wolf's body seized violently, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. her breaths are laboured, borderline heaving. sabine worked quickly, spreading a mix of herbs to counter the poison, then dabbing a cloth with a healing ointment from a green vial and covers the wound with the cloth. she grabs another vial, uncorking it and brings it to the wolf's pale lips.

"drink," sabine gently instructed, her voice barely above a whisper as she guides the vial's rim to the wolf's mouth. she carefully tilts the vial to allow the contents to pour into the wolf's mouth and down her throat. sabine was meticulous to support the wolf's head as to not choke her as she drinks in the potion.

the wolf coughs, "it tastes like a goblin's fresh shit."

sabine huffs a brief amused snort, but didn't comment on it. she went to grab a thread and needle, briefly sanitising the needle over the fire. she began stitching the wolf's wound close, making sure she works quickly to spare the wolf from further pain. the wolf grimaces as sabine stitches her, breathing in sporadic sharp breaths.

"breathe slowly, wolf." sabine places a palm against the wolf's bare chest, right on where her heart is. she finishes stitching the wound, putting away the needle.

the wolf's eyes found sabine's, and now that she isn't in her wolf form, sabine finally noticed the wolf's human eye colour. they were the same shade as the ocean under her cliff; brilliant greenish blue, captivating and hauntingly serene. at that moment, sabine knew she could drown and get herself lost in this rogue werewolf's eyes the same way she always gets lost gazing into the ocean.

sabine didn't even realise her palm was still firmly placed on the wolf's chest, until the wolf's hand grabbed hers. their eyes broke away from each others', and sabine instantly withdrew her hand, mildly flustered now that the vampire realised that the wolf's upper body is mostly naked. to hide her flushed cheeks, sabine opts to grab a loose shirt and a blanket from her room. the wolf's eyes are continuously fixed on sabine's retreating form.

"here, put this on," sabine hands the shapeshifter the tan coloured shirt, eyes averting from her naked figure.

the wolf tilts her head, coupled with a faint smirk, somewhat teasing. "you do not enjoy looking at a naked woman?"

sabine groans softly. "just put it on, will you? you might get cold."

the wolf, to sabine's mild peeve, laughed somewhat mockingly. "never met a prudish vampire before. aren't the lot of you seductive?"

sabine scoffs, but decided to return the wolf's humour. "all i'm hearing is you think vampires are irresistible."

the wolf's face soured, scowling in a manner sabine dared to guess into disgust. she puts on the shirt, finally covering her naked chest and her wound. sabine sighs curtly in relief, no longer having to dart her eyes around to avoid looking at the other woman's chest.

"so, wolf–"

"i have a name, you know," the wolf interrupted, her tone amusingly flat.

"i didn't hear you mention it."

the wolf shrugs. "my name is shin. shin hati."

shin. sabine thinks the name suits her, and having a name to assign such a memorable face definitely helps her mental records better. she smiles, "you can call me sabine."

shin tilts her head, curious. her pale brows dip to a furrow. "i had assumed you were a member of one of the large houses."

sabine dreaded this, but chose to play it off. she crosses her arms in front of her, questioning. "now, what makes you say so?"

"you carry a regal energy within you. i can tell."

"good to know you smell aristocracy in me," sabine sarcastically jeered, rolling her eyes.

shin threw her an unimpressed look. "you are not as funny as you think." she then admits, "you are confusing. i smell human blood in you, but you are certainly of a large house. what are you? a kryze?"

"no. but, you're right about the human part."

shin's eyes widen, only for a fraction of a second, but it wasn't quick enough that sabine would miss it. "you were turned?"

sabine deadpans. "quite nosy, aren't you?" when shin stays static, the vampire shrugs it off, not really in the mood to tell her whole background. "yes, i was turned. i was humanborn, my father was human, while my mother was a countess."

"a countess? so you are a highborn."

the vampire shrugs, starting to grow uncomfortable. sabine opts to get up from her seat by the fireplace, grabbing a bottle of wine from her cabinet. she takes only one cup, unsure if shin wants to drink. she still feels shin's eyes on her back as she pours her wine.

"you smell like a vizsla. i met some of them a few moons ago, they have a very distinctive smell." shin's tone is mocking as she mentions house vizsla, but sabine can hear her figuring out the pieces slowly. "you belong to clan wren."

sabine sighs into her cup as shin delivers the final culmination of her thoughts. this was one of the reasons why sabine often avoids meeting with supernaturals despite her personal want to interact with them. the wren blood is still so strong within her, that supernaturals can still sense it even if she hasn't even tapped into her lineage's powers for years. sabine nods meekly, not bothered to deny shin's allegation.

"i was. not anymore."

shin's eyes flashed with something briefly. "how long have you been living here?"

"a few decades," sabine replied curtly, frowning in confusion, "why?"

"well, one hunter escaped," shin stated, in a matter-of-fact manner, as she drew her knee close to her body and leans one of her arms over, "and i am willing to bet my head, he will return with a larger band for retribution."

"whose fault was that?" sabine retorted, annoyed.

"i know, wren, not the point." shin's tone was bitter as she hissed out sabine's clan, not appreciating sabine's attitude. "i am going to leave by sun up. my travel is due north. i suggest you to leave this place as well by tomorrow eve."

sabine sighed, knowing that fact already from the moment they slaughtered the hunting party. to leave this cottage and move again had never been an option sabine thought about for the past few peaceful decades, but living the nomadic life isn't something new for her. and if she has a travel companion, things should be easier than alone.

"okay, wolf. we can leave by sunrise."

shin frowned. "sun up? do you have a death wish? you will burn and die."

sabine laughs. "i do appreciate your concern, wolf." the vampire smirks when shin grumble at sabine's lack of name usage, evident from the dipping of her brows when sabine only calls her 'wolf' instead of her name. "but, i'm not a full blooded born, remember? as long as i wear thick shades, the sun won't kill me."

shin eyes her, brows still slightly furrowed. if sabine had to guess, she looked like she's debating with herself. again. the vampire wonders if that's an actual werewolf thing, or if that is just a shin specific quirk.

"you speak as if we will journey together."

"you're due north. i've got nowhere to go." sabine shrugs as she points out the obvious. "i might as well just join you until we have to part ways."

shin crosses her arms. "what makes you think i am willing to take you with me, wren?"

sabine steps closer towards shin, feeling something awakening inside her the closer she gets to the werewolf. shin is looking up at her from the floor, gaze hard and unbroken; it makes sabine feel drawn magnetically to her.

"didn't you say vampires are irresistible, wolf?"

shin growls, lunging towards sabine to grab both of her wrists and pins the vampire down to the floor. sabine shot an amused, almost teasing, smirk back at shin when she bared her fangs at sabine.

"do not test me, wren. i will not take you with me." shin snarls at sabine, gripping on her wrists to further cement her point. it mildly irked her when she watches sabine's unfazed reaction.

sabine catches shin by surprise as she flips the werewolf over to her back, this time pinning shin by the neck as she anchors her weight down on shin. she couldn't exactly understand why she felt the need to be aggressive and dominating with shin, but she revels in the shock and frustration on shin's face.

"i don't care if you'd take me or not," sabine hisses as her grip on shin's neck tightens, leaning forward to lower her face closer towards the werewolf's, whispering, "i'm going with you. end of discussion."

shin's breaths are laboured in gasps, surprised by sabine's display of strength over her. she gasped a large intake of air when sabine released her grip of her neck, shooting a venomous glare at the vampire sitting on top of her.

"get off of me," shin growled, pushing her torso off the floor. she shot sabine a disgusted glare when the vampire winked flirtatiously at her. sabine watches as the werewolf groans reluctantly, "fine. but, if you slow me down, i will chain you to a stake at midday and leave you to burn."

"promise?"

shin's eyes turned vermilion as she barks, quite literally. sabine laughs, she hadn't known shin is rather exciting to rile up and tease. the pointed tips of shin's ears are dusted pink, a rather jarring contrast to her werewolf alpha eyes.

they didn't speak much afterwards the whole night as sabine goes to catch a brief sleep in her couch, whereas shin continued feeding the fireplace with more wood to burn. sabine had told shin to eat whatever choice of cured meats in her cabinet before she slept, and shin had helped herself wolfing down a large smoked vennison leg by the fire.

by sun up, they were already long gone from the now empty cottage. sabine had burned all of her trinkets down to erase any trace or proof that someone had lived in this cottage for decades. shin suggested they burn down the cottage, but sabine vetoed, reasoning that the building can still be used as a shelter.

they travelled further up north where the climate has gone colder and dryer for the past few weeks, sparing sabine's hypersensitive eyes and skin from the blazing southern sun. they had run into a few other supernaturals; namely a number of stray vampires, small packs of werewolves, a few goblins, and a single merlin living deep in the redwood forest.

sabine observed shin's behaviour and personality deeper as they travel, studying the werewolf. most of the time, shin prefers to stay in her true wolf form as opposed to her human or werewolf form because it allows her to travel further and faster. however, her true form is a beast by nature and required a lot of energy, which substantially demands her to consume more food for energy.

shin doesn't speak much about her past, not unlike sabine, but sabine had guessed that shin's history isn't too different from her own. the rogue werewolf mentioned briefly about her master; the alpha wolf who turned and took her under his tail. shin would have a flash of fondness skirting across her expression as she speak of him, but it would soon be replaced with the seething hatred sabine had grown accustomed to seeing.

in a way, it reminds sabine of her own mother.

"why did you run away from your clan's ancient seat?" shin curiously asked, leaning against the wall of the cave they are camping in; the crackle of the fire between them was the only consistent noise. the werewolf is holding a leatherskin bottle of mead by it's throat, aquamarine eyes fixed on sabine.

sabine chews on her stewed meat, slow and avoidant of shin's question and piercing gaze. she sets her bowl down, huffing contemplatively. "why should i stay in a castle full of vampires who disregarded my existence as a humanborn? a disgrace, as they said."

"is your mother not the countess? is she not the head of your clan?"

"yes, she is. was. i'm not sure."

shin's brow quirked. "did she not ever punish the vampires who held no respect for you?"

"it's not that simple, shin," sabine sighed. "i'm a very rare case of a humanborn, especially in clan wren. my mother was in the hottest seat of the clan, and if she acted brutishly, she will be deposed."

shin's face was stony, but sabine can sense her pity and frustration. sabine doesn't comment on it. shin took another few gulps of her mead, and if sabine dared to guess, her mind is running a few hundred thoughts at the same time.

"you are a powerful creature for a humanborn," shin spoke slowly over the crackle of the fire between them, voice level as always, "and yet, i have never seen you feed on human blood for the past few weeks we travelled. you starved yourself, and you have been burying your other half."

"astute observation." sabine ignored shin's elusive compliment for the monster half within her with a sarcastic comment. she almost grinned when shin rolled her eyes, undoubtedly vexed.

"that makes you a fool."

sabine glares at shin. "thanks."

"you may hate your monster half, but you must remember that it is a part of you. it should serve you as your strength, instead of your demise." shin's voice was sagacious yet gentle as she speaks; as if she had learned it for years. she takes another swig of her mead, before finalising with, "remember that it will stay as your foe, until you treat it as your friend."

shin's words echoed in sabine's mind the whole night, as she stays up in watch as her werewolf companion sleeps. it does make sense that she views her vampiric half as an illness for as long as she's been turned; seeing it as a curse she must rid instead of a power she could embrace.

when the first light of dawn began to rise, sabine had grown drowsy as she tucks herself into her black cowl's hood and shifts deeper into the cave. shin awoke half an hour after, stretching out the cave in her werewolf form and took off sprinting, sabine presumed to go hunting.

sabine had her very first experience in a full blue moon the next week with shin; and it is unlike what she heard. she knows that the werewolves drew more of their power from the moon, especially during full moons. she heard that blood moons exaggerates the werewolves' aggression and hunting need, just as how vampires are affected strongly by the phase.

full blue moons are when werewolves, specifically alpha werewolves such as shin, are at their peaks.

shin had already shifted into her werewolf form when the moon began to rise; sitting at the patio of the unoccupied wooden cabin they found in the middle of the great northern pineforest. sabine watches from inside; shin was sitting cross-legged with her back strictly upright, basking under the moonlight.

"you can come join me, wren," shin calls to her from outside, eyes closed and still moonshining.

the full moon had grown larger and much bluer, bathing shin under it's bluish shine. shin's eyes are open now as she looks at sabine, who remained by the window. the werewolf's body language is inviting, but not demanding at all. sabine couldn't tear her eyes away from shin's; bright vermilion bathed under soft blue of the moon that makes her eyes purplish.

shin appears almost exalting in sabine's eyes.

when the moonrise reaches it's peak, shin was already in her true wolf form. she soaked all of the blue moon's light and energy, appearing larger and regal. her bone-white fur flows beautifully in waves; almost jarring in contrast to her vermilion eyes and knife-sharp canines in her mouth.

sabine isn't entirely sure if blue moons are supposed to enhance all werewolves' beauty or if this is just a shin specific feature that she's just lucky to see, but sabine is sure travelling with shin had satisfied the curiousity of werewolves from her youth. shin may have not spoke much, but sabine only needed to observe her to learn from the alpha werewolf.

shin begins to slowly shift back into her human form as the blue moon sets slowly from the horizon, returning to it's regular yellowish hue. sabine was still watching her from inside the cabin, leaning outside through the window, growing slightly drowsy.

"the blue moon is affecting you too, isn't it?"

sabine blinks as she registers shin's voice. the werewolf is still sat in her place, but her body is now fully facing towards sabine and her eyes are much too soft that it unnerved sabine out of unfamiliarity.

"i'm getting sleepier," sabine replied, her voice only above a whisper.

shin rises to approach sabine, kneeling in front of the vampire, observing her for a good minute. her eyes narrowed, a mix of confusion and frustration. "you have not fed. i reckon it's already been five days since you last fed on blood."

sabine's brow quirked, dismissive. "you notice we haven't run into any hunters or passed any towns.

"there is a town on the foot of this forest." shin raised her head towards the sky, nose catching whiffs of... something. she then grimaces, seemingly disgusted. "the town is a hub of low-lives. a den for filthy criminals and offenders."

sabine mirrors shin's disgust, scowling. "i would rather burn in the sun."

shin groans, husked and exasperated. "wren, please."

"no. i don't want to feed on disgusting lowlife criminals." sabine was unmoving in her spot, refusing to feed despite the monster inside already growling incessantly for her next meal.

"you are unbelievable."

shin glares at sabine who stays dismissive, head lulling into her arms and eyes slowly shut in drowsiness. sabine's skin is so much paler, and her eyes are starting to sink in; a telltale sign of exhaustion and lack of blood feeding.

when shin spoke, sabine didn't expect her to say: "fine, you can feed on me tonight."

sabine's eyes bolted open, scandalised. "pardon?"

shin jumps inside the cabin through the window sabine was leaning out from, to sit across of the half-blooded vampire. the somnolence in sabine's systems were instantly thrown out as shin began untucking her tan shirt and holds her hair up to reveal most of her neck down to her collarbones.

"you have to feed, sabine," shin's voice was so much softer than usual, neck tilted to the side. the way her name rolled out of shin's tongue sent warmth down sabine's abdomen, and it doesn't help calming her flushed cheeks.

"i-i... i'm not gonna feed from you, shin!"

shin clicks her tongue, vexed. "just get on with it."

"no!"

"sabine, for fuck's sake." shin then grabs sabine by her cheeks, forcing the vampire to open her mouth and reveal her fangs and brought her closer to the skin of her own neck. "just feed."

sabine pushed off of shin by her shoulders just before the sharp points of her fangs punctured shin's delicate ivory skin, her breaths laboured as she grows equally irate. her eyes began to flicker from the vampiric ruby-reds and back to her bright brown. she shoved shin's shoulder with her fist, harsher than sabine would've liked.

"are you insane? i could end up killing you!" sabine yells as she tries to control her vampiric half.

"no, you won't. you will only drink my blood, not draw out my wolf powers." shin takes off her shirt, going completely chest naked this time, her stellar blue eyes are steel against sabine's, unbroken. "drink as much as you need. i promise it will not kill me."

sabine was indisposed of the idea to feed on shin's blood. what if she couldn't restrain herself from overly indulging on the feed? wouldn't that kill shin? what if shin couldn't handle the prickling of sabine's fangs? she was about to argue again when shin claws at her own neck, drawing ichor so sweet to sabine's nose that she couldn't resist anymore.

"drink, sabine."

sabine's eyes are already glowing bright ruby and her fangs protruding from her lips as she eyes shin for one final consent, which the werewolf alpha assured with a firm nod. sabine crawled towards shin, sits herself on the werewolf's lap, and began lapping on the dripping blood from the area shin clawed at. sabine places a firm hand on shin's fleshly column.

shin hisses a sharp breath through her teeth when sabine's fangs pricked her skin and deeper into her flesh, as she begin feeding on shin. sabine had never tasted anything sweeter than shin's ichor-flavoured blood; not even the finest honeyed wine in her old cottage's cabinet.

drinking from shin is erotic and sensual.

sabine could hear shin's laboured breaths as she leans their weights on her propped arms behind her back, and she could feel the wolf's arousal echoed in the pooling warmth in sabine's underbelly. her grip on shin's neck tightens as she struggles with her monster to control the feeding.

"fuck, sabine…" shin husked out in a strained moan, the sound was so much sweeter in sabine's ears than her own blood tasted in her mouth.

sabine's tongue laps against the rapidly-healing bite wound on shin's neck, savouring whatever taste left of shin like she had been starved for decades. her eyes remained rubies, half lidded and heavy with so much lust and arousal.

shin's vermilion eyes are mirroring the same as her.

the wolf's thumb pads over sabine's lips, smearing scarlet on the pad of her thumb and on sabine's lips. sabine couldn't help the ecstasy of moans when shin captured her lips with her own in a ravenous kisses; the kind so insatiable with just flesh and must be met with teeth and fangs violently.

shin's blood was mixed with sabine's own from the pricklings of shin's canines against sabine's lips; the taste mingling in their mouths like saccharine, a sinful yet divine ritual between two powerful creatures of the supernaturals. the more they kiss, the less significant oxygen becomes.

"shin…" sabine gasps between kisses that smeared red all over their tongues and lips.

sabine's own hips have begun moving on it's own consciousness against shin, her nails raking deep in shin's back. the wolf groans against their hungry kisses at the welcomed pain, the sound immediately swallowed by sabine's throat.

shin broke away from their kiss, vermilion eyes so clouded with lust and breaths laced with arousal that it made sabine burn from the inside with untamed carnal desire to feed on shin in so many different ways than just drinking her ambrosia-sweet blood.

sabine doesn't even remember how they ended up where they awoke the next morning, entirely stripped to only skin and haphazardly strewn fur blanket over their overlapping limbs. the air had the unmistakable sweet scent of sex and blood, and sabine's memories began to flood back in.

shin had brought her to climaxes so sweet and high, that sabine swore she felt herself combust from each waves of pleasure on the wolf's fingers, mouth, thighs... anywhere that sabine could remember. sabine also remembers the deliciously erotic noises the alpha made as she made her reach such explosive peaks that triggered her own against shin.

when shin began to stir awoke, her lips immediately chased after sabine's, tasting the remnants from last night, granting a lazy smirk against sabine's lips.

"you were right, wren," shin sleepily gasped in between pecks against sabine's lips.

sabine hummed, curious. "about what?" she had to choke back a sharp moan when she feels shin's thigh slotting itself against sabine's sensitive center, teasing her over the edge.

shin has risen up as she crawls backward to spread sabine's thighs wide, peppering her sensitive limbs with a balance of feather-light kisses and knife-sharp grazes of her canines on the silky smooth skin. if sabine was choking back on her moans earlier, she definitely howled out loud moan when she felt shin's tongue on where it makes her almost see stars.

"you vampires are quite irresistible."

[alto-the-avocado]

Oh my gosh, i never realized how long it has been since i started trying to do that Six Fanarts thing, and how much i suck at it. Anyway, last part: Susie Wolff, requested by @hellohallowedhalo! I only did half because i think it’s just better this way.

[josephquinnswhore]

pleasure me pink - joel miller x female reader

Summary: Joel finds a sex toy you’d been hiding from him.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warning: (no apocalypse) dom! Joel, mentions of sexting, use of vibrator, p in v, unprotected sex, cream pie, overstimulation, squirting, humiliation, bondage (using a belt), swearing. Established relationship, a little bit of insecure Joel, use of nicknames (baby, angel, ma’am, sweetheart, slut.)

Note: holy fuckkkkk I would die lol can this pls happen to me. @cool-iguana

You see her, in all her glory; the bright pink bulbous head staring at you through your half-full of cotton and lace pantie drawer. Biting your lip, you half-heartedly throw a few pairs of panties over it, trying to cover it up.

You’d contemplated telling Joel; but there were too many what ifs.

What if he got mad? Annoyed? Insecure? The last one she couldn’t bare the thought. So she’d just.. kept it a secret. Not that there was anything wrong with masterbation, you’d felt more inclined to feel guilty about hiding it from Joel.

“Baby, did ya hear me? Said we’re late, c’mon get dressed ‘fore I change my mind and strip you bare and take you here.” Your legs quake at his offer, growling voice half warning; half promise.

You let a soft groan leave your lips. You and Joel had promised your parents you’d come to theirs for dinner tonight, it had been a long few weeks coming, you couldn’t just.. not show up. It would break your mommas heart.

“Just gotta brush my teeth. Two minutes, promise!” You plead and Joel raises a brow in doubt.

“Baby..” He warns.

“Two minutes Joel!” You promise, making quick work to the bathroom before brushing your teeth.

Joel had rolled his eyes and grunted as he waited in the bedroom, wondering what had your attention so intently that you hadn’t heard him calling out; till the third time he addressed you.

Quietly, he pulls out the draws, grimacing when one draw squeaks open. To his luck, the tap was running, an annoying habit of yours he seemed to be ever grateful for in that moment.

Next draw; nothing. He grunts, feeling frustrated. Why couldn’t he find anything—he was so sure that there was something.

He opens the top draw with a feeling of irritation. Why did it take you so fucking long to brush your teeth—

Oh shit.

He blinked heavily as his eyes took in the sight before him, he wanted to pinch himself to see if it was actually real.

He stares at it; the bright pink vibrator half hidden by your skimpy lace underwear, staring back at him. Daring him to touch it, to question her.

But then she would know I went through her shit. Said the tiny voice in the back of his head, that made him scared to react in that moment.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as you turn the water off, he quietly shuts the heavy chestnut oak drawer and steps a foot away, sitting on the end of your bed, having a playfully annoyed look on his face.

“See? Two minutes.” You grin at him, hand outstretched as if to congratulate yourself. “By the way, your shirts inside out.. doofus.”

Joel didn’t actually know how long you took. He could’ve spent half an hour rummaging through your draw standing there shocked and he wouldn’t have realised.

Instead he taps his watch, a coy smile on his lips as he stands. “Only just made it. Pushin’ my damn buttons already.” He groans as he notices his shirt, pulling it over his head as he stands to fix it.

“Yeah yeah, hurry up now, we’re gonna be late.” You quip. Joel could scoff, seeing as how you’re the reason they’re nearly twenty minutes late to leave the house already.

“Yes, ma’am.” This time his shirt is on the right way before he leaves the house.

As much as you loved your mother, her house smelt stale and her cooking was always bland or over cooked. The fact alone made it difficult to show enthusiasm to being out of bed-away from your home.

The other factor was Joel’s hand had never left your body since you’d left the house. He’d always loved touching you.. anywhere his hands could manage.. but this? This was odd.

“Here hon. We forgot to give it to you last time you visited. I hope you like it.” A bright pink scarf, one you’d likely never use, one that would serve its life decorating the back of your cupboard.

Not that you were ungrateful of such a gift.. but your mother had just taken up crocheting.. and you’ve got dozens of identical ones in matching colours. The pink just seems.. a bit out there.

“I think that colour suits ya nicely darlin’. Gonna look so pretty ‘round that pretty face of yours.” Joels hand finds your inner thigh, the size of his hand meant he could grip underneath your thigh. Fingertips drawing shapes on your skin, the action had you reeling.

Fuck, not here.

You clench your thighs together to try and stop Joel’s movements, he only smirks and looks at your mother who pats his shoulder.

“I hope she’s treating you right Joel, if she’s not send her my way and I’ll make sure that changes.” Your mom had joked playfully, ruffling your hair a little, as if you were a teenager and not a grown adult.

“She treats me well, ma’am. Sometimes she could use a little opening up. But she’s perfect.” Joel’s praise goes straight to your cunt, already slick and puffed lips sliding against your dampened underwear as if they could provide some friction.

You’re too frazzled to say anything, staying out of the conversation as Joel and your mother converse. He keeps his hand on your thigh, occasionally slipping up past the hem of your dress, thumb grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Close.. too close, but also not close enough.

Your fingers pick at the wool of the scarf, trying to ground yourself in the focus of rubbing your fingertips against the softness of the pink fabric.

Every molecule in your body wants to tear Joel away from this conversation, say your farewells and take Joel in the car, have his thick fingers inside you to relieve some of the pain building in your stomach. But you’re stuck here listening to them yabber on about something you don’t understand.

It’s clear Joel’s punishing you.. but for what?

The car ride was uncomfortably silent, Joel had turned the radio down—you watch the digits found down to zero and beg for them to come back.

Minutes without sound, only the revving engine of Joel’s pickup fills your senses, the noise was overbearing and it almost causes sensory overload.

“Joel—“ You cant finish a thought, nor form one. Because he holds his hand up to silence you.

“No talking. This car ride is to be silent if you want me to fucking touch you when we get home. Do you understand that?” His voice is low, a dangerous growl in which you took seriously.

So you nod. That was not good enough for Joel.

“Speak. Yes or no.” You wanted to argue, fight back. Now was not the time.

“Yes Joel. I understand.” He grunts in response to your hushed reply.

You didn’t dare speak a word as you entered the house, not even as Joel slightly pushed you up the stairs, where your punishment? Reward? Awaits you.

“On the bed. Now.” You obey, your body lies on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as you wait for Joel to climb over you, speak to you. Anything.

You hear ruffling, but don’t dare to look, the familiar sound of your draw opening had your heart ramming so hard against your chest it felt dizzying. Your pantry draw, the vibrator.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck..

He pulls it out, inspecting it before sitting in between her legs, device in hand. It’s tiny in comparison and he wonders if it actually feels good—compared to him or at all.

“What’s this angel? Don’t fuckin’ lie to me either.” Your body involuntary trembles at how calm, yet threatening Joel could sound.

“Vibrator..” You mumble, eyes scanning the room for something to gain your attention away from Joel.

His large hand grips your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. He looks curious—unimpressed. “No, you look at me when you’re speakin’ to me.”

You have no choice but to look at him.

“I know what it is, what I don’t understand is why you have it.” His eyes scan your own, looking for any indication of reason. “Thought you said I was all you’d need. You lyin’ to me angel?” He said mockingly, urging a reaction from her.

You shake your head frantically—the humiliation of the situation was unnerving. “No, no it’s not like that.. I only use it when you’re gone days at a time for work.”

He grunts at her. “So those texts an’ videos I send ain’t enough no more? Gotta defile yourself with a toy like a slut?”

“They are enough, they are.. you are. Sometimes I just need more than my fingers.” You whine, Joel doesn’t see any dishonesty.

He decides on your reward, humiliation.

He tosses to toy at her, it lands right next to her hand.

“Show me how you use it.” You hesitate, wondering if it’s a challenge—a trick.

“Now.” Joel demands, his hands making quick work to roll the fabric of your dress up above your hips. He lets out a filthy groan when he comes face level with your soaked panties.

“Made a fuckin’ mess of yourself already, dirty girl.” He mutters, mainly to himself. A part of him is relieved that he was the one that did this to you.. not that toy.

You feel your face warm as Joel watches you, his thick fingers curling around your panties before he tears them off you, throwing them onto the floor behind him.

Under Joel’s watchful gaze, you hesitantly turn on the pink wand, positioning the rounded head of the toy at your clit, the low buzzing of the toy on your favourite setting had your hips bucking and a soft moan escaping your lips.

Joel wants to hate it, how good it’s making you feel. Practically replacing him in its minimal efforts to make you feel good.

You work the toy around your clit, the sensitive bundle working up the coil in your stomach already, the pleasure from it has you unable to form a single thought. The only thing on your mind was you wanting to cum.

You’re a whimpering mess, hair is messy and starting to form small knots from your head withering on the pillow. Hips bucking every few seconds as the vibrator hits the spot that makes your toes curl, giving Joel the show of a lifetime.

He hates the way you’re moaning. He hates the way you look so fucking beautiful with your face scrunched up. He hates the way his cock is so fucking hard he can’t bare to not be inside you anymore.

Fuck the punishment, he decided finally. He needs to be inside you. To prove his worth to you.. that he’s better.

Joel strips his jeans off, he wraps his belt around your hands that holds the vibrator in place, keeping it attached to your clit. You look up at him in surprise and groan, legs trembling around him as he positions himself in between your hips.

His thick cock is weeping with precum. The sight of your glistening pussy only entices him more. He runs a thumb down your slit, gathering the juices and he groans. “Jesus Christ.”

Without warning he rams the thick head into you, the jolt of pain and pleasure has your eyes clenched shut and mouth wide open as you scream his name.

“Joel.. fuck. Joel!” In reply to your breathy voice screaming his name, his hands lift your legs and place your feet over his shoulders. His strong arms come down beside your head and he rails into you.

Hips slamming into yours as his thick head comes to the hilt inside of you, roughly nudging your cervix. The combination of his thick cock filling you, ramming your g-spot and the vibrator forced onto your clit has you reeling—you feel dizzy and you can barely hear Joel moaning.

“Fucking—hell this pussy feels so fuckin’ good baby what — what the fuck.. did you.. you just squirted all over my cock.” Joel’s voice barely registers in your head, until you hear what he says next.

“Gonna fuckin’ cum already.. fuck.” The droplets of sweat built up on his forehead drop onto your own. Animalistic grunts leave his lips and it pushes you to the edge.

Your orgasm that was tethered finally snaps, unable to hide the fact that you’d squirted for the first time ever, your legs shake around Joel’s head as they tighten around him, your cunt clenches Joel so perfectly he erupts inside of you, thick warm ropes of his cum fill you, overflowing out of your hole as he twitches and pulses inside of you.

Joel stays there for a moment and you’re trying to push him off—the vibrator still held onto your clit with the belt that had tied your hands, Joel weakly unties the belt and wipes the stray tears that had fallen down your cheek.

“You okay sweetheart?” His voice is breathy, but those deep brown eyes are full of concern.

You nod your head, a tired “mmhmm.” Is all you can muster right now, the sound of blood rushing through your body and ears ringing as you try to ride out the overstimulation of your climax.

He holds the toy in his hands, looking at you with a devilish grin, sitting it on the nightstand. “I think I might like this thing after all.”

You groan and roll into his chest, facing each other on your sides in your bed—full of each others specimen and bedsheets contaminated. That could wait for the moment.

Joel kisses the top of your head and nuzzles into your hair. “Dunno what I was so worried about.” He confesses to himself, admiring you as you feel sleepiness overcome your senses, you manage a small smile at Joel’s confession.

Joel knew now without a doubt in his mind he wasn’t competing with the toy. He was working with it, and he is good enough.

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Let's play who's the sidepiece?, Aegon has half of King's Landing and his sister has one (1) man, humor, strong themes of sexism/patriarchy/gender roles, infidelity but casual?, jealous jealous jealous Aeg, who is also a self-absorbed idiot, Aemond just wants peace, pnv!sex, Incest need I say more, manipulation, degradation, rough sex, oral sex (m!receiving), a bit toxic at the end but they do love each other.

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @fairysluna @valeskafics @dr-aegon @targaryen-madness @starogeorgina @lovelykhaleesiii @sugarpoppss2 @thought--bubble

Divider by @saradika

Aegon was suspicious. Sure, he fucked whenever and however he wanted. Regardless of outside activities, something was off in his meticulously planned life. Planned by others, of course, he couldn't give a rat's ass. The prince just had been wed to his sister, the less strange one. She was suspiciously…competent in bed. He could swear she was supposed to be a maiden. She was- bled during the bedding ceremony when he first fucked her.

But the way she rode his cock was good. Too good. Aegon knew he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Frankly, it was eating him up. She even gave fantastic head! Who the fuck had taught her that? He narrowed his eyes at her, the fellow blonde looking bored at supper.

Aegon took a swig of his wine, eyes dark as he studied her. Maybe if he looked long enough someone would jump up and act jealous. What if she was secret fuckmates with his nephew? Aegon had a vague memory of a sordid rumor regarding Jacaerys Velaryon's horse cock. He would kill himself, truly. He could imagine the letter, “Sorry mother, I couldn’t take that shame, yes I know I live in constant shame, but this was the final straw.”

His sister-wife was staring now. She raised a brow in question. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Aegon grumbled, “Nothing. Just looking. Can’t have a look, alright then.”

She scoffed, “You can look, but you’re looking as if you’re about to eat my face.”

Oh. Aegon blushed in embarrassment. He drank more wine, mumbling a ‘sorry’. He didn’t want to broach the subject at supper. The prince’s damn family was nosy enough as is, he didn’t need Aemond’s big ass nose in his ear. Or one of those frightful looks from Alicent. If Aegon got lectured by Otto or Criston he would consider stabbing himself.

Aegon mulled over what he should do next between bites of mutton. She obviously wasn’t going to the Street of Silk, because that was his domain. Someone would’ve peeped already. He reluctantly knew when Daemon was visiting. Every. Damn. Time. Why would Aegon want to hear about the fuckhead's potency issues?

Mayhaps he should get her on the cusp of orgasm and demand who her secret lover-teacher-whatever was. That seemed sound enough to Aegon. When he was about to nut? One could ask him anything, there would be an answer. The prince smiled enigmatically, laughing to himself.

To which his sister-wife said, “You’re acting strange tonight.”

Aegon cooed, “Sorry, just dreaming a bit.”

Under the table he put a lecherous hand on her thigh, squeezing over her soft dress. His sister blushed and squirmed, fork awkwardly clanking across the plate. The woman hissed, “Okay I get it!” She cleared her throat, ignoring any stares. Aegon smirked and squeezed a bit higher, plump lips splitting into a grin.

Aegon had immediately crowded her smaller frame in the bedroom, plush lips attacking her neck, impatient hands pulling at her dress. She moaned, walking backward into the bed, yelping when Aegon crawled atop. He murmured, “You looked ravishing tonight, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Uh, huh, the clasps you fool,” she groaned.

Aegon huffed, probably tearing the fabric as he separated the back of the dress. She began to shuck the dress off while he awkwardly pulled off his breeches. They giggled a bit making eye contact; Aegon unbuttoning his tunic and her unlacing the corset. Soon they were both naked, grinning and kissing, her soft skin rubbing against his.

Aegon grabbed her thighs, mouthing at a tit and playfully nipping at it. She squeaked, thighs tightening around his waist, throwing long blonde hair back. His wife cried out, “Aegon! Quit playing!” He pulled off her nipple, murmuring between little kisses, “Why, is the princess needy?”

He slipped a ringed finger between her folds, finding her wetter than expected. Aegon dipped into her cunt, laughing, “Ah she is, little whore.” The princess writhed a bit, leaning up to capture his lips, lapping into his mouth hungrily. The prince returned her eager movements, curling his fingers into her pussy, letting her ride his hand.

“Fuck, you’re a doll,” he swore, “Perfect.”

She whined and arched up into him, hips canting on his hand. Aegon used his other hand to play with her sensitive tits, thumb circling around a budded nipple. She shivered and cried his name again, a pretty blush diffusing across her pallid skin. The prince hummed “Are you going to come for me sweetling? So soon?”

“Ngh, please, yes Aegon!”

He sped up his movements, feeling her tighten and twitch, the princess on the precipice. Aegon moaned before gathering himself, his pulsing cock was scrambling relative coherency. As it did. He panted, “Gonna count down and I want you to let go okay? Then I’ll fuck your pretty cunt.”

She nodded with lidded eyes, mouth hung open. The picture of ecstasy. Aegon smirked as he spoke.

…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…

“Oh gods Aegon!”

“Who are you fucking!”

She writhed through the helpless orgasm, confusion evident on her twisting features. Aegon couldn’t help but throb AND be quite annoyed. He slurped the juices off his fingers, leaning back with a look. The prince was feeling sullen and not sure if he wanted to play anymore. His wife stared up at him and echoed “Who…am I fucking. What?”

Aegon pouted. This didn’t go to plan. He rolled his eyes and explained, “You excel, frighteningly so, at our bedroom activities. Yes, yes I know you were still a maiden at our wedding. But I am onto you, I don't know much but I do know about fucking, dearest."

“Are you kidding me? This is ludicrous Aegon!”

She had sat up now, crossing her arms, lips pouty. The prince stated as if it was obvious, “You know your way around a cock. Obviously, this comes with experience. I’ve bedded many a maiden and they usually just stare until you flip them over. So who’s the secret mentor?”

She scoffed in horror, cheeks reddening further, “I can’t believe this Aegon! You’re an idiot! I’m not fucking anyone else! Unlike you!”

“Lies you tell, no spring maiden has gargled my balls!” he accused, face growing equally red in frustration, ringed finger pointing at her.

His sister grew quiet, looking away. She mumbled “Fine. Do you want to know who it is so bad? This stays between us.”

Aegon nodded, impatiently gesturing for her to come out with it. She seemed to grow more uncomfortable. Then spit out a name so low and fast he couldn’t hear. Tonight might be the night he explodes. The prince groaned, “Oh my gods, just say it in a normal tone!”

“Larys Strong!”

What?

He burst into laughter. The prince guffawed, clutching his stomach, shaking with humor. She gaped “What? I’m not lying!” Aegon laughed some more thinking about the foot monger, he’s a bigger virgin than anyone in the keep. He breathlessly chuckled, “Good one, yeah right dear.”

She began to pull on her chemise, annoyed now. Aegon grasped at her thigh, pleading between fits of giggles, “I don’t know why you’re hiding this? I don’t care who you go and find pleasure with. Unless it’s truly Larys. C’monnnn love don’t leave.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. You’re making up things. What if I’m just good at carnal activities hm Aegon? You're an ass!”

Aegon contemplated the possibility, “Sure, that could be true. Now stop being huffy and come here. I said I’d fuck your pretty pussy.”

She stared down at him before taking her chemise back off. The princess hissed, “You’re a right asshole you know that? You better fuck me good. Prick.”

Aegon laughed again, cheeks hurting from his fit of humor. He maneuvered her onto all fours, sliding his cock against her still-wet folds. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, nosing sweet-smelling hair. He placed a hand on her tight stomach, humming, “I’m sorry dear, I’ll make it better Hm?” He slid in, watching her pretty eyes roll up in her head.

Aegon still wanted to know who his sister was fornicating. She probably was still seeing this person. All he knew was that they resided in the Red Keep and certainly not Larys Strong. The prince had to open his mind to the possibilities of women too. There were many a pretty handmaiden who tended to his wife.

He frowned in thought, sipping his wine. Aegon sat next to his stiff bitch of a brother in the library of all places. Secretly, Aegon hoped the knowledge in the room would give him some magical foresight gift- but not that weird shit Helaena did sometimes.

His wife fucking a handmaiden- that felt too overt. He’d only seen his sister gag and moon over visiting knights and lordlings. Next to Aegon sat his irritated brother. Aemond was quiet, too quiet. He and their sister got along quite well? Aegon's eyes turned to his not-so-little brother.

“Aem.”

“Why are you speaking to me? I’m trying to read.”

“I have a question. That's why, you frozen-faced ass.”

Aemond picked his head up and glared, slamming his book closed. He huffed “What, oh, what, could your drunkenness possibly ask from me? No, I’m not covering your ass again.”

Aegon snorted. His brother was such a frigid quim. He acted like Criston Cole, peacocking around the place, chip on their shoulder. The elder asked “Look. I’ll just be blunt with you. Our sister, my wife. She is merely too good in the sack. Are you fucking her? Is she fucking you?”

Aemond’s jaw audibly clicked in annoyance. He struggled over his tongue, face red. The second son stood up, slamming his hands on the stone. He retreated with a swish of hair and growled, “Buffoon.”

Aegon called after him, “Your behavior has not marked you off my list!”

"Fuck you and your list! Drunkard!!"

Icy little prick. Aegon rolled his eyes, pondering on his next target. Perhaps Jason Lannister? He was wooing any Targaryen princess for his sons. Or possibly Ser Arryk, her sworn shield. Aegon would go to them next. Then maybe do a night check on Aemond’s quarters. His wife was busy with their mother all day anyway. How boring.

Safe to say the prince was still vexed. Jason Lannister laughed in his face and Ser Arryk was extremely confused. He replied in that dumb voice of his, “The princess and I? I’m not that simple your grace. Some of us Kingsguard do take our vows seriously, although I can’t say the same for others.”

He refused to elaborate afterward, Aegon throwing his hands up and moving to the next destination. While walking, he pondered Arryk’s words. Could it be another Kingsguard? Maybe Erryk? Criston had already used up his one allotted Princess fucking and it turned him sour. Erryk would stay on Aegon’s list, the other men too plain ugly or on Dragonstone.

Too annoyed to try any decorum, Aegon simply kicked Aemond’s door open. The younger prince squawked in shock, his hair flying around. Why was there a portrait of Daemon? Why was there another half-finished portrait of Aemond obviously in the same style? Aegon spluttered, “What the fuck? You’re so weird! Daemon? Blech brother!”

Aemond, hair tied back and wearing simple clothes smudged with paint— was positively furious. He hollered, “Get the hell out! I’m not fornicating with our sister! She’s your wife! Say a word of this and I’m making you a Eunuch!”

Aegon was booted out, literally, as in Aemond’s big fucking boot kicked him in the arse.

“Should’ve known. Weirdo,” Aegon grumbled.

He limped back to his quarters, dreadfully needing a sip of wine and someone’s lips around his cock. Today was dreadful. He actually tried to do something. Which trying was rare for him! The prince went to open his door, only to step back when Ser Criston exited.

He raised a brow. Criston looked at him blankly, dark eyes placid. Aegon asked, “What were you doing?” The Kingsguard scoffed, “Your sister was having a fit about a spider, I heard her yowling and killed said spider. Goodnight my prince.”

Aegon glared at the surly marcher, shaking his head and entering the chambers. He immediately went to the table and drank straight from the bottle, deep, deep pulls of relief. The blonde placed it down and sighed, turning towards his bed.

His wife sat there, eyes wide, wearing only her askew shift. Aegon bitched, “Oh. Nice to see you too. Maybe a ‘Hello lord husband, how are you?’ would suffice.”

The Princess’ cheeks were pink. He guessed from the embarrassment of having Ser Criston kill a small bug. Then explained again why Ser Criston had to kill a small bug. She mumbled, “Oh, sorry, I thought you were at the brothels.”

Aegon plopped down in a chair, grabbing the bottle. He whined, “Nope! Been trying to find out who your mystery lover is all day. No one wants to pipe up! I should’ve gone.”

She gazed downwards, biting on swollen lips. The princess stood up on shaky legs, making her way to Aegon and kneeling between his lax thighs. She hummed, tracing a finger up one, feeling the muscle twitch. His sister mused, “Can I take your mind off this mystery lover? You’re much more desirable to me. Don't they say the blood of the dragon reaches out to another?”

“Sure, definitely” he whined again. Aegon would pout this out, it was his specialty. He honestly was hurt, why couldn’t he know their identity? Sure he’d get jealous and probably ban her from seeing them but still! He was sad!

“Am I that unappealing to you?” he whimpered, tears pricking at violet eyes, frustration and self-pity leaking over.

She sighed heavily, wrapping her arms around his midsection. The princess laid her head upon his thigh and cooed, “No. You’re my husband, my blood, we are a union now. That partnership…started because I was afraid you would find me boring. So I wanted to know how to please a man.”

Aegon sulked and sniffled some more, taking another deep drink from his goblet. The familiar fuzz was coming along nicely, patching up his insecurities. But it was nice to hear her admit a smidgeon of truth. She kissed his leg and continued, “Aegon dear, have I not pleased you? It was a transaction between the person and me. They wished to make their identity a secret so as not to catch your wroth. I no longer see them like that. I hate that you’re upset, I did this for you.”

Aegon nodded, feeling a bit better. His sister was good. She easily melted his pouting protocol. The female Targaryen rubbed his thighs and moved her mouth to hover over his clothed cock, eyes looking up as she breathed, “Now baby, just relax and let me make this better, hm?”

He moaned softly as she mouthed over his swelling member, nimble fingers untying his breeches, other hand massaging the soft flesh and meat of his thigh. She eased Aegon’s cock and his sac out, groaning with a flutter of her long lashes. The prince squirmed a bit, breathing heavier, holding off a whine.

“Just you and me, sweet baby.”

She was increasingly convincing kitten licking the ruddy head of his prick like that. The girl’s dainty hand wrapped around his length, the other going to hold his balls, keeping them nice and compressed. Aegon’s back arched when she eased him into a silky wet mouth, tongue massaging the underside as his wife hollowed her mouth.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

Aegon responded with a noise he’d rather not dwell on. It was very…emasculating. Gods, she was so good at this. He needed to get over his qualms and just fuck her so good the princess wouldn't stray again. Good and obedient- all for Aegon. He eased her off gently, demanding, "Lay across the bed. Now."

Wide purple eyes stared at him. She murmured, "What? I- I don't need that, let me take care of you."

Aegon shook his head, grinning, the drink emboldening him. Something about Arbor Red made him impossibly aroused and giddy. He jerked his chin toward the plush bed and laughed. His sister got up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. She padded and leaned her body over the bed, long legs spread, chemise discarded to display her swollen cunt to him.

Aegon pulled off his breeches as he stalked over, eyes drinking in her pussy. He smacked a hand across her ass and grabbed the stinging flesh. He asked roughly "Did your mystery lover sneak out the servant's exit when Ser Criston heard your yowling?"

"Yes, yes! Sorry, fucking yes!" she shouted.

Aegon's face darkened at her puffy and slick cunt, obvious signs of someone having a feast down there. He ran the blunt tip of his swollen cock across her folds, groaning as he smacked her clit. The prince snapped "You're a goddamn lying slut you know that? A match made in heaven with me huh? Did Ser Criston walk in when you were getting your cunt licked?" He wound a fist in her blonde tresses, pulling it tight.

She shivered and shook her head, whining, "N-ohh, he didn't see!"

"Hm, sure, probably took a peak, the weird bitch. Whatever, I guess I'll have to fuck this person out of your mind? Or you're coming with me to the brothels sister dearest."

He slid into her tight hole, gasping at the ridges and warmth. Aegon tightened the fist in her hair. Maybe he'd fuck a babe in her tonight, then she'd be stuck in his quarters surrounded by maesters and tittering handmaidens. Eugh. Aegon huffed and fucked her at a brisk pace, his other hand smacking her ass every other thrust.

His sister-wife moaned, taking his cock like she was made for it. She fucked back onto him, back arched, tits bouncing. Her cheeks were delightfully flushed as she panted Aegon's name, eyes wet and wide. Aegon leaned over her form and growled, "Don't know who this fucker is but I will find out. He better know whose cunt this is, eh? Shout it, tell the whole goddamn keep who you belong to, sister."

Aegon relished in her little whimper, his fingers pinching her clit as he forced her hips up to drive into her good spot harder. He bit and lapped at her neck, hissing, "C'mon and say it or I'll lock your ass up here with no visitors. Just me and I'll get my fill, fucking snake." She blubbered, seizing around his cock a hair.

"Oh gods, please don't make me howl like that, Aegon, please!"

He fucked the princess rougher, holding her gaze with a tight grip around her chin. She bit her lip, eyes mournful before shouting, "Only you Aegon, I belong to you, yes big brother! Yes! I belong to my husband!"

Aegon grinned like the cat that got the cream. He cooed, "Good little sister, knew you still had it in you." He gripped her throat and refocused on fucking her until she cried. Aegon pinched and licked, played with her tits, circled her clit until she came all over him- yet the prince was still fit to go. Sweet sister was a mess now- covered in bites and hickeys, sweaty hair plastered to her neck. The younger blonde whimpered, "Aeg- Aegon, I- I can't possibly do this again!"

Her eyes were frantic, her cute body shaking and coming apart wondrously. Aegon hummed, "You will come for me again sweetling. I know you can, just whining on my prick like you were paid for it? Does he fuck you like this huh? Make you see stars?"

"N-noooo, only you!"

"Good girl, come on now, wanna feel that sweet pussy of yours cream around me one more time. Then I'll fill you up deep- maybe he won't come around when you are all ripe with," he punctuated his next words with thrusts, "My. Goddamn. Child."

The princess wailed softly, overused and overstimulated. She felt the crest of another burning orgasm flaring up and forcing red hot tears down her blotchy cheeks. It was intense and she cried harder when Aegon's thick seed stuffed her twitching cunt and womb to the brim. He seemed to be satisfied now, cooing at her, "There we go, ffuck, that's my sweet girl. See, don't need anyone else around now hm?"

Aegon wiped her gorgeous tears, smiling victoriously. She cuddled into his arms, letting her husband soothe and stroke her trembling flesh. He even hollered for a servant to grab some water. The prince murmured, "You did so good, such a good wife, yes, maybe just a bit of punishment does sweet sister well." He grew quieter and pressed a kiss to her soft forehead, "I love you, truly, for tolerating a failure like me."

She smiled softly and pecked Aegon's full lips, her own swollen from tonight. Aegon wiped her tears as she sighed, "I love you too Aegon. Buffoon you may be. I hope the seed takes. No more about mystery lovers. The whole keep has heard now sweetheart."

Aegon smirked, hoping every single soul heard.

One soul in particular did, his black gloves tightening in annoyance. He was down the hall before turning back and having to hear the heir...rudely fuck his sister-wife. With a growl and swish of the cloak, the true mystery lover was gone. She'd be back in his arms sooner or later. Aegon couldn't fuck him out of her soft heart.

[sheluvslani]

Knuckle-Deep

Request: Cairo sweet x fem!reader smut fic, maybe something with guided masturbation that escalates ‘til her and reader fuck 👀

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x fem!reader

Summary: Cairo’s new story makes r drive to her house and reenact what Cairo wrote

Warning: smut, guided masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, finger-sucking 😵‍💫, bottom!Cairo, top!reader

A/n: kind of a long one, sorry for the wait (some text is from the Miller’s Girl Screenplay, it might be slightly edited to fit the story and to avoid copyright??) 

It was a typical rainy Sunday morning, you were stuck inside doing homework for your English class. That was until you got a notification from your email. It was from Cairo, all it had was a picture of her new book she was writing. As you opened the picture, it had highlighted section and you began reading, your face immediately turned red.

You knew Cairo wrote erotica, but this wasn’t just like any other book. 

She wrote this about you. And your name was plastered there on the very page.

And holy fucking shit, this was good. You quickly shut your laptop and grabbed your car keys. 

You quickly drove to her house, opening the door to find Cairo smoking a cigarette on the leather couch in her living room.

A whisper of smoke drifted from her mouth with practiced effort — something she’d picked up in some obscure noir she’d watched with her mother.

She threw it to the ground and stub it out with the heel of her shoe with slow, calculated movements.

She planned this.

You grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the bedroom.

Cairo opened her mouth to say something, but the words fell away as you hungrily pressed your lips to hers. You pulled away with a sultry whisper,

“I want you to read it to me-” You ran your thumb over her lower lip,

“-Read it to me the way you read it to yourself.”

As you pulled away, Cairo took her tattered notebook off the bedside table and spread it open in the comforter of her bed. You stood behind her as she leaned over the bed.

“Page thirteen”, you whispered as of your hands slid up the front of Cairo’s short cotton dress, as the other pointed to a sentence on the page. “Begin here.”

Cairo’s began to recite what she wrote in a shaky voice: “It’s not because she’s a child, it’s because she’s a child with no innocence.” 

Her breath hitched as you placed your hand over hers. You slowly guided it to the mound at her center, pressing her fingers into the dark fold there — just behind the damp fabric of her panties.

She cleared her throat before scanning over the page again, searching for where she left off: “Look into her eyes and you see the monster of knowledge, the shadow of wisdom—“

She paused as she felt you pulling her panties over her hips, coaxing her thumb to circle her pleading clit, her other hand tightly gripped the comforter.

The pleasure Cairo was feeling was too intense for her to concentrate on the reading, the best she could do was mumble the words.

So you took the book from her and continued reading, watching her face closely as it contorted to one of pure ecstasy as she fingered herself.

“-Maybe in a bathroom stall at school, her own fingers knuckle deep-“

You gently persuaded her fingers in and out of her dripping cunt, helping her thrust them as she moaned into the sheets of her bed. 

“-trying to rub out that itch. The ache inside.”

You closed the notebook and set it back down on the bedside table. You finally looked down at Cairo, her eyes clenched shut and her breathing labored, your hand still assuring her movements. 

You could tell she was close by the way she grabbed your hand and placed it over her perky breast. You complied and gently rolled her covered nipple between your fingers as she thrusted faster.

Cairo came on her fingers with a loud moan, falling on the bed and flipping over onto her back to catch her breath.

You grabbed her wrist and brought up her fingers to your mouth, placing them gently on your tongue. You slowly sucked off her arousal, groaning at the salty-sweet taste. 

You pulled her fingers out of your mouth with a wet ‘pop’ and she quickly pulled your lips to hers, moaning at the taste of her lingering in your mouth.

You pulled away, kissing down her chest and stomach as she arched her body into your touch. You slowly kissed her inner thigh as she thread her fingers into your hair, pulling you towards her aching core.

You licked a slow stripe from the bottom of her folds to the tip of her clit, she whined from your unrelenting teasing. 

You slipped a finger into her wet heat, pumping it in and out and curling it into her g-spot every other thrust. She gripped your hair tighter as you started to suck on her clit.

When you slipped in another finger, she moaned at the stretch. 

“Please… ‘m so close, baby…”

You were sure she could feel your smirk but her mind was clouded with pleasure. You sped up your movements and a gush of wetness escaped her swollen pussy. Kissing her thigh, you continued to pump your fingers in and out as she rode her wave of arousal. You slowly lapped up her cum as she whimpered from the overstimulation.

You took your time pulling away, a string of saliva unraveling itself from your lips and her throbbing clit. You gently rested your head on her chest and she stroked your hair. After a while, she started giggling to herself. 

You looked up at her with an eyebrow raised, “what’s so funny?”

“I should write about you more often.”

[roostersbby69]

I’ll be here for you

Summary: the one where you and Bradley cross the boundary of being friends.

warnings: teen pregnancy, Bradley’s mom is still alive currently

Pairing: teen Bradley x teen Mitchel!reader

Full masterlist

Currently, you were at the Bradshaws household with a bundle of paper laid out on the kitchen table. Each of you had a coke in front of you as you quizzed Bradley on the vocab words for this week.

“Adjacent.” You flipped the card and looked up to him who was pacing through the kitchen. You were sitting on the table and whenever he paced behind you you make sure to turn the answer away from him, Bradley liked to sneak a glance at the answer sometimes.

“The fuck?” He muttered as he thought for a second, “Uhm, something that is open.”

“Partially open.” You corrected him.

“Same thing.” He rolled his eyes and sat down in the chair in front of you. He grabbed your ankles and set your feet on his thighs and rubbed your calves softly.

“Cognitive.” You flipped another flash card and watched as his face scrunched with confusion.

“I don’t know.”

“Just try, that’s why we’re practicing.” You encouraged him.

He sighed and thought for a second, he admired your face and your smooth legs as his fingers delicately traced patterns on them, “I like you.” He blurted out.

“That’s not what that means.” You muttered as you flipped the card over and read the definition out loud to him. But he wasn’t listening. He was staring at you, admiring your lips, the way his old shirt still looked big on your body.

“No, I like you.” He repeated and watched a you looked up to him with a raised brow.

“I like you too Bradley.” You laughed and grabbed another sheet of paper. He shook his head and placed his hand on yours, stopping you from picking the paper up.

“I like you, Y/n.” He said slowly, emphasizing the word like.

You blinked and stared into his soft brown eyes for a second before comprehending it, “What? Me?”

“Yes, you.” He nodded, Bradley knew this long ago and had tried not to accept it as you were best friends since diapers. And he was pretty scared of your dad.

“But, we’re best friends.” You blinked.

He groaned and shoved his face in his hands and apologized, “Just forget I said that.”

Before you knew it, you grabbed his face and leaned in to place your lips on his.

Holy shit, you were kissing your best friend. The one who you took bubble baths with when you had sleepovers, the one where you shared ice cream cones with at the park, and the one who you had a crush on your entire life.

He stood up and wrapped his hands around your thighs and placed one on your ass to scoot you closer to him until your crotches met. You gasped into his lips and looked into his eyes as he barely pulled away from your lips and whispered, “My room?” And you nodded quickly.

Bradley recalled the “talk” his mom gave him when he turned 16 and how embarrassing it was. He knew his dad would’ve given it to him but he wasn’t here to do so.

“You need to be very careful.” She said and forced him to listen to her.

“Yes, mom.” He groaned and wished he were anywhere but here right now.

“Do you know what a condom is?”

“Yes, mother.” He rolled his eyes and rubbed his face.

“I would wait until later.” She recommended.

“Okay.” He mumbled and cringed.

“I just don’t want you to knock some girl up.”

“Mom!”

-

Four weeks later you were sitting on the toilet seat waiting for three minutes to be up, your legs were bouncing up and down and you were praying that it would come back negative.

All of a sudden, a fist was banging on the locked door. ���Y/n? Y/n?” The voice chanted as it continued to beat on the door.

You sighed and got up to unlock the door and perch yourself right back on the seat.

Bradley barged in, chest heaving, and his phone in his hand, “You said code red.”

You nodded and wiped the tears from your face and sniffled.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He softly shut the door behind him and made his way to you, he crouched down and rubbed your knees.

“I think,” you tried to breathe as you tried to talk.

“Hey, hey, breathe.” He moved your hands from your face and replaced them with his, he rubbed your cheeks and wiped the tears away, “Breathe.”

You took a deep breath and collected your thoughts as the timer on your phone went off, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You met his eyes and the look on his face made you sob even more.

“What?” He asked as his face went pale.

You grabbed the test off of the counter and showed it to him, “Shit.” He muttered as he read the lines.

“I thought you were on birth control?” He asked as he took it from your hands and held it up to the light, examining it. He read the lines “Pregnant” over and over again.

“I am.” You cried and pulled your knees to your chest, “Bradley I think the test is pretty damn clear.” You rolled your eyes and snatched the test from his hands.

“I just…” he couldn’t believe it, “Fuck, your dad’s going to kill me.” He rubbed his forehead as he started to sweat.

“Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about right now?” You looked at him as he paced through your bathroom. When he didn’t reply you sighed, “If you don’t want to be apart of this you don’t have to.” You rubbed your eyes.

He crouched down in front of you and shook his head, “I’m not doing that, this is both of us and I’m not leaving you.”

Bradley watched as your lip quivered, “Hey,” he leaned down and tried to look at your face, “look at me, please.” He watched as you slowly looked into his eyes, “I’ll be here for you, it’ll be okay.”

He pulled you into him and held you to his chest as you let out the rest of the tears as he rubbed your back and cradled your head.

Even though this wasn’t what he had planned, he knew that he didn’t plan on leaving you.

—————————————————————

Part 2.

Authors note: just a little what if story. I love teen Bradley. I might make a pt 2 idk yet.

[fanfictilltheend]

❤️‍🔥Violent Heart Part 2:  ♪Remember when I moved in you, and the holy dove was moving too ♫ (or the VERY DARK Stepdad!Mechanic!Covict!Joel x Afab!you one)❤️‍🔥

Hi I apologize that a lot of these reference pics are just of white girls. I tried to find "aesthetic" images that go with the story but so many of them are just of white people and I want to call myself out for this because in the fic's only descriptors are that she has hair and is AFAB -- nothing about race. I also realize that all of the girls in this are skinny too and Y/N's body type is never specified. Sorry fam!! These images are just to get the creative juices flowing and don't truly depict anything from the fic!!

A/n: It’s here!!!!!! 18+ Only. This took me 7 freaking months so you mofos better like, reblog, and comment. This is both my most and least personal fic I’ve ever written and it is dark and relies heavily on plot (smut this time tho!!) READ ALL OF THE TAGS DO NOT COME FOR ME UNLESS YOU DID THIS FR FR. This ones for my dark joel fangirlies(guys and NBies) and the daddy issues fam ily ❤️‍🔥 (also not me naming my fic in part after hallelujah by leonard cohen but there is a reason!!!!!!!!!!)

Summary: Part 2 picks up with Y/N at age 20 and how her relationship with Joel has changed and gets steamier.  SMUT and feelings <3 Also check out this playlist of music that’s in the fic!!!!

Tags (PLEASE READ): Afab!you, pov change, Infidelity, threats, age gap, dressing Joel up (swear I wrote this before he wore that outfit to the SAG awards — the mr.Darcy-core one), racist comment (from Y/N’s douchey boyfriend), douchey boyfriend, confidence issues, feelings, voyeurism, masturbation (m and f), kissing, penis in vagina sex — unprotected (wear a condom), lightest hint of ass play, scar worship?? kinda??, daddy issues, daddy kink, using music lyrics to move the plot, multiple orgasms (m and f), religion and god discussions, stepcest (kinda bc technically he is divorced from her mother), tagging psuedo-incest just to be safe!!, use of y/n

Word Count: ~13k

PART 1

AO3 Link

Violent Heart Masterlist

Full Masterlist of all my work

If you’re being honest, you’ve always had a little crush on Joel Miller. How could you not have? The first day you’d met him had been like some kind of fucked up yet extremely satisfying whirlwind of a daydream. He’d come in, broad and tall and strong, and saved you from your evil (though you do love him somewhere deep, deep down) older brother’s onslaught. Protected you like a knight in shining armor from his punching, beating fists. Treated and touched you so tenderly, so many miles different from how your own father did that you’d been hit with whatever the pleasant opposite of whiplash is. And the way he finally punished Aiden after years of his reign of terror, the violence of it, the justice of it. You didn’t have words for it then, but the way you looked into Joel’s eyes when he was doling out that righteous punishment became some kind of strange secret understanding between the two of you. Maybe it was the first sign of love? You aren’t sure.

As a kid, he’d given you what you like to think of as quiet butterflies. They were always there when he spoke to you, looked at you, touched you, beat the shit out of your father and brother for you, but they were faint enough that you could ignore them. It was a comforting, fluttering kind of love, a gradual understanding of your loyalty to one another. But then puberty hit and the insects became incessantly loud when you thought of, wrote to, or talked to him. They ate at your heart day after day while Joel was in prison – the longing, the missing. Aiden told you that you were obsessed with him. Your mother told you to forget him, that he would forget you. But somehow, he didn’t. You wonder if those bugs live in him too. You wonder if they are quiet or loud and if they gnaw .

You think that they are probably loud. You think this for a few reasons. The first is that you know for a fact, you can feel it in the lining of your soul, and from the evidence of his constant correspondence and care for you, that he is just as obsessed with you as you are with him. The second reason is the fact that you think but aren’t one hundred percent sure is that the last time you’d hugged him he’d gotten a little hard (you don’t want to think too much into that because he is only a man who had been deprived of touch for a long time – but still you wonder…). And the third is the way he looks at you like you are the universe like you are the last drop of nectar and he is the last butterfly left on Earth in a famine. 

That’s how he’s looking at you now in the passenger seat of his old, clunky pickup. You know that he wanted to drive, but you wanted to show him how well you could because he had never seen. Never had the chance to see how well you had fixed, maintained, and took care of his baby and of course he gave into you like he always does. He's smiling at you quietly, but his eyes contain multitudes. Right now mostly pride at your driving.

Joel is a bit different than how you remember sitting near him in the truck the last time you were together, him as a free man, you as a little girl. Somehow, even though you are obviously bigger now, he still seems massive and broad and stronger than ever. His biceps are huge – probably from all the time he had to work out in prison – and peeking out under his blue t-shirt that you brought for him, you think you see the outlines of some tattoos. You look a little closer. On his right arm is text in curvy black ink. You think it reads, “Sarah.” You smile softly at that. On his other arm is a strange orange shape that you have to squint at to understand. The edges of the object are jagged but they form a shape like a badge – and then you know what it is! It is the guitar pick you made for Joel as a child. The one that had pricked his finger and drawn blood and he stuck it in his wallet. You can’t articulate how honored you feel that Joel loved you enough to tattoo something you made for him on his body, permanently, forever. 

“ Well , the light only turned green damn near eons ago,” he complains about your driving, but you know he is just teasing.

There is hardly anything wrong you can ever do in Joel’s eyes. He grins at you a bit lopsidedly and you smile back. You also can’t help but notice the greying of his brown hair. It’s a bit longer than it used to be too and the length gives it a little bit less of a shaggy look. You think it suits him, makes him look a bit older and more distinguished than when he first came into your life twelve years ago. 

Objectively, you know it’s weird to think that your ex-stepdad who is a convicted felon is hot, but it’s just something you’ve always known and thought like that the sky is blue or that orange is your favorite color. You know it’s weird to think of someone who was? – is? – supposed to be a father figure to you that way, but it’s already second nature at this point. You’ve had a few boyfriends (luckily all of them had treated you right), but none of the feelings you’ve ever had for them have compared to the cosmic-sized love and affection you have for Joel and you’ve never known anything different. The years you spent longing, missing, loving, obsessing over, and aching for him in every way under the sun, can’t be healthy, you know this, but they have eclipsed practically every other relationship in your life. No one has ever made you feel as safe and protected and loved as Joel has. No one else has ever looked at you the way he does. No one else’s entire existence has revolved around you the way his has. The sheer devotion in his gaze is enough to make the butterflies inside you scream and beat their wings against your insides like hungry bats. 

And you especially know you shouldn’t have these feelings about another human being violent enough to be capable of taking a life – inebriated or not. You’re grown now and know the man he killed was a scum-of-the-Earth child predator, and secretly you’ve always wondered if there was more to the story than Joel told the police in the official court transcripts you’d read as an adult, maybe even something to do with you since you had been there that day in the repair shop when they met , but you haven’t pressed because you’re sure the whole thing is quite traumatic for Joel and if he ever wants to tell you, you know he will. And more importantly, you don’t really care. Drunken, violent idiot or not, you were already deeply invested and never intended on wavering in that. You’re not sure there’s anything Joel could do to get you to stop loving him and that both terrifies and excites you. 

“Okay, whatcha wanna eat?” you ask, reaching out to rub Joel’s shoulder gently. “Now that you’re free you can have whatever you want! On my mom’s credit card of course. Swear I won’t tell her.”

Joel grins.

“Deal,” he tells you. “I was thinking of a nice steak dinner.”

***

You pull into the fanciest restaurant you can find in the tri-state area and sit down to order a regal, all-American, full three-course steak dinner (though you’re both woefully underdressed – not that you care – though the host gives you a dirty look). All the while, you tell Joel about your major (psychology) and how you want to become a counselor for abused children.

“That’s sort of beautiful, sweetheart,” he tells you with a genuine smile that used to be so hard to coax from him, but now seems to float over to you so easily and gently like a kiss from something as soft as the wings of a butterfly. “Wanting to help defenseless children. You’re kinda like a guardian angel for them, ya know? Damn proud of ya! Also, these mashed potatoes are goddamn delectable!” he exclaims after taking an experimental bite. “Have I mentioned that prison food is shit?”

You smile bashfully and want to tell him that he is your guardian angel (you wonder if he thinks the same of you) and inspiration in a backward sort of way for wanting to help kids in the first place since he was so good at protecting you for the most part (though you obviously don’t believe violence is the correct answer in your line of future work). But kids need protectors. Somehow you know that deep down you forgive him for all of the violence he caused because you would forgive him for anything. And him being proud of you? You don’t think there’s a better feeling in the world than that! You burst with pride. Your real father never said that to you, but Joel doesn’t feel like your father now. He is something different entirely. Something that entirely belongs to you.

“And you’ll meet my boyfriend, Max, tomorrow,” you nod as Joel moves onto the steak and lets out a soft moan at how good it tastes. “He’s heard a lot about you.”

Joel’s face flattens.

“And who is this kid exactly?” he sneers a little, attacking the steak with his knife. 

You smile internally at the obvious jealousy he’s trying to hide from his voice.

“Hey, Max is a decent guy!” you insist in his defense. “He’s pre-law. Real smart. He’s gonna be an important person someday, I know it. You’ll get on.”

That last part is a bit of a lie since you’re not sure the two will actually like each other. 

Joel examines your face, looks deep into your eyes.

“All I know is, just because someone is important, don’t mean they’re good to you or for you for that matter.” 

You can’t help but think of your father, the most “important” man you know and how much of a degenerate he is compared to someone ostensibly average like Joel who didn’t even have a status symbol like a college degree and how perfect of a man you think he is, despite his obvious flaws. You blush a little, scrunching up your nose. 

“Just lookin’ out for you, sweetheart,” he continues, smiling at the way you do. “He ever fuck with you – he ever break your heart, you know just where to send him, alright?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you grin. “Don’t need you getting any more jail time though, alright?” “You may have made a valid point,” he concedes with a smirk. 

***

When you two enter your shitty, one-bedroom apartment it’s already dark outside. Joel actually grins when he notices his and your guitars have both been mounted on the wall. 

“We can play ‘em tomorrow,” you tell him excitedly. “If you want to, I mean…”

“Hell yeah, I do,” Joel smiles. “Wanna hear ya singing for me, honey. I missed that.”

You smile to yourself.

“You can have my bed, and I’ll take the couch,” you decide, getting back to business. 

“No way, babygirl. I ain’t taking your bed.”

“Joel, you’ve literally been on a prison mattress for eight fucking years! Can’t imagine that’s been very comfortable.”

“That’s exactly why I won’t mind the couch. That’ll feel like heaven to me. Don’t want you messin’ up your back, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth, but Joel beats you.

“And that’s that,” he insists. 

“Alright, alright,” you concede, knowing by the look on his face he’s not budging. If one thing, Joel has always been stubborn, but you like that about him. “D’you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Actually, baby, if ya don’t mind, I’d like a quick shower. Been dreaming about taking a real, private one for ages.”

“Yeah, of course!” you nod, motioning toward your bathroom door. “Towels are under the sink.”

Joel makes his way inside and soon steam is billowing out the bottom of the door. 

You busy yourself with some homework, but just as you walk past the door to grab a glass of water, you think you hear Joel singing.

You listen more closely over the fall of the running water and make out him singing the chorus of an old ABBA song with a deeper, sadder tone to it,

♪ “ Slipping through my fingers all the time / I try to capture every minute / The feeling in it / Slipping through my fingers all the time / Do I really see what's in her mind? / Each time I think I'm close to knowing / She keeps on growing / Slipping through my fingers all the time…” ♫

You feel like such a sap, but you feel a tear forming in your eye at the way Joel must be thinking about his and your relationship and everything he missed in your life. You aren’t mad at him, but his absence hurt in a way you didn’t know you could feel. And you’ve never blamed him, really, but the lack of him for eight years of milestones really did kill a piece of you. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly at the bottom of your stomach with its wings pulled off. That’s how you felt all that time without Joel – like a butterfly without wings. A writhing worm of a human being, senseless and lost in a giant world full of forces you couldn’t control. 

You listen to Joel’s beautiful, deep voice until you hear him turn off the tap and you scurry away and act innocent. 

Joel emerges from the bathroom then with nothing but a white towel around his waist, steam from the shower floating lazily into the room behind him like precession. And oh, wow, is he ever a sight to behold. His hair is wet, dark brown flecked with grey, and starting to get curly from the moisture. You also can’t help but notice his broad chest, the expanse of it, the dark curls of hair, his bulking, muscular tattooed arms, his soft, hairy tummy, the V-shape of muscle that descends beneath the towel, his happy trail. You are overwhelmed by the soaking beauty of him. You’d seen Joel shirtless before, sure, but it had never felt like this . 

“Gon’ grab some of those clothes you bought for me and then maybe we could watch something?” Joel asks as you try so fucking hard not to stare at him.

“Sure!” you squeak, staring down at your notebook at the kitchen counter. 

You think you see a smirk from Joel, but you're not sure because your gaze is averted as he grabs some clothes to change into and disappears back into the bathroom.

When he reemerges, dressed in a wifebeater and shorts that accentuate his form, you two sit next to each other on your cushy sofa and surf the TV for something to watch. You feel Joel’s hairy knees against your jean-clad one and your heart flutters.

“Can’t believe I’m really here,” Joel says softly as you pass re-runs of Full House, a dog show. “Like I gotta fuckin’ pinch myself to know it’s not a dream.”

Suddenly you feel a large, weathered hand on your cheek.

“Missed you so much, babygirl,” he murmurs, looking into your eyes, massaging the line of your jaw ever so lightly, trying to hold your skittish gaze. “More than I even have words for.”

First, you avoid looking at him a bit bashfully, but then you stare up cautiously into those big brown eyes that feel like a familiar kind of home and you’re such a goner. You lean into his warmth, the warmth of his hand.

“Missed you too, Joel. So much,” you admit, never wanting this moment to end or him to let go of you. “More than anything.”

He leans forward a little and for a second you think…but then he’s leaning in and planting a heavy kiss on your forehead. A kiss that has weight to it – not those soft, weak ones that Max gives you haphazardly when he’s drunk or high – the only time he’s brave enough to be vulnerable with you. This kiss says something, means it so sincerely too. 

“Love you, honey,” he tells you. Then his face falls. “Sorry I…wasn’t quite there to say that to you enough in person.”

“It’s okay, Joel. I forgive you,” you insist. “I love you so much, dummy. More than you even know!”

But you truly do appreciate the sentiment. 

***

You settle on an old, black and white classic, Paper Moon, that’s playing on the TV Land channel.

Joel wraps a big arm around you and you snuggle close. You’re pretty sure there isn’t a better feeling in the world than being this close to him. Even after all these years he still smells like Joel; like home (and, if you’re being honest, a bit like your vanilla shampoo) .

You lean against him, your cheek pressing into one of his firm pecs. You begin to feel sleepy, drunk on the steady sound of his heartbeat, alive and beating against you and really here . 

You nod off.

***

At first, you don’t believe it, but you feel someone with strong, firm arms lifting you into the air, cradling your back and the insides of your knees in a bridal-style carry. The movement wakes you, but you don’t open your eyes because the safety and security you feel is too good to give up. Joel carries you to your bedroom and lays you down gently in your bed. You’re still in day clothes and shoes so Joel takes off your worn sneakers with a feather-light touch and places them at the foot of the bed – you can tell from the soft thumps it makes. He maneuvers you so tenderly under the covers and tucks you in with love and care. You wonder the last time someone did that for you and pull up a blank. If anyone ever did that for you it was probably Joel. Maybe your mom did when you were really young. Certainly your father nor Aiden ever did – your father hadn’t liked to touch you except out of anger – kind of like you had some kind of weird, contagious disease. Aiden’s hands had almost always hurt too, but not Joel’s – never his. 

He breaks you from your thoughts by pressing another kiss to your forehead. Your eyes are still closed so you aren’t sure, but you think he watches you for a second and lets out a long sigh. 

Then you hear your bedroom door close softly so as not to disturb you. You smile, you can’t help it, and drift back off into a peaceful sleep.

***

You wake up to a mumbling, grunting sort of sound. You look over at your clock and read 3:42 a.m. You sit up. You can kind of hear some muffled noises coming from outside your room. At first, you feel a little concerned – like maybe Joel is in pain or something as he is the only one who could be making the noises. The walls in your apartment are paper-thin. Like you could hear him sneeze clear as day if he were to because sound travels through the shitty walls so easily. You should have told him that. But what the fuck is he doing up at 3 a.m.? 

You creep (and you mean creep) silently to the door of your bedroom and open it the tiniest crack. The way your apartment is laid out, the back of the sofa is the first thing you see and the back of Joel’s head about six feet away. He doesn’t sound in pain the way he’s groaning and then you understand exactly what he’s doing. Of course the man is jerking off! After being in prison, stuck around people for so long of course he wanted a good, private wank. He isn’t looking at anything from what you can tell, no magazines or anything. Must be using his imagination. You wonder what he’s thinking about, if he’s gotten good at that over the years.

You should turn around, slink back into bed, and cover your ears with a pillow so the man can have some privacy. But, fuck, the way he’s grunting. His voice is so fucking deep and sexy and then he lets out a soft, vulnerable moan and you feel heat envelope your whole body. You think you hear a soft fuck roll off his tongue and your heart almost beats right out of your chest. You can hear the lewd slapping of his fist on skin getting louder and more intense. Then you hear a soft take it, fuck. And Jesus, you are so fucking wet between your thighs. You ought to be ashamed. Instead, you reach down your hand feverishly beneath the band of your jeans and soaking underwear instinctively to stroke yourself ever so slightly. You sigh in relief, but you are fucking gushing, your fingers covered in your slick. You can’t see anything besides the back of Joel’s head, technically, so this couldn’t be that wrong, could it? He lets out a soft groan, you can tell he’s holding back so as not to be heard, but the desperation in the pathetic little noises this hulking man is making is turning on every switch inside you. Oh how you want to go over there and take him in your mouth, to taste him. God you are so fucked up! You’re still touching yourself gently, not really fully going at it yet, considering the possibilities that could follow if you went over there. But before you can decide to do anything, Joel positively whines, moans, and grunts fuck, unh, and you think but aren’t sure, babygirl, and finishes.

You stop dead still in what you’re doing. Did he really say “babygirl” or was that just your horny-ass imagination playing tricks on you? You’ve never heard Joel call anyone babygirl except you. Was he really thinking of you? On the one hand, if true, mega fucked up. On the other, wow, incredibly hot. You think about going over there and asking him to finish you off or something as crazy as in all those dumb romance novels you used to read in middle school, but just as quickly as the idea comes to you, you hear another noise: loud snoring. Joel is asleep.

Typical.

You snort to yourself. That was so quintessentially Joel. You don’t want to disturb him now. The moment has passed. And only then is when you remember you have a fucking boyfriend. 

That doesn’t stop you from closing your door softly, crawling back into bed, and reaching your hand down beneath your panties to touch yourself. You stroke your clit, imagining it is Joel’s rough hand rubbing against you. Holy fuck. You haven’t been this wet since you used to touch yourself thinking about him in the past. It’s like he can reach every part of you, every layer in a way that no one else can. You know the whole thing is so fundamentally fucked up, but you can resist sinking into your favorite fantasy. The smell, the touch, the feel of him. You imagine the noises he was making so beautifully on the couch, feel heat coil through your entire body, and immediately cum hard without even sticking a finger inside yourself. 

The pleasure you feel is so unparalleled and real you have to cover your hand with your mouth not to scream out your powerful orgasm. 

Sweat drenches your whole body as you come down. 

God, you are so fucked.

***

The next morning you wake up to the wafting smell of someone cooking eggs. You emerge from your room a little sheepishly from last night’s events to find Joel behind the kitchen counter making eggs and toast. 

“Mornin’, babygirl,” he grins, his eyes shining like he’s excited about something.

And then you realize: that something is you.

You grin back.

“Good morning, Joel,” you beam at him.

You were so afraid things would feel awkward after what you heard last night, but nothing ever feels awkward with Joel. In some ways, he’s still just your average dorky, friendly old ex-stepdad, convicted felon. In other ways, everything about him sets your heart on fire, but it would be stupid to ruin what you have with him because you think it’s remotely possible he might be interested back. You know this is dramatic, but if he flat-out rejected you, you think you might die. Truly. Like those butterflies inside you would beat their wings so hard they’d burst your heart.

“‘Membered you liked ‘em poached,” he nods, breaking you from your thoughts. 

He scoops two poached eggs onto one of your plates and grabs a piece of toast from the toaster which he smears with butter like how you used to eat toast as a kid. You can’t believe he remembered.

“Thanks so much,” you tell him.

He grabs a few eggs and toast for himself and sits beside you at the counter. 

“Nice to be able to cook me ‘n you some real food,” he remarks. “If I eat one more cup o’ noodles in my lifetime I swear to God Almighty…” he trais off.

He’s looking at you like you put the goddamned sun in the sky. Your heart melts as you stare at his features, the faint curls in his hair. Oh, how you want to reach out and touch him. But that just isn’t how you operate. You won’t ruin what you already have.

The butterflies in your chest howl. 

***

` You lay out the day’s schedule to Joel. You have plenty of time to hang about (you see him eyeing the guitars), and then you need to go shopping for some actual clothes for Joel since the things you brought for him don’t constitute a proper wardrobe. Then you will go out to dinner and meet Max. 

Joel grunts a nod at that last part. He doesn’t seem too thrilled.

“Wanna show me what you’ve been playing?” he asks hopefully as he gets up to put both of your plates in the sink,

“‘Course!” you nod enthusiastically. “Max says I need to work on my fingerpicking so I can’t promise it’ll be all that good.”

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Show me what you’ve got.”

***

You sit down on the couch right next to Joel, each of you holding your respective guitars in hand, across your laps. 

Joel looks ecstatic to have his guitar back in his hands. He fiddles with the tuning and finger-picks a faint melody.

“Haven’t played one since the prison band. But then some dumb motherfucker clobbered another sorry son of a bitch to death with a saxophone so that ended our music privileges,” Joel explains. 

“Jeez,” you reply.

Joel is sitting so close you can feel his body heat. You just want to hear him sing, but he insists on hearing you.

“Joel,” you try as innocently as possible. “D’you remember how to do an A-flat? I forget and I need it for my song.”

“Sure, baby. Lemme help ya. Now put one finger on this bit of the 4th fret here,” he begins, snaking a big arm around your shoulders so he can maneuver your fingers to the correct position. 

His touch is electric. He feels so good and warm. You feel the intense urge to climb into his lap and embrace and stay there forever. His big caloused hand full of scars places your fingers correctly for the chord. The same hand that must have jerked himself to completion last night…You can’t help but wonder how much cum there was…The truth is, you know how to make an A-flat. You just wanted to feel him.

He backs away and you whine internally at the loss.

“There we go,” he says soothingly, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “That one can be tricky. Now where is my performance?”

Your nerves are squirming around inside you but you begin to play and sing to the best of your ability. 

You look into Joel’s eyes.

♪“ You've got a heart on fire / It's bursting with desire / You've got a heart filled with passion /  Will you let it burn for hate or compassion?” ♫ you sing. 

Joel watches you intently, sitting up straighter. 

♪ “What's the point with a love / That makes you hate and kill for? ♪

You sing as best and as seriously as you can. You look up and think you maybe see a tear in Joel’s eye.

When you finish, it’s clear Joel is finding it hard to select the right words to convey what he’s feeling. 

“I–” he tries. “That was…well, let me just show you how I can answer that if anyone ever could to a performance as beautiful as that.”

You blush. 

He begins to finger-pick a familiar tune, Instantly, you are transported back to eight years old in the back of Joel’s old pickup truck, listening to one of his many cassette tapes. It’s “I’ll Never Find Another You” by The Seekers. The original version of the song is pretty happy and upbeat, but the way Joel sings it slowly in his deep and weathered voice makes you feel sad and achy inside. The emotion behind his voice is palpable.

♪ “But if I should lose your love, dear / I don't know what I'd do / For I know I'll never find another you / Another you / Another you…” ♫ he trails off.

It’s your turn to tear up a little. It’s crazy to know he means every word he’s singing too. He sings like every word is his last breath. When he finishes you are crying a little.

“You oughta record an album,” you sniffle, leaning into his shoulder, throwing him a side hug.

“Wanted to be a singer,” he replies with a small grin, leaning his head against yours. “Back when I was young.” 

You sit back up straight.

“You did? I never knew that.”

“Don’t tell nobody really,” Joel replies, looking a bit sad you left his immediate proximity. “Just a stupid dream ‘n all that crap.”

“‘S not stupid,” you tell him. “You really have a beautiful voice, Joel. It’s like if I could take it, hold on to it, and keep it forever in my chest pocket next to my heart, I would.”

“That’s where I keep you, baby,” he tells you honestly.

He reaches up a big hand to yours and guides your own to place it right on his heart over his plaid shirt. You can feel it beating steadily below your palm to the rhythm of something as delicate and ferocious as the beating of butterfly wings.

“Right here.”

***

You take Joel shopping. At his insistence it is nothing fancy, just the local department store. That doesn’t stop you from dressing Joel up in ridiculous outfits of your choosing. You make him try on a Hawaiian shirt, some golf polos like your dad liked to wear, a pinstripe suit and he lets you because saying no to you has never been in his vocabulary. He acts grumpy on the outside, but you can tell he is amused. You know in the end, you’ll just end up buying every flannel shirt and jeans combo they have in the store, but it’s just fun anyway. You watch the fabric hug his torso, his tummy, the slight bulge at his waist. At one point he comes out shirtless and you try very hard not to swoon as you stare at the hair lining his chest and his adorable little tummy that you for some reason have the urge to bite. The band of his Hanes boxers sticks up past his jeans and he looks so good. He even lets out a genuine smile. The middle-aged sales attendant who is helping you even takes a good look at him which makes the butterflies inside you swarm possessively. 

Finally, you make him try on a proper white-collared button-down shirt and black dress pants with matching black shoes and he looks so good you’re actually at a loss for words when he asks you what you think. They hug the curves and lines and planes of his body so nicely. All you can do is ask him to put on a black tie to match and he does at your behest following some customary griping that he would never wear such a monkey suit in the first place. The effect that a fully dressed-up Joel has on you is not one to be reckoned with. He might as well be wearing the men’s version of lingerie for how it makes you throb and ache between your legs. He looks like a force of nature, commanding and tall. It makes you weak. All you say is,

“Looking good, old-timer.”

He snorts.

When you finally ditch all the fun clothes and grab the essentials, Joel offers to go pick up the car while you pay. He tries to give you his eight-year-old credit card, but you insist on treating him on the condition he buys the “monkey suit.” After a bit of prodding, he gives in and you go to the sales attendant to pay at the counter. 

“Your dad is really cute,” the sales attendant giggles to you as she rings up the pile of clothes. 

Your cheeks go a bit red. You don’t really care enough to correct her.

“He’s my guy,” is all you say absentmindedly as you fish out your wallet from your purse.

The sales attendant hands you the receipt and on it, you see a scrawled phone number.

“For If he’s single,” she explains. “I’m Barb from sales.”

You look her over. She’s close to Joel’s age and conventionally pretty with long brown hair. The exact kind of woman Joel should be dating should he choose to get back in the game. Your stomach twists and the butterflies howl inside you.

You take the receipt, thank her, and join Joel back in the car (who is more than happy to be driving this time). 

“What took so long?” he asks casually. “You two writing a novel in there?”

You think seriously about what you should do. You consider letting the bugs have their way and tearing the receipt with Barb’s number on it to shreds. But you want good things for Joel. The chance of you two ever being together the way you wish is so far-fetched that you know you shouldn’t even be thinking it. A literal pipe dream. He was your stepdad for christsakes. He literally fucked your mother! (Gross!). Barb is exactly the kind of woman Joel should be going after if he’s up to dating right now. You hand him the receipt begrudgingly. 

“Sales Lady likes you,” you sat flatly. “Name is Barb.”

“Oh,” he says softly like he’s a bit flattered. 

He looks back at her through the glass door of the store and she waves at him. He waves back politely. You feel your stomach twisting into knots. 

“You think…you think you’re gonna call her?” you finally ask as casually as humanly possible, dreading the answer. 

Joel looks over at you, his gaze sweeping over you. Then looks back at Barb through the window. He looks her up and down.

“Nah,” he says with a smirk, looking back at you. “She ain’t my type. Only need one girl in my life right now anyways,” he winks.

Was that Joel flirting? With you?

Regardless, you smile back and then sigh in relief and grin to yourself as you two drive away. 

Much to your satisfaction, Joel crumples up the receipt and throws it out the window for good measure. 

***

You get ready for dinner, to go to a nice Mexican-Japanese fusion restaurant that Max picked out. You wear a red dress that accentuates your figure and matching heels and to your shock, Joel reemerges from the bathroom in the white button-down shirt and black dress pants you picked out for him (you had been sure flannel would be part of his ensemble). God, he looks good. A part of you wants to ditch Max and just stay here with Joel forever. He looks you over, his dark eyes sweeping over your frame. You think there is a tinge of possessiveness in his voice when he says,

“ Christ, you look beautiful, babygirl.”

***

You arrive before Max and sit down at the fancy white table-cloth-covered table next to Joel, a booth facing you. Max finally makes an appearance a half hour late and sits down across from you, sweeping his hair out of his face, sliding into the booth. Joel is frowning and the butterflies beat their wings inside you nervously.

“Sorry I’m late,” Max announces, puffing out his chest a little and smoothing out his collared shirt as he looks down at his watch and then over at Joel. “Hey, baby,” he says to you. Then, “And, uh, nice to meet you. Joe, was it? Heard a lot about you.”

“Joel,” Joel replies flatly, eyeing Max.

Max is a good-looking guy, everyone says so, but he looks more like a little boy than you’ve ever thought as he squirms uneasily in his seat under Joel’s unrelenting gaze and launches into a tirade about his frat’s inter-mural lacrosse team practice and how his team should have totally won the scrimmage and that’s why he’s late. And of course, he was the one to score the most goals.

“And the taxi cab driver was a nightmare. Only spoke Spanish. It’s like, if you come to this country speak fucking English, am I right?”

You notice Joel’s jaw tighten and his fingers clench. 

“Max, that’s so rude!” you tell him, frowning. “We’re at a fucking Mexican restaurant!”

“Anyway,” Max continues, rolling his eyes at the interruption like he barely even heard you, smirking. “Where’d you go to school? What do you do for work, Joel?  Besides making license plates, I mean. Kidding!” he insists as you stare daggers at him. 

Joel leans forward ever so slightly but you slip your leg over his to hold him back and he calms down a fraction. It’s like when you touch him, everything tense in him melts away. 

Joel sits up straighter in his chair and looks at you, stretching his arm across the back of your seat protectively like it’s a casual thing and not an unconscious sign of possessiveness.

“I’m a mechanic,” he grunts unceremoniously to Max. “I mean, I was anyways…Didn’t go to school.”

Max frowns ever so slightly. 

“You didn’t go to college? You must’ve gone to trade school at least?”

“Nope. Picked up what I know over the years. Not everyone gets a free ride from their parents,” Joel smirks.

“Free ride?” Max snaps. “I’ll have you know I spend every summer interning at a law firm!”

“Yeah, your dad’s,” you can’t help but snicker.

Max’s cheeks turn a bit pink.

“At least I’m not a psych major,” he shoots back. “I mean, no offense, babe!”

“What’s wrong with psychology?” Joel snarls, his eyes darkening. “You ought to be proud to have such a thoughtful and intelligent girl like Y/N studying such a topic.”

It’s your turn for your cheeks to go pink. 

“Joel–”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Max sneers. 

That makes you feel a bit better. 

“I’m just saying, she could have inherited the second-best law firm in the tri-state area from her pops if she was pre-law like me,” he smirks.

Your smile fades, used to hearing this kind of shit from him. He knows you and your father don’t get along at all, but not the full extent of it. He also knows you don’t have an interest in pre-law. But you swallow down how you really feel.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you tell him, placing a hand down on his thigh.

It’s not that you enjoy the way Max has been talking to you, but you are so used to it from the men in your life that it feels like the common denominator must be you. And sometimes it feels like maybe they have some kind of point. And fighting back only makes things worse. You’ve learned that over the years the hard way.

“It’s not fine!” he snaps like he’s trying to get you to see sense, looking deeply insulted on your behalf. Your heart thunders in your chest. “This boy has never worked an honest day in his life and he’s telling you what you ought to be doing? Bet his hands are soft as a baby’s ass. He doesn’t know shit about you, babygirl.”

You may not know the hardship of labor that Joel has taken on in his life, but your hands are not smooth. They are full of scars. And Joel is right. Max’s are soft like silk. You look down at the most prominent, ugly scar on your middle finger. You don’t even know which man in your life gave it to you. But you do know it means something. Shows you survived something. Survived your stupid father too, not that Max seems to care.

But Max never loses. 

“Whatever,” he smirks dismissively. “Sorry I’m not some, like, common blue-collar worker. But I guess I should be taking advice from someone who became a fucking convicted felon ‘cause they drank too much one night,” he shrugs with a terrible sneer.  

You know it’s over then.

But Joel surprises you. Doesn’t immediately strangle Max like you thought he might. Simply stands up tall and silent over Max’s frame which has suddenly begun to shake ever so slightly in obvious fear, his blue eyes widening. Joel’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides. 

“Wouldn’t mind them sendin’ me right back in, ” Joel growls low. “Drunk or not.”

You shiver and Max positively cowers. 

“Got something to say? Don’t wanna take it outside?” Joel leers, smirking ever so slightly at the trembling boy before him. “I’d even let a little boy like you take the first swing.”

“Your stepdad’s a freak, Y/N,” Max stammers, not taking his eyes off of Joel. 

“Joel, it’s fine, okay?” you growl, not wanting him to actually hurt your boyfriend. Let alone in public! “Shouldn’t talk about Joel like that though, Max! Jesus!”

“Babe, I’m sorry, okay?” Max tries, eyeing back and forth between you and Joel. “I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t get what you see in him with a real Dad like yours! Your dad has so much to give you!”

Look out for you? So much to give you? What could he possibly give besides a stupid law firm and two black eyes? 

Max looks a bit desperate. Him apologizing for anything is actually a new concept for you. Your heart twitches ever so slightly. He must actually like you a lot. But Joel would never do anything to hurt you if it was in his power. At least not intentionally, unlike your real father. 

“That’s it. I’m leaving,” Joel snarls moodily, turning around. “Don’t want to do things I might regret to Mr.Future-Corporate-Lawyer over here. Have fun with him .”

Joel looks deeply hurt. Like you are choosing Max over him or something. That’s never what this has been about, has it? Doesn’t Joel know you’d do anything for him? That the hurt on his face hurts you more than anything you’ve ever felt. Ever.

“Joel, wait!” you decide and disappear after him, leaving Max behind at the table.

“Babe, what the fuck!?” Max yells, but you don’t care. “Come back here!”

***

You ride back in silence, Joel’s hands turning white against his grip on the steering wheel. 

When you break through to the front door of your apartment, Joel finally snaps, the anger on his face directed at something that feels like you for the first time in your life.

“You really love that little son of a bitch, don’t you?” he sneers, uncharacteristically harshly towards you. 

“So what if I did?” you shoot back, a little shocked. “It’s none of your business, Joel. What the fuck?”

“It is so my business,” he snaps back. “That kid is no good for you, Y/N. He doesn’t understand you. You deserve someone much better than that who will actually go to the ends of the earth for you. He wouldn’t do anything for you.”

There is a desperation and vulnerability in Joel’s words and tone that you’re not sure you’ve heard before. He sounds like he had been waiting the whole car ride to say this, maybe even his whole life. You aren’t sure.

“Max does give a shit about me,” you try to convince yourself, getting angrier. “I mean at least he was there for me while you were gone.”

Joel flinches.

“How do you know what’s so good for me and what’s not when you dipped out of my life for eight years?” you continue harshly. “Because why? It wasn’t because you were drunk, was it? It was because you couldn’t control your anger. You never could.”

He stares at you.

“I controlled it for you,” Joel says so quietly you almost miss it. “ You are the only reason I did any of it.”

“What?” you stammer, not sure you want to hear more. “W-what do you mean, Joel? Any of what?”

A million thoughts begin to run through your mind, but you push them aside. Theories about the case and your ideas of Joel’s true nature all threaten to drown you but you push them away.

“Do you want to know why I really killed that sick son of a bitch?” Joel asks dangerously after a long moment of silence. You stare at him, your body frozen. He looks down at his hands, flexing them like he can still feel them punching or around that disgusting man’s throat. “Why I killed him all those years ago? It was no accident, I’ll give you that. Manslaughter, my ass. I killed that scum of the Earth because he threatened you . To do terrible things to you with those disgusting hands of his. So I broke each one, but it wasn’t enough. I killed him because I didn’t want you to get hurt and because I didn’t want you to live in fear of him. I was tired, Y/N. Tired of being afraid for you in a world that doesn’t let you do shit except fight back. I loved you so much, Y/N, it hurt me. It scared me, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. I’d die before I let anyone hurt you again, not him, not your father, not Max, not anyone. You have to understand. I love –” 

And then it’s all over. You’re not sure who moves first, but you think it might be you. The butterflies are rustling and thundering and screeching inside you and you kiss him. And Joel kisses back, devouring your mouth in his. You grab the back of his graying brown hair and pull him as close to you as you think is humanly possible. He cradles the back of your head so gently you almost lose your breath. And you are kissing and kissing and kissing and kissing. There is nothing else in the universe except this kiss. You have never felt anything like this in your life. It is like every butterfly inside you has gone silent. It is like the world has stopped just for you and something new is forming inside you.

Joel killed that vile man for you. To keep you safe. Like he always said or showed that he would. He gave his life away for you. He did the unspeakable for you.

He bites down on your bottom lip and all your brain can manage to coherently think is: more, harder .

But then Joel is breaking away from you slowly.

NO! your heart cries out, the delicious pleasure and pain draining away from you. The butterflies swarm dangerously inside your chest, worse with every inch he travels from your lips.

“Joel,” you whine. “What? You…you don’t want–”

“Don’t even say that, Y/N,” he growls dangerously. “Of course I want you. How could I not? I have spent my entire life wanting you in some capacity, baby, but I ain’t no good for you either, alright? I…” he says slowly like it takes every inch of his body to agree to say this. “I am not a good man, Y/N. I never have been. I’ve done wrong in every chapter of my life. You deserve someone much better. I don’t want to hurt you. Physically or mentally. Our history… The damage I’ve done…” he trails off.

“You don’t understand,” you swallow, tears forming in your eyes. “You have already loved and hurt me more than any human being on planet Earth. And yet somehow there is nothing you could do that would keep me away from you, don’t you get that? The Joel Miller I love is not a good man and I don’t care. I want all of you. All of the pretty and crooked pieces you try to hide away from me. You killed a man with your bare hands, arguably one of the worst things a human can do, and I don’t care. I still want you, Joel. Maybe even more because of it. No one has ever loved me the way you do and that is the love I want and it terrifies me.”

A single tear falls down Joel’s right cheek. You reach up to wipe it away, but Joel grabs your hand on the way reflexively, so you help him wipe his own tears away. 

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I would move the Earth for you,” Joel whispers back.

“I know,” you nod. “I’ve always known. I–”

But he is kissing you again before you can say another word, like a man starved. You hold onto his cheeks, your fingers caressing his stubbly beard. 

“ Joel,” you whine when you break for air.

“I wanted this so badly,” he says softly, grinning a lopsided grin. “Can’t believe this is real.”

“Me too,” you giggle.

You have to lean up a bit, but you press your forehead to his gently.

“Oh, baby,” Joel smirks. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, ya know that? You like

it when I go a little rough, honey?” he smirks down at you in satisfaction, reading your mind.

You have to stop yourself from getting lost in the warm pools of his brown eyes, your panties soaked.

He reaches an affectionate hand down to rub your side softly.

“This okay, babygirl?” he coos, massaging his hand down your torso.

“I’d let you do anything to me, don’t you know?” you snicker. “Pain or pleasure, it’s all the same to me. I like all of that. I just want you so bad.”

“Think a safe word is in order,” Joel grins, leaning down to kiss your neck. “How about ‘butterflies?’” you suggest. 

“Sounds good to me, baby,” he grins, looking genuinely happy for the first time in hours. 

He leans down and places a calloused hand around your throat, not squeezing (yet – you hope) and plants soft kisses and bites down your expanse of skin. 

“All mine,” he mutters into your skin. “My beautiful babygirl.”

You feel his erection pressing against you through his black dress pants which makes you moan softly.

His hand trails over your crotch and he starts rubbing over the tight fabric of your red dress.

“That okay?”

“Yes,” you whine. “Want more, Daddy.”

Oh shit. You don’t mean to say it like that! You know it is about ten levels of fucked up to call Joel that, but how is it your fault that in every fantasy that’s how you think of him? You figure you’re probably past the point of weird and every other standard of decency, but you’re still afraid.

“Sorry…” you mumble. “I–”

“No, no, baby,” Joel says quickly. “It’s alright, you can call me whatever you want. I don’t mind, sweetheart.”

“You think it’s weird,” you mumble again, further stupid tears forming in your eyes.

He snickers. 

“Baby, I think we’re beyond weird at this point. Let me show you how turned on it makes me.”

Joel takes your hand and places it on his crotch. He takes your left hand, the one with the scar and you cringe a little, but he is rock-hard.

That’s good because you’re positively drenched.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Daddy likes that more than you know, alright?”

You take your hand back, smiling, but you cover your scarred finger, shocked he will allow this fantasy for you.

“Whatcha hidin’ from me, baby?” he asks, noticing the positioning of your hands.

“I hate that scar on my finger. ‘S so ugly,” you admit.

Joel looks flabbergasted. 

“That’s the last damn thing I think of when I look at you. Ugly? Who in the fuck told you that?”

“How it got there is ugly. It’s marred skin, looks gross,” you mumble.

Joel moves to take out his cock, and when you nod he unzips and unbuttons his dress pants, pulling out his length. You have fantasized about his cock for god knows how long so you are more than excited to see it. He reaches to place your left hand with the scarred fingers around the length of his dick, which is thick, but longer than you expected. The leaking head is almost purple and your mouth begins to water as you stroke him gently.

“It’s part of you,” Joel tells you, his eyes connecting with yours. “I love it. It shows you survived. Gonna jerk off to it, Daddy loves it so much. And when I’m done you’re gonna love it too. Swear I’ve got so many over the years I can barely even count ‘em. Even got a few on my middle finger. Maybe even one from a certain guitar pick you made me. Nothing like that could ever make me stop wanting you, ya know that, right?”

You smile and take your time stroking him, wanting to show him how much you love and care for him, scars and all.

He grunts softly, closing his eyes, but then shoos your hand away with a feverish kind of want. 

“Yeah, touch yourself now, baby. Daddy wants to see how wet you are for him. With that scarred finger. C’mon, now. ‘S gonna make you feel so good.”

You do as you’re told and reach down underneath your dress and begin to touch yourself, especially with your middle finger. You stroke your clit and then your dripping wet slit. You moan softly as Joel’s eyes rake over you, taking in every sigh and groan you emit. The butterflies are forming something big inside you, which presses against the inside of your tummy and ribcage.

“Daddy,” you whine.

“Enough, little one,” Joel whispers. 

He takes out your hand and begins to suck the slick off of each of your fingers, groaning deeply, making intense eye contact the whole time.

“Fuck, angel,” he moans, having a tough time keeping himself together, you can tell. “Taste and smell better than like how I pictured. Like you were fuckin’ made for me, I swear.”

He reaches a hand of his own down to stroke himself and his moans become more desperate. Finally, he sucks on your middle finger covered in your slick and groans so deeply you feel like you might cum untouched. He stares into your eyes. 

“ Mine, ” he growls possessively. “Oh, shit! Gonna–”

Then he takes your left hand and leads it to meet his throbbing cock. You stroke him, harder this time, fisting his thick length, moaning softly and that does it for him.

Joel cums all over your hand, oozing white globs of cum over your fingers, once, twice, three times. 

“Fuuuuuck, babygirl,” he groans. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry! Couldn’t help it. Yeah, suck it off, baby. That’s it,” he commands, and you do, licking up all of his cum, even the part that got on your middle finger. 

When Joel comes down he still looks half-crazed with desire.

“Sorry about the, uh, early release. It’s been a while since anyone touched me,” he babbles in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed pink. “But I don’t wanna hear shit about your gorgeous hands ever again, you hear me, babygirl?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you nod, snickering. 

He looks like that one word has set his entire universe back in order again. You honestly don’t care at how fast Joel came. You love how much it shows he wants you. And his heady taste is making you weak. You could taste him for days and days and never get tired, you’re sure.

“Can still get you off though, don’t worry. Shoulda let you cum first, but I couldn’t help it with the things you do to me. Goddamn. Can Daddy eat your pussy, baby?”

You grin, but then your face falls. 

“Didn’t shave,” you admit, feeling dirty. 

Max hates your hair down there.

Joel looks at you in confusion.

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I care about that? Only little boys give a shit about things like that. Not men.”

You shiver.

“Really?”

“Of course I don’t care. Didn’t ya hear what I just said? C’mon now. You can lie down on the couch.”

You follow instructions, pulling your dress over your head to reveal white lace panties and no bra. 

You move to take the panties off, but Joel stops you, staring at the lines and curves of your body. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls, taking you in.

You think you see his cock twitch ever so slightly. He palms his softening length instinctively.

“Beautiful,” he snarls, pushing you back on the sofa. 

You happily fall backward. 

He lies on top of you, his white button-down shirt pressing against your naked body tantalizingly. 

He bites your lips roughly and you groan against him.

“Daddy’s mouth,” he commands against you.

“Yeah, duh, Daddy,” you snicker.

As if he even needs to say it! 

He kisses down your neck expertly and you begin to shiver and whine, your pussy aching with need and neglect.

He stops at your breasts, sucking and biting each one.

“Daddy’s tits,” he declares, snaking a finger over the lace panties that protect your clit. “Of course,” you respond, moaning softly, grinding needily against him.

He continues lower, licking down your breasts and over your tummy which he plants with kisses that tickle and then one hard bite on your hip that leaves behind teeth marks.

“Daddy’s body,” he impresses upon you.

“Yes, Daddy. Only yours.”

“No more of that little shithead, Max,” he snarls, an inch above your clit.

“No more Max,” you repeat as he presses kisses down your pussy, still covered by soaked white lace panties. 

“Only Daddy.”

“Only you.”

“Good girl,” he growls.

He finally removes your panties and begins to eat and suck your clit and pussy so hard and enthusiastically, swirling his tongue around your bundles of nerves that you grow exponentially closer by the second.

“Joel,” you whine. “Oh my God.”

It doesn’t take long. The second his calloused hand is pressing a finger and then two inside of you it’s over. You were so needy for him that you could have even cum from just his mouth alone, but his hands are what send you over the edge. And something different happens as orgasm crashes down upon you. The butterflies all join together and transform into something bigger and softer, caressing your insides, cooing. It feels like a breathing white dove is spreading its wings inside you, the tips of its feathers brushing against your rib cage. And you cum harder than you ever have in your life. 

Pleasure engulfs you in currents, facilitated by the gentle flapping from deep

inside your body.

“ Joel,” you moan. “Oh my God. Daddy, pleaseee–”

“Please what, baby? Make my princess cum again? I would eat that pretty little clit and

pussy every day for the rest of my life if I could, fuck. God, so perfect and you’re so fuckin’ tight. Look how fucking hard you make me, angel.”

He takes one of your hands and places it on his half-hardening cock. Not going to lie, you are partially shocked at his recovery, but another part of you seems to know that if there was anyone in the universe that could do that to him it had to be you. 

“Never got hard again from anyone I’ve ever fucked before…” he trails off dreamily like he can read your thoughts. “You’re so gorgeous, babygirl.”

“Not so bad yourself, handsome,” you tell him lazily, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth as you pull him closer to you. 

The heat from his body keeps you so warm and tender and for a moment you lie on the couch, Joel’s still-clothed body pressed to yours.

“Can you fuck me, Joel?” you ask, squirming against him needily.

“You can’t say that shit to me, baby,” Joel groans, his cock getting harder. “Not quite ready yet.”

“Lemme help you out,” you offer, pouting. 

You reach down and stroke his half-hard length and then bend over and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock.

Joel swears, staring down at you with so much adoration it pours off his face. No man has ever looked at you like that before. You’re certain. Perhaps no man ever will again? Not like that.

“Shit, baby,” Joel babbles stupidly, his eyes threatening to swallow you up in that beautiful shade of umber. “Never gonna forget this moment,” he grunts as you begin to suck his cock properly, feeling it slowly get hard enough to throb between your lips with each thrust of your head and gluck of your throat. 

You stare up at him, your eyes wide and wanting and Joel lets out a soft, vulnerable moan as you begin to really suck him and take him down the walls of your throat.

“ Unh , babygirl, fuck,” he whines and you have never quite heard Joel so desperate before. “Gotta pull out or I’m gonna cum. Holy fuck.” 

It sounds just like it did the night you accidentally spied on him jerking off. 

“You’ve been thinking about me a lot, huh, Daddy?” you ask, releasing Joel from your mouth like he wanted, though his hips buck forward ever so slightly with desire, the tip of his cock just barely scraping against your mouth. He grunts.

“Maybe so,” he replies, looking a little guilty. “Don’t know how not to these days.”

“Heard you on the couch last night,” you whine yourself. “Had to touch myself ‘cuz of it, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

Joel reaches out a hand to cup your crotch and rub against your slick pussy.

“That’s so fuckin’ naughty, baby,” he groans. “Look how wet that made you. All for me.”

You steal a glance at his cock and find that the tip is weeping too. And he is so fucking big compared to the size of your hand. Fuck!

“You were thinking about me, weren’t you?” you whisper.

“All about you, baby,” Joel nods in agreement, his hips twitching ever so slightly. “‘Bout touching you just like this.”

He slinks two big fingers inside you and you moan deliciously, the feathery wings of the newly-formed dove fluttering against your insides. 

“Gotta stretch you a bit more,” he grunts into your throat, pushing in a third finger. “Daddy’s so big and you’re so tight, angel. Don’t wanna hurt ya. Not too bad at least. Not yet…That’s it, pretty girl, fuck,” he grins when you slide back on his thumb in pleasure which had traveled to the rim of your asshole “Good girl, so good for Daddy. So naughty too. Don’t think Daddy won’t punish you.”

“Want you to hurt me, Daddy,” you moan. “When you fuck me. Please fuck me hard. I want all of you – pain and pleasure. One hundred percent Joel. Joel, please, I need–” 

And Joel does stop for a moment.

“Never hurt you in a way you didn’t beg for,” he tells you seriously. “You know that right, baby?”

You stop your rutting against him and look into his eyes.

“Are you kidding? You would protect me with your dying breath. I know that, Joel. Never been afraid of you since I’ve really known you. Not once. I mean: fuck; you gave up your whole life for me. To keep me safe, for fuckssake. In every word you say and don’t say to me I can feel how much you love me.”

 “I do love you so much, babygirl,” he whispers, nuzzling your forehead. “If I had to, I’d do all of it all over again if it meant I’d get you. I’ve made mistakes, big ones, but protecting you, loving you was never one of them.” 

Warm tears trail down your cheeks, but Joel licks and kisses them away. 

“Wanna feel me inside you?” he asks. “Don’t wanna go too fast, but I need you, baby. Needed you for so long…Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for Daddy, huh? Gonna fit me just like a glove, I just know it — if you wanna…”

“Yes, please, fuck me, Daddy! Please, Joel Wanna feel you—ah!” you moan as Joel shoves his entire length into your pussy in one hard thrust eagerly. “Oh my God, please fuck me harder!” you moan, reeling from the deep blend of pain and pleasure of him sinking inside you, clenching down around the thickness of him. “Joel, please!”

He pauses, sweat glistening on his brow, sneering.

“You really want harder?”

You shiver. The way he says that makes your heart beat wildly in your ears.

“Because babygirl, I would treat you like porcelain if you want it so. I will never hurt you, my angel, my gift from god, my goddamn sweetest heart please know I will break my fucking hands before they would hurt you, before I would ever hurt you in a way that you didn’t want, no matter how much it hurt me. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Joel. But you want it too,” you smirk. “You aren’t innocent in this, are you?”

“Fuck, of course i’m not innocent. I want you, babygirl. In every way there is to want another. Want every inch of you, inside and out. Wanna mark you up so the world knows you’re mine, honey. Want everyone to smell me on you and know I marked you, moved in you, darlin’, please, see, I’m no fucking Hemingway, I didn’t go to college, I’m not like you with words, but I need you to understand that I mean this with my whole chest and heart. Really, I’m not a big talker, never was, babygirl, but I need you to understand I—”

  “I do, you dumbass fucking fool!” you shout, giggling at his desperation. “I’d understand you even if you were speaking another language. You’ve made your intentions loud and clear. I don’t want a Hemingway, I want Joel Miller!”

You pull him in for a kiss and he thrusts in you again a second time and you end up moaning clumsily in his mouth, but you can feel him smiling , smiling like some dumb idiot against you and maybe you called him the correct insult because he is a dumbass fucking fool for you. And it turns out you must be one as well because you are smiling like an idiot for him too.

“ Joel,” you moan as he begins to move inside you, hitting deep places that Max or any of your previous exes never went. Pleasure is tracing itself along the line of your stomach. “Oh my god, I love you so much,” you babble and you’ve never meant that more than you do now.

You can feel Joel coming apart above you, plowing into you, sighing deeply. His grunts and moans and thrusts spur on the intense pleasure. 

“More!” you moan. “Oh my god. Harder, please, I need–”

Joel plants rough bites on your neck and kisses too like he’s trying to consume every inch of you. 

He places a large hand around your throat questioningly and you nod.

“Beg for it,” he commands in his deep, sexy voice — the voice that’s been in every wet dream you’ve ever had. You think you might just pass out from the sound alone. 

“Choke me, Daddy,” you whine as pathetically as you possibly can, batting your eyes. “Oh, please, I could cum from just this, but I want more. More of you. All of you.”

“As you fuckin’ wish, baby,” he snickers in amusement. “Bet no little boy ever fucked you like this, huh?” he growls, continuing his rough pace, slamming against your walls, his eyes growing wild.

“They don’t compare to you, Joel. It’s always been you. In every orgasm. Fuck, never felt like this! Shit! Shit!”

Joel reaches out his large scarred hand and applies gentle delicious pressure to your throat. You know even something like this can be dangerous, but you crave that feral look of violence in his eyes and the power that comes with it. You want him to own you completely – every inch of you. You want him to mark you just like he said he wanted to because he is yours and you are his and has it ever really been any other way? You can’t remember properly from the pleasure rushing through you, the white dove inside you spreading and fluttering its wings, cooing softly. You think it’s only ever been what you feel now.

“Joel, Joel, fuck!” you scream, orgasm building in you.

“I know, babygirl. I know,” he coos himself into your mouth.

He pulls you closer, presses his nose to yours, his lips to yours, biting and kissing like a starving man possessed. He looks into your eyes and it’s there! That look of pure predator closing in on its prey, that look of ownership but also the most intense love you think you’ve ever witnessed. You would recognize that look anywhere. Your starved brain cries out for oxygen beneath his iron grip. 

“Gonna cum again, angel,” Joel growls. “Gonna make you cum so hard you’re never gonna forget who you belong to. Whose pretty pussy this is.”

He is pounding so hard against your cervix and his dick is so big inside you and the pressure of his hand squeezing around you is so overwhelming and the scent of him could make you faint straight then and there, but you let go and feel yourself cumming in enormous waves as you squeeze down around Joel’s prick, the pleasure more intense than any single bodily experience you’ve had.

“ Daddy ,” you whine breathlessly, tears trickling out of your eyes. “Oh my god!”

“You’re mine, babygirl, always have been–FUCK!” he shouts into your throat, collapsing on top of you.

And then you feel him starting to empty himself inside you, painting your sensitive insides with trustful after trustful of hot cum. You’ve never felt so helplessly full and sticky in your life, the brilliant pleasure billowing through every inch of you. You want to feel like this every day, stuffed full of Joel’s cock, so close to him you can feel his heartbeat against yours, the one true place you belong. 

“So beautiful, babygirl,” he whispers in an exhausted type of awe.

When your words come back you reply,

“Shut up, you’re the hot one,” through a snicker. 

You look down at your body, covered in purple bite marks and bruises forming like galaxies across your body. 

Joel snorts. Then he sits up on the couch and you lean your cheek against him. You lean up to kiss his cheek and he blushes ever so slightly.

“I said a lot of stuff, Y/N, but I want you to know that I meant all of it,”

“Yeah, you probably said more in the last hour than you’ve ever uttered in your entire life,” you tease, sitting up.

“I’m serious,” he snickers.

“I am and was too,” you nod. “I’m so glad that you’re here with me — that we did this. I know that our…origin story is weird and unconventional and some might argue straight up wrong, but I need you, Joel. I don’t care about that or think I could go back to pretending to be what we were.”

“You think I’d want you to act like that?” he asks incredulously. “You think I want this to just be a one-time thing?”

“Of course not,” you smirk. “But as close as we are I can’t actually read your mind. I mean…how are we going to be together realistically?”

“I’m not sure,” Joel admits, frowning a little. “For now it has to be a secret unless you want your mother or brother in jail for murdering me this time around. But someday, I dunno. It’s dumb…”

“What?”

“I just have these thoughts sometimes about you ‘n me. I…” Joel’s cheeks turn a bit pink. “Had a lot of time to think in prison, you know? And I’d Imagine us living on a ranch somewhere quiet out in the country with a flock of sheep. I could work at the tractor and auto-body repair shop that’d be out there, you know, in this dream of mine, and you could be a counselor at a local school if that’s what ya wanted. I don’t know, l know it sounds silly, but nobody would know or bother us there. But I want you to finish school and have the best life possible, babygirl. I’d wait a thousand years for you, but if you didn’t want me anymore the way we are now, I’d respect that. And if you’d allow it, I’d still be there for you just in a platonic sense — or just there for you however you want because I can’t imagine my life with you in it. I’d do whatever it takes, brokenhearted or not. I just can’t be separated from you like that again. A day longer in prison and I could’ve keeled over and died. And it’s crazy how much I mean that.”

“I don’t ever want to be separated from you again, Joel,” you agree. “I know the original plan was for you to find work and get an apartment of your own and I would love for that to still happen, but with you being intimate with me in every way – even if it has to be a secret. I don’t pretend to know what the future holds, but I need you in mine. I’ve never needed something more than I need that. Understand?”

Joel pulls you into a hug and leans his chin on the top of your head. He kisses it then your forehead. You lean up and plant a kiss on his throat and then his Adam’s apple.

“Don’t mean to get too ahead of ourselves now. We can take things a day at a time,” he mumbles into your skin.

You yawn contentedly, the tiredness clawing at your eyes, so unbelievably spent.  

“I like hearing about your dreams and I’d go anywhere with you, Joel. But I am kinda dead from how good you just fucked me. Take me to bed?” You ask exhaustedly into his chest.

“Of course, babygirl,” he smirks down at you.

***

You don’t let go of Joel all night long, burrowed up against his chest, his heartbeat against your ear. And he doesn’t let go of you either. After the most intimate night of cuddles and snuggling you’ve ever experienced as well as the deepest and most restful sleep you’ve had in ages, you wake up to Joel gone from the bed. You frown, having wanted more than anything to wake up in his strong arms. Fear grips your insides as you wonder if he finally realized last night was a mistake and that you were never meant to be together in the first place (what you fear more than anything). A stupid vulnerable tear comes to your eye, but then you cock your head and hear music playing. Guitar music. 

You think of your apartment as shitty, but truthfully you care deeply about your little private space and one of the things you do actually love the most about it is the tiny balcony that overlooks a measly courtyard and part of the city. That’s where you find Joel in the deck chair holding his guitar, strumming it lazily.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” he says, fingerpicking a melody that scratches at the back of your mind with familiarity. 

“Morning, handsome,” you tell him softly, plopping your smaller hand down on his shoulder. 

The city hasn’t woken up yet, the soft glow of morning shining beams of light onto you and Joel, filling you with warmth. You sit down in the deck chair next to him, bathing in the sunlight.

“Whatcha playing?” you ask curiously, crouching to sit up on your knees.

“You know the song ‘Hallelujah’ by Leonard Cohen?” Joel asks in that beautifully deep voice of his. 

He isn’t even singing yet but you could listen to him forever. 

“‘Course,” you nod. “It’s a classic. You used to play it for me once in a blue moon.”

“Know what the word ‘Hallelujah’ actually means?” he asks. 

You think about it for a second.

“It’s about praising god and all that, right? Why d’you ask?”

He pauses, both his words and fingerpicking. 

“Babygirl,” he begins and you can tell he’s about to say something serious. “You know I’m not too good with words, but I need you to know this: I’ve never had much to thank god for in my life, except for Sarah, you know? But then He took her away…”

You place your hand on Joel’s and he looks at you sadly, but appreciatively. He flips it over and holds it in his giant paw of his own marked-up hand. 

“And I was so fucking angry. Nothing left in me. The only good part of me gone. I was a broken man. And I hated Him. But then He, despite the shit I’ve done…He gave me you . And I know our road hasn’t been easy or fair, and the pain you’ve felt and I have felt but…I guess what I’m trying to say is you are the reason I believe that any type of…goodness— of holiness— can exist in this universe. And I’m not a religious man, I don’t believe in most of that dogmatic type of shit, and I don’t think you do either, but I do think someone or something is up there and I wanna thank them for you. Does that make sense? Do you wanna hear what I mean? I just feel so damn grateful.”

A tear you hadn’t noticed was there rolls down your cheek. 

“Of course it does and of course I do,” you tell him.

You think perhaps this is the closest thing he can do to bearing his soul to you. 

And then he leans over and kisses the tear away and begins to fingerpick the familiar melody.

♪ “I heard there was a secret chord…”♫

You listen to his deep weathered voice as the sun grows higher in the morning sky, casting both light and shadow over Joel’s wrinkled, handsome face. The light trails over you too. You feel the dove inside you cooing contentedly, dusting its wings gently against the edges of your insides. 

♪There's a blaze of light in every word / It doesn't matter which you heard / The holy or the broken Hallelujah…”♫

When he finishes he places his large, scarred, calloused hand in yours and you hold it between your own scarred fingers.

“Thank you, Joel,” you tell him, meaning every word. “I think there’s hope for us, you know? I don’t believe in hippie-dippie type stuff, but something in this universe did bring us together. And I’ll be forever grateful for that too, ya know?”

Joel squeezes your smaller hand, his big fingers engulfing yours as the dove coos louder inside you.

“Babygirl, you know that I ain’t a good man, or a rich and educated one like maybe you thought you’d end up with, but I am less of a broken one because of you and I’m never letting you go. If we’re together, I think we have a chance.”

A/n:PLEASE COMMENT LIKE REBLOG IM BEGGING IM PLEADING IM CRYING DID THE SMUT LIVE UP TO YOUR DREAMS????

PART 1

PART 3 (coming soon)

Violent Heart Masterlist

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[barbieaemond]

Iron on Silk

Pairings: Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: mild angst at the beginning, definitely angst at the end, smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), choking, fingering, p in v, war dirtytalk.

Word count: 3.2k

Author's note: This was my little gift to you for the Aemondsversary. And it's still a gift now, for thanking you for 500 followers in such a short time since I remade my blog. There's a filthy extra in this filthy piece. Enjoy! :)

MASTERLIST

He wears it proudly. He wears it cruelly. It falls on his head like a halo, holy and dark. Black iron on white silk, and little stars of blood.

The crown is heavy with conquest, with tyranny, with the fire that forged it and the blood shed in its name.

"It looks better on me than it ever did on him."

It is true enough, but it does not make it any less heavy. He hides it well, but you can see it, as if looking down at a thick layer of ice, still and cold, and seeing the raging abyss underneath.

You can hear it in his deep sigh, even more in his short ones, when blinding rage is gaping its jaws to swallow reason.

You can feel it in the way he fucks you every night. Relentless. Ruthless. Merciless.

Hopeless.

Desperate to shake it off, to shake off the burden—the crown's burden, the death's burden. The one he lashed out on his family, the one who took Jaehaerys’ life, and Helaena’s. For Helaena is good as dead.

You tend to her every morning, at least you try. You try to get her to take a bath, to hold Maelor. Maelor, who cries and looks for his mother. Maelor who laughs and looks for his mother. You look at her and see her ghost while she still breathes. You look at the Queen Mother and see a shadow of flesh.

You look at him sitting in the Small Council, wearing iron on silk, and see a crown of thorns piercing through the skull.

“Does it hurt, my love?” you ask in the empty room while he strokes the skin around the sapphire. He mumbles something in return, and you walk to his seat at the end of the table, leaning your low back against it.

“No.” you say quietly “I meant the crown.”

He looks up and just stares at you, jaw clenched to trap words, the storm in his eye bubbling up from the depths.

“I have a war to plot.” He says, and that’s all he’s been saying for days.

“You have done nothing else. You look at your Lords and wait for a stab at your back. You look at our bed and see a battlefield. You lay with me holding a knife to my throat.”

He rests his lean shoulders against the seat and the wrinkles on his forehead unfold. "Tis' the first time I hear you complain about my marital duties." he says tilting his head with a cruel grin "It didn't seem much of a burden when you begged for more right after I spilled in your mouth last night." 

"Must it always come back to duty? If I wanted to spread my legs for a cock to warm me every night, I would've thrived in any brothel of Flee Bottom."

He laughs at this, but it comes out wrong, like a rusted gear, oiled too little. "Such lewd words for a Queen."

“Is that what I am?” You ask with a half-teasing smile “I thought you chose not to style yourself as King.”

“Hmm.” he muses, taking hold of your waist with his long fingers, to pull you to him. “I am wearing the Crown, am I not?”

You lean over him, placing your hands on his shoulders, looking at the sharp black edges cutting the soft white silk, wondering how it could have fallen on his head by mistake when it seems that the Gods have always meant to place it there.

Your back collides against the table and you slowly hop on it, your gaze fixed on him, whose eye widens slightly, mesmerized and thrilled. A rustling of paper fills the room, and he looks at the table and then back at you, lips curling up.

“Those are my war plans.”

“It seems my husband is not capable of talking about anything else these days. Fine, then.” You incline your head, mirroring his smile “Tell me about your war.”

He remains still and quiet for so long, looking at you with that glint you know so well, so much that your chest goes up and down fast, and his hands are not anywhere near you.

But then he stands up, forcing you to raise your chin, and leans over you, slowly, silky hair tickling your chest. “It seems my wife is in need of some warfare lessons.” he whispers, ghosting his lips against yours, and you eagerly part them to kiss him.

“Ah.” he counters, pulling his head back with a sly grin “First, we need to ensure our armies are ready.” his deft and long fingers climb on your corset and he starts to pull harshly at the laces, making you jump twice.

“What if someone enters?” you ask, as shivers run down your back like ice drops.

“Indeed, what if someone enters?” he turns your question around and stops his unlacing, challenge and hunger dance on his lips.

“Then you tell them you are the King and the King can fuck his Queen wherever he wishes to.”

His eye blazes under the candles, and after a moment of trepid silence, he brings both his hands to your corset, and with a swift and strong move he rips it apart.

You fall with your back on the table, your breasts are out, nipples hardening for the cold air and the arousal slowly coiling in your belly. He grabs your ankles and pulls you close to him, making you slide on the table to tie your legs around his waist.

You pull yourself up, holding onto your elbows and frantically reach for his belt but he stops your wrists. “Alreay eager to surrender?” he hums with amusement, eye roaming on your exposed body and the hold on your wrists grows impossibly tight, hurting. “If you were in charge, we would lose the war within a day.”

“Or win it.” you suggest, tightening your legs around him until you feel his hardening crotch, winning a quiet whimper from his throat. “Women could end any kind of war, my King. We own the most powerful weapon.”

“Say it again.” he orders, hands hiking up your skirt until it’s nothing more than a heap of fabric around your waist.

“My King.” You say, shuddering as his long fingers hover on your thighs, almost tickling—a gentle touch born out of so much violence.

“Again.”

“My—King.” The words come out wrong, broken by a soft gasp as his fingers unexpectedly breach your walls. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him go deep inside, deeper than ever, and your mouth falls open.

“You are not so bold about your weapon now, are you?” he asks with a tone ridden with cruel enjoyment.

“Tis’ unfair.” You mumble, resting your head on the table.

“There is no fairness in war, my love.” he says, looking down at your damp flesh and how it clenches endlessly on his hand, and he watches and watches, wetting his lips as if pondering which move to strike on a war map. “It’s best not to be caught…unprepared when you expect an assault from your enemy. Do you know why?”

You whine quietly, biting your lip as he pumps his fingers deeper and deeper and his thumb draws circles on your apex. He does not accept that as an answer, so he slides out, and his large hand grabs your core, fully and almost painfully. “I said, do you know why?”

His tone is demanding, words laced with thunder as he does when commanding the Lords. “Why?”

“Because” he says lessening the grip on you “you give open field for what comes next.”

Air feels scorching in your throat as you look at him, black and silver and blue.

“What comes next?”

He grins like the most ruthless general at the front, the one who takes no prisoners and wipes the bloodied sword on his green cloak. “Siege.”

In a blink, your legs go up on his shoulders, a frame of flesh around iron, silk and sapphire.

He takes his seat again as if sitting down to feast, and you lift your head, breathing hard with anticipation, meeting his eye as his face hovers over your center, feeling his scorching breath lighting a fuse that quickly burns away every rational thought left in your head, if there ever was one since he touched you.

“Aemond, please…” you beg shamelessly, hands flying down to touch him, to bring his head closer and closer.

But he grabs your wrists and holds them still on your stomach. “Call me properly.”

“Please…” you say with your voice cracking, like the nerves in your neck because you can't stop looking at him “Please, my King.”

“Do you know how to conduct a siege?” he is speaking so close to your apex that you can feel his voice reverberating through your skin long before hearing it. “You strike first, hard. And then you wait, watching your enemy starve to death, until they surrender.”

He puts his words into practice by running his tongue flat on your folds and then he is sucking, hard, so hard you fear he is about to devour you.

He moans contentedly, closing his eye for a moment as his jaw moves nimbly and his tongue pierces inside. Your head falls back and you cry so loud you are sure the guards outside are aware of what's happening in the Small Council room.

Just when your hips are beginning to rock on their own against his face, feeling the bone of his long nose, he licks a long stripe and then pulls back.

You raise your head with a sound of protest, but his hands are still pinning your wrists like iron chains, and he is looking at you with a victorious smile, face all wet. And he licks his lips, thoroughly. "If only my enemies tasted half as sweet as your cunt."

With cruel delight, he watches you writhe beneath his hands, breathing hard and unconsciously rocking your hips on nothing to soothe the painful ache between your legs.

“Perhaps I should say mine by now.” he ponders, roaming his gaze on your whole body “This siege seems to be surprisingly short. Do you wish to surrender, my Queen?”

“Yes. Yes, I surrender.” And you press your ankles on his shoulders, hands desperate to free from his hold and seize him, to force him to seize you.

He finally releases your hands and stands up, your legs sliding down and your hands going to his breeches. You pull two laces, but then your right hand locks on his wrist as you see him about to take the crown off his head.

"No, keep it."

His eye turns pitch black, making a deadly contrast with the sparkling blue of the sapphire, and your hands go back to the laces, pulling quickly until you have just enough room to slip your hand in and grab his hard cock.

His lips twitch as pleasure makes his head numb, makes his limbs heavy and his blood boiling and falling down, right where you can feel it, harder than the iron resting on silk. You feel his breath changing with every stroke of your palm, his waist moving almost imperceptibly as he chases your skin, like falling into the warm embrace of a siren’s chant.

The sight only makes you smile, though it stokes your ache for him so much that you mirror his heavy and slow breaths. “Who’s besieging who now?” you point out, almost regretting it when he grabs your neck, squeezing lightly with a dark promise curling his smirk.

“This is your lesson, not mine.” He declares, despite the labored breathing.

You swallow, quietly gasping for air as you look at him.

“Who told you to stop?” he asks, with the same cold purpose he questions the up-and-coming Lords who seek council in that very room, tightening the grip on your throat, almost relishing in the choked sound that escapes your lips.

“Did you forget, sweet girl? You surrendered.” His eye lingers on every detail on your face, and his free hand flies through your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear. The gesture is gentle, almost delicate, the opposite of the hold of steel around your throat. Hostility and devotion doomed to a ceaseless chase to purge one another.

“Siege is over.” He says, sliding his hand up your chin “Now it’s time to claim.” two of his long fingers breach into your mouth, grazing your tongue, and you sense the faint taste of yourself. “There will be some fool who will rebel against the new order. But the rest? They will kneel before their new King.” he leaves your mouth only to grab you by your cheeks, angling your head so he’s whispering to your ear “And who will you be, my dear wife? A fool on a spike or a dutiful subject?”

You recognize that tone, playful but dangerous—the one that will make you wonder if the next grip will be hostile devotion or the opposite. “What if I’m both?” you whisper, moving your head so you can look at him once more. “What if I want to serve you and die by your hand?”

“Then kneel.” He orders, but in your ears is the sweetest death sentence.

His eye glints as soon as your knees hit the ground; it thrills him, it always does, to have you like this and he’s not shy about showing it, for how his chest heaves more and more rapidly as you part your lips to pledge to him.

“No.” he croaks, almost sneeringly given the trepidation pulling his bones so taut, so close to snap. “Look at me and speak the words.”  

“I pledge my allegiance to you, your Grace. I vow to honor and serve you until the last of my days." you swear and there's no acting in it. "Long may he reign.”

Your mouth closes around him and he gasps deeply, jaw falling slack as he looks down, at your lips so perfectly laced around the tip, at your eyes looking up with devotion, no hostility. Never. “Gods, you are so beautiful like this.” He pants, pulling your hair away from your forehead and immediately thrusting his hips so you can take all of it, up to the base.

It's a matter of moments before his hand tangles in your hair, pulling and pushing slightly to give you a steady pace that leaves you breathless and gasping for air. It doesn’t matter though, not when his eye almost rolls back for the pleasure you’re giving him, not when he’s so lost for words that he has not even breath for his snarky remarks. He just moans and groans like a primitive beast, thrusting his cock as deep as he can, growling when you hollow your cheeks around his wet and hard flesh.

Suddenly he tugs at your hair harshly, pulling away as you recline your head to look at him, mouth open to catch your breath. “Why?” you whisper, panting “Did I not serve you well, my King?”

He helps you get up only to make you sit on the Small Council table once again. “You served me exceptionally well, my love. But you will serve me even better by taking my seed into your sweet cunt.”

He hikes up your skirts and revels in the way you spread your legs for him. “Do you wish for a King to fuck you?”

“Not a king, no. My King.”

“I shall do more than that.” He says, panting slowly, eye all foggy but urgent with pleasure, and he takes your face, cradling it between his hands. “I shall put a child inside of you, to strengthen the Crown and see you swell with my offspring.”

“Here?” You tease “On your war maps?”

“Fuck the war.” His delicate hold turns to iron, and then he’s kissing you, as he always does, harshly, smothering, slumping his tongue into your throat.

His hand moves yours away, and your jaw falls slack as he thrusts into you, sliding easily all the way in. You fasten an arm around his shoulders, your parted lips brushing against his, struggling to breathe. He ties your legs around his slender waist and climbs halfway up the table, leaning over you.

Papers rustle and fall to the floor, a sound soon covered by your flesh clashing hard against each other as he ruts into you, and you are utterly besieged. The air fills with moans and growls, and you are not sure whether it is him or you as you climb together toward the final peak.

"Look at me." He laces his fingers around your neck, squeezing lightly. "Look at your King."

You do as he asks, straining to keep your eyes open, frowning with painful pleasure. "Yes, like this, my good girl." He praises, panting loudly, "My Queen."

He thrusts even harder, sweat dampening your skin and his forehead, and he is the most beautiful and dreadful sight you have ever seen. Black iron and white silk, blue sapphire and fire, fire and fire.

"I want you to come with me." He whispers, grabbing your chin with his fingertips, his hand still clutching your throat. "Can you do that for me?"

"Y-yes." You manage to choke out, "Anything."

"My beautiful wife. So dutiful." he says laying wet kisses on your chest "So perfect for me."

His words, uttered so gently compared to the violence of his sieging thrusts, only pushes you up and up, staggering to not fall. "Aemond, I can't—" you whine, digging your nail into his shoulders "I can't last for long."

Your legs are trembling helplessly around his waist, but he fastens the grip on your throat, hard, making you gasp for air. “Hold it.” he orders, groaning because he’s close too, “Just a little more, my darling. I know you can take it.”

It is true, but it does not make the coiling pressure between your legs any less painful, beautiful and painful. He turns sloppy, panting and cursing each time more loudly while you whine, pleading under your breath for him to let you fall into a depth of bliss.

And finally, when your muscles were starting to ache for how much you were holding it back, you hear his breath change, slow and labored, and you know the end is near.

At last, he comes with a choked groan, making sure that not a drop of his seed goes to waste. And you are falling with him, spasming all around his waist, shoulders and cock.

His head falls on your chest, covered by silk and iron, and perhaps the crown has never been less of a burden as it is in this moment, while he rests against your collarbones, as a place where he can lie, or even die.

When sunbeams filter through the bars of your cell, you look through them, though no heat is able to warm you anymore. Except for the life growing inside you.

From a distance, you hear a clamor of men in the courtyard, guards getting ready to carry out the sentence.

If you stand up on your toes, you can even catch a glimpse of the pike on which your head will be mounted in a few days, or perhaps a few moments.

It doesn't really matter.

You look at the puddle of mud on the ground and think of the lake.

You wonder if, at least under the Gods' Eye, the raging abyss beneath the ice has gone quiet, or if the waters have simply swallowed him.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

can you do hickeys smut with jj maybank and after all their friends see it and take the mick out of jj

i love you so

pairing(s): bf!jj maybank x gf!fem!reader , the pogues x reader

warnings: a little smut, unprotected sex, p in v, pet names, creampie, overstimulation, use of y/n once

summary: jj marks you up for everyone to see, including your friends.

authors note: thank you for the request! sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

his lips trailed across your neck, sucking and biting at the skin there, his body planked over yours.

your hands tangled in his hair as you bit your lip to suppress the moans threatening to slip out when his hips pressed into yours. “oh, fuck.”

he kissed down your chest and continued to lick and suck at your breasts, leaving pretty little bruises across your skin. some in places only he’d ever see, and others in places for everyone else to know who you belonged to.

“jj, ‘m so close,” you mumbled, your hips rolling up into his to match his rhythm before his lips were back onto yours.

“you gonna come for me, sweet girl?” he mumbled against your lips. “hm?”

you simply nodded, too tired to do much of anything else right now. your nails sunk into his back when your orgasm approached like a tidal wave, crashing over you and triggering his own.

you felt the warmth fill you up, making your legs shake with the slight overwhelming stimulation.

he pressed a few gently kisses to your cheeks then forehead before leaning up.

“wait,” you stopped, hands searching for him. “can we just lay here for a minute?” you asked softly.

“‘course, sweetheart,” he said, laying down by your side and looping his arm around you so you could cuddle in close.

—

the chateau, for once, was actually not burning hot inside. so here you all were, you and jj cuddled up on a couch, john b and sarah the same on the other one with kie and pope to their left against the arm.

due to the heavy rain outside, you guys decided it was best to stay inside and just chill for a little until mother nature decided to move on.

everything was fine, everyone having fun and enjoying time together. that was until your best friend, sarah, glanced at you when you turned your head a little too much, causing the neckline of your shirt to drift down slightly. “holy shit, jj,” she exclaimed. “you’re like a vampire or something, dude.”

then john b had noticed it. “jesus, man. take it easy, will you? poor y/n.”

“oh my god,” kie jumped in. “did that hurt?”

“there’s absolutely no way that it didn’t,” pope added.

a blush began to settle over your cheeks as jj laughed and you buried your head into the crook of his neck.

“i call it art,” your boyfriend said. “i like to think i’m an arti—“

he was cut off when you slapped his stomach and mentally cursed at the embarrassment.

[writingonleaves]

i never could've seen you coming (i think you're everything i've wanted) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of death and cancer, a substantial amount of grief, so much fluff, medical school inaccuracies probably, angst if you squint, way too many mentions of all three hughes brothers..like an absurd amount (but it's part of the plot, i promise)

title: "the blue" by gracie abrams

word count: 19.7k (whoops!)

author's note: got WAY too carried away with this one lol so you may see more of this little au bc i really fell in love with it. this turned almost into a study on found family / siblinghood?? i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i enjoyed writing it and creating this little world. takes place in the 2023-2024 season.

*****

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been smarter to live closer to work and actually be in the city.  But when word got around — well, her mother telling her best friend — that Clementine was going to be even close to New Jersey, she had, in order, Luke, Quinn and Jack texting her within an hour of each other.

Lukey Hughes

Clemmy!! Congrats on the residency. Heard you’re gonna be across the river from jersey?? 👀

Quinny Hughes

Congrats on NYU! I’m happy you get to go back east even though I won’t get to see you as often. Don’t let Luke or Jack annoy you too much. Love and miss you! ❤️

Jacky Hughes

CLEMENTINE

you’re coming to new york????

you have to live with me please please please it’s not that far

and luke will probably be here next season and ik he’s your favorite 

When Clementine Sandoval found out she was placed at NYU Langone for her combined emergency room and pediatrics residency, she thought two things. Holy shit, she actually has made it this far. And holy shit, she’s excited to go back closer to home, after spending undergrad and med school in the west coast. She’s found a love for California, but nothing beats the east.

She called Jack for his birthday days after the Devils got knocked out of playoffs. She doesn’t get to talk to Jack and Luke — any of the Hughes brothers, really — as often as she’d like. She sees them even less, ever since she left for California and they moved away to Michigan from Toronto. She always tries to see Quinn and Jack whenever they come out to play at San Jose, but otherwise, that’s it. She hasn’t seen Luke since the Hughes family graciously invited her and her mom to Luke’s draft almost two years ago. So whenever she does get a chance to catch up with her childhood friends, it’s always a treat.

It took Jack — and Luke — exactly 34 minutes over the phone to convince her to move in with them. The largest part of the discussion was how much money she’d contribute for rent. She was adamant to split it three ways evenly. Jack shot that down immediately, and that resulted in a slight — read: intense — disagreement (“I don’t give a fuck that you’re making $8 million a year, Jack Rowden. I’m paying my part of the rent.”). He refused to back down, and they came to an amount that she was semi-happy with, though she insisted that she’d be in charge of buying groceries. Deep down, she knows he and Luke will fight her on that too. 

She finished out med school, went on a 10-day vacation to Europe with her friends and went back to her mom’s place in Massachusetts for a weekend, where she grabbed the key that Jack had shipped to her. Her mom helped her pack the car, and off she went to Hoboken, where she’d be living by herself in the extremely spacious apartment until Jack (and Luke) came back for pre-season in September. 

Residency started off without a hitch, Clementine loving the fact that she got to actually work with patients more. The commute to the hospital isn’t ideal — a 10 minute drive to the station before hopping on the train for almost 45 minutes — but after years of having to drive around everywhere for years, it doesn’t faze her much. It’s a time to decompress after a long shift and reflect or wake herself up for the long day ahead, and it gives her time to read or listen to music or podcasts on the train. Some of her fellow residents live nearby and are always gracious enough to let her crash on their couch after particularly grueling shifts. The first two months are peaceful if tiring, the apartment always being a welcomed silence when she walks in. 

Early September arrives, and she’s coming home after an overnight shift when she walks out of the elevator to the apartment. She thinks she might hear voices coming from inside her apartment, but they’re more likely in her exhausted brain, so she turns her key and pushes open the door. 

It takes her a moment while taking off her shoes to freeze. There are voices in the apartment. She carefully walks towards the voices, heart starting to race, before it immediately calms down and relief washes over her. 

“Jesus Christ! A warning would’ve been nice. I thought someone broke in.”

All three Hughes brothers turn their heads towards her, all looking a bit worse for wear probably due to the fact that it’s just past 7 am. Though it’s nothing Clementine hasn’t seen before. When your mothers are still really close after playing soccer together at UNH and both families happen to settle down in nearby towns in the suburbs of Toronto, you’ve all seen each other the morning after sleepovers. When you’re an only child and call these three your brothers, you’ve practically seen everything. They all blink at each other before someone — Jack — comes to their senses. 

“Clee!” Jack exclaims, sliding in his socks across the floor to pull her into a very tight hug. She feels gross and probably doesn’t smell much better, but she can’t bring herself to care as she hugs Jack, smile widening when she feels both Quinn and Luke putting their arms around her as she’s put in the middle of a group hug. They eventually let go, and then she hugs them all individually. 

She pouts, looking up at Luke. “This is so unfair. You’re so much taller than me now.”

Luke smirks, ruffling her hair. “Good to see you too, Clemmy.”

She beams up at him. “Happy birthday, by the way. Big 20!”

“Thank you.”

She yawns. “So what’s going on? I thought you two weren’t supposed to be back until next week.” She points at Quinn. “And what are you doing here?”

“Not happy to see us?” Quinn teases. 

“Always happy to see you guys. But I did just have an overnight shift and I need to be in bed within the next 20 minutes.”

“We know.” Jack says excitedly. “Did you not suspect anything when I was asking specific questions about your schedule for this week?”

She thinks back to the last time she FaceTimed Jack. He did seem awfully inquisitive. She shrugs. “I’m too old and tired to question your antics anymore, Jacky.”

“You’re only 26?”

“And you just turned 20. I’m old.” she says to Luke as he passes her a glass of water. “Quinny, aren’t you supposed to be in Vancouver soon?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m only here for the day to go to the US Open and celebrate Moose’s birthday. I’m on a flight out tomorrow at noon.”

She pouts, but her heart warms at the reminder that these three are still so close. “So soon.”

“Captain duties, am I right?” Jack says. 

It takes her a moment to realize what he just said before her jaw drops and she whips her head towards the eldest Hughes. “Are you serious?” Quinn just nods sheepishly. “Quinn!” She wraps him in another hug again. “That’s incredible. Oh my goodness. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Clem.”

She places her hands on his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you. Not surprising at all though. Do Ellen and Jim know? I bet they’re pumped.”

“Yeah, they do. It won’t get announced until Monday though.”

“That’s awesome. Holy shit, Quinn.” She looks at the younger two. “So are you guys back for good?”

“I am. Jack isn’t. He has to go to Vegas for media day the day after tomorrow.”

She blinks. “I’m confused. Then why the fuck are you all here? You could’ve just gone to Vegas early or something. Or not make the trip here and come back when you have to be back.”

“To see you, duh. I wanted to see you on my birthday, and it’ll be awhile until we’re all in the same place again.” Luke shrugs. Like it’s not a big deal. Like they didn’t just fly from wherever the fuck to Jersey for barely a day before two of them have to fly back across the country because they wanted to see her and be together. 

“God, I-just,” she yawns. “That’s so disgustingly sweet. And I love you three. I really do. But-”

“You need sleep, yeah. We figured. Well, good news for you, you’re not needed until later anyways!” Jack beams.

She blinks. “What’s later?”

“We’re heading to Aunt Lara’s to celebrate Luke’s birthday. Mostly an excuse for some of the family to gather one last time for the summer.” Jack says.

“Also to celebrate Quinn getting captain,” Luke adds with a small eye roll. 

“And I’m assuming I’m coming to that?”

Jack blinks like she’s being ridiculous. “Uh, duh. And I know you have a day off tomorrow, so you can’t use that as an excuse. Geegs wants to see you. Everyone wants to see you, to be honest. Mom’s making your favorite just for you.”

She lights up. “Her pumpkin pie?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll be there,” she salutes to them as she stops at her bedroom archway. “Have fun watching tennis. I’ll see you when you get back?”

“Mmhmm. We’ll drive there together.”

“Brilliant,” she blows them all a kiss. “Goodnight. Or good morning. Whatever.” They all snicker as she goes into her bedroom, beelining for the shower. 

She emerges from her bedroom again at around 1:30 p.m., her stomach begging for food. She wipes the sleep away from her eyes as she heads towards the kitchen. She reaches for the coffee machine and pauses when she sees a sticky note on the handle of the pot. 

Left some pasta for you in the fridge. xoxo Quinn

She smiles, making herself a cup of coffee before opening the fridge and reheating the chicken alfredo pasta. She waits for the microwave to beep by checking her phone for the news and any unread messages (the only one being from Ellen, who’s thrilled that she’s coming by tonight.)

After eating, she realizes she should probably get something to bring tonight, and ventures a few blocks to a nearby florist. Fresh flowers can’t hurt, right? After she pays for the bouquet, she has a double take walking by the bakery she only treats herself to after an especially exhausting day. Luke has always been weak for chocolate chip cookies, and this bakery does them like no other. She grabs a box of a dozen.

Around an hour later, the front door opens again and Luke practically vibrates at the smell of the still-fresh cookies on the counter. All three of them dig in as she quickly changes, putting on a basic blue sundress and pulling out a sweater in case she gets cold. It feels like it’s been forever since she’s worn anything that isn’t scrubs. She spritzes some perfume on and ties on three very important friendship bracelets that have somehow not fallen apart even after almost a decade. 

As expected, when she walks out, Quinn’s the one who notices what’s on her wrist first. He grins, surprised. “I didn’t know you still had those.”

She shrugs, fiddling with the loose threads. “They were very important to me. They still are.”

Jack stops chewing and his eyes widen, finally realizing. “Holy shit, Clee. We made those for you, like..”

“Right before I left for college? Yeah.” She takes the last bit of a cookie out of Luke’s hand. He doesn’t even bat an eye. “I don’t wear them as often anymore because I don’t want the possibility of them getting ruined or losing them at the hospital or anything. You know I wore them when I opened my acceptance letter into Stanford, right? And I wore them under my shirt when I had my interview with NYU.” She thinks she sees Quinn’s eyes water. She definitely knows she sees Luke swallowing roughly as Jack stares at her with some sort of reverence in his eyes. But she also knows her boys and just shrugs, changing the subject to make them more comfortable again. “We leaving soon?”

“Yeah. Let me just take a piss,” Luke says as he walks towards the bathroom. 

“I call dibs after!” Quinn calls out. 

“What the fuck?” Jack exclaims. “I need to go really bad too.”

“Just go to the one in my room, Jack.” She says, rolling her eyes. He huffs, giving Quinn a glare before disappearing into her bedroom. She sits down in the chair that Jack had just been occupying. “God, I can’t believe I’m gonna be living with those two. Am I regressing?”

Quinn snorts, “Probably. How is residency, by the way?”

She sighs. “Good. Busy and tiring and really fucking hard, but that’s to be expected. I’m currently in the NICU, so it’s been interesting seeing all the babies and the reasons they’re in there for. They’re also just so fragile, which, obviously, but it’s been good. I really love it.”

Quinn hums thoughtfully. “That’s badass, honestly. But everything you do is badass in my eyes.”

“Well, it’s quite badass in my eyes that one of my dearest friends is the captain of the Vancouver Canucks at 23.”

She feels a bit of a thrill at the blush that so easily paints his cheeks. “Nothing compared to you saving lives.”

“Hey,” she warns. “None of that here. We don’t do that.”

He just nods, leaning in to kiss her temple gently. “I’m sad that I’m gonna be seeing you less now, but I’m so happy for you. Least I’ll worry less about Jack and Luke now that you’re here.”

“Oh please. You’ll always worry about them.”

He hums, not even giving an answer because they both know the truth. She wraps an arm around his waist, tucking herself into his side and even though he’s standing and she’s sitting, she feels the most comfort she’s felt in awhile. 

Nothing brings her peace like these three boys, who have always believed in her and loved her before she was anything. They could be shouting at each other and never let her get a word in and she would still feel right at home

Later that night, as she’s catching up with everyone and eating Ellen’s pumpkin pie, she’s reminded that this whole family has always brought her peace. Ellen has always said she’s like the daughter she always wanted and Jim has always been like a father to her, especially the last decade. Geegs treats her just like she treats all her grandchildren, fussing over her and insisting that she needs to eat more because “you must be so stressed all the time at the hospital, running around and saving lives.” Everyone important and close to them have always known that the Hughes brothers and Clementine are the kind of package deal that will always be strong, even if it spans countries. It’s the three boys and Clementine always.

As she watches everyone sing happy birthday to Luke, watching him tower over everybody, his face poorly lit with the candles, she places both her hands over her heart while he blows the candles and everyone cheers. 

This chapter of her life is already shaping up to be pretty damn good.

…..

She’s had October 12 circled in her calendar ever since Jack convinced her to move in. The day of the regular season home opener of the Devils. 

After her shift, she ducks into the staff bathroom and changes into leggings and a Devils jersey, Hughes and 86 on the back. Jack and Luke lost some sort of bet that had the latter pouting and the former in absolute glee. She had just rolled her eyes. She’d just wear her 43 jersey to the next game. 

As she’s clocking out, one of her fellow residents and probably the one she’s closest to, Emilia, just raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were a hockey fan.”

Clementine shrugs, swiping her ID card through the reader. She never distinctly mentions her relations to America’s Hockey Family or whatever the hell the media calls them unless directly asked, but she’s sure she’s dropped some hints at happy hour, especially when asked why she’s living in Jersey. “Practically grew up with three of them. Osmosis, perhaps.”

Emilia must connect the dots because she offers a small smile. “My husband’s a big Rangers fan, so don’t tell him I said this, but Jack’s fun to watch. He’s shifty.” She laughs and bids her friend farewell, walking towards the elevator. 

Jack and Luke got her a seat in one of the boxes that’s reserved for family and significant others, the home opener bringing in a larger crowd than usual. She doesn’t know anyone, but that’s okay, because right when she walks into the box, a beautiful blonde strolls over and introduces herself with a big smile. You must be Clementine. I’m Ryleigh, she says, Dawson’s girlfriend. Jack told her to be on the lookout for her. 

She makes quick friends with Ryleigh as they grab a drink and situate themselves. The younger girl introduces Clementine to Kristen, her adorable boy Henrik and Barbora and her sweet girl Adelka. She kneels down to play with both kids, mindlessly answering questions about her life from the women. It’s refreshing getting to speak to people about things that aren’t solely residency or medical school related. 

God, she needs to get out more. 

The opening night celebrations are fun, and she cheers extra loudly when Jack and Luke’s names get called. Everyone’s on a high after a 4-3 win, and Clementine dutifully follows Ryleigh and everyone else out of the box and some tunnels that somehow lead towards the locker room. Her stomach is filled, thanks to the food and the drinks, and she’s happily buzzing. She’s excited to be able to hopefully watch more games now that she’s living here. 

Around 30 minutes later, both Jack and Dawson come out at the same time. She briefly watches as the couple embraces before Ryleigh turns to introduce Clementine, who smiles as Dawson wraps her in a friendly hug. She bids them both goodbye as they walk out.

“Clee! Did you see my goals?” Jack says after she hugs him, ruffling her hair. 

She rolls her eyes with a smile, adjusting his collar. “Of course I did. Saw the two penalties too. Good game, Jackson.” 

He beams like a child who just got a gold sticker. “Thank you.”

“Where’s Luke?”

“Taking his sweet ass time.”

She instinctively shoves him. “Be nice.”

Jack opens his mouth, no doubt about to say something snarky, before something beyond her shoulder catches his attention. “Neeks! Come here for a second.” She turns around to see maybe one of the prettiest guys she’s ever seen in her life. Obviously, she knows who Nico Hischier is, but goddamn, is he beautiful up close. 

She sticks out her hand with a small smile. “Captain. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Just Nico’s fine,” he smiles, shaking her hand before running his hand through his hair. Gosh, he’s cute. “You must be Clementine. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She automatically grimaces. “Oh no.” She turns to Jack. “Are you just as mean to me behind my back as you are to my face?”

Jack’s jaw drops. “Absolutely not! I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m so nice to you.”

Nico laughs. “It’s all good things, I promise. And anyone who has dealt with Jack since he was a kid is a good person in my book.”

“Hey!” Jack says indignantly. “Clee loves me.”

Both Clementine and Nico decide promptly to ignore him. “You’re living with Jack and Luke now, right?” Nico asks.

“Yeah. It’s cheaper than living in the city, and it’s nice to have them around again.” She says. Jack beams. 

“You were out west before?”

Shit. Does Jack talk about her that much? “I was. I did my undergrad at UCLA, and then went to Stanford for med school. So the last eight years, I’ve been a west coaster.”

“But back east now?”

“Back east now.”

“For..residency? Right? Is that the next step?”

“Yup. I just started my residency at NYU in July,” she grins cheekily at Jack. “And now I get to bother this one all the time.”

Luke comes out and brightens up, adjusting his beanie. “Hi Clemmy!”

“Hey Lukey,” she goes on her tiptoes to give him a hug. “Good game.”

“Thanks,” he mutters into her shoulder before pulling away. “I’m hungry. Do we still have the chicken you made yesterday?”

She snorts. “Yeah. Unless someone ate it during the day.”

“Yay,” Luke says sleepily. “How was work?”

“Not as tiring as playing a game, I’m sure.”

Luke pulls a face. “Liar. You’re a doctor. And you deal with kids all day.”

“I’m barely a doctor. And I love kids.”

“Still.”

Jack snorts. “I think we should get the big baby to bed.” He expertly avoids Luke’s slap. “See you tomorrow, Hisch?”

Nico nods. “Get some rest, you two. Good game. And it was nice to meet you, Clementine. I hope I see you around more often.”

Clementine grins. “You too, Nico. See you around.” She puts her arms around both Jack and Luke’s shoulder. Or tries to. “Drive me home, friends.”

In the car, as she’s in the backseat and looking outside the window, after Jack discreetly nudges him, Luke turns around to look at her. “So, Cap, huh? He’s a pretty good looking guy.”

She immediately knows what they’re trying to do. “Absolutely not, Luke. You are way too young to be trying to set me up.”

“What?” Luke whines. “I’m just saying. I saw you two eyeing each other up.”

“You’re seeing things.”

“Wait,” Jack says, making a left turn. “Moose, you might be onto something here.”

“I know I am.” Luke says, in a matter-of-fact voice that it seems like only youngest children can get away with. “Clemmy, you have to admit that Nico’s cute.”

‘Okay, sure. He’s objectively attractive. I could say the same thing about you. Or Jack. Or Quinn.”

“Ew,” Jack says, like the middle child he is. “Also, you’re totally his type. Pretty. Smart as hell. Lowkey. Doesn’t care that he plays hockey.”

“I’m also a resident right now, so I got no time to date, Jacky.”

“You’ve never had time to date,” Jack points out. “When was the last time you went on a date anyway?”

“A few months ago!” She says hotly. She will not let them know that her romantic life has been dry for years. 

“With who?” Luke shoots back.

“Another resident, actually. Thank you very much.”

Jack snorts. “And how did that go?” She pouts. “Exactly,” Jack says. “Maybe the key is to expand your horizons. Get away from the snobby doctors you always complain about.”

“Let it go, Jackson.” She warns. “Before I start harping on you two about your love lives. If you bring girls home, keep it confined to your rooms. And don’t even think about giving them my shit.”

They both cackle as the light turns green, exchanging knowing looks that Clementine misses. 

…..

She’s coming back from a brutal overnight shift when a familiar voice asks her to hold the elevator door open. She blinks as Nico blinks back, dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. He looks awfully cozy. She can imagine that she looks like she got chewed and spit back out. 

She musters a smile. “Hey there.”

“Good morning,” he smiles back. “You coming back from work?”

“Yup.” She presses the button for 17 as the doors shut. “What are you and Jack and Luke up to today?”

“Not sure. I think some of us are going out to breakfast. Would you like to come?”

She chuckles, leaning her back against the wall. “I appreciate the invite, truly. I just feel like if I have to be awake for 10 more minutes, I might collapse.”

He bites his lip and stares down at his feet. She thinks it’s endearing. “Right. Sorry. Of course you’re tired.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “Residency life is weird. Almost as weird as a hockey player’s.”

The doors open and Nico nods for her to go through first. “I don’t know about that. I live a pretty simple life.”

“Interesting way to define simple, Captain.” She teases. And he shrugs modestly. Clementine starts to wonder if there’s any arrogant bone in his body. He waits as she unlocks the door, closing it behind her. She walks in to see Jack pouring out a glass of juice and Luke sitting on the couch. “Found someone who may be of interest on my way up.”

She listens to Nico greet the two as she puts her bag down and lets her hair out of her ratty ponytail. “Wanna come to breakfast with us?” Luke asks with a hopeful smile. 

“Sorry, Lukey,” she says apologetically. “I’m literally a walking zombie right now. Another time?”

He pouts. “Fine. I miss you though. I feel like you’ve been MIA.”

“I wasn’t the one who was just on a long ass roadie,” she points out, giving Jack a side hug.

Nico looks around. “You guys do something different with the place? It looks different from what I remember.”

“We gave Clee free reign to spice it up a bit when she came here in the summer.”

Nico hums. “It looks nice. More…”

“Lived in? Homey? Clean?” She jokes, downing a glass of water.

The captain laughs. She watches his dimples deepen and blinks to herself several times. “All of the above,” he says. “I especially like the pillows.”

She beams. “Thank you. My mom embroidered the pillowcases.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us, Clee?” Jack begs. “We promise it’ll be quick.”

“Next time,” she promises. “I’m so, so tired.”

Nico clears his throat. “The team’s having a Friendsgiving thing in a couple of weeks since we’ll be on the road during actual Thanksgiving. I don’t know if these two have mentioned it yet, but you’re totally invited. It’s just gonna be the team and their families or whoever else they want to bring.”

“Is it at your place?” Clementine asks. 

“No.”

“So is it really your invite to extend? I don’t want to intrude.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “I was gonna ask you tonight. Hisch just beat me to it. It’s at Toff’s place. Of course you’re invited, so please come.”

She yawns. “Unless I have an overnight again, I’ll be sure to come. And even if I do, I’ll try to reschedule.”

“Atta girl,” Jack says. “You really need to get out more.” Clementine just flips him off, making Luke and Nico laugh.

“Enjoy your day, boys.” She calls out as she walks to her room. She hears them all yell out some sort of response before closing her door.

(As soon as she closes the door, Jack nudges Nico’s shoulder with his. “Make it less obvious, dude.”

Nico’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “Make what less obvious?”

“That you’re interested in Clemmy.” Luke says dryly from the couch. “That’s basically our sister.”

“What?” Nico hisses, aware that she’s right down the hall. “I don’t-I mean, yeah she’s pretty. But I barely know her.”

“But you want to. You’ve wanted to ever since we showed you pictures of her,” Nico doesn’t even have the chance to defend himself as Jack smirks like the menace he is. “Don’t worry, Cap. One day you’ll catch her when she’s not sleep deprived and acting as an actual human being and you’ll be able to sweep her off her feet.”

Nico swallows. “She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d fall for that.”

“She wouldn’t. Which is why you’re perfect. So many of my friends throughout the years have tried to hit on her. Hasn’t worked once.”

“Aren’t you, like, four years younger than her?” Nico says. “That’s probably why.”

Luke scoffs. “Good point.” He’s been less pushy about it compared to Jack, partially because he’s not as comfortable with Nico yet and partially because he’s not Jack. “She’s a good one though, Cap. You’d be lucky.” He says. 

Nico just nods.)

Early the next week when Clementine goes in, she finds out that one of her babies in the NICU she had been taking care of had died. It’s not necessarily the first time she’s dealt with death in her young career, but it’s still not easy. She goes through the rest of the day robotically, simultaneously trying to pick apart what she could’ve done differently while trying to forget about it completely. 

The only upside — if there is one — was that she wasn’t there when the baby’s parents were told. Fuck, she’s not looking forward to when she has to do that one day. 

During her lunch break, she calls Jack.

“Hello?”

“Jacky?”

“Clee? Is everything okay?”

She swallows. “I’m sorry. I can’t keep track. Do you have a game tonight?”

“No. Day off today. Game tomorrow. What’s wrong? Aren’t you at work?”

“Yeah. I am. Uh, what were you planning on doing tonight?”

“Nico’s coming over and we were just gonna chill. Luke’s going on a date, I think. Or doing something. Shit, I swear I told you.”

She blinks. “You probably did. I just, sorry. I haven’t been-”

“Stop apologizing,” Jack chastises. “How about we get take out from your favorite Greek place and have a movie night? I can tell Nico to come by another time.”

“No, no! Of course Nico can come. It’s your place.”

“It’s yours now too.”

She swallows. “He can come by. Greek food sounds really good though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll order some. Do you want me to go into the city to get you after work?”

“Fuck no. Are you crazy? That would be the worst drive.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind. Clee, I don’t wanna-you don’t sound like you’re okay.”

She tries to steady her voice. Worrying Jack is the last thing she wants to do. “I’m okay, Jacky. I promise. As long as you have the Greek food ready when I’m home.”

“You got it,” Jack softens. “I love you, Clementine.”

“Love you too. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

When she finally makes her way back to Hoboken, she feels a bit better. She hears murmured voices right before she unlocks the front door. 

“Hey,” she greets Jack and Nico. 

Jack barrels over, hugging her tightly with a smile. She involuntarily lets out a relieved sigh. “Lucky timing. I just got the food.”

“Lovely. Let me just take a quick shower and change and I’ll be right out.” She gives Nico a quick but friendly smile. “Hi Nico.”

“Hey Clementine.”

“Be right back.” She takes a quick shower and throws on leggings and a UCLA sweatshirt, choosing to let her hair air dry. When she comes back out, food from her favorite Greek place in Jersey that she discovered over the summer is laid out, along with a glass of iced tea. She could cry. 

“Long day?” Jack asks. 

She snorts, digging into her grape leaves. “You could say that. What’s been going on with you two?”

Jack knows her well enough by now that this is permission for him to ramble about anything and everything, from the more-than-usual brutal game last night against the Stars to how shitty his fantasy team is doing this week. Clementine just munches on her food while the two hockey players talk amongst themselves, her chiming in every once in awhile. She learns more about the girl Luke is currently on a date with (which isn’t saying much, because Jack barely knows anything and Nico knows even less) and complains that none of the brothers tell her these things. She only just found out that Quinn’s in a serious relationship. When Jack tries to protest with that fact she’s literally been on the other side of the country for the last eight years, she doesn’t wanna hear it. 

She finishes her iced tea. “How about you, Nico? You got any siblings?”

“Uh, yeah. An older brother and an older sister.”

“You close with them?

“Extremely.”

“Do they tell you who they’re dating and do you tell them who you’re dating?”

He hesitates. “Usually, yes.”

She gives Jack a pointed look. “See? Be like Nico.”

Jack snorts. “Please. If I were more like Neeks, you would have no one to pick on. Nico’s too perfect.”

She raises an eyebrow, shifting her gaze to Nico and she thinks she sees him blush. Nico clears his throat. “I don’t know about that.”

“Also, never listen to Clee. I’m her least favorite. She always makes fun of me.”

“Not true,” she shoots back. “You’re all my favorites.”

“What are siblings for if not for humbling you?” Nico asks. “I’m sure if you didn’t have Clementine here around growing up, your head would be way bigger than it already is.” 

“Captain’s got a point,” she sings, gathering their trash. She waves both guys away when they reach out to help. “Season’s been pretty good so far, right?”

“Thought you would be too scatterbrained to be keeping track.” Jack retorts.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t check the scores when I can.” She says, poking his side. Jack yelps. 

“You know what? Maybe you deserve to be her least favorite,” Nico jokes. “You’re so mean to her.”

“Hey!” Jack protests. 

“Thank you, Nico.” Clementine beams. “Finally, someone with sense around here. You gotta come around more.”

“Season’s going well, thank you for asking.” Jack sasses. “Oh, that reminds me. Trevor asked me if you were gonna come to the game when the Ducks are in town. Demanded, actually. Said that it’s been too long since he’s seen you and that he misses you. Not like you used to get to see him when you were in California or anything.”

She rolls her eyes. “When is he in town?”

“Sometime in December, I think.”

“Then yeah. I’ll be there. Not like I have a life outside of work anyways, as you always remind me.”

“You know Zegras?” Nico asks, before shaking his head. “Actually, yeah. Of course you do, if you grew up with Jack.”

“Not as well as you might think, though, to be fair.” She says, wanting to assure Nico that he isn’t completely wrong. “By the time Jack got into the development program, I was already out at UCLA. I was out there even before Quinn got into the program. Right at the same time, I guess. But you know, during the summers, wherever Jack is, Trevor usually isn’t far behind. He’s a good kid.”

“Clee kinda really is everyone’s older sister,” Jack says, passing a beer to Nico and a glass of wine to Clementine. “You should see how much Luke’s Michigan boys love her. And they’ve literally only met her once. Or never.”

Clementine waves Jack’s comment away. “It’s only because Luke calls me the most out of you three. And he’s my baby! I literally remember holding him when he was born.”

And the rest of the night is like this, as they exchange stories and memories, some she’s a part of, some she’s not and just likes listening to. Little mention of her work, which she’s so thankful for and knows in the back of her head is a purposeful play on Jack’s part. 

Even though she already wasn’t around when Jack left for New Jersey, she worried about him, especially after his tough rookie year. She still remembers the occasional calls she’d get of him breathing heavily and stumbling over his words and how she could do nothing about it across the country except offer a listening ear and some big sister comfort verbally. 

But now, watching Nico’s addicting smile and listening to his soft, comforting voice, she’s starting to see that Nico stepped up in that role so seamlessly and so well. It’s no wonder Jack always speaks so highly of his captain. Nico was there, and still is there, when she can’t be, whether it’s because she’s physically so far or just doesn’t understand because she isn’t a first overall draft pick. Sure, one could argue that it’s the duty of a captain. But she can tell it’s mostly because Nico is a caring guy.

That puts Nico pretty fucking high up in her good graces already. 

(Clementine retires to bed soon after, not before making sure by text from Luke that he’s safe and good. Once her bedroom door clicks, Jack attacks. 

“So…thoughts?”

“On Clementine?” Jack nods and Nico shrugs casually. “She’s great.”

“Come on, Hisch. You gotta give me more than that.”

“What do you want me to say?” Jack makes some sort of vague gesture and Nico sighs. “She’s quick, smart, funny. Deals with all your shit and you can tell she still loves you a lot. I didn’t-I mean, I knew you guys were close. I didn’t know you were that close though.”

Jack shrugs. “Yeah. Honestly I consider myself as close to her as I am to Luke or Quinn. She’s just, you know, been around for so long. It was really hard when she left for college, but she’s good at keeping in touch, which you know, thank god. Because I’m not. She came to all our drafts and she always makes the time to call or text, even though I know she’s busier than all of us combined with school and residency and all that.” Jack leans back into the couch. “It’s interesting to think about. With Clee, no one else except people who are actually close to me know about her, but she’s just as big a part of my life as my actual brothers. I mean, her mom’s the one who bought me the suit for my draft and Clee saved up to gift me the watch I wore with it. I don’t know. It’s interesting that you can think you know so much about someone but you’ll probably never get the full picture unless you’re there.” 

Nico hums, taking in Jack’s impromptu but astute ramble. “She ever play?”

“Hockey?” Nico nods. Jack snorts. “Nah. Soccer was her thing. Was pretty damn good too, if I remember correctly.” The younger boy shifts suddenly to a standing position. “If you want to know more, ask her yourself, Hischier. I’m tired. Get out of my apartment.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but stands up anyways. “See you in the morning.”)

The Devils Friendsgiving rolls around, and with a large bowl of homemade Spinach Artichoke Dip and a couple bags of pita chips, she climbs into the backseat as Jack starts the engine and Luke fiddles with his phone to pull up the directions. She doesn’t have to go into the hospital until the afternoon tomorrow, so she’s looking forward to treating herself to a couple glasses of wine and getting to meet more people. Luke puts some country song on that Jack starts humming as he starts driving. Clementine folds her legs on the seat as her chin rests on her knees, looking out at the window as the trees blur. She kicks the back of Luke’s seat when one too many country songs play in a row, knowing that they know that she prefers other genres of music. Luke just grunts, before putting on some Noah Kahan and she hums in satisfaction. 

The Toffoli’s house is spacious, and she shuffles carefully up the steps to the house behind Jack and Luke, careful not to slip on black ice. She slips off her jacket, passing the food off to Luke, before taking it back and walking into the warm home behind the boys. She just smiles and stands to the side as everyone exclaims at their arrival. She grins as Cat embraces her, thanking her for the invite. Cat waves her off and looks absolutely delighted when Clementine sets down the dip. Tyler pours her out a glass of wine and hugs her in greeting. 

The journey to being a doctor has shaped Clementine to be good at remembering names quickly, which helps her tremendously as Jack bounces around to introduce her to everyone. Everyone is so welcoming and the sprinkle of kids around makes her smile as well. It’s lovely to see that this team loves hanging out with each other off the ice when they’re not obligated to. She finds herself chatting with…everyone and is almost surprised but absolutely delighted at how kind everyone is. Some of the wives and significant others don’t hesitate to rope her into future plans and their group as a whole and she feels touched. She’s not sure how much time and energy she’ll have to go to some of their gatherings, but it’ll be nice to have some more familiar faces in the city. 

It’s when everyone’s starting to grab food does she find herself standing next to Nico, who had waved and nodded at her earlier when she walked in. “Hey Captain.”

Nico’s smile is blinding. “Like I’ve said, Nico works just fine.”

She shrugs with a chuckle. “How have you been?”

He sees her eyeing the potatoes and scoops some on her plate before he grabs some for himself. and she smiles at him in thanks. “Nothing new,” he says. “Just you know, playing hockey.”

She snorts. “Yeah, I bet. You had a sick goal the other night against the…Caps, was it?”

“Thank you,” he says as they both head towards two empty seats next to each other at the kitchen island. “You watch the games?”

“When I can. Not as much this season as I used to. It honestly used to be really effective background noise when I studied at school.”

His eyes track to her bracelets. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about those.”

“My bracelets?”

“Yeah. You wear them all the time. Is there any significance to them? If you’re comfortable telling me, of course.” He rushes the last sentence, eyes wide. 

She waves him off with an easy smile, pointing at each one of them as she goes through. “Quinn, Jack and Luke each made me one before I left for college. Gave them to me right at the airport before I went through security. Had me sobbing on practically the whole damn plane ride. I don’t wear them to the hospital, really, but otherwise, it’s kinda just habit to put them on at this point.”

“You love them a lot,” Nico observes.

Clementine just smiles, watching Luke play with one of the kids. “I do. They’re good guys to grow up with. But enough of that. Don’t think I don’t remember the explanation you promised me last time, Nico.”

A playful smile on his lips, Nico finishes chewing his food. “Explanation of what?”

“How the hell you chose soccer over hockey, when soccer is the best sport, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Nico echoes, and her smile widens. “I mean, yeah. There’s not much to it. I kinda was good at most sports. I still love watching football, or soccer. My dad used to play professionally, so I still enjoy playing pick up in the summer once in awhile. My brother played hockey, and I wanted to do everything he did. And then…”

“You were really fucking good.” She finishes for him. 

“I guess, yeah. You work with kids, right? Being their doctor?” She nods and he smirks slightly. “Even I know you have to be super smart for that. The journey to being a doctor can’t be easy.”

She chuckles a bit, feeling a bit flattered. “It has its moments. Definitely not the most simple career, by any means.”

“Anything specific with…what is it called? Pediatrics? I don’t really know how specializations work.”

“I’m actually doing an EM/Peds residency right now, which combines training in both the emergency room and pediatric medicine. There’s something about kids and the environment of an ER that I really enjoy, so putting those two together is..kinda the dream.”

“You’re incredible,” Nico says softly. And if she wasn’t blushing before, she definitely is now. Or is it the wine? “Seriously. That’s some amazing stuff. Is that common?”

“Combining residencies?” He nods. “No. Actually, NYU is one of the only teaching hospitals in the country that’s approved for this specific program.”

“So not only are you smart. You’re just the best of the best.”

She chuckles a bit and puts food in her mouth so she doesn't have to respond, because what the fuck? She’s thankful that Jonas and Nate join and divert their conversation so she can gather herself. She’s heard those words from people many times. Nico saying them shouldn’t have her stomach fluttering. 

(Later that evening, Clementine, predictably, finds herself among the moms with young kids, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, giving them attention and watching them so that their parents can relax a bit more. 

She’s mindlessly talking and playing with Owen, Curtis and Reanne’s 3-year-old son, who’s at the age where he just loves to babble. 

Reanne bounces her son on her knee. “This is Clementine. Can you say Clementine?”

Owen claps his hands. “C-cuh-”

Clementine can tell Owen is getting a little frustrated that he can’t pronounce her name. “Owen, you know him?” She points towards Jack, who’s sitting on the couch a few feet away talking to Nico, Curtis and Jesper. Jack catches them and waves with a big smile as their conversation trickles off. 

“Unca Jack!”

“That’s right,” Clementine coos. “When Uncle Jack was as small as you, he couldn’t say my full name either. So he just called me Clee. Can you say Clee?”

“Clee!” Clementine nods excitedly and laughs with Owen as he says it again. “Unca Jack call you Clee?”

“He sure does. He still calls me Clee. And he’s a big boy now.”

Reanne grins, “Is that true?”

Clementine chuckles. “Yeah. Him, Luke and Quinn all called me Clee at one point. The other two don’t anymore, but I guess it stuck for Jack.”

Owen grabs one of his stuffed dinosaurs. “I like Unca Jack. He always buys me chocolate.”

All of them laugh as Reanne and Curtis shoot Jack a dirty look. Clementine snorts. “Busted.” Jack at least has the audacity to look a little sheepish as Owen doesn’t mind any of them, his attention back to making his dinosaurs fight each other. Owen hops off his mother’s knee and toddles over to sit in between Clementine’s legs, wordlessly passing her a dinosaur. 

Nico’s fond smile stays glued to his face as his eyes track Clementine and Owen. Jack takes note.)

…..

It’s a brisk Tuesday morning in early December, and Clementine is still trying to find her way where she needs to go. She volunteered to spend a few weeks at Newark Beth Israel Medical Center from recommendation by her mentor, since Newark is short a few hands. She’ll probably get used to the hallways and which floors are what the day before she leaves, but she’s not complaining. She’s still in an ER. She’s still working with kids. And she won’t complain about the shorter commute, even if it’s only for a short while. 

There’s a bit of a commotion outside as she’s making her rounds. Her curiosity causes her to scribble some last quick notes before stepping out of her patient’s room and clicking the door shut quietly so the 7-year-old girl doesn’t wake up. 

“Hey Caro,” she stops another resident who’s walking by. “What’s all the commotion?”

Caroline grins. “You didn’t hear? Some of the guys from the New Jersey Devils are stopping by to see the kids. It’s always a whole day thing that’s a fun day. That’s why Doc told us all to clear our schedules as much as we could today.”

Clementine snorts to herself. No, she didn’t hear. “Ah. I must’ve not been listening or something.”

Caroline offers her arm. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” she latches on to the shorter girl’s arm. “You a Devils fan?”

“I grew up in Texas, so to be honest, no.” They both chuckle. “But the guys are great. And it’s always fun when they come around. The kids have a good time too.”

“I bet,” she says softly. 

“Are you a Devils fan?”

She’s about to open her mouth to try and stumble through an answer, but they’re suddenly in a conference room and Luke is bounding over to attack her in a hug. “Clemmy!”

“Hey Lukey.” She pulls away and ignores Caroline’s confused but amused stare. “You and Jack didn’t tell me you were gonna be here.”

“We didn’t?” Jack grins, pulling her into a tight hug. “Well, surprise!”

Clementine just rolls her eyes as she waves at Jesper, Tyler, Dougie and Nico. Nico shoots her a quick wink and she gives him a shy smile before looking away. 

“Sorry,” Jack addresses some of the staff who have been openly eyeing them. “Clementine is, uh, basically family. We actually live together, which she loves.” The whole room exclaims softly in understanding. Caroline gives Clementine a look that has her holding back a laugh.

Clementine just puts her head down with a smile and waits for everyone to come into the room for the official welcome. Her pager goes off in the middle so she has to sneak out of the room quietly. She catches Nico’s eye before leaving and he gives her an imperceptible nod. 

She tries to keep out of everyone’s way as the players pop into various rooms to say hi to the kids and their parents. She poses for a few pictures at request from both PR departments, smiling the biggest when the social team asks for a picture of her, Luke and Jack together. It’s nice to see the kids really happy, and she does stick around in a patient’s room when Luke is reading a story to one of them.

“The kids like him,” she jumps slightly at Nico’s voice. He grimaces. “Sorry.”

She waves off his apology, staring at the scene. “Probably because he’s practically still one himself. I remember doing this for him when he was that age.”

“You’re a bit far away from Manhattan.”

“Yeah. I volunteered to come out here for a few weeks since they needed extra hands. I should be back at NYU after the new year. Had no idea you guys were gonna be here today. Would’ve warned everyone how annoying you all were.”

“You think I’m annoying?” Nico jokes. 

“All hockey players are annoying.” She turns to Nico and flashes a smile. “I’m kidding. Thanks for coming. The kids always love it anytime professional athletes come in to say hey.”

“The least we can do,” Nico says with a shrug. “It’s probably my favorite event of the year.”

She nudges his shoulder, “I saw you earlier, with little Artie. You’re not bad with the kiddos either.”

“Oh, thanks. They’re sweet. That’s a big compliment coming from you.”

“Well, it’s a bit different for me when interacting with kids is part of my job,” her smile widens watching as Jude, the patient, is laughing at Luke’s exaggerated voices. “Let’s leave these two be. Come with me?”

Nico falls into step with her. “Where we going?”

“I gotta check in on one of our patients, who, if I know her, is probably painting some watercolor landscape while bickering with her sister. I’m sure your big brown eyes and smile can keep her entertained while I take some of her vitals.”

Clementine stops at a room, knocks twice on a door with a purple and pink sticker-covered name card taped on the front, Lacy spelled out in big block letters. She peeks her head in. “Hey. Mind if I come in?”

“Do I have a choice?” The 11-year-old girl sasses. Clementine rolls her eyes, shooting her 17-year-old sister Maisie a quick smile. Maisie just nods in greeting before turning back to her laptop.

“I’m bringing a visitor in here too. Be nice,” Clementine warns. Lacy just keeps painting. She opens the door wider and Nico follows her in. “You recognize this guy?”

Lacy looks up and snorts, though a small genuine smile appears on her face. “Any hockey fan living in the state of New Jersey would recognize him. Hi Nico.”

“Hi Lacy. It’s nice to meet you. Can I pull up a chair for a second?”

Lacy shrugs. “Sure.” Nico shakes Maisie’s hand quickly first before grabbing a chair and sitting by her bedside. Clementine gets started on her notes. “I saw your game the other night. Against the Wild,” Lacy says.

“Oh yeah? What did you think?”

“I mean, at least you guys won in overtime. It probably shouldn’t have even gone to that point.”

Clementine coughs to hide her laugh, Maisie admonishes Lacy, but Nico just chuckles. “That’s a fair assessment. You like hockey?”

“Yeah. I used to play. Before all this.”

“Oh yeah? What position?”

“Center.” 

“That makes sense. You seem like you like to score goals.” She hums. Out of the corner of Clementine’s eye, she sees the girl offer a brush and a blank piece of paper to Nico. Clementine smiles to herself. Nico takes the brush. “You got a favorite player on the Devils?”

“Do you just want me to say you?”

“Not if it’s not true.”

Clementine chuckles, “Don’t hurt his ego too much, Lace. He might not be able to handle it. One to ten?”

“Three,” Lacy answers in reference to the frequency of pain scale she and Clementine have come up with. “My favorite is Dawson, by the way. You’re third on my list.”

“I’ll take that,” Nico says with a satisfied smile. “Who’s second?”

“Probably Jack. Or Haula. It depends on the day.”

Nico’s eyes light up as Clementine rolls her eyes to herself. “Jack, huh? Has Clementine told you that she knows him?”

Lacy stops painting for a second. “What do you mean ‘knows him?’”

Clementine gives Lacy a cup of water and waits for her to take her pill. “I’ve known Jack since he was born. Luke too.”

Lacy’s eyes pop open, and Clementine thinks that she would’ve mentioned this earlier if she knew that this was the reaction she’d get. Lacy’s been a hard nut to crack in terms of opening up to her. “Really? Quinn’s one of the best defensemen in the league, in my opinion.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him. He’ll appreciate that.”

“Pretty cool, right?” Nico remarks, carefully dipping his brush in water.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” Clementine says. “I knew you were a hockey fan. I didn’t know you were a Devils fan. Isn’t your dad a Rangers fan?”

Nico grimaces automatically as Lacy nods. “Yeah, but red’s prettier. And the Devils are better.”

“That’s right. And don’t forget it,” Nico says. 

“Hey, Lace. Dawson isn’t here, but do you want me to go find Jack and see if he’s around?”

“Sure. I don’t have my jersey though and I wanted him to sign it.”

“We’ll send you another one and he can sign that one,” Nico says. Maisie tries to protest but Nico just shakes his head. “It’s no problem at all. I’ll send you mine though. To convince you to move me higher on your list.”

“I mean, I won’t say no to that.” Clementine and Nico just chuckle. 

“Be right back,” Clementine promises. 

She closes the door and takes a moment to watch the two. Nico’s trying to paint some sort of sunset and lets Lacy guide his hand, listening intently as Lacy gives him some artistic advice. She’s never seen such softness in someone’s eyes before as Nico is looking at the young girl. And later, when Nico hands her two tickets for a game in January, it’s the most excited she’s seen Lacy.

…..

Clementine finds that she has Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off, so the three of them decide to do their own little Christmas Eve celebration — Ellen and Jim are heading to Vancouver to spend the holiday with Quinn and the various family they have out there — before going to Jack and Luke’s family again on Christmas Day. They ask her if Nico can join them Christmas Eve, before going with them to their family’s on Christmas Day, since his family can’t fly out this time around for the holidays. She immediately agrees, and digs her knitting supplies out from the few unpacked boxes in her closet and stops by the fabric store right by the hospital after work. 

Later that night, after a game, Luke waves his greeting before stumbling into his room while Jack beelines to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He casts his eyes on Clementine on the couch, Canucks game on quietly in the background and a whole bunch of yarn on her lap, her fingers twiddling around knitting needles. 

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Who’s that for?”

“Nico.” The lack of response has her raising her eyes away from her needles. “What?”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“As a person, absolutely. He’s very-”

“Fuck off. You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You like him. Like, stomach has butterflies and all that shit.”

She puts down her needles with a sigh, “Jack-”

“Listen, I know you’re just gonna deny it or whatever. Because that’s what you do. So, I’m not even gonna bother, but Clee. You could do a whole lot worse than Hisch. And he likes you too, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Jack. I’m not gonna date your captain.”

“Why not?”

“Because…I don’t wanna put you or Luke in a weird position.”

“That’s a dumb excuse. Who cares about that? Certainly not Luke and I.” He comes to sit next to her like an eager puppy. “I swear I’m not trying to set you up or whatever. Not intentionally at least. And I really won’t push and let it go if you want me to. But Clee, you seem so at ease around him. And it’s obvious that he just likes everything about you. It doesn’t have to be serious. But maybe just give it a chance before you just shut it down, okay?”

She nods, taking in his words. “Okay, okay. I will.”

“Promise?”

She rolls her eyes, but clasps her pinky with his. They’ve always taken their pinky promises very seriously. “I promise.”

Jack grins, his typical easygoing manner right back. “Good.” 

After a lazy Christmas Eve morning and afternoon watching holiday movies, drinking hot cocoa and feeling at peace, she, Jack, Luke and Nico put on some Christmas music and make gingerbread cookies to bring the next day. She scolds the brothers as they start flinging flour at each other but she does it with a smile that hurts her cheeks and a heart that feels overwhelmingly full. “Silent Night” comes on and to prevent herself from fully bursting into tears, she leaves Luke and Nico to shape the cookies and drags Jack to dance around the kitchen with her. She thinks he understands, as he places a comforting kiss on her forehead, Luke looking on in solemn happiness.

(Nico notices all of their demeanors slightly shift, but he doesn’t press.)

At midnight, they all exchange presents under the twinkling lights of their tree. Nico looks surprised when they tell him they all have presents for him, which is funny considering he has presents for all of them. As the youngest, Luke goes first, and his smile is pure ecstasy, as he receives a really nice watch from Nico, new shoes from Jack and a bottle of cologne that she knows he’s been eyeing from Clementine. Jack’s next, as he gleefully reaches for his presents. Nico gifts him a customized Snapback that has Jack tackling his captain in a hug and almost tipping the tree over, and Luke gets him the newest AirPods to hopefully discourage him from “accidentally” putting his through the wash. Clementine gets Jack a nice leather wallet she saw at a vintage shop a few weeks back and he acts surprised that she knows what he likes style wise, as if she didn’t practically grow up with him and watch his heinous style turn into something passable. 

Clementine insists Nico goes next. Jack and Luke get him a joint present of a massive box of assorted Swiss chocolates and Clementine thinks his eyes literally light up, excitedly talking about how you can’t get most of them outside of Switzerland. As Clementine hands him her present, Nico only raises his eyebrows at the large bag. 

“Should I be scared?”

She scoffs, “Just open the bag, Captain.”

They all laugh, Jack and Luke eagerly watching as Nico carefully takes out the tissue paper. Jack laughs in recognition as Luke just shakes his head fondly when Nico pulls out a giant knitted maroon blanket. 

“I know it seems a bit weird,” Clementine rushes to explain as he unfolds the blanket carefully. “But basically, when I started going to the boys’ games, I would get really cold sitting in the bleachers. So my mom taught me how to knit and I knitted myself a huge blanket, kinda like this one. The parents all saw me with it and eventually started asking if I would knit some for them. And I did, so it’s kinda a thing I like to do when I have time now. Makes for good presents too.”

Nico looks behind him to a similar looking white blanket draped across the couch. “Did you make that?”

She grins. “Yeah. I think that one was the one I gave to Jack right before he left for New Jersey. I know Luke has the one I gave him before he left for Michigan in his room.” 

“It’s super warm,” Luke says.

“Clee doesn’t make these blankets for just anyone,” Jack adds. “She only just made one for Turcs last year after he had been practically begging her for years.” 

Nico folds the blanket back up and reaches over to envelop her in a tight hug. She lets herself rest her head on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. “I love it.”

She just smiles, trying to tell her brain to calm the fuck down before she reaches out to grab Jack and Luke’s (and Quinn, he said to her over the phone this morning) gift for her. She pulls out a photo album and immediately starts sniffling. The first photo on the first page is of her holding Quinn at the hospital right when he was born. Written below, in what she recognizes as Quinn’s handwriting: 

Clem holding Quinn for the first time. October 15, 1999. Orlando, Florida. 

She flips through quickly, finding that it’s photos of her and all of the brothers throughout the years, before closing it and taking a deep breath. “I’ll have to look at this more carefully later when I can cry by myself in my room. Fuck. How long did this take you guys?”

“We got the idea when you told us you were moving in, but we really got to put it together over the summer,” Luke says. “It was also fun getting Mom and Maeve to dig up some of the pictures.” 

She wipes her eyes before giving them both individual, loving hugs and sweet kisses on their cheeks. “Thank you.” It’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough. But she hopes they understand. 

“Well, I don’t know how I can follow that up,” Nico jokes softly. 

“Stop,” she scolds him lightly, taking the wrapped box from his hands. She rips the paper ungracefully and opens the box. In the box are light pink scrubs. When she unfolds the shirt, she sees tiny bluebells adorning the right side, with her initials in delicate white cursive on the right. 

Nico scratches the back of neck. “Jacky mentioned that pink’s your favorite color and I had Luke sneak into your closet one time when you were at work to grab me your measurements. My sister does embroidery for fun so, uh, yeah.”

She has to bite the inside of her bottom lip from smiling too widely. She already knows it’s going to be her favorite set. Before she can think too hard about it, she practically launches herself into his arms, half in his lap as Nico lets out a surprised grunt but easily catches her. She holds on a bit longer, even placing a quick kiss on his cheek before pulling away. 

“Thank you. I love them.”

(Jack and Luke exchange the most obvious look, yet somehow both Clementine and Nico miss it) 

The next day, they make the hour-long drive. Clementine calls shotgun, and has her feet curled up under her, white sweater stretched over her hands as Jack hums along to the Christmas music playing softly in the background. Nico insisted on getting flowers, which is all too much, but she, Jack and Luke are also bringing two bottles of some really fucking good wine so maybe they’re all on the same page. They’re the last ones to arrive, the house already filled with familial chatter, football on the TV, snacks on the kitchen island and alcohol free flowing. She watches as Nico is embraced like he’s been around for his whole life, even though realistically, he’s maybe only met a few of them in passing when they’ve come to a game. Geegs calls him handsome after .4 seconds of seeing him and she, Jack and Luke all snicker watching his cheeks turn red. It seems like it takes not even three minutes for him to charm every single damn person, especially when he gives Lara the flowers. 

Clementine immerses herself in the cheer of holiday and family, happily answering anyone when she’s asked about her residency. She answers questions about it’s like living with the “terrible two” with ease and laughter, because as much as she likes to give them shit, it’s honestly been one of the best times of her life.

Inevitably, because she might not have their last name but has been part of the family for years, she gets a few questions about her love life, or lack thereof. Lara always jokes that if the stars were slightly different, her and Quinn — or maybe even Jack — could’ve ended up together. And Clementine agrees, because those two boys are so lovely and she knows them so well and loves them so much, but the stars are the way they are, and nothing will ever happen romantically between her and any Hughes brother. 

Romance hasn’t really ever been seriously in the cards for Clementine, which is partially self inflicted. She had something in college that lasted for over two years, but since then, nothing has stuck. She’s always used the excuse of school and now residency, and it’s somewhat true. But even she knows she’s running out of excuses for herself. 

As her eyes flit over to Nico, who’s across the room talking to Luke and Ben, one of their cousins, looking so fucking soft in his gray crewneck and dark washed blue jeans, hair too fluffy and the most heartwarming smile on his face, she tells herself to get it together. 

After over two decades of being around hockey boys, she can’t be developing a crush on the captain of the New Jersey Devils. 

…..

On the morning of New Year’s Day, Clementine tries her best to go about the kitchen quietly to make her breakfast, only to find Jack and Luke already there, sipping on their coffees. 

“Morning boys.”

“Morning Clemmy.”

“Happy new year!”

“Happy new year,” she yawns. “Morning skate?”

“We’re skipping.” Her eyebrows shoot up and Luke just gives her a look. “C’mon, Clemmy. We’re not letting you do this alone.”

She swallows and her voice cracks. “You guys remembered?”

“Clee,” Jack says with a sympathetic smile. “Of course we did.” 

Before she can control it, her eyes water and she sniffles. Luke comes up and pulls her to his side, allowing her to momentarily bury herself into his sweatshirt as she tries to gather herself. Above her head, Luke and Jack share a look as Jack wordlessly grabs a thermos from the cabinet and fills 3/4 of it with coffee, topping it off with oat milk. Clementine pulls away and rubs at her eyes. 

Jack smiles at her. “Picked up some croissants from downstairs we can eat on the way. The florist should be open by now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay,” she turns to Luke again and pulls him into a real hug. She only forces herself to pull away so she can give Jack one too, before going to her room to change. 

They stop by the florist downstairs and she picks out a bouquet of fresh daisies. She watches Luke mull over his options before choosing the white lilies as Jack automatically reaches for the pink peonies. He also cradles a bouquet of sunflowers, and when she gives him a confused look, he just smiles.

(“From Quinn. He specifically requested sunflowers.”

Clementine bites her lip, nodding, the image of toddler Quinn almost yanking the sunflowers in the yard in front of her childhood home before her dad stopped him and explained how flowers grow passing through her mind.)

The drive to the cemetery doesn’t take too long. They may be driving in from a different direction than she’s used to, but somehow, it’s like her body knows exactly where she’s going. Once they arrive, she quietly directs them to the right hill and she takes a sip of her coffee before opening the car door. She tries to take the flowers from Luke’s hands but he just softly tells her he’s got it. She’s a step ahead of the two as she leads them to the correct place. 

She smiles as she comes close, seeing the semi-fresh bouquet of roses she knows her mother must’ve placed there three days prior, 28 years to the day they got married. She watches as Luke carefully sets down all their flowers, and she bends down to help him arrange them in a pretty way as Jack unfolds the large blanket. They all sit down and stare at the stone. 

in loving memory of

Miguel Alejandro Sandoval

April 3, 1968 - January 1, 2015

beloved son, uncle, friend, husband and father

As she starts talking softly, some of her words floating away with the slight breeze, Jack hastily grabs her hand with his and intertwines their fingers tightly as Luke adjusts his long limbs so that his head is in her lap. She uses her other hand to play with his curls and takes a shaky breath as Jack places his head on her shoulder. She talks about how she’s back east now and how much she loves residency and how fun it’s been to live with Jack and Luke and how Quinn is captain of the Canucks now and how her mom, Ellen and Jim are doing well. She talks like she’s chatting with her dad over homemade paella on a Sunday morning, rather than in the eerie peacefulness of Flower Hill Cemetery, which is five miles away from the house he grew up in. Jack and Luke don’t say anything, but she doesn’t expect them to. She’s just grateful they’re here with her. 

When they’re about to leave, the two boys request a few minutes without her and she just smiles, kissing her hand and touching the stone before walking away. She sits in the car and waits, watching as Luke leans his head on Jack’s shoulder. After six minutes, they’re all on their way back to Hoboken. 

After lunch, Jack and Luke head over to…one of their teammate’s places to watch whatever football game is on. They ask, more than once, if Clementine wants to join, but she denies. They both then insist on staying, but she overrules them and practically shoves them out the door, promising that she’ll be okay and that she’ll see them later. 

Around an hour later, she’s finishing up prepping some pasta salad for the week ahead when there’s a knock at the door. She hums to herself, confused. She’s not expecting anyone who doesn’t have a key to the place. She swings open the door. 

“Nico?” She smiles, albeit confused. “Uh, Hi. Jack and Luke aren’t here.”

“I know. I just saw them.” She’s still confused, but she goes to the side to allow him to come in, closing the door behind him. He slips off his shoes and clears his throat. “Happy new year.”

“Happy new year. Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?”

“I just..I was at Nate’s,” Ah, so that’s where they went. “And Jack and Luke came in and we were all bummed you weren’t coming and asked why. They didn’t say much, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I, you know, as captain or whatever, asked them if everything was okay and they said it was and I asked if you not being there had anything to do with why they skipped practice this morning and you know them, especially Jack. He’s such a shitty liar. He just said that it may be a hard day for you today, and I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Clementine isn’t offended, by any means. Too much time — nine years worth of it — has passed for her to feel any animosity of any sort about a touchy thing like this, especially when it’s just Jack and Luke looking out for her. She just smiles, reaching out a hand to take Nico’s coat. “I’m okay. But if you really want to know, it’ll take a bit of time. I’m giving you an out, Cap. It is New Year’s Day.”

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, walking further into her place. She’ll have to unpack that one later. 

“Tea or coffee? Or whatever disgusting protein shake Lukey has in the fridge?”

Nico snorts, settling himself down on the coach with the comfortability of someone who lives here. Then again, Clementine is reminded, as he unfolds the white knitted blanket, that Nico’s known the layout of this apartment longer than she has. “Coffee, please. Black is fine.”

“Abysmal,” she remarks, pouring out a cup for him and herself. She sets them down on the coffee table before smiling at him. “Be right back.” She goes into her room to dig through her bookshelf for a specific photo album that she only cracks open during January 1 of every year. It doesn’t take long before she paddles back to the living room, placing the album next to her coffee. She sits a respectable distance from Nico, but tucks herself under the blanket anyway. She watches him sip his coffee for a few moments.

“We were at the cemetery this morning. That’s why Jack and Luke asked to skip morning skate. We were visiting my dad. He died nine years ago today. Cancer,” she says, like she’s recalling a medical fact she read in her textbook. “He was, god, my best friend, really. And the best person, in my completely biased opinion. But maybe not. Miguel Sandoval, everyone used to say — still says — had a heart of gold and a smile as bright as the sun. He loved being outside. Worked as an environmental engineer. He loved chocolate ice cream. He hated mosquitos, always cursed them out in Spanish during the summer just to make me and my mom laugh. He always kicked the ball around in the backyard with me, even after an exhausting day at work. He made the best paella, made it pretty much every Sunday. God, he really did light up every room he walked into. He loved my mom. Loved me. And we loved him. Love him.” She reaches for the album and offers it to Nico, who slowly starts flicking through the pages. She looks on with him at the photos. “My mom, Maeve, and Ellen, Luke and Jack’s mom, played soccer at UNH together and just kept in touch throughout the years. My mom and dad met at UNH too. And then Ellen met Jim, and the four of them were so, so tight, I’ve been told. Double dates, all of that.” She smiles, looking at her mom and dad’s wedding photos. “Ellen was my mom’s maid of honor, and my mom was hers. They always like to remind me that I was in my mom’s stomach when Ellen and Jim got married. Anyways, I was 18 when he died, so looking back, I’m grateful that I even had that many years with him, but at the same time, it felt so short. 100 years wouldn’t have been enough time with him.”

“He sounds like an amazing man,” Nico says softly. 

Clementine smiles with him. “He was. It’s easier now. Nine years is a long time. But during the few years after, it was really hard. I felt really guilty going to UCLA just months after he died.  Was about to throw it away and go somewhere close to home instead, but my mom insisted, knowing it was my dream school. I felt guilty leaving her across the country, in a fucking different country, but it did help that she had people around to support her. It’s still not easy. This time of the year is always pretty hard on me. And it’ll never really go away. But time does heal.”

She takes a sip of coffee to gather her thoughts, as Nico continues perusing the album, laughing at some and cooing at others when the Hughes brothers start making an appearance. They stop at a picture of her father holding Luke right when he was born in the hospital, Jim proudly smiling in the background and young Jack and Quinn looking on. “My dad loved the boys and I don’t even think saying he loved them captures 1% of it. Those boys were his boys. If I didn’t have soccer games or practices, he was tagging along to all their hockey stuff after work and on the weekends. He didn’t know jackshit about the sport at first, but he eventually learned the ins and outs of the game because he wanted to support them. Did Jack ever tell you why he chose 86? Or why Luke chose 43?”

“I think Jack just said it was a family number or something,” Nico says. “Didn’t go much into it.”

“My dad’s birthday is April 3. 43. I think all of them wore it during their first year at the program. And then Quinn and Luke decided to go back to it in college and beyond, obviously. 43 doubled is 86, of course, but my dad, who was also a middle child, used to say Jack’s personality was so big and bold that it doubled his siblings’. The boys loved him just as much as he loved them.” By now, the tears are gushing down her cheeks. “Sometimes, I think that the three of them took the loss harder than I did. He never got to see them play for their country. He never got to see them get drafted. He never got to witness their first points in the show. And fuck, my dad would’ve cheered so loud. Would’ve been so proud. Probably is so proud, wherever he is. But, you know, during the big moments, and the little ones, we all know he’s there. I just know he is.”

“He is.”

She calms herself down a bit and chuckles. “Sorry, I know it’s a lot.”

“No, no.” They shift closer to each other and she leans into him as he puts an arm around her shoulder. “It’s not a lot. I-thank you. For telling me all of this. Thank you for trusting me.”

Clementine just shrugs, but the weight of her shoulders feels heavy. “I’ve never felt the need to justify to others what the Hughes family means to me, but telling people about…this usually gives them some context. I frankly don’t know if I would’ve survived and gotten through it without them. It’s more than just family friends at this point. It’s family, but it’s also something so much more. I get reminded everyday how lucky I am to have them.” 

(She swallows, thinking back to her ex-somethings that could’ve been something more had they not let their insecurities show after finding out how three of her closest friends are not just guys, but nationally scouted hockey players, thinking back to a splattering of girls who she thought were her friends but subtly changed their attitudes when they tried to get Clementine to put a good word in, thinking back to some who brushed aside her own accomplishments to fixate on her pseudo-brothers’ careers. She’s never directly mentioned it to any of the boys. It’s not their burden to worry about. But even if they aren’t as smart as her, she thinks they have an idea)

Nico nods. She thinks he may understand, weirdly enough, despite the different circumstances. It seems like Nico just understands a lot. Nico smiles, setting the album back down gently on the table in front of them. “Your ability to love greatly. Your natural protectiveness. Did that come from your dad?”

“Yeah, actually. I love my mom, of course. But she’s always been more of the tough love parent. I think the protectiveness was more of just the situation I was put in, being the oldest out of all of us and also an only child. But the love…a lot of people who knew my dad say we’re very similar in that aspect. So thank you. I’ll take it as a compliment. That means a lot to me.”

She busies herself and sips on her coffee. Nico clears his throat. "You can feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I just…did your dad’s situation influence you to want to become a doctor?”

“Sorta. I kinda always knew that I wanted to do something in science, but it definitely solidified when he died. I did think about going the oncologist route, a doctor that deals with cancer, but I ultimately decided that it hit too close to home. I-I’d like to think that in a profession that’s dedicated to trying our best to save lives, that I have a perspective on death that helps me more than harms me. Helps the patient and their family more too, hopefully.”

“That’s an extremely mature way to look at it.”

“Jesus, Cap. Way to make me feel old. I’m only 26, you know.”

“With all the stuff you’ve gone through, you’re probably more emotionally, like, 37.” Well, he kinda has a point. “But seriously though. What a beautiful perspective.”

“I appreciate that a lot, thank you.” She snuggles more into the blanket, and therefore, closer to Nico. “Bet you didn’t think you’d get this to start off your year.”

She feels the ghost of his lips press to her hair and hopes he doesn’t feel her racing heart. “Perhaps not. But I’m pretty content with how it’s going so far.”

…..

For Nico’s birthday, Clementine asks Emilia, who’s Swiss, what some traditional Swiss desserts are. After getting a recipe for a semi-complicated cake from Emilia from her mother, she gets to work.

She makes two cakes, or Zuger Kirschtorte, the larger one for Nico and the smaller one for her, Luke and Jack. It takes a good chunk of her evening, but she makes it a whole thing, putting on the Devils vs Caps game, measuring ingredients and going back towards her laptop to make sure she’s following the recipe correctly. She’s momentarily grateful that both boys aren’t here, partially so they don’t distract her in case she fucks up but mostly so they don’t start teasing her. She knows they will eventually, but she would rather hold it off as long as possible. 

The cake turns out really good, which is a bit surprising. Clementine’s always liked baking, but she’s not amazing at it. She carefully puts the larger cake in a disposable container, setting it on the counter to give it to Jack and Luke to give to Nico tomorrow morning, putting the smaller one in the fridge. Before she sleeps, she places a sticky note on the lid, “do not touch or i’ll kill you” written out in all capital letters.

(The next morning, Nico smiles when he sees that Clementine had sent him a short text reading “Happy Birthday Cap!! Enjoy your day :)” When Jack walks into the locker room, cake in his hand and beelining towards him, he’s confused. 

“Special delivery for the birthday boy,” Jack says with a knowing smile. 

Nico furrows his eyebrows. “From who?”

Jack nods to the card taped to the top of the lid. “Read the card and find out.”

Nico sets the cake beside him carefully as Jack practically skips to his stall. He ignores what he feels like are multiple eyes on him as he opens the card. He feels his throat dry up. 

Captain, 

Happy birthday!! It’s always a joy seeing and talking to you, so thank you for bringing that into my time in Jersey so far. I tried my best with the cake, so forgive me if it isn’t perfect, but I hope it brings you a sense of home. 

With love, 

Clementine

Nico takes a closer look at the cake and does a double take, before shooting her a quick text of gratitude and carefully putting it into his locker. Hours later, when he finally gets to try it, he closes his eyes in happiness, savoring the taste of a dessert his grandma used to make all the time when he was younger and thinks about the girl who made it. 

Two days later, when Clementine’s at The Rock to see all Hughes brothers together on the ice as the Devils take on the Canucks, he’s hoping to catch a glimpse of her afterwards. After getting a hattrick, he’s on a high and he’s hoping even more to get a chance to see her afterwards.

He comes out of the locker room, tired but happy, and first sees Ellen Hughes’s unmistakably bright smile. He greets her politely, grin widening as she pulls him into a motherly hug. He shakes Jim’s hand before Clementine practically jumps onto him, congratulating him on his hat trick with a happy squeal. He can’t help but laugh and squeeze her just a bit tighter before letting go and ruffling Luke’s hair. 

“Hey,” he lowers his voice so only Clementine can hear. “Thank you. For the cake. You really didn’t have to. It was delicious.”

“Really?” She says, tucking her hair behind her ears and bouncing on her toes. “Oh, I’m so glad you liked it!”

“How did you-where did you get the recipe?”

“One of my friends from the hospital is Swiss. I asked her, and she got it from her mom.”

All Nico can do is blink, because he’s so fucking touched that someone would go out of the way like that. He takes a second to look at Clementine’s beautiful smile and takes a deep breath. “I really appreciate it. Thank you.”

She just beams. Nico wants to bottle it up. 

Right as he’s slipping into bed that night, he checks his texts one last time, furrowing his eyebrows when he sees a text from Luke from four minutes ago. It’s a Twitter link. Confused, Nico clicks on it. It’s a short clip of the broadcast from the game earlier, after he had scored his hattrick. It shows him celebrating on the ice, then pans the bench, fans, before panning to the Hughes family box. He smiles, watching as everyone cheers, but he immediately notices Clementine, in Quinn’s Canucks jersey nonetheless, jumping out of her seat first and raising her arms in excitement, clapping and shouting and smiling.

As he’s watching the video again, Luke sends another text. 

Luke Hughes

Ask her out already 

I’m getting impatient

Nico just dislikes the second text. He watches the video one more time before shutting off his phone.)

…..

Residency keeps Clementine crazy busy the next few weeks, that even though she wants to go to more games, she’s either working or too tired to drag herself to The Rock. She barely can keep her eyes open even when she puts a game on the TV, and is always fully asleep before Quinn and the Canucks on the west coast even take the ice. 

But finally, on a cold Saturday, on their day off, she drags Emilia along to see the Devils face the Canadiens. It’s a plus that she gets to see Cole again, because Cole has the ability to always put a smile on her face. 

Additionally, it’s a noon game, which is super rare. And Clementine takes that as a chance to host a small little thing at their place afterwards with an open invite to any of the players — on both teams — and their families. She can’t keep track of who knows who in the small world of professional hockey. She’s getting some of her residency friends to come too. 

If she has the energy and time to host something, she’ll do it. She used to love hosting in college and med school, even if it was just something as simple as a potluck. She’s aware it’s the middle of the season and they can’t go crazy, but she loves filling her home with love and conversation. 

Right after the game, she and Emilia both bolt out of there, Clementine momentarily thankful that they coincidentally parked close to the entrance so she could fight her way out of the lot within a decent time. Luckily, a lot of significant others offered to bring something or pick something up, so she and Emilia don’t have to prepare that much. Once they reach the apartment, Emilia helps Clementine out with her giant charcuterie board before taking out the tray of lemon squares she had made the night before and starting to cut them. 

Soon enough, everyone trickles in seemingly one after the other and Clementine is bustling around, making her rounds. She practically pounces on Cole, smiling at the sight of his smile and demanding him to catch her up on everything. 

She’s so busy mingling that she forgets to pour herself a glass of wine even though the bottles have already been opened. She doesn’t really realize it until she feels a tap on her shoulder and turns around to see Nico with a smile paired with a glass of wine in his hand. 

“For you,” Nico says softly. Somehow, it stands out above the loudish volume chatter in the apartment. “Got the last of it in that glass. Figured you might want some.”

She accepts the glass with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Cap. This one is one of my favorites.”

“I figured,” he says. She raises an eyebrow. He smiles a bit shyly. “On Christmas, you brought two bottles of that when we went to see Jack and Luke, and well, your, family. And I’ve seen at least one bottle of it at the apartment every time I’ve gone in recently and I know for a fact that Luke doesn’t like wine and Jack doesn’t know a shitty one from a good one.”

She snorts. “You’d think that allowing them to sneak some from my glass at family dinners for so long would’ve given them some taste. Instead, Luke has decided that a shitty beer is always his go-to and Jack’s go-to drink is a margarita like a psychopath.”

Nico chuckles, amused. “Bashing on Luke’s drink of choice is fair, even if I don’t agree, but what do you have against margaritas?”

“Many of my not-so-great moments in college have started with tequila,” she says with a shudder. “Even the smell of it makes me want to throw up these days.”

He laughs as she sips on her lovely wine. “Party animal back at college?”

“I wouldn’t say so. But work hard, play hard was the motto for a lot of my friends, and I wasn’t always strong enough to ward away their pleas.” She nods at him. “How about you? Is your drink of choice actually beer or are you normal?”

“I’m not picky. Beer’s pretty huge back home, though. So it’s what will usually be shoved in your hand whether you like it or not.”

“I went to Zurich two years ago for a friend’s wedding. It might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to.”

“Zurich’s great,” Nico smiles, his eyes flashing in a way she hasn’t seen before. “The whole country. It’s beautiful. It’s home. There’s nothing like home.”

“You miss it during the season? Or are you used to it by now?”

“Mostly used to it. It makes it all the more special when I do go back in the summer, you know? Also, it’s nice to have Siegs, Schmido and Timo here. A little taste of home even though we’re so far from it. Remind me again where home is for you? Toronto, right? Or Michigan?”

She chuckles. “It’s tricky. I grew up in Toronto, but my mom lives in Boston now. And you know, I was out in California for so long. So Toronto, but also Massachusetts, but also California? I don’t really know. But I’m also going to be in Jersey for the next four-ish years at least, so right now, it’s New Jersey.”

“And you’re happy with that?”

Clementine looks around the apartment with a giddy smile. “If it’s gonna look something like this, I think so.” 

“Clem!” She turns her head to see Cole bouncing towards her. He halts quickly though. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re good, man.” Nico says, shooting one last smile at Clementine. “Enjoy the wine.”

“Thanks for getting it for me.” He nods once and gives a friendly pat to Cole’s shoulder before walking towards the living room. 

Cole looks between Nico’s retreating back and Clementine, a mischievous smile growing on his lips. She narrows her eyes. “I don’t like that smile, Coley. What do you want?”

“Nothing! It’s a lovely little thing you have here. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Anytime. You looked great out there earlier.”

Cole puffs out his chest a bit and she refrains from rolling her eyes. “You think?”

“Well, I’m not an analyst. Or a coach. Or an expert of the game of hockey in any way. So take all my opinions with a grain of salt.”

“Sure,” he says, leaning his hip on the counter behind him. “But with the amount of hockey games you’ve watched in your lifetime combined with how much you’ve been surrounded by it all your life, I’d say you could give even the best analysts at The Athletic a run for their money.”

“Not by choice,” she grunts. 

Cole just smiles. His default expression, which Clementine can’t help but just adore. “Sure, Clem. Sure.”

“You’re being weird. What do you want?”

“For years you’ve been around hockey players. For years you’ve been around them flirting with you. And you finally crack because of the Swiss captain?”

She plops a few nuts in her mouth. “Whatever Jack and Luke have been feeding you, ignore it. You should know better.”

“They’re not feeding me anything, thank you very much!” She gives him a skeptical look. Cole, like the weakling he is, cracks. “Okay, maybe they have. But I’m also not blind, Clem. Hischier’s well-liked in the league. I think you two would be good together.”

She points at him playfully. “It is not your job to be thinking about these things.”

“Then whose is it?” He shoots back, playful smile still on his face but with a more serious tinge on the edges. “Clem, we’re not 16 anymore. Give us some credit. Let us matchmake a little.”

She snorts. “With love, absolutely fucking not. I know Jack has this fantasy in his head that I’ll date his captain and it’ll be all great, but he needs to chill.”

“He told you that?”

“More or less. He’s not subtle.”

Cole shrugs. “I’m not pushing, Clem. I’m not Jack or, even worse, Trevor. But just, I don’t know. Maybe it’s not just a fantasy in Jack’s mind. He adores Nico. And you know he thinks the world of you. Maybe he actually sees something there. I don’t think he’d encourage it so much or fuck around with that just to fuck around. You’re some of the most important people in his life.” 

Clementine sneaks a look at Nico, who’s literally just existing, and she can’t help but smile. At the sight of his smile. At the sight of him talking to Emilia. At the possibilities. But she turns back to Cole with a dimmer smile. “I don’t know, Coley. It’s not that-Nico’s amazing. He’s honestly just so…good. I don’t think he has a manipulative bone in his body. I just feel like I come with so much baggage, you know? No one’s gonna want that.” 

Cole makes a noise in his throat. “Okay, first of all. It’s not baggage. It’s life. Everyone comes with some sort of baggage, so that’s stupid. Second of all, you have so many people who already love you despite the ‘baggage.’ What’s adding one more person to that list?” 

She just hums. Cole offers her a smile, before switching topics to the Taylor Swift concert he went to last summer, which she knows he’s bringing up just to rile her up.

…..

On April 3, Clementine wakes up for work, to see that Jack and Luke are already awake, much to her surprise. She looks to the kitchen island and sees a plate of blueberry pancakes. She smiles sadly — her dad used to always make blueberry pancakes for breakfast if the boys were over. She doesn’t say anything and just hugs them both tightly as they all dig in. She has to run to work, and kisses them both on the cheek before heading out, promising to see them tonight.

After her shift ends, Clementine ducks into the staff bathroom to change. No jersey this time, but a cropped black Devils crewneck she cut herself with skinny jeans. She bids farewell to her coworkers before swiping her keycard and hopping on the train to Madison Square Garden. She’s meeting up with Emilia, who had the day off, and her husband Tony to watch the Devils take on the Rangers.

She’s grown to love The Rock, but going to a game at Madison Square Garden is pretty cool, even if she gets playfully chirped by Rangers fans multiple times as she walks in. She happily sips on her rum and coke, chatting with Emilia and Tony as she sees the seats slowly fill with blue. Hockey is always fun to watch, but she hasn't been to a game yet that has a rivalry quite like this one. 

As the game starts and she naturally gets into it, she finds herself having a moment where she wishes her father was in the empty seat next to hers. Luke scores a goal, and for a split second, her fingers itch to reach out to hug him as if he was there. She shakes it off and just keeps cheering and playfully getting up in Emilia and Tony’s faces while trying not to spill her second rum and coke for the night. Seeing the 43 on Luke’s jersey makes her emotional and she bites her lip to keep herself together.

Afterwards, after a tough 2-1 loss, she bids Emilia and Tony goodnight as she tries to find the path to the locker rooms, even though she always insists that she doesn’t need an all-access pass or whatever, especially at an away game. But Jack and Luke always insist (“We’re literally all going to the same place after anyways. And this one is at MSG. We gotta make sure you haven’t been injured by their fans.”) and she’s learned to pick her battles with them. 

It’s a nice enough night out, so she decides to wait outside instead of inside the hallway, texting Jack and Luke that she’s outside the exit. She ends up chatting with Jared, one of the guys on their equipment team, about how his daughter is just about to finish her first year of med school at UMass before the doors swing open. As usual, she gives Luke and then Jack comforting hugs, kissing their cheeks and ruffling their hair. Various members of the team start trickling out and she greets them all with smiles, chuckling softly as Dawson wraps her in a tight hug. 

Since MSG is decently close to Newark (without traffic, that is, which is practically impossible for New York City), a lot of the guys drove together to come to the arena this morning. So she watches as they debate who’s getting in whose car, since apparently it has to be different from this morning because of who lives where and a bunch of factors Clementine doesn’t understand. As long as she’s getting home somehow, she doesn’t care. 

She’s tuned them out so it takes Jack calling her name twice for her to pay attention. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“Do you mind riding with Neeks?” Jack says, waving his hand around. “We have a bigger car and it’s easier if we drop off Nate, Holtzy and-”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine,” she turns to Nico. “You sure you have room? I can always just take the train back.”

Nico snorts, “Jack and Luke would kill me if I had you going back on the train this late. I have plenty of room in my car. I’m just taking Bratter back.” 

“Only if you’re sure,” she says, before nodding at Jack and Luke. “See you both at home.”

(She misses the look that the boys all give Nico)

She insists that Jesper take the front seat, practically shoving him and quickly climbing into the back, making Nico laugh. Somehow, the traffic in Lincoln Tunnel is bearable and they’re in Jersey City in just over half an hour. Clementine hops out to give Jesper a hug once they reach his place before sliding into the passenger seat. 

Nico hands her the aux cord, as Jesper had been auxing earlier. She gives him a look. “Are you sure?”

He looks behind him before pulling back on the road. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She hums in response, satisfied, before shuffling one of her playlists. “When do you have to go into work tomorrow?”

“Uh, not until after lunch.”

“Perfect. Are you hungry?” 

“A bit actually, yeah.”

“Wanna grab a quick bite to eat and maybe a drink? I know a place that’s pretty close to here.”

She looks at the side of his face with a smile. “Yeah,” she says softly. “That sounds great.”

Nico catches her eye quickly, and smiles back. “Okay, great. Yeah.”

Within 10 minutes, Nico parks his car in the parking lot of a beer garden. It’s lively, but not crowded enough to overwhelm her. The outside patio is beautiful, and Nico just looks behind her with an encouraging smile. Without thinking, she grabs his hand and they walk in. 

He confidently strolls up to the bar, greeting the bartender, who seems to recognize him and greets him with a friendly handshake, causing her to let go of his hand. The bartender, Adam, he introduces himself as, is already filling up a pint of beer for Nico as he asks her what she wants to drink. She orders herself a rum and coke. He asks if Nico wants “his usual” for the food order and Nico nods, also adding something else that he says too fast for Clementine to decipher. But Adam just nods, before saying he’ll put the order in and goes to prepare their drinks. 

“You come around here often?”

Nico shrugs. “I guess. A bunch of the boys do. It’s a good place to hang out and grab some food.” They both grab their drinks and Nico leads her to the outdoor patio with his hand hovering over her back.

She slides into her seat, putting her hair up and taking a sip of her drink. “I’m sorry about the loss.”

“It’s not the end of the world, since we’ve already clinched playoffs…”

“But it still sucks?” She finishes for him. He nods, and she offers a sympathetic smile. “I get it, especially against the Rangers, I’m sure. But you guys still skated really well.”

“Thanks.” He smiles over his glass. “How was your day?”

Clementine blinks repeatedly, her throat suddenly feeling rough. It’s more likely that he’s just asking to be polite, but the fact that after a tough loss, he’s interested and cares enough to even ask. He must notice something shift in her eyes because he softens, hands itching to grab hers. She does the job for him, grabbing his hand probably too quickly. But before she can think too much on it, he loosely intertwines their fingers on the table. 

She clears her throat. “Honestly, not the best. Ending on a good note though.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

She chuckles weakly. “Would you even wanna hear it?”

“Of course I would.”

She finds nothing but sincerity in his eyes. She takes another sip of her drink. “One of the our cancer patient’s chemo results came back ineffective, which is just…so fucking shitty. Docs aren't deterred though and they talked with the kid’s parents today about targeted therapies which is good…” she trails off with a shrug. “Just being in the room as they broke the news, it…I don’t know. It’s always tough. Had me thinking.”

“Back to your own dad?” Nico asks carefully. 

Clementine nods, surprised that he remembered. Before she can respond, their food comes and her stomach is happy seeing the large tray of loaded fries in front of them. They dig in for a moment and she nods. “Yeah.”

“Do you do anything special to celebrate? For his birthday?” He asks. 

“Nothing really set in stone. I always try to do something, whether it’s watch his favorite movie or listen to his favorite songs. Something small and personal. I’m usually not in town to visit his grave, but my mom tries to go. He used to always make blueberry pancakes, so Jack and Luke made some this morning, which was sweet.”

“Jack and Luke know how to make pancakes?”

She snorts. “I’m just as surprised as you are. Yeah, so nothing crazy. Called my mom during my lunch break just to make sure she was all good.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a teacher. 5th grade. So 10 and 11 year olds. She loves it. All the teachers have their own little group. She has her summers off to travel and spend time with family and friends.” Clementine pulls out her phone, quickly finding a picture in her camera roll of her and mom earlier this year at her graduation. “Good old Maeve. Irish to the core and proud of it, yet still can curse you out in Spanish pretty well. Says that that was one of the first things my dad taught her when they were in college.”

Nico laughs. “I still automatically switch to Swiss-German when I wanna curse and chirp. It takes a couple of seconds to translate to English in my head. But sometimes it just sounds so much better in Swiss-German that I wish people could understand.”

“Do you think in Swiss-German still, or do you think more in English?”

“It depends. I would say day to day, definitely Swiss-German. But if I’m at the rink and I’m, you know, talking to the team and stuff, usually English. I’ve trained myself in games to think pretty much in English now, since it’s so fast. But if I’m tired, my brain just switches back to Swiss-German.”

“That makes sense.”

“Do you speak any other languages?” 

She wipes her fingers on her napkin. “I speak enough Spanish to be able to get by, though it’s not as great as it used to be. Apparently I was fluent as a child.”

“Is all your family in the states?”

“Nah. Every year during the summer when I was a kid, we used to go to Spain and Ireland to see family over there. I haven’t gotten to go back there in a few years, but I’d like to at some point.”

Nico hums, just as a waiter comes with a plate of two large chocolate chip cookies. Clementine grins at Nico, who just nods at her to dig in. “Where in Spain is your family from?”

“Seville area, so more south.” She smiles, picturing Seville in her head, some of the rum and coke finally hitting her. “I loved getting to see where my dad grew up. Playing soccer in the fields where he played. Eating at the small restaurants he used to eat at. Remember when you asked me where home was?” Nico blinks for a moment before nodding. “I think I lied. It’s physical places sure, but it’s always been more of the people for me. And their joy and where they feel the most joy. So if we’re basing it off that, home could be Seville. Home could be Cork in Ireland. Home could be Toronto. Home could be Boston. Hell, home could be fucking Michigan with Q, Jack and Lukey even if I’ve only been there, like, three times.” 

“Well, where’s home for you at this second? Right here. Right now.”

“I don’t know. Everywhere? Nowhere?” She looks down at the table, eyebrows furrowing at herself at how emotional she’s getting. She blames the rum, from just now and earlier at the game. “That’s a depressing answer. I’m sorry. I guess, I just, when Luke scored tonight, the 43 on the back of his jersey, for a split second, I thought my dad was sitting next to me. I reached out to the empty seat next to me like he was. But he wasn’t. And I’m so, so sad he wasn’t.” She sniffles, “I’m sorry. Fuck. This isn’t-”

“Hey, hey.” Nico assures, holding her hand across the table again. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, okay? Nothing. I promise.”

She doesn’t let any tears fall and just stares into Nico’s comforting eyes with a small laugh. “I feel like you’ve seen me emotional a decent amount considering how short of a time we’ve known each other.”

“That’s okay. Emotions are good.” She chuckles again and his dimples grow deeper. “I-I figured today might be hard. I wanted- I wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”

“So you only asked me to grab food for ulterior motives? Not just cause you wanted to hang out?”

His eyes widen almost comically. “No! No. I-I love spending time with you. I just-”

“Relax, Nico. I’m just messing with you,” she giggles as he rolls his eyes. “I appreciate it, though. Really. I think you’re too kind to me.”

“I’m just the right amount of kind to you.” 

She watches as he finishes off his beer and has a sudden urge to lean across the table and kiss him. 

…..

(That night, when she comes home, she expects Jack and Luke to be asleep. They aren’t. Instead, they’re both sitting on the couch, some random hockey game on quietly in the background. Their heads snap in her direction as the door clicks shut. 

She immediately holds up her hand. “Don’t even. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Hear what?” Luke says. “That you’re fucking our captain?”

“Crude, first of all. Untrue, second of all. And third of all, and most importantly, you guys are annoying.”

“You’re deflecting,” Jack sings. 

“You haven’t asked me a question,” she shoots back. “Goodnight, you two.”

They both groan. “Can you both just get over whatever the fuck you two have going on and make it official?” Jack whines. 

“Goodnight,” she repeats, walking to her room. “Don’t forget breakfast tomorrow!”

She collapses on her bed and screams into her pillow)

…..

If Clementine’s completely honest to herself, making it to the home games for the playoffs is a priority because she just wants to be there just as much, if not more, than she wants to be there to support. Hockey with stakes is nerve wracking, but it’s also a completely different game than the regular season. Even after what could be the most bone-tiring day of work, she’s excited to have the next month or so be filled with as much hockey as possible. She doesn’t even try to fight when Jack and Luke automatically put her name down for a ticket for every home game. Even if she won’t be able to make it come the day, she’ll just leave it for one of their friends. She heard that some of Luke’s Michigan friends are trying to make it out, to which she’s simultaneously elated by but also dreading. Their apartment will not be quiet for the foreseeable future.

The day of their first game against the Penguins, she doesn’t have to go into the hospital, since she had just done two overnights in three days. She sleeps soundly until 2 p.m., and crawls out quietly, knowing both Jack and Luke’s door are shut as they’re taking their pregame naps. She pours out a cup of coffee, makes herself a sandwich, before settling on the couch with a textbook beside her and her notebook on her lap. 

She hears Jack and Luke start getting ready, shower heads running and closet doors opening and shutting. When they both come out in their game day suits, she insists on taking a picture of the both of them, to which they both groan at. They relent, and she sends the picture to Ellen, Jim and Quinn, before squeezing them and telling them good luck, promising them that she’ll see them afterwards. 

After they leave, she starts getting ready, humming to herself as she heats up the flat iron to put some waves and volume into her hair. She figures she has the time, and she hasn’t done anything to her hair in awhile. 

As she’s about to put the flat iron to her hair, someone knocks on the door. She rolls her eyes and yells out, “You two have keys, you know? Use them for once.” No response, just three more knocks. She huffs in annoyance, sets her flat iron down and walks to the door. 

“I’m going to fucking kill-oh.” It’s Nico, in his perfect game day suit with his hair styled perfectly. “Nico. Hey. Aren’t you supposed to be-”

He kisses her. 

Oh. 

He’s still kissing her, both his hands on her cheeks and she finds herself fisting his shirt. He’s still kissing her, and she doesn’t want him to stop. He tries to pull away, but she pulls him back in, and she smiles against his lips at the little noise that comes out of his mouth. He tastes like mint and home.

He does eventually pull away, flushed and delighted and flustered. “I have to go.”

“You have impeccably shit timing, Cap.”

They both chuckle. He takes a hold of her hands. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just had to.”

“Why?” She’s not letting him go that easy.

He squeezes her hands. His stare is making her feel the most seen she’s felt in awhile. “Well, I-I have a long answer that I don’t think I can think of right now. But the short answer is that I like you. A lot. And I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day at the hospital and every day since.”

She swallows, straightening his shirt that she messed up. “Go. I’ll see you after the game, yeah?” She kisses him on the cheek before forcing herself to back away. With one last grin, he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns around. She leans her hip against the door frame, “Nico?”

He turns back around in the middle of the hallway, “Yeah?”

She grins, fondness in her skin and bones. “Good luck. You’ll be great.” With one last salute from him, she closes the door. She leans her back against her door and lets out a little squeal. 

…..

(The second Nico walks out of the locker room, all she can see is him. His hair is messy as all hell and he looks exhausted, but his face lights up, and for the first time, she knows it’s because of her.

Without another word, she walks over to him and kisses him. It’s hard to ignore the cheers and whistles from the other people around them, but she ignores them, catching her breath with a giggle. She finally hones in on the other people in the room. Dawson’s grinning, Ryleigh shoots her a thumbs up, Curtis is audibly ‘aww’ing, Jonas is yelling something that she can’t understand but Nico can, judging from his blush. 

“Ew,” Nico and Clementine whip around to see Luke with his nose scrunched up. “Like, I’m happy that you two finally, you know, got your heads out of your asses, but ew. I don’t wanna see it.”

Jack, who’s right next to him, is just grinning. For once, he’s saying nothing. Clementine’s suspicious. She narrows her eyes at him. “Nothing to say, Jacky?”

“Nothing Hisch doesn’t already know,” the two centers exchange a look that has her whipping her head between the both of them. “He’s just lucky we already played Vancouver so he doesn’t have to encounter Quinn.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” Clementine scolds. “Leave him alone.”

“Never, especially not now. Now he’s really stuck with us.” Jack beams. “You gonna ride with Cap or are we taking you home?”

She pokes Nico in the side. He looks down at her with a sweet smile. “Drive me home?” She asks.

“Always.”

For herself, but more to annoy Jack and Luke, she kisses him one more time. They both groan as Clementine feels Nico’s smile against her lips.)

[lxverrings]

Hola!

It's been a while I know 💀

I just have something in my head and can't get my head out of it. Just hear me out- 😭

Spider!Reader being Miles', Gwen's and Mayday's work-mom (basically their mom at work). Reader just loves kids (haha can't relate 💀) and is a natural mother.

Miguel realizes that he wants needs to put a baby in Reader asap. (Breeding kink basically)

- Solecito (aka. Spanish anon 🇪🇸)

Me coming right back to life from how GOOD this ask is... Holy shit you put me in a mood 🥲

Motherly Instinct.

A Miguel O’hara drabble ; MDNI, NSFW under the cut!

Summary: What Solecito said, except I took the creative liberty to ensure reader speaks Spanish and also Mayday kind of has MJ (/other variations of her) so I’m going to add Pav and Hobie!!! Also reader isn’t necessarily a spider-person but def in the medical part of the spider society, so you go ahead with your little imagination <3

R/N: this put me in such a mood I need to find more fics like this smh and extra note, I feel you Solecito, I HATE TODDLERS!!!! babies are fine, so are teens, but TODDLERS??? TODDLERS???? my patience is thin... But I personally would like kids and especially with Miguel O’hara...

Warnings: NSFW under cut!!!! Obviously breeding kink warnings, mating press ig, Miguel physically cannot get his hands off reader...

——

You’ve been in the society for quite a while now. From Miguel’s start to the shablam with Miles and the final acceptance of the boy into the society, even if Miguel was a bit sour about it...

Either way, it’s been long enough so that Miguel put a ring on that finger...

For the time being, your husband hasn’t had time to discuss babies, which is something that you’ve been thinking about, and subtly (not) been bringing up. He promises that someday in the future.

Well, someday is still too far away.

You’ve been at least calming your raging baby fever by talking with the younger spiders and doing your best to take care of their occasional reckless behavior...

“Hey! Heyyy!!! I told you I was fine!” Gwen puffed as she was bandaged up from the shards of glass due to her impromptu landing, Hobie just chuckled— probably his idea...— more than anything to land that way.

“Oi, “ma’...” do me a favo’ ’n check on my ’vitr, thanks, luv.” he mused, he seemed unfazed, despite the wraps tied around his wrists and arms.

“Will do, Hobie...” you smiled warmly, nodding at the younger spider, while Miles nervously fidgeted. “Miles...” you began before you gently patted his arm, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” you smiled reassuringly, trying to soothe his nerves— seeing Gwen and Pavitr get hurt like that, definitely must have altered the nerves in the young man.

“I know... I just... I guess I’m nervous. I would talk it out with mí mamí, but I guess I just... Well. It’s nice talking to you, not lie a replacement, but... Like a supplement? Wait... No that sounds wrong...” he mumbled— which got him out of that loop.

“You sound like a gym bro...” Pavitr finally giggled. Hobie let out a small sigh of relief and chuckled.

“Swolemates, huh?” Hobie chuckled, you rolled your eyes and smiled at them, the little group of preteens filled the room with easy chatter.

You smiled and nodded at them, unaware of Miguel’s gaze from the sight of the cameras that filled the screens of his monitoring.

Honestly, Miguel wasn’t paying much attention, until Lyla’s alarming noises went off.

“What the shock, Lyla?!”

The snarky hologram just smirked, “Oh nothing.”

“I just wanted to show you this!” she chirped with a smile.

He just rolled his eyes for a while— until the screen lit up with your face and the chit-chats with the younger spiders.

Mom? Ma?

Fuck.

He was so down bad.

Embarrassing, really, wasn’t it?

Either way, Miguel just stood and grumbled.

“Lyla. Shock. Call her in.”

“C’monn...”

“Shut the shock up and call her in!”

“C’mon! C’mon!”

“Please, can you just shocking—”

“Yeah, I already called her.” Lyla smirked as Miguel grumbled and swatted her off.

“Boss got you on track, huh ma?” Hobie smirked as you smiled nervously and swatted him off.

“I bet it’s not important...” you mused before Lyla interrupted.

“It’s very important!!!”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything is okay? Maybe it’s important— but in a good way?” Gwen offered with a small smile and tilted her head quietly.

“Don’t be that way,” Miles muttered, but he shuddered, perhaps he was getting the PTSD that Miguel put him through.

“You are all such pessimists! The passion is palpable, how can you concentrate when our big bad boss is in loooove?” Pavitr quickly shot back in absolute delight.

You shooed them off with a smile before retreating to Miguel’s... Lair. If you could call it that. Office? Same thing.

You walked off quickly, and entered his office. If you could call it that.

Miguel watched you sternly and crossed his arms as he stalked over your smaller form

“Hola, Miguelito!”

“Ay. You’re finally here.” he grumbled, putting his large hand on the top of your head, pushing back stray locks of hair to kiss your forehead.

You smiled warmly, unaware of the daunting gaze he held on you.

“I have to ask something of you.” he mumbled as he lightly peppered your face in kisses, “És muy importante...”*

“Lo que tú quieras...”*

He stared down for a moment.

“Quiero un bebé.”*

Oh.

Oh.

You stared up at him nervously, your face flushed as your hands twittered together, and you gazed nervously up at him, “Oh?”

“Shock.” he hissed and held your chin as his kisses became more passionate, “Wanna get you pregnant, I want to give you a little baby. A little baby that looks like you, shock. You would make such a good mommy. Cuidando chamacos qué ni son tuyos... Y lo hacés tan bién...”*

Your breath hitched but you smiled up at him, “Me gustaría tener un bebé contigo...”*

The bed screeched underneath the brutal pace Miguel was going at, how many hours had it been?

Fuck.

Your clammy hands pulling at the sheets and the hiccups and tears that left your eyes as he pounded over and over again.

His tip prodding at your abused cervix, the harsh little veins scratching at your sweetest spots, and the scruffiness of his happy trail scratching at your little pearl of nerves.

God knows how many orgasms you had, your ankles over his shoulders as he bent you in half had your squelching cunt shaking and twitching as tears left your eyes at rapid paces.

“Dios. Ay! Miguel, por favor—Sisisi— ay! Ahí! Ahí!”* you begged in tears, both of you reduced to mingled Spanish as he gruffed and grunted.

“Te voy a llenar otraves, así te gusta. Sí. Tómalo todo. No dejes qué sé salga nada. Te voy a llenar de bebés. Te voy a dejar redonda y hinchada, hasta qué quedes bién embarazada y tengas mí bebé. Hasta qué grites de tan sensible y débil qué estés...”* he hissed back and kissed you with a stronger passion.

He was relentless with his pace as his fingers worked your nipples and he mused something about getting to drink from your swollen boobs, and getting to dress you in maternity clothes— how he couldn’t wait to watch it work wonders on your body. And how well he would take care of you with his baby. How his spoiled little wife would get nothing but the best, and have her with the most beautiful baby imaginable.

No mercy was bestowed on your poor body and less so that night. Your poor cunt was seeping his essence, and every time that a single drop leaked, he gave you another round until you passed out, only to fall asleep to his gentle praises and his gentle caresses.

Because he wouldn’t have it any other way; you would make the perfect mommy, and god was he lucky, that ring on your finger was absolutely perfect...

But what would make this more perfect? A little baby in your arms.

Surely, as soon as the baby was here, it wouldn’t be very long until he wanted another.

♡

Translations:

It’s very important...

Whatever you want.

I want a baby.

Taking care of rascals that aren’t even yours... And you do it so well...

I would like to have a baby with you...

There, there!

I’m going to fill you up again. That’s how you like it. Yes. Take it all. Don’t let anything spill out. I’m going to fill you with babies. I’m going to leave you round and swollen. Until you’re pregnant and you have my baby. Until you scream from how sensitive and weak you are...

[legobiwan]

"What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal just like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine?"

Holy shit, Stanford, you just spent the last few pages of your Journal outlining in horrifying detail how Bill took your body on a criminal joyride and forced you to forget your own name while pulling your bones from their very sockets in a hallucinatory nightmare void. You woke up weeping on your living room floor.

And yet, you have the absolute fucking gall to be concerned your brother, if you summon him to Gravity Falls, might destroy the Portal???? You mean the one piece of leverage you have over Bill? The main reason he's stalking you? The machine that will literally end the world if activated?

Between this, Ford refusing to burn his journals, and the fact he fully intends on continuing his work on the Portal once he's solved the Bill problem -

This is the picture of a man at the apex of both megalomania and a mental breakdown.

Could you imagine if Ford had found a way to beat back Bill and keep the Portal? Just how much would his ego have inflated even more? (Probably large enough that he wouldn't fit out the door). I feel like it's a timeline where Ford becomes the Big Bad, not because of Bill (well, a little bit because of Bill), but because he sees himself as transcending godhood and what little is left of his moral compass he casts into a black hole. ("He may be a god, but I am scientist.")

The juxtaposition between this and Stan's sacrifice during Weirdmageddon is insane. Ford, who steadfastly refused to give up his life's work to save world and Stan, who gave up everything he was to save the world. There's got to be a part of Stan that reads these pages and wonders just who his brother is, when he turned unto a supervillain, and if it would ever happen again. Stan may not want to acknowledge it, but deep down, I think he's legitimately pissed at Ford for being such narcissistic bonehead. I think it is something that haunts him in the odd hours of the night, his brother sleeping soundly in the bunk next to him on the Stan O'War II while Stan ponders if he's sharing quarters with Lex Luthor. You could have ended it, Poindexter. You could have ended so long ago.

The past is the past and as his mother would say, you can't unshit a turd. (Something Stan has more experience with than he'd like, regret trailing him his whole life like a vengeful shadow). Ford is here now, they're alive, the bastard triangle is gone. But God, does he want to sit his brother down, tie him to a chair, and scream at him, to shake him and demand to know just what hell he had been thinking, why he had allowed himself to become this kind of...this kind of monster.

Stan will never, ever do this. He has his brother, has his awkward affection, has almost everything he's ever wanted. The answers are not worth it. (In Stan's experience, the answers are almost never worth it.)

And as for Ford? Somewhere in his subconscious, a shrill, too-familiar voice likes to remind him of who he is and what he can still become. The same grating voice that tells him they're not so different, after all, that there's still time, there's always time to fix the past, to create the future. You're a scientist, after all. You're more than a god.

That's the voice Ford papers over with contrition, with guilt and self-abnegation and a near-manic dedication to the small boat bobbing along in the Arctic, not even holding a speck of relevance compared to the vast and might ocean, forget to the multiverse at large. That's the voice Ford drinks away in secret on the worst nights, the one that tells him a stone statue in the forest is as much him as it is the monster whose shape it embodies.

[fruity-mega-coconut69]

The Quiet Kid Pt. III.

[pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Reed!Fem!Reader

[Summary]: After the attack at the apartment, it wasn't long before the others found out about who you really are.

[warnings]: swearing, bad writing

A/N: I don't know, I'm thinking about changing my username. But only if you guys are okay with that. Also thanks for almost 400 followers. Holy Shit!Oh and should i Do a pt 2 of One more chance? If so, tell me what would you like to be in it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

After you’ve been patched up in the ambulance, you decided to just lean against it. Tara and Mindy are there too. Sitting on the back of the ambulance with Mindy’s head on Tara’s shoulder. Anika has been driven to the hospital because of the amount of blood she has lost.

As you are daydreaming by yourself, you see Chad walking up to you. However, you pay no mind to it, even as he settles beside you. There’s a long beat of silence before he speaks up. “So…..how are you?” You just look at him and after a couple of seconds he nods. “Listen, I-.....I know you like Tara. And I know, you  know that I do too.” He takes in a deep breath as he finally looks up from the ground. “ But I think it’s pretty fucking clear who she like back.” Chad laughs breathlessly.

You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “And who would that be?” 

“You, dumbass!” He exclaims. “ i mean, yes we maybe closer and all, but the way she fucking looks at you? She-....” Chad pauses and looks down at his shoes. “She will never look at me like that. And besides, I think liking Tara was just……my mourning.  I thought that, maybe if we’d get together, I don’t know, we could…..help each other move on. Shit, that’s such bullshit.” He laughs pathetically at himself.

“That’s not true. It just seems that the both of you are dealing with what happened to you in such different but still somehow familiar ways.  Okay? I-” You couldn’t finish your sentence as Chad’s attention is turned towards Ethan, who has just walked into the closed down area. Chad mutteres something among the lines of, ‘That mother fucker’ and ‘ Son of a bitch’ then storms over to Ethan. 

Suddenly, you see Tara’s face come into view. She smiles at you slightly. “ Hi.” You nod back at her. “Hi “ 

She looks down at the ground and swallows hard. “ So, uh, are you planning on telling the others about Kirby? “

While hesitantly nodding, you suck in a deep breath. “ Yeah, I do. But I don’t think right now is a good time for that. “Tara nods then looks over where Sam is and sees Detective Bailey stumbling out of the apartment building. Tara’s face softens and she looks back at you, grabs your hand and starts walking towards them.

Letting out a yelp, you try to keep up with her. When you arrive you see Bailey sobbing.  Tara looks up at him. “I’m really sorry about Quinn. “

He nods at her and looks down at the ground. “Thank you. “ Bailey sniffs and looks up at Sam. She puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Both my kids are gone. My whole family…..gone.” Bailey sobs out. You bite your lip as you look at the grieving man.  Sam and Tara glance at each other . then you feel Tara squeezing your hand, well you didn't even realize she was still holding it. “ they took me off the case. But I'm not gonna stop until I find him. You fuck with my family….you die.”He says angrily while glancing at Sam.

“Agreed”

Suddenly, you hear a voice-that you know all too well- say behind you with rushed breaths. “Hey, are you okay? I came as soon as I heard. “ You smile and go over to her. She grins at you then holds out her arms, welcoming you in a sweet hug. When you pull away, Tara once again takes hold of your hand. 

Sam perks up. “Gale, I swear to god.. “ She warns Gale. 

“Truce, okay? I’m here for whatever you need. “ She says, almost pleading.

Sam scoffs at her. “Yeah, okay. Nice try”

“Really, I am. “ Gale looks at the three of you then sighs. “Okay, fine. Off the record, okay?” Tara looks at Sam and she nods hesitantly. 

“Okay. Thank you. “

Then, Tara and Gale make eye contact. Tara starts shaking her head. “I’m…sorry I punched you. “ A light smirk grows on Gale’s face. “No, you’re not”

“I’m not. “ Tara smiles. Gale turns to Detective Bailey but your attention remains on Tara until your ears perk up at the sound of your sister's voice.

“Ladies. “ Kirby walks up to the five of you and when she notices you, her eyes quickly fill with concern. She steps closer to look at your bandages . “Oh, shit. You okay? “ You just nod at her and she wraps her arms around you in a quick hug then she turns to the others. 

“Kirby? What? Is the whole familia here?” Kirby rolls her eyes. “Gale” 

“She’s with the FBI” Says Sam as she looks at the two. 

Gale looks at her in disbelief. “She’s a child. When did they start letting children into the FBI?” 

“I’m 30 “ Kirby says with a sassy tone that makes you giggle. Tara smiles lightly as she looks at you then turns her attention back to Gale and Kirb’s conversation. 

“Well, you look like a zygote” 

“I have a gun, Gale” She puts her hands on her gun that’s attached to her belt around her waist.

Gale looks down at it. “Okay, fine. You’re gonna want to see this too. “

— —

About half an hour later, you guys find yourself outside of an old theater. Gale is leading the way inside with Kirby trailing behind her as you and your friends silently follow. 

“Apparently, they used fake names to rent this place.” Gale says more to Kirby than you guys. 

“How did you find it?” 

You are currently walking between Chad and Tara who are just quietly looking around and listening to Gale and Kirby. You stare ahead while walking, trying to not make anything awkward. When you arrive at a door, Gale opens it with a swiping card and lets you guys in. You go up some stairs then you come across another door. Gale swipes the card again and a couple of seconds later, every one of you is inside as Gale turns on the lights.

When the lights turn on, you see the theater. “It’s a movie theater. “

“It’s not just a movie theater. “Gale pauses as she looks at each of you. “It’s a shrine.” Your eyebrows furrow and you start walking further inside.  You look around and your eyes widen at the sight. It’s a bunch of evidence from all the previous attacks. Then, the curtains go up and on the stage is revealed all 9 robes of all 9 killers with Sam’s father’s, Billy Loomis’, in a glass box in the middle.

You all split up to look around. You go and follow Kirby as she makes her way towards the dummy with Jill Robert’s shirt on. Next to it was a display case with a photo and a knife in it. You clench your jaw as you see the slight sadness on your sister's face.

And that’s when you hear Mindy’s voice shout. “ Holy shit! Is that a kid in that photo?! “ Your eyes widen as the others walk over to her. Sighing, Kirby grabs your arm and walks you over too.

“Wait…..I-look “ Chad points at the ripped newspaper page next to the photo. “Right here, it says, ‘ Y/N Reed is officially the youngest victim of another ghostface massacre.’ What the fuck? “ They all turn to look at you as you stand beside your sister awkwardly. Of course, Tara, Sam and Gale nowhere surprised, but the twins, Ethan and Bailey? Oh, they had many questions. 

“You’re Kirby’s sister?!” 

--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Sorry, this is very short!

[avalonia320]

IWTV Thoughts

I finally got to watch the finale last night and when I tell you I am SHOOK to my damn core. I don't know how to put it into words. I'm older than a lot of people here. I first read the Vampire Chronicles when I was 11; I found them in a box that belonged to my mother. When I tell you I devoured those books, re-read them over and over and over, fell in love with Lestat and New Orleans & Paris, cried over Claudia and Louis...I was totally besotted by the world Anne Rice created.

When the movie was announced when I was a teen (yes I'm that old), first I was so excited and then I was furious, as many of us Anne Rice devotees were, when Tom Cruise was cast as Lestat. I could not imagine an actor further away from how I had imagined Lestat. But still, I had to see it, and while it was still miles away from what I had wanted, I came away impressed with Tom Cruise. He still wasn't my Lestat, but he threw himself into the role in a way that made me believe he'd been waiting his whole life to let his inner Queen off the chain.

The movie itself...I had loved parts of it, but there was still so much more that I wanted. When the sequel came out (Queen of the Damned) I liked parts of that too and I actually enjoyed Stuart Townsend as Lestat. I hated most of it though, especially what they did with Marius (to this day I don't know what the hell that was about) but it was obvious at that point that I was never going to see the vampire world I was so enthralled with on the screen.

Then this series comes out. And while my expectations were low, I was still pretty excited. And then I watched it.

Holy fucking shitballs, you guys. I am normally so protective of my favorite books, resenting any little change unless it makes sense but everything they've done with this series, everything they've changed makes so much fucking sense. I don't want to try and break it down, I don't have the words. Lestat was always my big love in the books, but in this series, I've fallen in love with Louis and Claudia in a way I never imagined. I always loved their characters, don't get me wrong, but I never connected with them this way until now. And don't even get me started on Daniel, who I will admit I actively disliked in the books for the unforgivable crime of being boring. Um....that's a word I will never ever use in connect to Daniel Molloy ever ever ever again. And Armand and Madeleine and...I can't.

And Lestat. I loved him in the first season but in the second season, when he showed up with that long hair, I saw him for the first time like someone took the Lestat that has lived in my head since I was 11 years old and put him on the screen. He is EXACTLY how I imagined him. The way he looks, the way he talks, his emotion, his breakdowns, his unbelievable flair for the dramatic...this is HIM. I feel like I've been been unconsciously waiting decades for him to show up and for people to see him the way I saw him back then. I can't be the only old school fan that feels this way. It's just so surreal to see it so exact, it takes me right back to my childhood and the way I fell into stories then. The way you feel things when you're so young is something so hard to recapture but I feel like I'm right back there again on my bed, reading the books over and over again.

I'm just so grateful. To everyone involved with this series, the writers, the cast...I know i'm getting overly emotional but everything's been so shit lately and we've all needed an escape, a good one for once. I needed this so badly.

And I have to believe, wherever she is now, Anne Rice is so fucking proud.

[bucknastysbabe]

The Merger - C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k

Tags: 80’s corporate au, set in King’s Landing, Nyra’s daughter reader, pwp, enemies to lovers, subby Criston, service top Criston, misogyny, oral (f!receiving), pnv!sex, dom/sub dynamics, background rhaenicent, background alicole, desk boinking, man tears, Cristons Big Brown Eyes

A/N: This was an ask I accidentally posted too early so now repost! Thank you to the anon, loved this and hope you like. Inspired by RedRack’s work on Ao3. Idk anything about business

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @aemondfairy @elaratyrell @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @sammmy7499 @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

You were Rhaenyra’s eldest child and only daughter, the ‘haughty’ one. You’d grown up lavishly, a byproduct of the rich and powerful where one could pay away most problems. Like your parentage. Like your homosexual father and biological dad who happened to be the bodyguard.

Except someone from the other side paid right back and your dad was ashes. Laenor left not too long afterward. You were your mother’s child anyway— as bitter as it felt.

There was a schism and merger at the same time, two huge media conglomerates coming as one now. Your family had long owned a paper before foraging into radio then television, the Legacy Media Agency. Jaehaerys Targaryen and Alysanne brought one of the first channels on television.

Through tragedy and piss-poor mistakes, your grandfather remarried to one Alicent Hightower. Now he was dead and the position of CEO was swiftly voted in for Rhaenyra. Alicent bristled, coming from a media conglomerate family of her own.

The Hightowers were in the movie and TV Industry, Green Flame Studios. They ran the golden age of film in Westeros, easily adapting and changing however into the current state. Television channels and multiple production companies. They’d even nabbed up a music label out of Lannisport.

Much money and meetings later, there was a heated merger due to a clause drafted up while your grandfather was on his deathbed. CEO and COO would be up for grabs again. Tension was filling the building in King’s Landing. Otto was back along with his sleek-looking son. Rhaenyra was growing stressed. Now Daemon was off securing funds and heads, the woman growing edgier by the day.

On a recent evening she sat down with you, the ever dutiful daughter. Jace was more of the smooth heir, able to gloss over and smile his way into the hearts of others. You took a step back, working on a law degree and willing to do a dirty deed if requested.

You and Mother sipped drinks in her office, gazing out over the sparkling city of King’s Landing. It was a shit hole brought up to some sort of glory in your opinion. Rhaenyra huffed, “The rest of her boys are coming. Aemond’s cutthroat but irrational, Aegon can be puppeted but has a raging coke and alcohol problem. Helaena is out of the picture. That leaves the little one, the freak, and the doggy.”

“So a little boy, Larys, and Criston I take it?”

You took off your blazer, rolling your eyes, “Dear uncles want to strangle us. Aegon and Aemond might tear each other to shreds before that could occur. Otto and Alicent, cracking as she may be, hold them together.”

Rhaenyra grimaced, “She ran the company while father was sick. It’s a good look. I was popping questionable children out, working, but not seen like her. She’s got that yuppie housewife bitch look about her, but she’s no Targaryen. Gods.”

You were pretty sure they fucked or something. Mother always went a little distant and quiet regarding Alicent, even if her words were vitriol.

Throwing expensive heels upon the fine desk of many CEO’s past you asked, “What have you need of me? Dirt, intel? I’m not coming near that whisperer, he’s too smart. Wasn’t Cole promoted to some busy work position? Probably Alicent’s fuck toy. I never liked him, he’s got issues.”

Your mother grinned, laughing, the most you’ve seen in a while. She leaned up to squeeze your ankle. Rhaenyra hummed, “You’re a fine woman. Fine, fine woman. Knows what it takes to win. Keep an eye on Cole. He likes the rich girls anyways, yet all of this has him so stressed he’ll be a bigger prick than usual.”

The blonde waved a hand.

“Do what you need, he’s weak at the end of the day. Probably keeps Ali’s underwear in his drawer. Brute. He was sweet once, I fear his issues and my selfish desires fucked that up worse than it needed to be. He’ll never have it, sad as it may be,” she lamented.

You felt pity for the Marcher. Handsome as could be, powerful energy, good with acquisitions of small companies. It stopped there— most considered him an idiot. You’d have to reluctantly get to know more, considering all of the vile history. But you’d do it for Mother.

Standing up in the dim office you nodded, “I’ll do what I can, we should take everyone out for the beach one day. Good publicity. It’s widely known we are more stable.”

She smiled. Your mother was so beautiful, you were glad to see her in better spirits before they were inevitably dashed.

Soon the Green’s employees began to show. Wylde, Lannister, Strong, Cole. Aemond and Aegon also appeared. The first meeting was miserable. You’d sat back and taken notes, sitting pretty next to Jace and Baela. You noted Alicent was the resident female leading the pack, the pack being dogs that would turn on her.

Aemond was the key one. Likely Aegon would get shoved forward if they kept him in line. Otto barked and waved his hands with Rhaenys, he liked the sidelines. Your eyes flickered to Cole— perfectly coiffed and manicured, his suits tailored sharp and tight to show off his body. He certainly looked like a fuck toy.

His dark eyes raised to meet yours, thick brows furrowing. You scoffed and turned your attention elsewhere, the egotistical fucker aggravated now. You could hear his ringed finger tapping against the wood. Prick.

By the end of the week, Rhaenyra held a tenuous hold on CEO, Alicent had taken COO, and Otto had weaseled in as CFO. This was shite. Mother was outnumbered. Tyland Lannister should have had it, he put aside loyalties for success, and he’d served two sides well.

Life in the offices post vote was interesting, to say the least. You’d often be around, observing and speaking with employees. Today you had worn a little black blouse with a bow and a fitted tweed skirt, tights emphasizing your long legs and patent heels. You had a plan. First you made sure your hair was still presentable and reapplied your lipstick. With a smirk, you sauntered over to his oversized cubicle.

Criston Cole. Up jumped prick. It was obvious he was some sort of release for Alicent, leaving her office adjusting his tie, smoothing back his hair, lips still wet. You had gathered he was wildly misunderstood— a whore and a sexist bully. Yet others spoke of him revering women and kind to most. Some said he was dumb as a box of rocks, others said he was quietly crafty in the right environment.

Confusing. But you could do with a whore.

You leaned against the wall, watching his shoulders and biceps bunch as he looked over the potential acquisitions, likely in tech. He had his walkmans on and fidgeted as he read. You eyed his cubicle, immaculately clean, two photos on the wall. One of him in the military shaking a commander’s hand. The other was of a man holding a young Criston, a beautiful Dornish looking woman laughing next to them.

Mommy issues? Maybe. Seems normal enough.

The maybe-bully turned around and pulled off his headphones, raising a brow as he chuffed. “What are you doing staring at the back of my head like that?” His lips turned into a scowl at the sight of your smirk.

“Merely getting to know my mother’s new workers. My coworkers, somewhat. I’m just here for help.”

He eyed your body, dark orbs traveling upwards. Criston watched you with a tight smile, spreading his muscled thighs as his chair rolled around. You remained stoic, waiting on the inevitable snark or nasty comment.

“So what is mommy’s little princess doing besides flouncing your bows and snooping around?”

Oh. You wanted to kill him. Smack that smarmy look off his face.

“What? That’s what you do. Skip around and flirt with that big chip on your shoulder. It’s almost cute, knowing what you are.”

You ignored him to continue, “I’m overseeing the new employees to our building. I’m in law school. Besides, I don’t need some fucktoy bully with muscles for a brain to snap at me. Watch your godsdamn mouth with me and how you speak on my family.”

You glared him down, watching Criston get flushed and submit easily. There it was, not a hard button to find. A little meanness, a little firm hand, and Criston Cole was putty. You grinned, patting his desk, “Good boy. Perhaps you should keep your mouth shut more, or go get it glued back to the green queen’s cunt.”

He inhaled sharply as you walked away victorious.

You dialed your mother up from the car phone, cackling about the experience. The pair of you schemed, you needed to get under Criston or over him. Whatever it took to figure out more…perhaps you had your own desires. He hadn’t been going to Alicent’s office as much since you slipped up. Albeit was quite known.

The further away from her he was, the better. That’s how you could snag the man. The upcoming gala would be time to strike.

You wore a strapped, glass-beaded black gown to the gala, some bullshit reason to meet around and prove that all was swell, give out idiotic awards and swaths of money. Your curls were piled into an updo, brows thick, and eyes shadowy. Your lips were blood red. Black gloves went to your elbows.

You knew you had to bang Cole tonight. He’d softened some around you since the moment in his cubicle but he was tighter than the damn Iron Bank when it came to anything of information you wanted. He looked handsome in his designer suit, pressed and prim. Hovering behind Alicent, looking like a puppy. You frowned between sips of your champagne. You needed him away from her!

“You’re hot you know,” came a slurred voice.

“Ah. Dearest uncle of mine. Coming to hit on his family. How many flutes I wonder?” You turned to face a grinning Aegon, purple eyes hazy, smelling like Joop! You rolled your eyes and let him jabber on, grinning at Aeg.

“You really must want a piece? You know fucking baseborn isn’t a good look, but your face is so cute,” you teased.

Aegon’s coked-up expression widened into a grin, his hands on your waist as you laughed it off. Jacaerys would pull him off, or Luke. Aegon’s lips grew closer to your neck before being yanked back roughly, one irritated Criston Cole glaring down at Aegon and sending him packing. You waved goodbye.

Criston’s big frame engulfed yours, his more masculine scent aided with some Calvin Klein tickling your nose. Damn this man for being so damnably handsome. He was looking down at you, jaw clenching. You hummed, “Thanks for the save, Cole. Didn’t know you had the knight in shining armor sensibilities.”

He gripped your arm, grunting, “I don’t.”

The taller man led you away, farther and farther towards the bathrooms. You laughed, Criston shooting a glare.

“Where are you taking me?”

He huffed, “Away from here. I have some questions for you.”

“This isn’t going to end up with you strangling me right?”

“Shut up, damn, you talk so godsdamned much!”

You rolled your eyes once again, trying to keep up with his long strides, the man unlocking a door and shoving you inside. You stumbled and cursed, Criston quick to pick you up. He led you over to the desk, picked you up, and put you atop the flat surface.

He stared, jaw clenched, eyes wide as they took you in— calloused hands ran up your pantyhose.

You cocked your head, humming, “I thought you were asking questions.”

Criston closed into space, hands gripping your thighs tighter as he snarled, “I don’t get you. You don’t work for the company, you’re a damn college brat with a chip on your shoulder.” His hands tightened again, fingertips digging into your skin.

“Anyways are we fucking or not?”

Criston looked at a loss for words, nostrils flaring in aggravation. You cooed, hand sliding across his broad shoulders and up to the nape of his neck. Gently playing and pulling at his curls, you leaned closer to his pretty mouth, noses touching.

The man exhaled sharply, voice less sharp as he murmured, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

How funny, you couldn’t either.

Your lips curled up in pleasure, eyes slipping shut as you kissed him softly, a mere press of the lips. Criston tried for more— only for you to pull back and chide, “Slow, we don’t have anywhere to be.” You could tell he was thinking, but Cole acquiesced and matched your pace.

As you lazily smacked lips with him, his hands eased up, rubbing up and down. You slid your tongue between his lips, moaning softly as he eagerly met you, hot and slick. He made a noise deep in his chest when you grabbed a handful of slicked-down dark hair. You pressed up against his firm chest, tongues and lips doing an age-old dance.

Criston sucked on your bottom lip, returning to sup at your mouth, hands roving up higher, your dress rising with the movement. You spread your thighs with a sigh, panting against his insistent mouth. You could feel the kiss grow messy, Criston pulled ever you closer. He flicked his tongue against yours, moaning in desperation.

You distantly wondered if Alicent let him kiss her much. If she let him do anything besides satiate a need. The way he was pressed tight to your frame and groaning like a man deprived from some kisses seemed to affirm that. He pulled back with a wild look, nuzzling and pressing his wet lips to your neck, dark stubble rubbing the thin skin.

You threw your head back for more access, panting and sighing. You pulled at his hair again and spread your legs wider. He gasped when you asked if he was going to eat you out like he did the COO. Criston grumbled, frowning, his hands pulling down your hose.

“Is that all you think I’m good for?”

You studied his downtrodden puppy dog face and felt bad, poor thing had a knack for attaching himself to unavailable women. Your mind railed distantly on what he said about your mother and your siblings.

“Maybe. Looks like you spend more time on your knees than in your cubicle from my time at the office, Criston.”

You pushed at his shoulder, Criston dropping down with a petulant look across his face. He continued to pull your pantyhose down, fingers hooking into your thin underwear along the way. He made a weak nose when you leaned back some, purring, “There we go, take it all off. Gods, you’re pretty down there.”

He moaned again, nosing at your knee, dark eyes peeling from your exposed skin to look up. Criston rasped desperately, “Please, I’m sorry.” Those dark eyes were growing wet. You ripped your gaze away from his face, trailing down his heaving chest to where his flushed cock pushed against his fly.

“Sorry for what?”

Criston whimpered, the sound escaping before he could swallow it down. You smirked, hands running through his dark hair as your legs began to spread. He was staring again, wordless pleading for a taste.

He croaked, “I- ah- apologize for my manner of speech and behavior toward you. I don’t want this to be merely a scheme.”

You murmured, softer than expected at his observation, “You’re a sap, aren’t you? Just want a pretty girl to be all yours hm? You can be mine, I think I’ll let you have me.” You twisted at his hair harder, eliciting another pathetic noise.

“Yeah, that seems nice, you’re going to be mine now. Don’t worry, I’ll let you stick around and hold me afterward Cole. What a waste if I didn’t.”

He choked out, “Please, yes, yes— I’ll be good I swear, I’ll be so good to you.”

You grinned, scooting toward the edge of the desk, soaked cunt right in front of Criston’s teary eyes. You cooed, “I’ll let you have it, Cris, just know who you’re serving now. Me. No one else. No more dallying around with Hightower, you’ll be visiting my office when I pass the bar. Doesn’t that sound sweet, tell me how good I’m letting you have it.”

He got another twist of his hair.

Criston desperately moaned, voice cracking as he gripped your thighs, lips hovering over your pussy. He croaked, “I’m yours, yours, no one but you. No Hightower, no Targaryen— Velaryon.” He sucked a wet breath in, need wracking the man as he began to beg.

“Please- please baby- let me treat you good?”

You nodded, pushing his face toward your cunt. Criston kissed up your thigh, coarse hands moving your legs over his shoulders. His lips were hot and wet, leaving a trail and shiver up your spine. You couldn’t help the throaty moan from your chest when the brunette inhaled with a curse— his molten touch and breath casting across your most sensitive flesh.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you breathed.

Criston wasted no time, delving into your slick folds, mouth immediately kissing and lapping at your soaked entrance. You cried out, thighs jumping and tightening. He groaned in delight, lurid sounds from his overeager eating— that gorgeous nose of his pressed tightly to your bundle of nerves.

“Ngh- Criston, fuck!” You inelegantly carried on, sounding like one of those sultry-eyed whores in the porn movies. The man between your thighs laughed, hands soothing up and down the outside of your propped legs.

There was reverence in Criston’s rumble, his dark eyes as he murmured between messy presses of his lips, “Taste s’fucking good baby.” You arched into his mouth, hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to your aching clit.

“Smart boy,” came your hum of pleasure. One of your knees fell to the side, Criston checking again with expressive eyes as he slid the center two of his digits across your pussy. You nodded, throwing your head back in ecstasy as the man mouthed and tongued at your pearl in sloppy movements. He was utterly lost in it, groaning as he sucked and licked, dexterous fingers deep inside.

The quiet room was filled with the most erotic of noises— squelching, whines, shuddery breaths, and his deliciously messy eating. No wonder Alicent kept him around— you deliriously thought. On that note, you cried his name, laying back on the desk to roll into him easier, his pretty face and fingers dragging across your tender spots. The lovely sting of his stubble added a level.

Pleasure laced up and down your spine, building hot in your lower belly. He moved faster as you began to whimper, moans getting pitchy and needy. He held your hip down with his free hand, moaning. You babbled, “F-fuck, gods, gonna come, can’t stop dripping all over you. Such a good toy!”

He gasped, tonguing around where his fingers stretched your hole, lapping up every bit of your essence like a last meal. You began to writhe, breath choppy between moans. Criston fucked you faster with his fingers, you could feel his obsidian eyes watching with feverish heat.

Your belly tightened and spasmed, that wondrous feeling of intense pleasure blooming when the marcher sealed his perfect lips over your clit again to suck. He had to hold you down with one hand splayed across your lower belly, strength evident as you bucked and whined and keened his name.

You shivered, tears of overstimulation pricking as he lapped you clean, sucking his fingers with a slutty little moan. Criston mumbled, “Was that good, princess?” His calloused palm rubbed your trembling stomach, soothing and maddening as you came down from the orgasm.

Eventually gathering your wits, you held out a hand, the ‘businessman’ helping you sit upright. You felt a mess, running a hand over your errant curls, cunt on display, pantyhose ‘round your ankles. Criston looked at you like a goddess, his ever-helpful hands easing your pantyhose up before you stopped him.

His thick brows furrowed in confusion.

You laughed softly, “You’ve done a good job, I don’t see why you don’t get a reward.”

Criston’s hands reflexively tightened, his big chest swelling as he inhaled. You continued in your saccharine tone, “I mean you ate me out like a champ, I’m sure you’re tired of walking off with cum in your underwear or a hard-on from hell. Poor puppy, you look so swollen too.”

Criston outright whimpered, “Hurts.”

You cradled his face, cooing at the furrow in his brow, how those almond eyes were nearly full of tears. Gods, he was perfect, all man but willing to be jerked around by ‘the lesser sex’. So they say. Your eyes shifted to his cock once more, painfully pressing against his fly. Criston made another pitiful noise.

“You wanna come? I’ll let you bend me over this desk. You better fuck me hard, gods know you’re used to getting ridden. You’re just a sweet little fuck toy, hm?”

Criston gasped, eyes closing as a tear slipped. He was shaking with need, mouth hanging open as he babbled, “Yes- m’your fuck toy, but I’ll do it good for you, I’ll make you come, baby, I’ll hold it I swear!”

You smiled, turning to get on your belly, legs planted on the ground now. You could hear him shucking off his blazer, fervent fingers ripping at buttons. While he divested his clothing you teased mercilessly.

“So excited aren’t you? Big man gets to fuck now. You’re welcome. Tell me who you serve now. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you fill me up.”

He croaked, voice cracking, “I serve you now, yours, m’gonna make you feel so good, I won’t come, I’ll hold it.”

You turned to eye his heaving chest, the dark hair trailing down to his thick cock. A moan slipped from your lips at his beauty. His pretty prick was so flushed, you’d give him some slack if he did come. Poor thing was already worked and messy tears would be no good.

“C’mon then, I’m ready, take it easy stud,” you said, pulling him by the wrist. That hand gripped your hip, fingers digging in. He was panting while guiding the weepy tip of his cock into your sensitive cunt. The tip pressed up into your folds, stretching you out agonizingly slow.

Criston heaved, easing in further, little grunts and huffs from behind. He gritted out, “Pussy’s fucking perfect, gods.” You closed your eyes, savoring the stretch as Cole eased the tip in, pausing with a tremble. You let him acclimate, the marcher moaning throatily.

“Shh-shit, shit,” he said, both hands on your waist now.

You moaned softly as he went deeper, his prick molten hot and filling you up. It ground against your ridged walls, your cunt gripping the intrusion, more pleasure crawling up your spine. He was whining through his nose, muttering about how good you felt, how tight and wet it was.

You soothed, “I know, take it easy, you wanna fuck me good and hard, you need it, Cris.”

Criston groaned, “Oh- thank y-you, I needed this, s-so godsdamn hard for you baby.”

You gripped the edge of the desk as Criston was deep, his trim hips against your ass as he carried on. He leaned forward a bit, breathing through the intense stimulation. You didn’t mind, his bitten-off whimpers were cute. He was a sweetie under all his bluff.

You told him so, earning another agonized moan.

Soon Cris’ cock wasn’t throbbing and his breath had evened out. You turned to get a look, pulling him in for a quick kiss, his dark lips swollen. Criston murmured, “I think I’m ready. I can take you good and hard like you want princess, if you’ll let me, I’ll be good, s’good.”

You whispered against his lips, “Have at it stud. About time someone put that strength to good use. But you better have me soaking your cock before you think about busting.” He nodded, eyes adoring when you playfully nipped his lip, reaching back to smack a lean flank.

You couldn’t help the noise pushed out of you when he pulled out to the tip, adjusting your hips so he could slam back in at the right angle. The pair of you practically howled in unison, the primal affair on. Criston fucked like a man deprived, quick, and strong thrust.

You cried out as his hips cracked against your ass, his heavy sac hitting your clit. Criston groaned and cursed, pausing occasionally on a good deep thrust just to get ahold of himself once more. Your nails dug into the hard surface of the desk, mouth hanging wide open.

“Yeah- yeah, baby, good boy- ohgods!” You cried out when he pulled you upright against his body, fingers thumbing and pinching your nipples. He slurred nonsense, wet kisses as he lost himself, only focused on fucking you into oblivion.

Sweat began to bead across your body, turning to gooseflesh from the stimulation. His fingertips swirling and softly tugging at your nipples sent a bolt of white-hot arousal down to your clit. You knew you were getting wetter for him. Hells, you’d started crying out in ecstasy, bucking back into him like a wild animal.

Criston growled, “I’m yours, let me be yours, I’ll do this every night if you see fit.”

How he was suddenly composed pissed you off. But you were too out of sorts to do anything but moan and roll back onto his fat cock that was wrecking you. Giving a little whine of acquiescence, you nodded. He was yours now, he was going to be your big scary guard dog that adores his lady.

You heaved at the thought, belly tightening up, nipples budding so hard it hurt. Criston began to slowly push you back onto the desk, his heated body following, enveloping you in his warmth and scent. Criston grinned against your neck, pressing kisses as he slipped a hand down to form a vee with his fingers, rubbing at your flushed clit.

You wouldn’t admit this later but you squealed. You squealed and thrashed and came so hard your vision blacked out. Ecstasy consumed every part of your body. You gushed on Criston, pussy pulling and pulsing around him. When you could see again— he was the perfect wreck.

The brunette was waiting for permission. He was desperately begging, voice pitched enough to make it crack. You could hear the warble of a sob building up. Yet the man still sloppily rutted into your cunt, discordant and choppy. He cried softly, “Pleasepleaseplease let me come, please, oh it hurts, I did good yeah? Hurts- nghhh- mhh- gonna pop baby please.”

“Fill me up,” you slurred.

Criston came with a silent scream, shaking all over as he shoved deep and emptied— hot seed overflowing your cunt. He whined and whined as his swollen balls emptied, enough to make your spent body shiver.

The moment of bliss became subdued, his shaky hand reached for a tissue, pulling out, both of you hissing as he caught the excess, getting another few tissues to clean both of you up. Criston quietly pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, pulling your underwear and hose up.

You turned to help the debauched man get himself clothed and back together. He was quiet, lips quirked a little, smile not quite reaching his eyes. As you buttoned his shirt up and started in on his tie, you looked up.

“I do mean it, I don’t mind this, I think you’re not so bad under your yuppie dick persona you like to put on,” you teased gently, straightening the tie. Criston frowned a bit, exhaling, “I seem to get grief in return every time. But…but I like your sweetness that shines when you’re not preening for your mother.”

He gave a grin this time, a real one that made his eyes crinkle, a glimmer of warmth.

You kissed him again, humming, “Well- since you’re my sweet boy now, maybe Mother and Ali can finally hook up.”

That was the first real laugh you’d heard from the man. He pulled you in close, chuckling, “Perhaps we’re doing everyone a favor if so. We’ll figure out the hoops as they come. Probably will be upsetting our bosses.”

[goosetheluce]

you're my home (lucy gray baird x fem!reader)

info: cussing, ever so slight angst, mutual pining, confession, reader is running from district twelve with lucy gray

a/n: it's not weird to have a crush on someone with the first name as you !! taylor swift and taylor lautner did it leave me alone

»--•--«

you stirred from your rest at the bright sunbeams pouring through the trees. and maybe also lucy gray's insistent tugging and repetition of your name.

"holy shit," she grumbles, clearly dismayed. "wake up! we're almost there. gotta get moving."

" 'm up. lord."

you heaved a sigh and arched your back, a tight line of pops rushing down your spine. you took a deep inhale, eyes shutting again as you ran a hand along your fucked up, greasy hair.

traveling on foot for a week isn't the most flattering look.

when you peeled your eyes open, you were met with lucy gray's judging stare beating down on you. considering the way the corners of her lips twitched, though, you knew she couldn't stay annoyed at your heavy sleeping for too long.

"gimme a break, lucy gray. i'm not used to this," you rasped. you rolled out of your tent and lay dramatically on the forest floor. what's a little more dirt, anyway?

she scoffed and her radiance peeked through her exasperated face. the wide smile woke you up a little more.

"should've hung out with the covey more while we were still around the district," she scolds, grabbing your soft hands and wrapping them in hers to pull you to your feet. "might've taught you how to not be a baby."

"maybe. but i ran away with you, didn't i?" you retorted. "i think that makes me pretty grown."

lucy gray's playful smile faded into a more serene one. she simply gave a nod and stepped away, picking up her backpack.

"look what i found while you were asleep," she murmured. she pulled out eggs (poor mother bird), and a bundle of herbs for tea later. your mouth watered.

"no salt and pepper?" you teased, taking an egg and inspecting it. it was heavy. you were hit with homesickness as you remembered your kitchen, which sometimes struggled to stay stocked, but at least you had the chance for butter.

you both decided on soft-boiling the eggs in the tiny pot you begged lucy gray to pack before you ventured off. you sat and ate, peeling away the crackling shell and talking about the journey and whatever else before packing up and hiking through another day.

things were natural with her. hell, everything about her was natural. her beauty was untouched by the standards of the capitol and instead flourished freely. it was evident in the lively bounce of her dark waves and her sunkissed olive skin. you wondered when the last time was you looked in the mirror without picking everything apart, envying lucy gray's outward confidence.

"i still can't believe we're doing this," you spoke up, the silence becoming insufferable.

lucy gray turns her head to meet your eyes, her expression neutral. sweat pooled on her hairline and dripped down her temples. you knew if you reached out to touch her, her skin would be blazing with the power of the sun. good thing she doesn't burn.

"like, running away and all that. i thought i'd rot away in twelve for the rest of my life."

till i met you, you added on silently.

lucy gray laughed.

"a woman like you? naw, i had to steal you away. couldn't let such a beauty go to work in those damned mines."

"you really think i'm that much of a priss?" you sighed, batting your eyelashes at her sarcastically.

"oh, honey, i never said that. sometimes a girl just wants a treat for herself. so i got my treat."

you blamed the high noon for your feverish cheeks.

the minutes turned into hours, and the shadows stretched across the grass. laughter rang across the fields.

"your first kiss was billy taupe? he's so fucking boring, i'm sorry," you cackled, eyes shut tight from hysteria. "sadly for the rest of us, though...next to you, anyone is boring."

"what? first kisses aren't exactly known to be glamorous," lucy gray defended. "besides, i got the real deal after him."

"oh?" you perked up, voice stabilizing. "this mystery guy must be the reason your head was in the clouds...at least, according to maude."

suddenly, the happiness drained from her face. "for a while, i guess. wasn't worth it." you averted your eyes to the front of the scenery. your grip tightened around the straps of your backpack.

"you deserve better. you'll find someone. a hot guy from district four, maybe," you teased, nudging her arm with your elbow.

like me.

"oh, perfect, a fisher! don't even need to buy cologne for his birthday; it'd be useless against that rank," she remarks sourly.

you giggled as her teasing gaze met yours. your grin was mirrored, and you memorized the crevices of her smile lines. her eyes fluttered down to your lips for a brief moment before she cleared her throat and unraveled her map.

you let out a deep breath and looked around. you remembered when you first met lucy gray, frozen and terrified to see somebody else outside the limits of twelve. she eyed you warily from the lake, her lips parted and brow furrowed.

you realized you should probably say something to the girl in the lake, but you didn't know what. she waded toward you and began a less-than-friendly warning before you interrupted her.

"we don't have food. i'm just out here to gather some things."

the girl's voice halted and her shoulders reluctantly dropped from their defensive position.

"thank god."

"what are you doing in there? aren't you gonna get caught?" you inquired nervously, eyes flitting everywhere. the girl laughed brightly.

"those joke 'peacekeepers' don't care about anything that goes on past the fences. not even a covey girl swimming. scandalous, i know."

you stared as the sun washed over her soaked hair.

"lucy gray baird," she offered up her name. "but you can call me lucy gray. that's what all my friends call me."

"i'm..." you started, walking to the edge of the dock to meet her at the water.

she muttered something quietly, bringing you back to the present.

"what's that?"

"ah, just that we should stop here for the night. it's not a good idea to go through the forest in the dark. so easy to get lost," lucy gray corrects herself. you nodded and looked around for a spot.

"there looks good," you suggested, pointing to a spot under a lone cluster of trees. lucy gray hums in agreement before starting towards the spot, taking your hand in hers. your heart skipped.

the sky wept deep indigo, bleeding down into the horizon as the sun sank. insects chirped and buzzed, their calls flowing through the tree leaves and across the grassy plains. the fire was warm; the smell of roasted game and pungent tea carried away in the wind. lucy gray's wavy voice split the thick summer air pleasantly. your eyes stayed fixed on her. her dainty fingers held her tea. a sly smile painted her face.

"you stare a lot," she remarked. "you know that, right?"

your eyebrows raised a bit. you kept looking, wondering how she'd noticed and still hadn't even looked up to meet your gaze. until she did.

god, you loved the way her eyes looked like a cup of black coffee. the way your grandma used to make it. or maybe the tree bark you peeled away from a rotting trunk as a kid. the soil embedded between your fingers after a long day of work.

"i do know that," you responded a second too late. awkward delivery. you swallowed and looked into the towering coniferous forest. shadows crept from beneath the canopy and raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

"we should probably wrap it up soon," you insisted. "put out the fire, get to bed, all that." you picked at a scab till it flaked off.

lucy gray scoffed, setting her tea beside your backpacks.

"the sun is barely gone. just 'cause the birds are sleepin' don't mean we are."

you said nothing in return, still wary of the woods nearby. your fingers pressed firmly into the skin of your arms, which were rested on your knees. you sighed and put your head down.

you felt lucy gray's gaze burning into you. you felt the former scab swelling and the droplet of blood spilling down your arm.

"you messed with it too much. might get infected if we don't clean it," she asserted. you smiled with your head on your knees. lucy gray was making an excuse to touch you. you wondered silently if she felt the same intense heartrate, the same jolt of electricity every time your arms brushed as you hiked through the countryside.

away from all the rules.

you lifted your head and saw lucy gray hurrying back with a damp towel and honey. your brow furrowed.

"what's that for?"

she chuckled as she kneeled down to wipe away the blood and dirt with the towel.

"it'll keep that cut clean. antibacterial properties an' all. trust me."

your breath hitched as the towel made contact with your cut. the gentle sting of raw honey being spread across the wound is what snapped your drooping eyelids back open.

definitely not lucy gray's lips so close to you.

"...hey," she whispered.

"hi?" you responded, smiling a bit.

"it's alright if you're homesick. you can talk to me about it, if you'd like."

you breathed out a long sigh and pressed your forehead to hers. she hesitated before bringing her left hand to rest on the side of your face.

"lucy gray," you began, but struggled to finish. you pulled back slightly to make eye contact.

"i'm not that homesick. i have you," you whispered softly.

"you're my home."

you were met with a tense silence. you wanted to turn and run, because how could you be so stupid to tell her that, and you ruined the moment, and-

suddenly her lips are pressing gently into yours. your eyes widened. the taste of the tea she was drinking lingered on your tongue as she shuffled back.

"fuck! fuck, i'm sorry, i wasn't thinkin'," she apologized, voice shaking as she stared at you. she fiddled with her hands anxiously. you'd never seen her so flustered.

all you did was make your way back to her, cupping her face in a heavy kiss. you smiled against her, feeling her body relax into yours. her hands rested on top of yours before sliding comfortably onto your waist. she pulled back, jet black eyes bright with starlight and exhilaration.

"coming with you, getting away from twelve...it's been the best decision i ever made," you confessed, dropping your hands from her face and instead rubbing her arms. "i've wanted nothing except you for like, a year now."

"we've known each other for almost three years. i'm wounded," lucy gray teased, her fingers unsuccessfully smoothing the top layer of your hair.

"well, was i better than billy taupe?"

"quiet, you."

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